#also i know her chains are different i made them gold to stand out thank yew

[mintymelty]

Herta drawn in Higurashi’s Kizuna+ Art Style

…or at the very least my poor-man’s imitation of it. Hopefully I did a good job keeping to the console sprite art-style. Let me know if anything’s off.

Additional sprites for PERSONAL (non-commercial and non-weird) use with credit:

If used in a commercial or “weird” sense or without credit I will personally curse you with abysmal luck. Hard pity, always loosing 50/50s. To anyone rebloging or using them responsibly and giving credit: I bless you with good luck! 👍

Time taken: 3 hrs 40 mins 🥲

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Four

☁︎ notes: these dummies are so smitten

☁︎ warnings: usual talk of injuries and Beron's abuse. Injured animal (he's okay though)

☁︎ word count: 2.2k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor

The next summon interrupted Aya’s day off. Her promised day of nothingness; no lessons, no jobs, no meetings, and no Court dinners. She planned to curl up in a corner of the green house and read, surrounded by the scent of healing herbs and flowers. Until that infernal ring began to glow once more. She could not ignore it, but she could grumble to herself all she wanted about how talented the Heir of Autumn was at collecting near-death experiences. 

She was still silently complaining while she winnowed, while the world righted itself, and while Edana’s garden appeared before her eyes. What finally stopped the chain of complaints was the sight of Eris standing before her. 

Hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side, he smiled as her gaze met his. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, eyes bright and unclouded by pain or alcohol. The sunlight gilded his copper hair and kissed every freckle. 

Aya found herself unable to remember what she had been thinking about. No memory of her difficult weeks, her reluctance to return to this land of cunning and deception. She was lost in his smile. Something in it made her feel like she knew everything and nothing all at once. 

Eris watched her eyes flick over his form, still struggling to focus after winnowing, and he took the time to study her in turn. Her height surprised him, the top of her head barely level with his shoulder. She had lovely curves, hugged by flowy, pastel fabrics as per the Dawn Court fashion. Her ears were lined with piercings, a gold ring with a gem dangling from her septum. Her wings were a soft glimmering gold dappled with darker brown, feathers rustling in the light breeze. She kept them tucked in tight to her body. And her eyes-

He thought of the sun rising, the blue fading into the orange and leaving that strange greyed-out tone in between. Somewhere in that softly painted sky was the color of her eyes. A brilliant silver, not quite blue, hints of orange. Purple in some lights. Somehow conveying all the loveliness of a misty dawn. Perhaps he had not appreciated the sunrise as much as he should in his five hundred and something years alive. 

In short, they spent entirely too long staring at each other. 

“At last, I meet my savior,” Eris broke the silence.

“I’d hardly call myself a savior,” Aya said, clutching her bag a little tighter. Her voice was as soft and melodic as he remembered from his dream. 

“You deserve countless thanks, nonetheless,” He smiled, and Aya admired the way his freckles moved and dipped to make way for his dimples. 

The crisp air combined with her thin clothes pulled a shiver from her. She had begun to wonder if he had called her there just to thank her when he swept an arm toward the door to Edana’s rooms. 

“One of my hounds is injured,” He said, his expression slipping into something more solemn, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know it’s nothing serious. If you’ll follow me.” 

In the daylight, she could see more details of Edana’s rooms. The trim, doorways, and furniture were cut from the same dark wood as the rest of the Forest House, but the Lady had her walls painted light colors. Her decorations ventured outside of the familiar autumn color palette, a few daring shades of blue scattered throughout. 

Aya also noticed for the first time that the door to the stone hallway was different from the rest. Aside from being situated in a strange place, it was older, warped and scratched. It had been left slightly ajar, and she could see from its faint purple glow that it was enchanted. When the door was shut, it would disappear from the wall entirely. 

She followed him through the doorway, watching the fae-lights in the dim hall illuminate his muscled shoulders and well tailored shirt. As the ever present silence of the stone hallway wrapped around them, it finally hit her that they were alone. 

“This is a private passage?” She asked softly, “There’s never anyone here.”

“Yes,” He answered, his voice strangely tense, “It’s an old passageway either unknown or forgotten by my father.”

He did not elaborate and she did not pry any further. It bothered Eris that she had been here twice before and he had not been conscious of it. He had no idea what she had seen and heard and learned. Things he should have been there to shield her from, no doubt.

When she stepped through the doorway, Aya shivered, her wings ruffling. Eris’s brows knit together. He had never seen anyone react to wards that way before. He watched as she scanned the room and locked in on the hound laying on his bed, needing no instruction. When she approached, she offered him the back of her fist to sniff, and he seemed to have no qualms with her coming closer. She soothed him before moving to his wound, smoothing down his dark fur and massaging his ears, all the while murmuring kind words and praise. 

Eris almost smiled, wondering if she understood how ferocious that beast could be. He had seen the same dog with eyes hollow and hungry, blood dripping from his jaw. Not many would go near him. On his feet, he probably stood almost to her shoulder. And here she was, turning him to putty with her pets and kind words. His tail wagged as she spoke to him and he didn’t protest when she finally began to clean and dress his wound. 

“What happened?” Aya asked, eyes remaining focused on the work before her. He admired the dance of her hands, swift and coordinated. 

“He tumbled near the river bank, silly beast,” Eris answered. 

Aya noted the affection in his voice and the embroidered collar around the dog’s neck. A thought also prickled at the back of her mind that Eris was not telling her the real story. Why have her come all of this way if the cause was not something that Beron must not know? But it did not matter, because she wasn’t supposed to sleuth. 

“He has a name, doesn’t he?” She said instead, smiling. 

“Juno,” Eris admitted, a bit sheepishly. Embarrassment crept up the back of his neck, the feeling of being caught at something he tried to hide. Her smile was too knowing, she definitely recognized it as another figure from mythology. 

“I wish I could give you something to thank you properly,” He continued. 

“Well you did interrupt my day off,” She flashed a sly smirk, eyes still on her hands.

“Oh, did I?” His eyebrows raised, lips twitching up into a smile. Something sparked in his veins at her playful tone. “I suppose I’ll have to figure out something special then.”

“If you think that’s fair,” She let out an exaggerated sigh, eyes glittering. 

Eris was distracted by a golden glimmer, catching the light as she worked. It was the ring on her forefinger, a simple gold band that fit snug against her skin. His stomach dropped. 

“My mother bound you?” He whispered, and from his tone she could practically see the embers burning in his throat.. Aya paused and looked up at him, the color draining from his face. 

“Yes,” Her brows furrowed. She thought he would have known that. “Her contract seemed fair. I asked for a written copy.” 

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he said in that same quiet fury, “Will you please send me a copy?” 

“Of course,” Aya said, gaze still stuck on his as she searched his face for answers. It was almost too long before she turned back to the hound, who had begun to whine for her attention. The silence in the room had begun to squeeze.

“I understand that this situation is…delicate,” She continued after a moment, swallowing hard. It was always too quiet here, sounds of arguing and pain the only things to interrupt it. It was unnerving, like balancing a glass ball on each shoulder. 

“I wish she would not have dragged you into it,” He whispered through his teeth. He stood with his arms crossed, looking a little taller than before. This was closer to the image of the Heir she had heard stories about. Though he was certainly less intimidating since she had seen him drunk and smitten with a fictional angel. 

“I can handle it,” Aya said, giving Juno one last pat before rearranging the supplies in her worn leather satchel. 

“You shouldn’t have to.” 

She faced him, bag in hand, tilting her head back to look at him fully. Eris drew in a deep breath, trying not to stare at the reflection of the light on her long glossy curls, in her misty eyes.

“Thesan gave me a talisman,” She pulled up one sleeve to reveal a tattoo on her bicep. A stylized, swirling cloud. “It will give me protection against magic if your father tried to use any against me.” 

The sight of it did strange things to Eris’s heart. He felt the relief of her protection. She was not another liability, another piece on his chessboard that he must keep under his watch at all times. But there was another feeling there, too. Like he resented this thing that separated her from him. That ugly desire to control and protect everything he felt a fondness for reared its head. She belonged to the Dawn Court. She was Thesan’s creature. She may be Eris’s healer, bound to his mother by that horrible ring, but she was not his. She was not loyal to him. Unless she chose to be. And nobody ever chose Eris of their own accord. 

“Good,” Eris said, in another tone that Aya couldn’t read. 

“Oh,” She said, in an attempt to avoid another awkward lull, fishing a corked bottle of green tablets and holding it out to him. “Juno can have these for the pain. They’re mostly herbs so they’re very safe for him.” 

“You’re very kind,” Eris smiled, his voice softened by the kindness she had shown his beloved pet. It was, of course,  a risk to show any affection for his hounds. They were meant to be ruthless weapons. Just like the seven sons. 

“What are your mother’s guards names?” She asked suddenly, brows drawing together. 

“Why?” He swallowed an urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkles between her eyebrows with his thumb, swiping away whatever worried her just to see her smile again.

“I just think I should know. It seems to rude to refer to them as anything else. They’re not my guards.” 

So she must not know about Thesan’s order for Eris to protect her while she was present in the Autumn Court. He had extended that order to the guards. 

“The older one with dark hair is Caspian, and Asher is blond and bearded,” Eris answered. Aya nodded, and he could practically see her tucking the information away in her mind.

Against the dark wood and warm colors of his room, he thought she looked like a sparkling gemstone. Vibrant Amethyst among common stones. They watched each other in silence for the third time until, reluctantly, he led her back to the winnow spot and let her return to her world. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

The next morning, Aya was pulled from her sleep by a knock on the door. A courier waited on the other side with an envelope and package wrapped in brown paper and string. She thanked him and returned to her bed, holding the parcel in her lap. The paper and string fell forgotten to the floor as she opened it eagerly. 

Inside was a new leather satchel, the same shape and size as her old one. The sides and edges had been dyed a rich mulberry, the leather carved and tooled into an interlocking, curving design. The golden clasp, shaped like a leaf, gleamed in the morning sun. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of it, so lovely and new compared to the one she had carried daily for years now. The leather had been worn so thoroughly that it drooped and sagged.

Aya opened the bag, finding it lined with pockets and sections the perfect sizes for bandages and vials. There was also an envelope nestled inside, her name scrawled on the front in curly script. She opened it gingerly, planning to add the paper to the box of ephemera under her bed. Mail was a rare treat. 

Aya,

Thank you again for your help. Juno is doing much better and I suspect you have made a friend of him. I hope this gift will be of use to you.

As for retribution for your missed day off, you may also find that your instructors received a strongly worded letter from some anonymous busybody complaining about the state of cleanliness in the healer’s wing. I believe the buildings are being deep-cleaned over the next few days. Enjoy your long weekend. 

Eris

Aya buried her face in her hands, covering her silly, involuntary smile and burning cheeks. She finally bothered to open the other envelope, finding Eris to be truthful. The head of the school had sent a note announcing that classes had been canceled, though they did include a list of assignments to complete and log in the meantime. Assignments that she could complete in the greenhouse, between dozing off and basking in the sunshine the green, herbal scent. Somehow, against all the odds she battled with, Aya had made a friend.

[bee-dot-exe]

Hey @totallynotbat, happy gift exchange day, I know we haven't talked much, but thanks for letting me write for you, I don't know this is exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you like it! And thank you @technoblade-gift-exchange for putting this together, also haven't talked a whole lot, but I appreciate you, I had fun! I hope you all enjoy!

Emerald

1,933

It's kinda sad, but it's also kinda sweet, no major warnings otherwise

A thin quilt covered the earth. Sections of saffron like the edges around a bruise, and burgundy trying to compete with a glass of wine, and sepia as the chlorophyll bled out with the final remnants of summer. A patchwork blanket of color like a kaleidoscope around and beneath me.

The occasional sector of basil melting into olive grass playing a game of peek-a-boo in the areas of earth where the blanket felt shy. Stray sticks of paper that lollipops once clung to and wrappers that once surrounded a piece of chocolate taking turns with the leaves in leading a waltz as the breeze lead its orchestra.

Dia de los Muertos.

Flyers with information on the day of celebration or stories made in spirit of the holiday were taped by the corners onto the sides of buildings or tacked onto signs made of oak or cork still hung from yesterday.

Posters with each island residents' face made with white paint to look like skeletons rested on pastel backgrounds, and were hung by two pieces of wood held together by a spring on rows of thick spiderweb and string, both of their ideal intended use was for holding clothes to keep dry, connected between two trees.

I let my feet guide me through the nearly ankle deep river of color, a series of rather satisfying crunches emitting from my path, which gradually changed to slabs of pastel blocks, which lead me to an archway that looked to be made of quartz.

Lanterns with flames dyed scarlet and lemon and cerulean hung on silver chains and rested overhead.

More banners made of spiderweb, with sections of cloth or perhaps tissue paper hung in the colors of the rainbow and then some, and supported by two thin stalks of wood which were placed on either side of the archway.

I walked through. There was a decoration every time I shifted my eyes or turned my head.

Lanterns, pots with flowers planted in them, flyers with short stories, a giant rainbow papier mâché amalgamation of animals.

I heard footsteps fade from crunching leaves beneath them to tapping as they reached the smooth surface of the pastel path. The person they belonged to coming up behind me and then standing at my side.

"Oy."

"How's it going, Fit?"

"Not bad, not bad."

"Heard I missed out yesterday, sorry about that."

"No worries, but yeah, hell of a day. Come on, I'll show you around."

Bits of tissue paper streamers were strewn about on the ground, some still dancing as they fell from the trees around us, occasionally getting caught in the branches on their journey.

A stray candy wrapper sometimes blew by like a tumbleweed, a few getting stuck in a group of leaves that had gathered in places around where the event was held.

"So I'm sure you heard about the eggs that stopped by."

"I did. Real shame I missed them."

"It is, and I know it's not the same, but you can visit their offrenda's over here, say hello, tell them you miss them, whatever."

"Lead the way, mate."

First we visited Juanaflippa.

Her alter had rows of potted lilacs and pink alliums lined up at the sides, and a few more pots scattered around the center.

A dozen or so pink candles were settled on the steps, some inside of skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There was a shield, a few different swords, a couple of green apples, and some empty pink signs.

In the center of the alter was a painting of her wearing her glasses sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hey Juanaflippa.

Hope you're doing well. I don't know if that was really you that came back to visit us, I think maybe this means probably not, but I don't know.

Your dad really misses you, we all do, but your dad's a bit of a mess right now, more so than usual. Things are a bit off for him, physically and emotionally, not gonna lie.

We all miss you so much. We miss your little glasses and your backflips.

I hope you're doing alright, wherever you are."

Next was Bobby.

His alter had rows of potted turquoise flowers along the sides, along with a few violet and red ones, and a handful of the aquamarine ones in pots scattered around the center.

A dozen or so royal blue candles sat on the steps, some in skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There were a couple of tridents, a gun, and some empty blue signs.

In the center of the alter was a painting of him wearing his denim overalls sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hey there Bobby.

Sorry I missed you yesterday. I hope you're doing alright.

Your parents miss you so much. I can tell your apa is sad sometimes, but he doesn't really show it, he doesn't show that side of him with anyone though, you're probably not all that surprised. He seems happy when he's with Cellbit though, you're probably not super surprised about that either. Your mom also gets kinda sad, but she's doing okay otherwise I think. Did you know she had wings? You'd like them.

We miss you, buddy. Your little dungarees and you giving us those blue flowers.

I hope you're doing good out there."

Then Tilín.

Her alter had rows of potted lilacs and some other red flowers along the sides, and some of the red ones in pots around the center.

A dozen or so crimson candles were settled on the steps, some in skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There were some feathers, a piece of cake, a block of dynamite, and some empty red signs.

In the center of the alter was a painting of them with that little red bow on top of her head sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hi Tilín.

Hope you're alright.

Your dad doesn't talk about you a lot, I'll be honest, but it's not because he doesn't care about or miss you, he just doesn't know how to show or talk about things sometimes.

But he misses you so much, we all do. Your little ribbon and giving us red flowers.

I hope you're okay out there."

And finally Trumpet.

His alter had rows of potted daffodils and some other red and yellow flowers, some of both kinds were also scattered in the center.

A dozen or so yellow candles were settled on the steps, some in skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There were some books, a few spiderwebs, and some empty yellow signs.

In the center of the alters was a painting of him with his propeller hat sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hey Trump.

I'm really sorry I missed you yesterday. But you weren't alone. There were so many people here for you.

I heard that even your dad was here. I'm sorry not everyone was there for you before and if you felt alone, no one deserves that, no matter their age. You didn't deserve what happened to you.

We all miss you and your little rainbow propeller hat so much.

I hope you're alright wherever you are. I hope you're happy. I hope you never feel alone again."

"Oh, sorry Fit, to be honest, kinda forgot you were here for a minute there."

I said as I heard a throat clear behind me.

"No worries, no worries, didn't wanna interrupt anything, thank you for saying those things though, I think they needed it, I think you kinda needed it too."

"Yeah, that felt kinda nice, thanks for bringing me by."

"I uh, I actually have one more thing to show you, if you'll follow me."

"Yeah, I'm really glad I uh, oh---"

We walked up to a set of red wooden stairs. An alter. An offrenda.

And in the center was a painting in a gold frame of a person wearing a skull with tusks, had long pink hair, a fuzzy red cape with white at the neck, and a crown.

Technoblade.

"Oh my God, dude, really?"

Fit just slowly nodded.

We stood and stared for a minute.

"Hey Fit, could you do me a favor?"

I reached for the camera in its bag around my neck.

"Yeah I gotcha."

There were rows of different leaves and potted flowers in blue and red along the side, and a few red and pink flowers in the center.

There were about a dozen white candles, all of them were lit.

There was a diamond sword, an emerald, a totem, a skull, an ender pearl, a crown, and a potato around the painting.

"I gotta leave something, hold on, do you have an anvil by chance?"

"I gotcha covered."

Both of our voices shook slightly.

Fit put down the anvil and I made a name tag, Toothpick, which I put on a diamond pickaxe, and placed that on the step between the totem and sword.

"This was really nice."

"It was really thoughtful."

"They really didn't have to do this."

"Yeah."

"Can I ask you for one more thing?"

"Of course."

"Can I have a second alone with him?"

"Take all the time you want, buddy."

I heard the leaves crunch as Fit's footsteps retreated and sat down on the ground in front of the alter. I brushed my fingers along blades of grass and the petals of one of the pink flowers in a pot beside me. I finally let the tears stuck to my waterline fall.

"Hey mate.

Has it really been almost a year and a half? That feels impossible.

There isn't a moment where you aren't on my mind. You're on a lot of people's minds. You'd probably be flattered though, make some kind of probably sarcastic comment, prick.

Wish you came by yesterday, maybe you did, who knows. Wish I was there to see if you did or not. Wish you could hear me telling you this right now, maybe you can, it's probably not impossible.

Chayanne, that egg kid of mine you maybe have heard me talk about, your nephew. You're his hero. And he's so much like you. I wish you could meet him.

I honestly don't know which of you is better at pvp, you both can put up a fight until the last second, you're both stubborn as all get out, and you both could win.

And Tallulah, Wilbur's egg, she's been staying with me since he had to go do his music and things, she knows about and admires you too.

You'd go kinda soft on her, guaranteed, she'd win you over. She'd give you poppies and play you music and make you laugh.

We all miss you, so goddamn much, take care wherever you are, okay Tech?"

After the tears on my face had dried and it felt like it had been quiet for long enough, I put my hand on the bottom step next to the pick one last time as a send off, then went through the archway to find Fit.

[apollo-gate]

So I wrote this

Hello, Hope everyone's doing well. Please excuse the Errors.

I wrote this to help me with some characters and how they interact with each other.

Now, this is a glimpse into my other story.

Yes some characters are as follows

Devorah

Naamah

Secret Ro

and a few others.

But they are named differently at this time.

If you want to figure out who is who Im more than happy to listen to your ideas of who is who.

Word Count: 4,474

Content warnings.

Depictions of blood and violence. Language. (If I missed something please let me know.)

The room is dark except for a table with two chairs. A child sits in one. Their face is covered by a hood and full white mask.

"Hello, Traveler." They motion for you to sit "Please sit. You here to see the story of a few individuals."

You sit in the chair. "Just know it will end suddenly. You can't know too much." They start to form a portal in your hand to show you. "Just look through. And one more thing any question of who is who will be answered in time."

You look into the small portal. You then feel you are pulled into the portal.

Welcome traveler your bio data is now being archived. Please know some events have already happened but some may change Traveler.

Empire of Argent

Region- Melinoe

The Captial City of Argentum

The entire hall lays quiet, All nobles that showed up today know that even a breath can set off the Emperor. Only the three Knights of Choas stand with their weapons. The Emperor sits on his crimson throne. The throne looks sharp and sleek. The throne itself is said to be made from the blood of the Ancients.

The Emperor stands "Bring in the vermin." The onyx doors open. Seven fully armored knights walk in. The knights drag in a woman completely chained up. Her chains are on her neck, wrist, and ankles. 5 have one chain while the other two escort her. She has a mouth guard that locks up her mouth. When they get to the center of the Emperor they throw her down. The knights move far enough that she only has a certain movement.

The Emperor steps down. "So this is the fame Seerer." He grabs the woman's face. The woman growls. "Oh don't worry. I heard so much about you." He steps and lets go of her face. Then slaps her. "The seer who is also a talented warrior. But she has one thing wrong with her. Her soul mate rejected her." The woman's eyes widen. Then she glares at the Emperor. "Oh, surprised. Your family was how you say forthcoming." He lets out an evil laugh. "After I torture them for a few months. They broke after the second week. I just enjoyed their screams." The Emperor is in her face. She starts to thrash in her chains. "I like you." He purrs. He pats her face. "I won't kill you nor will I torture you." He puts his hand out. A servant brings a blade wrapped in cloth. "I'm making you my Commander of The Choas Knights." The nobles start to murmur. "Silence!!!" He yells. He turns his attention back to her. "Sadly those pretty eyes have to go." The woman starts to thrash even more trying to get away from him. The blade is unwrapped. A black longsword with a gold line on the outer edges and in the middle of it. The Emporer takes the blade in one hand and grabs the woman's hair and pulls her back. "You'll thank me one day." He brings the sword down in one smooth motion. It cuts into her face slicing her face from the left side of her face to the right. Straight across both eyes. The woman yells but is muffled by the metal lock. He lets go of her hair and she slumps down. Blood is pouring from her face. And a sound of sobbing can be heard. The Emperor snaps his fingers and a priestess comes to the woman's side. The woman flenches but allows her to touch her. "Get out!!" The man screams. The nobles scurry out of the room. The Emperor leaves the room. The knights unlock her chains. They take her body out of the room.

Several weeks later. You look at the young women. The Seer they called her now you don't know anything. Your husband is a cruel man you know this but you thought he changed but now you know better.

You touch her cheek. She is so beautiful but you understand why she did it. You should have stopped him. "M'LADY!" You are shaken from your thoughts. Your servants are behind you. They are shaking. "What's wrong." You get up and take a step towards them. Before any can respond you hear screaming. No, he promised. You run towards the screaming. When you reach the room you see blood everywhere.

"Ah, my dear wife finally joins me." Your husband has a chain wrapped around two slaves. Blood is oozing from them. "You promised," you mumble. He looks up confused. "I do not know what you are saying." You slam the door. "YOU PROMISED!!!"

No servant entered nor acknowledged the door. Many guards simply avoid the room till the two dealt with the issue. Only one person walked out Alive.

~

Empire of Argent

Region- Melinoe

In the City of Reash. Focuses on silk making and jewel transportation.

three years later

Winter Solstice is the busiest and the best time to get gold. All the rich nobles come here to flaunt and act as if they care. You pull your hood tighter to your face. You watch as the people in the market shop. You start to find your mark. You notice a lady but see she has three children with her. You then see A tall man. You then see him hit a slave. You growl. You jump off the side of the building. You land in the side ally. As you head in his direction you pass a few guards. You then see their hounds. You take some raw meat and throw it toward them. The men don't notice they eat the meat.

You pass a few others then you come upon the man. Hes no normal Noble no hes a cardnial. They don't answer to no one and are the biggest hypocrites there are. You are thankful that he doesn't have any current guards. You pass a few people and while he's distracted you snatch his purse. You don't run as you learn early on that draws attention. When you exit the market area you look at the gold you got. You smile you be able to feed everyone tonight. You dump the coins in your purse and check for tracing coins. You ditch the purse in the ally. It takes 10 minutes to get to the slums. You see a few people you know and wave to them. You open the door to your home. You see your three siblings. They run up to you and hug you. You return their hugs. Your two younger sisters are what some call Ormr. Lea is a full Ormr and Suszie is a half Ormr. While your Little brother Ray is a mix between a Teras and a human. He has more human features but has a tail and a pair of ears. Of course, this doesn't make them any less than your siblings. You just have each other after all none of your parents wanted you.

"Ssisster did you get it." Lea curls around you. You laugh. "I did. I also got you all something on my way back." All three eyes widen. You hand Lea vail she was looking at a while back. Lea gets excited and tries it on. You pull out a rune book for Suszie. Suszie gasped, she takes it so fast and runs to her room. she shouts a thank you as soon she touches it. Ray was the easiest. You pull out a locket you all worked on for Ray. You just need to make the final payment. Ray puts it on and his body starts to look more human. He jumps up and down. Lea and Ray hug you. Ray disappears to his room.

Lea stays near you. "I made ssome food." Lea moves to the counter and hands you a plate. You sit down and eat. About an hour later you hear shouting outside. You move to the door and open and see the Knights of Light. "Shit." You wake up your siblings. Then you hear a piercing scream. You and your siblings all grab important things and move out the door. As you all run you see the Knights stabbing and slaughtering the people. You all pass several dead bodies.

You get them all down the alley. As you follow behind them the building beside you explodes. You are then thrown into the wall beside you. You then hear screaming. It sounds like your siblings. You then feel people grab you. You barely see the sword above your head. You hear Lea Scream. Right before the sword hits your head the man falls to the side. You are then Lifted up. A woman with a lace cloth around her eyes holds you tightly in her arms. You then see several knights in black armor take down the knights of Light. You finally regain conciseness in a garage. A woman in a lace black dress sits across from you and your siblings. Your siblings all cuddled into you, all fast asleep.

The women must see your fear. "Calm yourself, dear heart." The woman smiles at you. You notice all the jewels she has. "Your siblings and you are safe Nyx." You squint your eyes at her. "Interesting choice for a name might I add. But from what I hear you've earned it."

"I only stole from the basterds that beat on the lower class." The woman just nods. "I don't care what you did but from now on you will be expected to act better and you will ask me who you can rob from."

You try not to raise your voice. "Who are you to tell me what to do." She smiles "You new Empress. And you will all be living in the palace with me." You cat keep the shock off your face. "Don't you know what I am and what we are?"

The smile never leaves her face. "Yes. Four children need a warm home and food. And four children forsaken by some racists parents." She snarls at that.

"So what do we call you," you ask politely. She looks at the children. "My name is Leonora. And you won't bow to me either." Leonora looks out the carrage window. "Get some rest. We will arrive in a few hours."

You close your eyes and get some sleep. When you awake you hear hundreds of people. Your siblings wake up when you stir. The carriage comes to a stop. "You all go first." The door opens. you see soldiers lined down the path to the jaw-dropping palace. Four servants stand waiting for you. When Lernora steps out the soldiers bow and the servants curtsy.

Leonora looks at you and your siblings these will be your servants. A young girl steps at you. "Im Bella. I'll take you to your room. Dot worry you're all in the same hallway." Bella leads you and the others to your room.

POV- Lernora

You walk towards the throne room. As you walk in you see that stupid throne. You growl at the sight of it. As you enter nobles are in there. You groan great I have to deal with these pompous idiots. You spend the next ten minutes talking to the Nobles and you swear you see one look at you like a piece of meat.

You finally get to the war room. Only a few soldiers are in the room. When they see you they leave. "So Commander how goes the War." Your Commander Aria the Woman you trust looks up. You can still see the beauty of her face but now a lace veil is wrapped around her eyes. You offered a healer but she turned you down. You remember her words "I can see the truth this way." You also can't help but have these feelings as well. You have buried them but she's just intoxicating.

Her rough voice breaks you from your train of thought. "We are setting defensive lines in the capital." You tilt your head "Why." Aria straightens to her full height. "We have reported that Luca Grant the traitor is leading a counterattack. And is heading straight here." You place a hand on the table. "You mean my former husband's half-brother wants me dead to get the throne." Aria nods.

You look at the map. "Well, we should be fine so long as we are prepared for his arrival." Aria nods. You turn to leave. "I heard you brought some kids from your trip. My, I ask why." You don't touch the door handle. "One of them is your soul mate. That's why you left." You turn around to say something but see how close she is. Aria is only three feet from you. "You can't deny them. You know full well what happens if you deny them." You look at her with a look that you know but then you remember she can't see your face. When you speak you can't help but hear the sadness in your own words. "I do. I also know that it doesn't have to be a relationship. But she's just 18. Still a kid. I don't want to hurt her." Aria puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "This war will be over and you can show her and the others the kingdom." You smile at her words. If only you knew what would have happened next you would have prevented it.

POV- Aria

Siege of the Royal palace

two weeks later

Servel men in white armor lay dead. You look at the three children Lea, Suszie, and Ray. Thankfully you were nearby and were able to save them. You look at your men. "Get them to safety. I'll get the Emprise and the other child. Meet at our secondary location." Your men all nod and form around the children to protect them. You run down the hallways to reach Leanora. You asked her to stay in the throne room as it was the most defensible. As you get closer you see several of the enemy men and yours on the ground dead. Seeing may be a problem but you can see the death of their souls. Then you feel the darkness. "Shit." You run and ram into the throne room door. You break into the 10-inch wooden door. You see the man Luca the darkness emanating from him. His sword is raised up high. You grab a shortsword on the ground and throw it at him. The short sword misses his face by inches but does cut into his face.

Luca turns and looks at you. "You," he says with venom. "My brother should have cut that pretty little head off." Your senses pick up Nyx. She's above you. You just hope she doesn't do anything stupid. Leanora is on the floor breathing.

Luca turns his blade to you. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you." He charges at you and you do the same. You summon the blade that took your sight and block his attack. You don't know how long you two fight but he gets a few cuts on you but you get a few and then some. The two of you finally are a few feet from one another. But he has a crooked smile based on his aura. "You've failed your men are dead Luca. Give up Leanora will be forgiving." Luca laughs at your words. "Forgiving. You liar. She killed my Brother in cold blood because He didn't feel anything for the child he gave up. That child would have destroyed the entire system of the Bloodline."

You scoff at his words. "The Bloodline was always tainted with people like you. That child would have brought a balance. But your brother had them sent away because he was a coward." you spit at him. Luca roars with rage and hits you. You go flying into the wall. You lose your vision. When you wake you see Luca's aura walk toward Lenora. Leanora is up and starts defending herself. Nyx is also fighting him to try to keep him away. You cant reach a blade. You can only do one thing. "Forgive me, Leanora." You sprint towards Luca. Right before he lands a killing blow on one of them you tackle him and you both go through the window. you then see him throw his blood whip and grab Nyx.

Nyx screams as you fall. "You bastard." You take a chunk of your armor off and stab him in the face. Thankfully you are on a huge cliff. You grab Nyx and wrap your arms around her. "You'll survive this." Nyx looks horrified. "We falling to our death what the hell is wrong with you.'" You smile sadly. If only you could tell her what you see. "Nyx, Rember that hope will always prevail." You then put a hand on her chest. Your armor begins to glow. It removes from your body and surrounds her. Nyx eyes widen at what you are doing. Before she can speak you feel the impact. Your spine shatters. But you feel no pain only freedom.

POV- Zara

Empire of Argent

Region- Melinoe

In the City of Reash.

ten years later

You fix the veil on your face and straighten your dancer silks. You go on stage and perform your dance. It lasts for hours. Yo make people cry and feel with their hearts. By the end, you were lavished with many gifts. A lot has happened in the last 10 years. The Empire is united under Empress Leanora and her beloved Nyx. You remember performing at their wedding. You made your dance more happy and celebratory for them. Your just glad they changed the laws for the Races. You would have been executed if it wasn't for them. After all Demon art is supposed to be pure evil. You rub your neck where your collar used to be. Your previse owner wasn't kind nor was she scared of anyone. You shake your head. she did things to your mind. Your lack of memory scares you.

You sit down in your booth and remove your veil. The scaring from your collar and where she sliced your vocal cords. You use to sing when you danced. You got more money than you can spend. You do quite well for yourself. The other dancers walk in. They wave at you. You change into your normal clothes and leave.

You decide to get a drink. You walk to your favorite tavern "The Lonely Patren." You see some people leave. You walk in. The tavern is very pricey but that's because of the Nobles and Merchants. The royal guard comes here even some Nobles are here. Of course, the Nobles wear masks as is the custom in the empire. You remember when you asked your friend about it. "The mask. Ohh and one can wear one. You don't even need to be a Noblee." She gave you a full white mask on your birthday.

As you sit at your regular table. Your best friend sees you and Waves. They pass several people and slide into the booth. Nebula smiles at you. "So how did it go. You had a fun time, right that's what matters." You smile at that. Nebula always cares whether you had a great time.

You sign "I did. I just wish I could." You stop and look away. Nebula reaches out and takes your hand. "I know dear. I know." You both are startled when a group of soldiers is by your table. Sadly they are all human and based on their faces are all very very anti demons. You sigh.

"You don t belong here you copper digger." The leader lens on the table. You lean away from them. He grabs you as you move away. "You're a slave that doesn't belong here." Nebula pushes them off. "Get away from her." He looks at Nebula. The smile on his face gets bigger. "You just attacked a royal guard. I can have you executed." Nebula growls "Try it asshole." Three or the soulsdreies grab Nebula. "Get off of me." Nebula starts to hit them until they are hit in the back. The whole tavern is ignoring this injustice. The leader pulls you out. He studies you some more. "I knew it was you when I saw you leave that place. To think you left that Brothel and come here to drink. Your just another courtesan that needs to die." He moves his hand to grab your mask. Your hood is thrown off and your lower face is shown.

Then in an instant, a blade goes through his chest. Everyone gasps… The soldiers step away. A towering woman stands behind him. Her face is filled with anger His body drops. The other soldiers draw their swords. You fall and the woman catches you. "You are Going to die you slave-loving bitch." The woman looks at you and then back at the other men. She's not afraid but perfectly calm. The people in the tavern have left besides the barkeep. The door slams open. Several black armor soldiers with a fire emblem on their shoulders storm in. The Royal guard gets a cocky grin. "We have this handled. You can leave." The woman holding your grin. "They are here with me." The black Knights draw their swords toward the royal guards. "Bullshit who could you possibly be." The women's hold on you tightens. She moves you away from them. "Crown Princess Ayla of the Kingdom of Lyulph." The Royal Knights falter. "You have no right to pretend to be a high person," Ayla says something in another language. The Lyulph soldiers move so fast the Royal guards are on the ground in chains. "Get the Commander in here to deal with his pathetic guards. And say I want an Audiences." One of the soldiers run out the door.

Ayla lets go of you. She fixes your mask and pulls your hood up. "That's better." Ayla walks towards the dead man. You look at Nebula. They hug you so tight. They pull away and start to check you. "Glad your ok dear." Nebula looks at the tavern. "At least my place is ok." They look at the blood. "That'll come out." After a while, a tall built man enters. You and Nublua are at the Counter. While Ayla is standing with her soldiers. "Commander." The man seems to shrink at her voice. "I want to apologize for my men's actions." That seems to anger her. "I want them executed for going against the Act of Unification." The commander raises his hands "Now now they had too much to drink and besides you already killed one. You are lucky you are not being charged." You and Nubea watch as Ayla grab the Commander. "You should know better. Besides Im meeting the Empress and will only relieve the prisoners until then."

This riles the commander up. "Now you have no right." Ayla grabs him. "No, you have no right a citizen from my kingdom was insulted and then was roughed up. They planned on killing her." The commander looks at you. You see his eyes the same as all Elitest. Ayla walks over to you. "I'm sorry. I should have stepped in sooner." You see her green eyes. A sense of bond hits you. Nebula pipes in "How you know she was a Lyulphan." Ayla looks at Nebula. "I can't tell you how. I just knew." Nebula stars are suspected. Ayla looks back at you. "Will you join me at the palace as I need you to convince the Empress to punish the group of soldiers and the other?" You think about it. "I can." Ayla's eyes lit up. "Great." Ayla turns to her men and orders them. They all grab them and leave.

POV- Ayla

Empire of Argent

Region- Melinoe

In the City of Reash. Palace of Unification.

You and the women from earlier are waiting in the main hall. She is wearing silks that a dancer would wear. You knew who she was the moment you saw her. But she didn't recognize you. Why didn't she? After all, what we had was really right. You stop staring at her. You look at the men you have in front of you. Some think they'll be ok but you know better. The Empress has an iron fist with certain things and the treaty wasn't the easiest to come up with. Your father will be ok with the treaty.

You hear the door open. You pull on the chest piece. You see Empress Leanora and Nyx in front of you. Nyx laughs at the guards. Leanora looks at her with a blank stare. She turns back to you "Would you care to explain." Before you can speak the insufferable Commander Seale speaks up. "She killed one of my officers and would not release my men into my custody." Leanora's face remains blank. "I did not ask you. Ayla would you care to tell me what happened." Commander Seale grumbles and looks pissed. You ignore him. "I was at the tavern and these men and women were harassing this woman Zara." Zara steps forward when you move her to. "Zara is not human but is from my kingdom. And these people grabbed her and wear going to harm her for being a Teras but she was not just any Teras but a Slave. You know we abolished slavery but some of my people are still slaves. I stepped in to protect her."

Leanora nods. "Commander was your mean on duty." Commander Seale hesatates. "No, your Highness. They weren't." Leanora looks at you. "As they were off duty at the time. they could not use their authority, So Ayla they are yours to do as you, please. I would be so bold to assume you want them executed." You nod. Leonora steps down "I'll have my people set up whatever you need." The two women leave. The commander looks like he wants to yell. He storms out. Your men leave with the prisoners.

An explosion suddenly sakes the room.

transmission ends.

POV- The Traveler.

"I'm sorry that is all I can show you s this world is very much How you say In development. But You will see the world in time. And you will interact with these people if you haven't already."

The Watcher moves the world back to Apollo Gate. You both are standing in a park near your hotel. The Watcher gently touches your hand.

"See you soon Traveler. And forgive me for the reliving of some of your other life." The Watcher then disappears. You start to get a headache. You look around and don't understand what's going on.

[faithfromanewperspective]

thanks for the lovely reply @spacehero-23 (if you ever remember your other thoughts I am keen to hear the long version too!) and the wonderful additions to this post @quantummeep and @thevagabondexpress!!

I do think there’s something deeply unsatisfying about chain of thorns as far as the ships and any interpersonal dynamic really go. It’s like we lived that Shakespeare-worthy timing tragedy at the end of the Frustration Capital Book that was chain of iron and chain of thorns is just cleaning up that mess while matthew makes a Big Brave Decision and thomastair actually sort out their issues and gracetopher have their own Shakespeare worthy tragedy story. James and Cordelia have only made up and actually started to be honest for what, 12 hours? before james’ cousin and the Guy Who Saved Their Marriage dies and they’re split up again in different worlds now. I really think their horniness and the way Cordelia Just Trusts James in that life or death situation at the end is something only 17 year olds could pull off—you’re still at the age of hero stories and love winning in the end and taking good things at face value rather than ever seeing the bigger picture. You still have no idea how to make a relationship work in the long term and you’re just living in the moment while it’s good and hope fate will swoop in and save you (which it did in their case, orchestrated by the simple kindness of Christopher Lightwood) when it isn’t.

with Cordelia, she never faced the way she puts so much of her worth in being wanted, the way she attached that part of her that longs for belonging (and let’s face it, whatever part of her body wants to make babies and is in charge of Hormones and Brain Chemicals) to the first boy she slept next to at 13. With James we barely got to see the real James at all. The house decorating was one of the brief times we saw a glimpse of him, but even that was marred with the confusion of the way thinking of Cordelia, basically, was the only thing that cut through a pretty powerful thought-directing, attachment and personality erasing spell. We don’t get to see their dynamic as a couple ever really—we get to see them as friends in chain of gold, and for them what they do have will always be marred by these really traumatic early experiences.

and yet. I still find snippets of both of these characters and the relationship they do have with each other that makes me think they’re actually really good together. Not as a second chance pairing in a few years time or an au, though I do see how an au could work really well, but even as they are now. It’s the kind of thing that has every chance of going terribly. The odds are pretty stacked against them, at least if they didn’t have people around them who would get them to actually talk. Real talk, I don’t actually know if any of their friends and family would be helpful. There’s definitely a universe in which they’re doomed. But I also like to hope that there’s also one where yes, they’ve hit rock bottom for the entirety of chain of thorns (the weird jump in dynamic to the coda I’m chalking up to the short term memory span of Being 17, a lot of support over those months, and the waxing and waning cycles of Undiagnosed Mood Disorders) but maybe they actually do heal better in the context of a relationship they can really be themselves in. Maybe they do put in the work, in a world without the therapy they need, maybe they do end up lucky, maybe we can imagine a world where sometimes, not always, this can happen. Maybe after chain of thorns we can imagine, all I’m saying is I don’t think it’s impossible.

Cordelia, whose entire loving family as she knew it had been a lie, who grew up only getting good attention at the cost of others’ pain she was unaware of gets absolutely adored and even worshipped by a boy who loves justice and stands up for the marginalised, whose kindness isn’t fake, who when he is masking, she can tell, and she knows he feels comfortable to take that mask off around her, he will be brutally honest with her even when it makes him look bad (ie the whole I Kissed Grace thing) in fact he values her free will enough that the only time he really couldn’t tell the truth to her was a weird attempt to preserve that and not trap her in a relationship she felt obligated to. Who sees and values and encourages her heroism and never tries to one-up her, he always makes sure she gets credit where it’s due. Who values her culture and knows what she likes and they can exist on the exist on the edge of neuronormative, xenophobic culture together. In a world that has so many pressures on a woman of colour to be so many things, with James she can lay it aside and be who she really is.

and James is somewhat similar too, with days past and nbs I find cassie does a really good job of writing someone who is so loved but, even before the events of the academy, never really feels like he fits in anywhere; wants human connection but never knows how to get it. That neurodivergent feeling-alien-trying-to-be-human experience (in some ways his neurodivergence is a metaphor for his unique heritage but they also just exacerbate this experience). his friendship with the thieves does help, they are relatable in some ways, but the social terror of ever being pitied and the need to have an impact he sees in Cordelia too, Cordelia with whom he had connection and never pity even when he was sick, who not only saw him going into the shadow realm without judgement but came with him (chain of gold really set them up so well), whose pride he can piggyback on and bounce off to survive the world; they do that together. Cassie loves to write that I-was-lost-until-I-found-you dynamic in her ships, and here we have someone who is emotionally healthy enough to feel that but treat it as the beautiful thing it is, and value and even admire Cordelia’s personhood and autonomy more than the way he feels around her—but she actually wants to stick around, so needs are met going both ways and they’re still young enough that they can develop that secure sense of attachment from the fact that they both adore and respect each other like the proponents of Marriage For Psychological Benefits propose happens.

but that’s the problem. We can theorise and theorise but we never actually do get to see any of this happen, and I think that’s the tragedy of it all and also why it’s such an interesting fandom to be a part of. And no one asked (but hey if you’ve read to here you’ve got it) but yeah I agree with all of these points. I just happen to be a dreamer as well.

have you written about why you don’t like james and cordelia together?

I don’t think I ever made a post… I did talk about it with some people a few months ago (but I couldn't find the og post). I’ll try to explain it but I stopped thinking about them a while ago, so my heart's not in it anymore.

I think the unnecessary drama of ChoT is why I officially fell out of love with them. But I had problems with them even in ChoI. The biggest issue for me was how they didn’t talk to each other. They either scream at each other or make out/think about how hot the other is. And that’s just not something I like. 

I loved them in ChoG because, despite all of the drama, they still talked to each other. Not about everything, sure, but I could see the foundation (It’s the small moments that matter). In ChoG it felt like they were on each other’s team, no matter what. Then ChoI happened and the miscommunication trope took over, and suddenly their conversations were limited to their games, and they kept lying to each other. The only Herondaisy scenes I remember from that book are their make-out session at the end, the make-out session when James was tied up and when James decorated their house (one of the very few Herondaisy scenes I genuinely liked in ChoI).  

I’ve read the books at least 5 times now, and I still don’t know why they love each other. It was a childhood crush, sure, but that’s not enough for me. All I know is that they both think the other one is hot (and that's not enough for me). 

And it sucks because I went from really loving them in ChoG to sighing in annoyance at their scenes in ChoT.

[fivelakesinwriting]

Hi babes, so to fuel our drew/rafe obsession, I think we can all agree drew is a boobs guy like no one can tell me different.

He just likes to lay on them when he’s sleeping or y’all are cuddling or when their watching a movie he has his arm over their shoulder with his hand on their boob 😏. pls i need a blurb on this and i feel like you could write this perfectly

-💫

Author's Notes: I see him as an ass man, honestly - but that could be because I am all ass, with ample boobs. But for you - anything, my friend. Also...I want this... Let me know what you think if you have a moment! If this was your request, I hope you love it. Thank you! xoxo

Warnings: None really. Fluff. Sexual references - sexual innuendos (just lots of touching)

Requested? Yes! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

They both felt so lazy that day. If it wasn't evident by the blankets strewn about the apartment in a trail from room to room, it was certainly made apparent in the way they lounged about. Limbs stretched across furniture, oversized clothes on as the rain dropped heavily against the windows the apartment.

"Sweetie." Drew mumbled into the top of her head, hair messy from never being brushed that day. He ran his fingertips up the back of her shirt along her warm skin and held her flush against him.

"Yeah?" She replied into the crease of his neck, fingertips running through his gold chain. He felt her eyelashes tickle his neck, so he knew she had not fallen back asleep quite yet.

"I'm getting hungry." Drew stated softly as his fingertips traced soft patterns over her back, and down her spine. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her sweatpants and gave a long exhale as she sat up to straddle his hips.

"I don't think we have a lot here, baby. Probably have to order something, it's yucky out there." She replied as she pressed her palms to his chest for leverage as she tried to look out the door of the balcony.

Drew reached his hands up under her sweater, which he immediately noticed was his, and filled his hands with her bare breasts beneath. He took notice of the shivers on her stomach, and along her neck as he softly palmed at her ample flesh, thumbs brushing over her nipples every so often.

"Whatever you like. You pick this time." Drew whispered with a soft smile up at her with a soft bounce of her breasts in his hands.

"Don't! I can't focus when you do that." She whined with a soft laugh as she pulled his hands out of her shirt by his elbows, making him smirk.

"Fine. Keep my hands to myself." Drew mumbled with a grin as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyes on any bit of her exposed skin he could get.

"Stop looking at me like that." She shivered, her eyes closed as she slowly climbed off the much larger man and stood on unsteady feet.

"Like what?" Drew laughed as he reached for her thighs with his paw-like hand to try and pull her back. He most certainly was not done cuddling and touching.

"Like you're going to take my clothes off, and I'm not gonna get to eat food. I know that look, Starkey. Sit on your hands or something." She laughed while she wrapped her hand around his thick wrist in a lame attempt to move his hands away from her.

"Don't have a look." Drew grumbled while he reluctantly pulled his hands off his girlfriend once more and watched her backside as she walked away from him, towards the kitchen to look over takeout menus.

"You do have a look, and you've been giving me that same look since our first date." She called to him over her shoulder as she reached the kitchen, standing on her toes to reach the menus that were placed on top of the refrigerator.

Before she could ask him, Drew was up off of the couch and in the kitchen standing behind her, easily reaching above her head to grab the small pile of takeout menus and handing them to her. He pressed a kiss to the top of his short girlfriend's head and gave her backside a soft pat before he turned around to check his phone that had been charging. He checked his few messages and emails while he heard his girl hum and haw as she looked through the menus. He quickly sent a handful of replies then switched his phone back off.

"I think we should just go with the usual." Drew stated softly as he took the few steps over to his girl, standing behind her. His right arm wrapped around her, his hand reaching beneath her shirt again to palm at her breast while his left hand reached for a weathered Thai food menu, covered in wine stains and spilled sauce from favoured dishes.

"Because delivery takes over 30 minutes and you have a look on your face?" She questioned as she leaned back, succumbing to his affections as he pressed a kiss to the side of her face and his thumb ghosted over her nipple once.

"This is just my face." Drew scoffed, lips pressed to her temple as he pulled her back against him.

"It's distracting."

"You're distracting." Drew mumbled as he dropped the menu back on the counter and wrapped his other arm around his girlfriend to give her a loving squeeze.

"Order me food, Starkey. I'm hungry." She laughed, her arms folded over to squeeze at his biceps as he kissed her face over and over again. He grabbed her inside her sweater once more before he pulled his hands off his girlfriend and accepted her phone, their favourite Thai food place already dialed and at the ready.

"Tell them to bring you extra rice and that sauce you like if you go wait for me in bed with your clothes off." Drew nodded, eyebrows raised, just as the nasally voice of the teen on the other end of the phone greeted him.

"I was gonna do that any way!" She whispered to him as she unzipped the sweater that had belonged to him, dropped it to the floor, and raised her shoulders in a small shrug.

"Go." Drew stated under his breath with a snap of his fingers, pointing towards the bedroom down the hall and watched as she all but skipped away from him.

Drew shook his head, running his fingertips through his hair as he waited impatiently for this kid on the other end of the phone to give him the time and total amount of their food.

"That'll be about 50 minutes for delivery , Mr. Starkey. Sorry. We're busy tonight."

No worries, kid.

Hotties:

@whcclxr @pogueslandia @maybankslut @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @starkey-babie @beauvibaby @sodasback @soph0864 @rottenstyx @plutooryectors

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[peakyblindersxx]

drunk in love - john shelby x reader

a/n: hello my loves :) here is the john fic that i'm personally really excited about bc i fucking love him & i hope you guys like it!! i'm taking requests if you guys want me to write anything in specific and as always, feel free to message me :)

love, abi xxx

gif by: @deeptheon

prompt: you're john's secretary & he takes you on a trip.

warnings: nsfw!! smut with a teeny tiny bit of fluff if you squint, choking, power play, john being generally irresistible

There were many words to describe John Shelby. Cowardly was not one of them. In the short time you had known him, you had seen him fight god knows how many people, in countless bars across Birmingham. You had seen and heard stories of John blowing up buildings and setting bars on fire. And of course, there was the matter of his arrogance. John dripped confidence from his shoes to his slicked back hair. So cocky, in fact, that you almost wanted to tell him to shut up as much as you wanted to ride his face. Almost.

So, there you sat wistfully at your desk, sneaking glances of him in his office whenever you could. Not that you would even have a chance if you tried; you were his goddamn secretary. Despite the fact that he oozed arrogance, John was a good boss, who always approved your requests for days off. Sure, you were at his beck and call pretty much 24/7, but this also meant you had a front row seat to all the girls he fucked. The women were always stunning, making your hopes deflate even further. However, for the last month, there had been no women. You chalked it up to him finding some sort of girlfriend, so you kept your interactions with him as businesslike as possible. Deep down, through every meeting, phone call, and even just through the windows of his office, you drank in every second of John you could get. He was intoxicating; the smell of his cologne nearly brought you to your knees.

You snapped out of your thoughts, training your eyes back on the work in front of you and taking a drag from your cigarette. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder. It was Lizzie, a cigarette between her slightly pursed lips. “John wants you in his office. He doesn’t seem mad, but then again, who knows,” she stated. You stood, smoothing out your red pleated skirt and black blouse and quickly opening your compact to make sure your lipstick hadn’t smudged. “Thanks, Lizzie,” you replied, shooting her a smile as she made her way back to her desk. You made your way across the open office space to John’s office, knocking softly on the frosted window pane that read Shelby Company, Ltd in gold lettering.

“Come in,” John called out, his voice muffled behind the wooden door. You turned the doorknob and entered his office, shutting the door behind you. John sat at a tufted leather chair, puffing from a cigar, flipping through a folder. His suit jacket was abandoned on the velvet settee that sat in front of the fireplace, the gold chains of his sleeve garters glistening in the light. The glow from the fireplace glinted off of John’s profile, catching the frame of his jaw just right. You admired the way the light reflected off of the rings on his hands, making you want to feel the cool metal against your body. His hair was neatly slicked back as usual, along with his dark grey vest, white dress shirt, and tie, making him command the attention of the room.

“Lizzie said you wanted to see me?” You questioned, standing at the back of the room.

“Have a seat, Y/N,” John responded, gesturing towards the empty chairs that sat in front of his oak desk. You sat, crossing your legs and tucking them under the chair. John took another puff from his cigar, smoke billowing through the room. “I need to go to London, and

I need you with me.” You were a little surprised at this, since John had never asked you to go somewhere this far with him before.

“For how long?” You asked, taking a cigarette out and lighting it, your lipstick staining it a dark pink as you took a drag. John’s blue eyes bored into yours as he absent-mindedly flicked his cigar, ashing it into the crystal ashtray on his desk. It was almost as if he could read your mind and see all the filthy things you were imagining him doing to you. God, he was fucking irresistable.

“A week,” John replied, shooting his glass of whiskey as he stood, making his way to a locked cabinet and pulling out a wad of pound notes. He peeled a number of them off, making his way towards you and holding them out for you to take, leaning back against his desk facing you. “Buy yourself some nice dresses, eh? There’s going to be a lot of dinners, and I need you there to take notes.”

You accepted the cash, taking a long drag from your cigarette as your eyes met John’s. You couldn’t bring yourself to resist the urge to flirt back. “What’s your favorite color?” John seemed a little surprised at the question, but his normal confidence quickly returned as he smirked. “Black. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, eh?”

You nodded as he poured himself another whiskey, daydreaming about the way his rough hands would feel around your throat. “Is that all, Mr. Shelby?” You asked, black kitten heels tapping against the carpet.

John nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow.” You stood, turning to walk out of John’s office as you felt his eyes on your figure. As you closed the door behind you, you shivered in expectation. A week alone with John Shelby. How were you going to manage to keep your hands to yourself?

***

The rest of the work day passed quickly, and you headed to the nearest department store, choosing three different black dresses. As much as you hated to admit it, you wanted to look good for John. You wanted him to want you; to feel that longing that you felt between your legs every time his eyes met yours. You chose a longer formal black dress made of silk, a black sequined dress for a party, and the last, a short black dress with fringe that made you look almost like a burlesque dancer. You knew it was risky, exposing that much skin, but then again, John Shelby wasn’t a normal man. He knew what he wanted and he took it, never paying mind to what others thought.

As the rest of the night flew by, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed. No matter how many times you touched yourself, you couldn’t get the image of John’s smirk out of your head. You wanted him to bend you over right in his office, and you didn’t care who heard. You wanted him to take everything you had to offer. Eventually, you fell asleep, waking up to the sound of birds chirping loudly outside your apartment window. You almost jumped out of bed, blood pumping with excitement. You got ready, slipping on a dark purple silk dress with black tights and purple pumps, stuffing your cigarette case and pocketbook in your black handbag. You poured yourself a cup of tea, hurrying to get all your bags ready as you didn’t want to keep John waiting.

Right as eight o’clock arrived, you heard a knock on your door. It was John, smelling sweetly of cologne and wearing a freshly pressed black pinstripe three piece suit with a grey tie. His cap sat tilted on his head, and dangling from his lips was a cigar. He was a fucking vision to behold, and your head spun at the thought of the two hour car ride in close quarters that you were about to endure. The driver came in to take your bags, leaving John to walk you to the car. He held out his hand to help you step into the Bentley, your skin buzzing with electricity where his fingers touched yours. John closed the door, making his way to the other side and sliding into the leather interior while the driver finished putting the bags in the trunk and made his way to the driver’s seat, starting the engine and taking off.

John’s blue-grey eyes met yours as he puffed at his cigar, cracking the window slightly to let the smoke waft out. “You pack everything we need?” You subconsciously pressed your legs together, filthy images swirling through your brain as you managed to ignore them. “Yes, Mr. Shelby, I got the list you sent me for what to bring. Did you need anything other than that?”

John shook his head no, putting out his cigar in the ashtray. A comfortable silence settled over the two of you as the car rumbled along over the brick roads.

“What’s your favorite color?” You looked over at John in surprise. He must have understood your confusion as he added, “You asked what mine was. I want to know yours.”

“Red,” you replied, fumbling for a cigarette, and when finding one, striking a match to light it.

John’s eyes fixed on your dark red stained lips. “Red, aye?”

Your instincts got the better of you. “Is there a problem with that, Mr. Shelby?”

“Call me John,” he said, words muffled by the cigarette in his mouth that he was lighting. After he finished, he took a drag, fixing his eyes back on you. “And, no. The opposite, actually.”

You weren’t brave enough to ask what that meant, so you let silence take over once again. Maybe later, when you had had a few drinks in you. What the fuck were you doing?

Finally, the dirt roads underneath once again turned into cobblestone, and you knew you were in London by the smell and smoke that hovered over the city. The Bentley rolled to a stop in front of a massive factory building, stretching blocks long. You could hear the yells of the workers from inside the car. John reached for his gun, loading it and affixing it back into his holster.

“We’ve got a meeting first, then dinner. Driver’s going to drop off our bags at the hotel. C’mon sweetheart, and stay by me. Who knows what these fuckers are going to pull around here,” John said, opening the door and reaching his hand out for you to take. You blushed at the pet name, taking John’s hand as he quickly whisked you off the street and into the building, up a flight of stairs where two men directed the two of you into a meeting room with a large table and dark leather chairs. John sank into the chair at the head of the table, and you slid into the seat next to him, taking out a notebook. Before you had any time to even write the date, John’s hand was on your waist, pulling you close to him. Your skin prickled with goosebumps at the proximity.

“If anybody pulls a fucking gun, you get behind me. You understand?” You nodded, crossing your legs at the ankle as you tried to focus your thoughts on something other than how fucking amazing John smelled. John’s hand left your waist as the door opened, the men whom he was meeting with entering the room. The meeting was uneventful, John successfully closing the deal with these men, who you found out were the Chinese. The driver picked you both up out front, taking the two of you back to your hotel to get changed for what you found out was a French restaurant in London’s downtown. The hotel room was a suite with two rooms, one for you and the larger one for John. You decided to wear the short black dress with fringe along with black fluffy kitten heels, and when John walked out of his room, the first word out of his mouth was “Fuck.” Your cheeks blushed a bright pink as John’s eyes traveled down your body.

“You look amazing.” John held out his arm for you to grab, leading you into the car as you took off. It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant, passing through busy streets packed with people of opulence. As John held the door for you to walk in, you almost gasped in amazement at the massive gold chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The waiter led you and John to your table, and as John pulled out your chair for you and walked around the table to sit at his, you almost couldn’t believe you were here, let alone with John Shelby, one of the biggest and by your standards most certainly the most handsome gangsters in Birmingham. Yet, there he sat across from you, looking fucking delectable in a dark grey three-piece suit and black tie.

The dinner was amazing, time passing quickly as the two of you fell into conversation. John Shelby was funny, you realized, and at the heart of it all, sweet. Soon, a glass of wine turned into five, and the driver eventually dropped the two of you back off at the hotel, as the other customers had complained about the raucous laughing coming from your table. You burst into the room giggling, John following close behind, as the two of you flopped onto the velvet settee, knees and shoulders brushing.

“God, you’re fucking pretty,” John said, eyes locking with yours. Your jaw almost dropped as your cheeks turned pink. “What?”

“You heard me,” John said, lighting a cigarette. “You’re fucking pretty.”

You stared at him, alcohol fueling your confidence. “Then why don’t you do something about it?” The words spilled out of your mouth. John wasted no time in pressing his lips against yours roughly, picking you up and setting you on the bed. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed himself against you, feeling his cock hard against your lower stomach, earning a grunt from John as he ripped off your dress, sending buttons flying across the room. You opened your mouth in protest, but John beat you to it. “I’ll buy you three new ones, yeah?” He questioned before running his hands down your hips, a finger slipping underneath the waistband of your black panties. Goosebumps ran down your skin and John chuckled, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

“God, you look so pretty all spread out for me. Better than I fucking imagined,” he said, pulling your panties down your legs and rubbing his thumb in circles on your clit. Your body jolted in response. “John,” you panted. “Oh fuck John, please don’t tease me..”

John grinned up at you, pushing one finger in you slowly. “What do you want? Tell me, darling.”

“Your mouth, John, please,” you gasped, squirming for some sort of relief. John responded by licking slowly up your cunt, flicking his tongue in circles around your clit before returning his attention to your pussy, his right hand rubbing your clit. You cried out, back arching as you pushed against John’s mouth. You felt him growl in response, vibrations pulsing throughout your body and sending you over the edge and you came all over John’s face. You attempted to catch your breath as John stood with a boyish smirk, wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve before discarding his clothes, his large cock standing at attention against his taught stomach muscles.

“God you taste good,” John rumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think I’ll have you tomorrow for breakfast too,” he grinned. You laughed in response, John cutting that laugh short by running the head of his cock up and down your dripping cunt.

“Sir, please,” you whined, eyes widening when you realized what had just left your mouth. Before you could apologize, you felt John’s hand wrap around your throat.

“You going to be a good girl for me, hmm?” John’s blue eyes bored into yours.

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered, crying out as John entered you at a ridiculous pace, covering your mouth with his. He kissed like a starved man, hungry for everything you had to give, and you gave it gladly. John’s cock bumped up against your g spot with every thrust as he fucked you, your moans echoing throughout the hotel room.

“Your pussy is amazing,” John groaned as he fucked into you relentlessly. “Fucking mine now, yeah?”

You nodded, unable to form the proper words as John chuckled darkly. “Pretty little thing, can’t even talk when I’m fucking you this good, hm?” Your only reply was a moan as John gripped your throat tightly, causing you to see stars.

“That’s right, sweetheart, come all over my cock,” John crooned as you reached your release, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. You cried out as John fucked you even harder, eyes locked with yours. “Mine,” John grunted, hips snapping flush with yours as he continued to thrust inside of you, your pussy squeezing around his cock as you neared your second orgasm.

“I want you to come in me, sir, please,” you begged, hands clawing at John’s back. John groaned in response, fucking you at the fastest pace he possibly could as your cries echoed off the walls before eventually releasing inside of you, falling onto the bed next you as the two of you caught your breath. John slung an arm around you, pulling you close to him as he locked his eyes with yours.

“I meant what I said, you know.” “What did you say?” You asked, brow furrowed with confusion.

“That you were pretty,” John said, sitting up to grab a cigarette and light it, his blue eyes glistening in the light of the fireplace. “I’ve thought about you more than I’d like to admit.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “And I’m not just drunk,” John continued, eyes meeting yours again. “I think I’m in love.”

“Me too.” You couldn’t stop the words from coming from your mouth. John followed them with a deep kiss, pulling you on top of him.

“I’m gonna fuck you until the sun comes up,” John grinned as you laughed, covering your mouth with his.

[lovetorn]

in chains for you [dream]

Dream x Fem!Reader Criminals!AU

Summary: The Dream Team is an underground crime group that works for Techno Industries. But what happens when one of their most valuable members is taken for ransom by their enemy, Schlatt?

Warnings: Swearing & mean insults :(, kidnapping, death, violence, uhhh nothing else? message me if you see anything else!

Word Count: 8.1k+

A/N: I’m so sorry for any mistakes/plot holes, my adhd said no❤️ when i was editing :(

Note: Please remember these are all characters! Since I do not know any of these people in real life, I have created all aspects of their lives, personalities etc. and apologise for any OOC moments. I portrayed Schlatt as the villain purely from his role play in the Dream SMP, obviously, I do not believe him to be like this irl in any way. He is also written as much older than the Dream Team to enhance the villain-like characteristics. Remember, this is just fiction! Thanks! 

Night had fallen over California, and the icy breeze from the South blew through the city of Beverly Hills. The lights from several luxury hotels and displays lit up the streets and exposed the city. It was more alive than half the people that resided there. Here, people only cared about their money and their assets; barely any room left for emotions towards others that didn’t benefit them. 

“Hurry the fuck up, Sapnap!” 

The gravelly sound of Dream shouting prompted Y/n to run faster. Tensions were high as three criminals rushed to the dark SUV that sat running outside of the tall building. They clutched black duffle bags in both hands when the sound of familiar sirens cried a few blocks away. 

Unlocking the car, George threw open the back car door and launched his duffle bags onto the car seats before hopping in. Dream rounded the car and opened the door to the driver’s seat, Y/n doing the same for the passenger’s side. And whilst they were shoving the bags in, Sapnap came running out of the building, another duffle bag in his hand and a briefcase in the other. The ends of his white bandana flew around in the wind behind him as he missed a dip in the floor.

“What the fuck has he got now? We’ve gotta go!” George exclaimed, hurrying the boy by waving his hand. Dream put the car in drive as Sapnap slammed the door, “Go, go, go!”

The car squealed while Dream pulled off of the curb, the wheels screeching against the tar as he pressed his foot heavily on the accelerator. 40, 50, 70, 100, 130mph. The speedometer jumped by 10s and then by 40s as the car barrelled down the long strip of road, the wailings of sirens fading behind them. 

George, Y/n and Sapnap were laughing as they took their masks off. The sound pissed Dream off as he gripped the steering wheel harder; why is nobody taking this seriously? 

Ripping his white mask off his face and throwing it into his lap, Dream looked at Sapnap through the rearview mirror, “Why did you take so long? That could’ve fucked our whole plan!” 

“Jeez, chill out.”

Dream shot him a glare through the mirror as Sapnap put his hand up, “Schlatt said he had a briefcase full of Chick-Fil-A gift cards, so I grabbed the first one I saw.” 

George lolled his head to the side, mouth agape as he stared at him in disbelief. “Are you shitting me?” 

Sapnap shook his head, resting the case on his thighs and popping open the clasps. 

“Fuck yeah!” He cheered, turning the case around to show the rest of the car the bundles of hundreds of red and white cards that laid on a sheet of red velvet. Sapnap’s eyes remained as wide as saucers the entire time he tilted the case at different angles to ensure everybody saw. 

Y/n turned around in her seat to face the boys in the back and giggled. 

“Can I have one?” She asked, holding her hands up in a praying gesture. Sapnap laughed and nodded, “I’ve got enough for a whole country! And anything for you, Y/n.” Y/n smiled at him, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ before turning back around to face the road that was gone as quick as it came. 

The deep sigh that came from Dream in the driver’s seat caught the attention of everybody in the car. Sapnap rolled his eyes and shut the case. “Calm down, green boy. She’s all yours.” 

Arriving at the motel George had found, the four lugged the black duffle bags in the small room. Locking the room door, Dream spun around to see everybody sitting on one of the single beds. 

He eyed the black duffle bags in the corner with a frown, each one full to the brim with thousands of 100 dollar bills that they had to transfer back to base. George cleared his throat when he saw his friend looking at the bags and raised his eyebrows, “Dream?” The man turned at the sound of his name and nodded once. He had an odd feeling in his stomach but decided to ignore it and face the problem at hand first before anything else.

Dream sighed, “We did good tonight,” The three on the bed hollering softly, fist-bumping each other before Dream continued. 

“But...” Y/n, George and Sapnap all groaned, throwing their heads back at the oncoming disappointment that Dream was going to throw on them.

“Sapnap, what the fuck was that? You can’t go off on your own tangents during a plan this big! What would’ve happened if—”

Sapnap’s eyes widened when he realised Dream’s rage was aimed towards him. “Dream! It’s okay, bro. I’m right here, we’re all alive—”

“Don’t talk back to me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Y/n avoided Dream’s gaze when it landed on her. She didn’t want him asking her to back him up; not tonight. 

“Anyway, I hope you all know what comes next.” The three nodded, heads down and eyes trained on the worn carpet. Sapnap and George stood up and went to different sides of the room, George to the bathroom and Sapnap to the desk where he pulled out his iPod and earphones. 

Dream watched as Y/n lifted her head back up, meeting his gaze. She gave him a soft smile and patted the space on the bed next to her. Dream ran a hand through his tangled blonde hair and walked over to her, sitting where her hand once was. 

“You okay?” She asked softly, placing her hand over his that sat in his lap. Dream nodded before huffing. “I just don’t know how successful this plan actually is. Something’s off.” He whispered, grabbing her hand. Y/n leaned forward to try and meet his green eyes; the ones that made her weak at the knees when he looked at her a certain way. But he didn’t need to know that considering they were just friends.  

“We did good today, look! We’re here, alive and well. And if something’s bothering you, just know that I’ll always be here to help you. Now, I need the bathroom.” She smiled, squeezing his hand before standing up. 

“George? When are you done?” She yelled at the bathroom door. Dream tilted his head to the side as he admired her, what would he do without her?

“Soon! Stop being annoying!” 

It had reached a point in the night where Dream couldn’t sleep. The single bed he laid in was uncomfortable, and the nagging feeling of doubt kept him awake. Something was wrong. 

He looked over a Y/n who laid in the other bed across from him. His top priority was to keep her safe; he had to. His eyes then travelled to his two other best friends—Sapnap in the desk chair and George on the brown couch. 

He smiled softly. Dream rarely got emotional, but seeing his friends and partners in crime—literally—so vulnerable, had his mind plagued with vicious scenarios that brought tears to his alarmingly vacant eyes. 

They weren’t always void, but seeing death as he did, had pushed the soul of nature out of his once striking eyes. He thought they looked dull now, matching the rest of his face, but Y/n always told him they were the prettiest she’d ever seen. He’d always flush when she said that which always elicited a poke in the ribs and a teasing comment from her. 

Dream forgot how long he’d been lying there, his mind drifting in and out of sleeping until a high-pitched squeak came from the main door. He reached for his knife that held a place under the pillow and sat up, holding his knife and facing the door. 

On the floor next to the door, sat an ominous black envelope. Dream chewed the inside of his lip, his heart beating rapidly with panic. How did they find them?

— 

“How the fuck did they find us?” George asked, his palms sweaty as he held the letter in his hands. The gold foiling around the letters was both alluring and terrifying. 

Palm Casino.  Wednesday Night. 12am.  Be there, or face death. 

Dream had rolled his eyes when he read the letter for the first time; Schlatt was so dramatic. And although fear and doubt had set in his stomach, he didn’t let his friends know. 

How did they find them? They had been careful with the robbery, getting everything they needed without leaving a trace, nothing out of place, except for—

Dream shoved his partners out of the way and leaned down to pick up the briefcase with the Chic-Fil-A gift cards. Sapnap went to interject, primarily to save his prized possession when Y/n grabbed his elbow and shook her head when he turned to her. 

Dream opened it then turned it upside down, emptying the cards onto the rotting carpet. 

“Dream—” 

“Shut up.” He then continued to rip the velvet from the inside of the case to reveal a small box with a red flashing light. Sapnap stopped his wriggling and stood staring at the device. 

“This is your fault, you dipshit.” 

Sapnap was silent. Y/n softened her grip to rub his elbow comfortingly instead, the action making Dream narrow his gaze. The girl rolled her eyes and spoke up, “How was he supposed to know it was in there, Dream? You can’t blame him for this at all.” 

Dream shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor before huffing and scrunching his nose in a disgusted manner.

Midnight had arrived quickly, like a thief in the dark, and the crescent moon hung high in the sky. A light breeze swept into the city, making the palm trees sway in the delicate moonlight as a black SUV pulled up to the Palm Casino. 

“Okay, here we go. I want you all on your best behaviour,” Dream joked. And as his mask only hid half of his face, a lopsided grin graced his face as he popped the door open. Y/n knew that smile; it was one that was begging for chaos, but she knew it was just a deflection from his real emotions. 

Walking to the entrance, Y/n reached up and placed her hand on Dream’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Dream let out a laugh, “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

The boys sported black on black suits with matching Rolex watches, the gold of the timepieces shining in the low light. The only differences between them being Dream’s smiley mask, Sapnap’s white bandana in his hair, and George’s white glasses upon the top of his head. Y/n, on the other hand, wore a fitting dress with gold jewellery. She would’ve worn anything else, but considering the situation, she complied. 

As the waitress walked them over to the poker table, Y/n caught Dream’s hand in her own, squeezing it once before letting go. She knew he was worried and the action in itself was enough to calm Dream’s nerves for the time being, but as soon as he made eye contact with Schlatt, it all went away. 

“Boys! How are we doing?” The man yelled, throwing his arms up with a smile on his face. Dream nodded once and sat down at the table, Sapnap and George following. Y/n went to sit beside Sapnap but was cut off by Schlatt who took it upon himself to police the members at said table. 

“I’m sorry, gorgeous. I’m afraid this game is only for the men.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and clasped his hands on the table. Y/n narrowed her gaze at him before rolling her eyes and moving to stand behind Dream. 

Schlatt then stood and excused himself from the table, making George throw Dream a confused look before the man spoke up. He walked towards another room, guarded by velvet ropes, but not before shouting, “Let the games begin!” 

—  

Dream sat observing the last man in the game next to himself, ensuring he wouldn’t lose, not that he ever did. He had learnt from his father early on to read the expressions of the players around him and how to benefit from the folds and raises. People were shocked when they found out his age, bewildered that such a young man could earn numbers like that. 

Dream stared narrowly at the man; his eyebrows raised as he wore a sly smirk. The man in front of him was profusely sweating, his hand reaching to grasp a tissue from his pocket as the last community card was placed down. The surrounding men groaned; their expressions irritable as the Dream Team gained another win. Dream threw the cards onto the Poker table and stood up, offering his hand to the gentleman. He reluctantly accepted then hurried out of the room, four of his acquaintances following.  

Y/n watched as Dream swapped seats with Sapnap, allowing him his turn at the game. She then moved and leaned down to Dream’s ear, “This is bullshit, where’s Schlatt gone?”

Dream shook his head and shrugged quickly, “Fuck knows.”

“Let’s go, Sapnap,” A man they recognised as Fletcher spoke, sitting down in front of the young man as his buddies filed around the table to take their seats. Sapnap didn’t talk, he only glanced back at Dream who tilted his head, holding his forefinger up to indicate this would be their last round.  

Once Sapnap had collected his two starting cards, the game began. Dream watched as each of the men were eliminated through folds and how they apologised to Fletcher for letting him down. The man brushed them off, telling them to “watch how it’s done”. Dream, Sapnap and George stifled a laugh as they watched the second last man fold. Behind them, Y/n grew impatient and began mumbling to herself about how ridiculous it was.

“Excuse me? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a round? Get the fuck outta here.” Fletcher said, his voice harsh as Y/n’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. Dream went to interject before the man spoke again. 

“A scotch on the rocks.” He then said. 

“I’m not a waitress.” Y/n’s voice was monotone while the man waved her away. Y/n scoffed before she moved towards him. Dream’s hand flew out to catch her wrist, and Y/n rolled her eyes. As angry as Dream was, he wasn’t going to start something with Schlatt’s men before the meeting actually started. Sapnap didn’t pay any attention to the conversations around him, focusing only on winning.

Fletcher chuckled, holding his cards close to his chest, “you dumb kid”. Sapnap’s facial expression went from serious to amused, watching as the dealer placed down the final community card. Sapnap’s eyes flickered to Fletcher’s grey ones as he slammed his cards down on the table. Sapnap then reached to gather his winnings in chips, earning pats on the back from George and a gentle laugh and fist-bump from Dream. 

Fletcher sat in disbelief; he was sure he would win this one. Sapnap stood up and embraced George in a hug before moving to Dream as Fletcher circled around the table. 

“You cheating bastard!” Sapnap held his hands up in defence, clueless as to why this man was coming at him. 

“No cheating here, Fletch, just plain luck,” He grinned, clearly not fearful of him. 

“Dude just take the loss and move on, it’s not that deep,” Y/n said, catching the attention of Fletcher again. 

“Not now, you whore. The men are talking,” Fletcher glowered, looking intimidatingly down at the girl. 

Y/n, however, wasn’t fazed by his words, “Look, it’s not his fault that you lost. I guess you just suck at Poker.” Fletcher’s face went bright red, and Y/n swore she saw steam coming out of his ears. Her eyes widened as she took a step back slowly. George pushed her behind him despite her protests of being able to handle herself. 

“Come on Fletch, there’s no need to go after an innocent woman,” Dream asserted, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. He soon realised that his actions were a mistake as Fletcher spun around and threw his fist towards Dream’s nose. Dream’s mask had cracked slightly on impact, his green eyes widening in panic as he stumbled back slightly. 

Sapnap scanned the other men around them and calculated their next moves before he ducked a punch from a redhead. George’s hands gripped under Dream’s armpits as he pulled him up, dodging fists from the older men. Dream’s eyes were watering from the unexpected hit to the nose, and he could barely see.  

But what he did see was Y/n raising the metal drinks tray she found on the poker table next to them and slamming it down on the back of Fletcher’s bald head. Her eyes were wide as she stood behind his figure that was now on the floor, groaning. Her eyes met his and Dream felt his breath catch in his throat, but he couldn’t acknowledge it at the present time because there were five other guys to deal with. 

Dream regained his posture and cocked his head to the right, stretching his neck before standing off to the others. The men stood with their fists raised in front of their faces and their feet apart, ready to engage. George, Sapnap and Dream were just as confused as Y/n was, who was making sure Fletcher stayed down. 

“I really fucking hate you guys. Let’s get a move on with the meeting, shall we?” Y/n said lazily, she just wanted to get home. 

—

Dream sat in a large black chair, the lower half of his face covered in blood, the top half covered by his stained, cracked mask. Y/n had her legs crossed, with a stern expression, glaring at Schlatt as he rounded the table to sit at his obnoxiously large desk. 

Schlatt had demanded it only be Dream and Y/n in the office with him, making George and Sapnap wait outside. The two boys had angrily complained about it, but Dream assured them it would be fine, leaving them to sulk next to the heavy wooden door that led to Schlatt’s office. 

“You two make a good pair, eh?” Schlatt smirked, bringing his hands to interlock in front of him on the desk. Dream glanced at Y/n, who gave him a bored look. 

He then turned back to the front, “Why are we here, Schlatt?” 

“Oh, not very friendly,” He laughed, earning no responses from anyone in the room except for his assistant, Quackity, who stood in the corner. “That’s Quackity by the way.” 

Dream shrugged, uninterested with the introduction of his assistant and remained still until Schlatt continued.

“Now, tell me where the money is, Dream.” There it was—the literal million-dollar question.

The masked blonde didn’t react. Y/n cast her eyes towards him, seeing nothing but the white mask that covered his face. The smile on the front was a harsh contrast to the anger Dream felt. And when Schlatt huffed and wiggled his fingers at Quackity, then Dream perked up. 

Suddenly, Y/n wrists were being grabbed by Quackity, who had crossed the room in seconds. Dream immediately stood, only to be pushed back by Schlatt who had moved in front of him. 

Y/n opened her mouth object when Quackity whacked his free hand over her mouth. She let out a whimper at the smack, tears welling in her eyes in shock. Nonetheless, she continued to struggle against his harsh grip on her wrists. Y/n’s breathing became heavier, her thoughts clouded with fear of the unknown; what would Schlatt want with her?  

Quackity dragged the girl from the large chair towards the other side of the room, where another door lay, but he didn’t take her in yet. Dream’s gaze was locked on Y/n, everything else slipping away as he watched her thrash against her captor. 

“Let’s call it leverage?” Schlatt’s haunting voice echoed through the room, and he had an evil gleam in his eye. “You tell me where you hid the money, and I’ll let her go.” 

Dream’s head was on a swivel when he turned back to face Schlatt. Panic blossomed in his stomach; if he gave up the money, they’d all be dead. And as hard of a decision as it was, Dream knew what to do—he had his full faith in Y/n. He remembered what she had told him when they first started working together and drew in a breath. He nodded at Y/n once, receiving a pleading look in reply, and sighed.  

“Give ‘em hell, baby.” 

—

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Sapnap spat as the three men got back into the SUV outside of the casino. George shook his head in the backseat, scoffing as Dream ignored their questions. 

Meanwhile, Dream drove in complete fury. He knew what he did was wrong and stupid, but Y/n once demanded he let her go if she was ever held for ransom. It was an odd request at the time. And this was an irrational move that could get her killed, but he had no choice—it was her or the whole operation, and Dream was loyal. 

“Hello? You fuckin’—” 

“Sapnap.” 

The youngest froze at Dream’s tone and sunk into his seat, choosing to look out of the window than at him. He flexed his hand against the steering wheel, refusing to meet their gazes.

“Y/n asked me before any of this started, that if she were to ever be held hostage, for ransom, whatever, to trust her and let them take her. I don’t know why I never asked her why, but we have to trust her, and you have to trust me for making this decision.”  

“Call Techno and tell him that Schlatt’s taken one of us for ransom.” Dream said to no one in particular. Sapnap scrambled to get his phone from his pocket and dial their boss’ number, but not before turning and facing Dream from the passenger’s seat. 

“I—we trust you, Dream. And we’ll be with you till the end, okay?” Sapnap mumbled, gesturing to George in the backseat.  

“She’ll be fine.” Dream had a hard time believing George, “We know Y/n, she’s a strong girl—a whole lot stronger than us—she’ll get through it.” 

The piercing sound of metal against metal made Y/n cringe, distracting her from the burning of the new rope bound around her wrists. Quackity’s heavy breathing almost made her laugh, they hadn’t even walked for that long.

He didn’t say anything to Y/n when he guided her inside a cell. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked around the dirty space, scrunching her nose in disgust as she noticed the damp walls and the stray cockroach that scurried across the floor. 

“I’m sorry about the state of this, we don’t have visitors often,” Quackity said, exhaling a scoff he let go of her arms. Y/n’s face dropped when she felt the rope loosen and fall off her wrists. She remained still as Quackity rummaged around behind her. 

The screech of the cell door closing startled Y/n—she thought she’d have more time to fight back. She heard Quackity shuffle away from the cell, and shortly after, the sound of dress shoes tapping on the concrete floor caught her attention. 

Y/n slowly turned around when someone cleared their throat behind her. She rolled her eyes as she came face to face with Schlatt. He stood with his hands behind his back in his usual arrogant suit and his deep red tie.

“Do you know why my tie is this red?” He asked, his head tilted to the side with a patronising smirk. It was an odd question, but Y/n could already guess the answer, she just didn’t want to hear it when she was this vulnerable. 

Schlatt leaned down and closer to the cell, his face fitting perfectly between the bars as his eyes glared into Y/n’s.  

“It’s so you can’t see the bloodstains.” He winked before sanding to his full height, his mood shifting entirely, “Anyways, I’m gonna keep this short. Get comfortable, Princess, you’ll be here awhile knowing Dream and his goons.” 

With a clap of his hands and a small chuckle, Schlatt left, his shoes clacking down the hallway and into the elevator at the end of the hallway. The machine dinged and then it was gone, leaving Y/n in a deafening silence. 

She sank to her knees, crestfallen, onto the concrete beneath her, still in her tight dress. As strong-minded as Y/n was, she couldn’t bring herself to give a witty remark. She was absolutely defeated. She knew Dream would get her out, eventually, but at what cost? Would Dream let everything the Dream Team has worked for in the past 3 years go to waste? For her? 

She didn’t let herself cry as she picked herself up, and hesitantly sat on the cot in the corner of the cell. Her dress was uncomfortable, and the feeling of satin against her skin irritated her immensely. 

Y/n had no idea how far underground she was; she sat in complete darkness and utter silence, nothing but the ringing of her ears and her screaming thoughts to keep her company. 

—

Dream paced the small space, tearing at his hair roots with his fists, his face red with panic and anger. He was so in his head; he couldn’t hear his two friends calling his name from 3 feet away. The thought of Y/n alone with Schlatt made him so infuriated he could punch a hole through the brick wall next to him. The ringing in his ears was deafening, and the stinging of his nails digging into his palms was numbing. 

Sapnap threw George a concerned glance, his brown eyes pleading George to do something to stop Dream from falling further into an endless loop of guilt and despair. 

“Dream!” The sound of George calling him in that tone caused him to pause his pacing. He turned to look at his English friend with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“You need to stop! Y/n wouldn’t want you having an existential crisis over her, she’d want you to hurry up and figure out a plan to get her back.”

Dream stood frozen for a moment; what would Y/n want? It was like a switch flipped inside Dream when he stood up straight, sending him into autopilot. All emotion wiped was from his face, leaving his eyes vacant and face blank. And as much as George hated to admit it, this cold version of his best friend knew what to do and how to do it efficiently. The sudden change shocked Sapnap slightly, leaving him frightened as he grabbed onto George’s sleeve. 

“Ok boys, let’s get to work.”

Emotion is a weakness, and they sure did not need that right now. 

Y/n had been suffering in the same tight dress and uncomfortable heels for a week; Schlatt’s lack of humanity and human decency (as well as kidnapping her in the first place), had put him in Y/n’s bad books.  

The only human interaction she had was Quackity bringing her meals twice a day and the small conversations they would have as she ate. He didn’t talk about his work much, only hinting at his eventual betrayal and escape from Schlatt. Although, he continually spoke of his family to her, telling Y/n that he was there against his will and was threatened with death if he left. She felt sympathy for the boy, he was so young. 

When Alex, as she now calls him, left her, Y/n was back with her mind. She had remained seemingly sane despite being in solitary confinement but was going insane without Dream. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his emerald ones gleaming at her through the darkness, their vibrance giving her shivers. 

She missed his touch: his cold hands in her’s, their knees brushing slightly when sitting on the motel bed, his hand on her thigh in the car, despite complaints from the boys. She cared deeply for him, and she knew he did too, but they were both too scared of rejection to get together. Sapnap always teased them for being ‘pussies’, and George would roll his eyes whenever they would flush at their closeness—god, she missed them too.

Biting her lip, Y/n tried her best to prevent tears from falling down her cheeks. But she hadn’t let them fall since being held ransom, fearing she would be seen as weak by Schlatt, and even Alex. The burning at the back of her throat was fiery as she let them out. She struggled to breathe, clawing at her throat when she felt her lungs tighten. Y/n tried to sit upright to calm herself down, but her pained cries filled the cold, concrete basement and rattled the cell bars. She sobbed for hours, only falling asleep when the last ones dried. 

—

As Dream put the car in park, he turned to face George in the passenger’s seat.

“You ready?” He asked. George exhaled and nodded, “Let’s get her back.” 

Dream smirked. His attitude had flipped entirely from last week, leaving him cocky and ready to fight the world. However, George saw through his best friend’s act. He heard Dream’s choked and ragged cries in the bathroom at 4 am, and noticed his red, puffy eyes at 7 am when they woke up. He saw the way his hands shook every time he drove, and he caught onto Dream’s routine of not eating until Sapnap would force him away from the table with the plans spread across it. 

George was concerned for his best friend, and Dream was oblivious. But despite everything, George knew he was determined to get Y/n back, above all else. Her life came before his own, and that scared George to his core, how far would Dream go to save Y/n?

“Ok, Geor—” The piercing screams of fire alarms made Dream jump as they echoed down the street. The two boys shared a surprised look before they hopped out of the SUV. They jogged down the road towards the Palm Casino with black duffle bags on their shoulders.  

Flames rose as high as the sky and embers rained on Dream and George as they ran through the smoke to the entrance. Employees darted out of the main doors, crashing into the boys as they continued to the central control room of the casino. George heaved the heavy door open before closing it firmly behind them. They dropped the bags and began drinking in the clean air as they set their eyes on Sapnap who sat behind a desk with his feet up on the table. 

“Well, boys, how did I do?” He said, arms out as he cocked his eyebrow up. George laughed in disbelief, “I can’t believe that worked.”  

Sapnap shook his head quickly, “You had no faith in me, did you?” He threw his hand on his chest and stood up from his spot. 

“Sap, you did great!” Dream exclaimed, walking over to slap the boy on the back. Sapnap’s pained expression turned into a smile as he watched George do the same. 

“Ok then, where’s the security office?”

—

“I can’t fit my fat ass through there, Sapnap.” Dream’s jaw dropped as he measured the gap with his hands, “There’s just no way!” 

George rolled his eyes and pushed Dream towards the duct, “Just go! Do you want Y/n back or not?” Dream’s face scrunched up, much like a child when having a tantrum, and whined. 

“Why don’t you just go? I simply just cannot fit! Here, you wanna see?” George and Sapnap nodded, amused looks on their faces as they watched him dive headfirst into the air duct. 

His body slipped in in such an elegant way that it made them burst out laughing. Dream, who couldn’t see his friends, exhaled deeply before he began crawling along. His movements heightened their laughter, seeing him wiggle through, but it only made Dream more determined to pursue the journey. 

“Oh yeah, you have such a fat ass, Dream! Throw it back for me, baddie!” Sapnap yelled after him, his giggles interrupting the sentence a few times. 

George and Sapnap’s antics were long gone, and all Dream could hear was the squeaking of an elevator and the creaking of the metal beneath him. He had memorised the layout of the ducts in his head and decided that this was the spot to drop down into.  

The first basement looked usual,  with a boiler in the corner and some filing cabinets lining the walls. Dream dropped from the ceiling with no sound, moving silently towards the elevator in the opposing corner of the large room. The sound of shoes slapping the hard ground paused Dream’s movements before he moved quickly behind a cabinet. 

“—He said not to go down there, Tubbo. What do you think he’s hiding?” 

Dream furrowed his eyebrows, were those kids? He adjusted his mark slightly before he peeked around the corner of the filing cabinet. Sure enough, Dream saw two teenage boys, one significantly taller than the other. But nonetheless, they were definitely very young. Why did Schlatt hire two British kids to guard his secret underground prison? Dream shook his head, glancing down at the floor as he crept out of his hiding spot. 

“Oi!” He heard. Dream looked up, seeing the taller boy stalk towards him. The blonde boy stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he looked back at the other boy. 

“Tubbo, do you know who this is?” The blonde asked in disbelief. The shorter one nodded, his expression lifting at the sight of Dream. Their jaws dropped as Dream exhaled deeply. 

“Dream? As in the Dream Team? As in Techno Industries?” Dream rolled his eyes behind his mask. He didn’t respond as the two boys inched closer to him. 

“Listen, I’ll give you a few bucks if you don’t mention this to Schlatt, got it?” Dream growled, shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills. The boys’ eyes shone, the shorter one reaching forward to accept the bribe before the blonde pushed him back. 

“That’s all? I was expecting at least a grand each from THE Dream.” He smirked. Dream remained expressionless and went to decline before the blonde continued. “It’s a grand each or I tell Schlatt you were snooping around his casino.” 

Dream shook his head and pulled another $600 from his pocket and shoved it into their hands, “Now shut the fuck up, or I’ll do it myself.” 

The taller one went to reply, but the other one pulled on his sleeve and shook his head. He rolled his eyes and mumbled a string of curse words before turning and stomping away. The other boy muttered a quick ‘thank you’ with a small smile on his face and hurried off in the direction of the staircase that went up to the casino’s main floor. Dream guessed that the fire had been taken care of by the way they fled carelessly up the stairs. 

Dream sighed and trod over to the elevator. He pressed the arrow to go down and groaned when the scanner next to it blinked red. 

He scrunched up his face when he glanced back towards the air duct. The only other option was to try and get down the air duct and into the rafters in the basement below. 

Dream had the urge to throw a temper tantrum at Sapnap’s shitty planning. He pulled himself back up into the duct and crawled towards the wall where the elevator was. Reaching a sharp drop, Dream looked over the edge, his eyes widening at the height. He grunted as he positioned himself above the fall; all he had to do was slide down. 

He could hardly see the bottom, but he knew if he slid down as planned, he would go straight through. So, instead, Dream slowly moved his arms and legs into the small space and gradually let himself down, inching closer to the bottom with every move.  

Sweat dripped down his temple, and his muscles ached as he went, his palms becoming slippery against the smooth and thin metal. He held his breath as he reached the bottom, scared any sound he made would attract unwanted attention from whoever could be in the vicinity.  

He let out a quiet, steady breath, and he returned to his hands and knees in the horizontal air duct. His original plan was irrelevant, so he didn’t know the map of the air ducts in the second basement, leaving him guessing. 

Once he thought the spot was right, he harshly pushed on a panel of the duct below him, hearing it clatter on the concrete as it hit the ground. He cringed at the sound and slowly lowered himself onto the beams that were directly below him. How convenient. 

The sharp sound of the panel dropping had caught the attention of several guards. On this level, there were actual security guards with weapons and not lippy teenagers. Dream made eye contact with one of them, scolding himself when the man scrambled for his walkie talkie as he spotted Dream on the beams above. 

Dream rolled his eyes and dropped from the ceiling, crouching as he landed before standing up. He brought his pointer finger to his lips before bringing his fist to his neck and dragging his thumb across the skin. The action itself made the security guard’s eyes widen and freeze his movements. Dream’s sadistic smile and seemingly wild nature made the guard move backwards into the wall as he passed. 

He went around another corner and was met with an entirely different area he wasn’t expecting. But, Dream was sure he was going to succeed in finding Y/n and escaping as soon as possible. And of course, the echo of a sinister whistle made him freeze. Fuck.

“Dream! Hey, buddy, how’s it going?” As Schlatt rounded the corner, a smirk spread across his smug face, Dream squeezed his eyes shut. 

“A little friend of mine told me you were here! Just thought I’d come and say hi,” He chuckled as Dream cracked his knuckles. Damn kids.

“Schlatt, where’s Y/n?” Dream demanded, cracking his neck when he jerked his head to the side. 

“Now, that’s not a nice way to greet a friend, is it, Dream?” 

Dream’s eyes widened behind his mask. He stood stunned, no words coming from his mouth. 

“Dream, she’s not yours. She never has been. So why do you think you have to save her?” Dream’s expression remained the same as Schlatt continued, “You’re too pussy to even ask her out, let alone be her boyfriend.” It was a ridiculous argument, Schlatt knew that, but he was positive he was going to get a rise out of Dream this way. 

He sneered at Dream’s silence, the deep rumble of his cackle rattling Dream’s bones. Suddenly, a scream added to the ominous atmosphere that Schlatt had created, and Dream jumped into action, launching himself at the older man. 

“Where is she?” His voice became raspy as he threw a punch at Schlatt’s temple. Schlatt growled at the attempt and hurled his arm back at Dream. He dodged it, barely, but stepped back and rushed towards the cell Y/n was in. 

“Y/n?” He shouted, ducking and searching for the girl through the bars of the numerous cells that lined the basement. 

“Here.” 

The sound of her broken voice snapped Dream into action. Sprinting down the hallway, he was met with Y/n’s grubby and exhausted body. His heart broke at the sight of her, and he gripped the bars, pulling and pushing them in an attempt to break them. 

Dream was so caught up in getting Y/n out, he didn’t notice Schlatt coming from his left. 

The impact of a fist colliding with his temple sent Dream stumbling to the right, his mask cracking slightly in the corner at the force. He grunted in pain before spinning to meet Schlatt again, who had his arm raised in its previous position. Dream tried to shake his head from his dazed state, the unexpected hit stunning his consciousness. 

Schlatt aimed once again and swung his fist to hit Dream in the face. But, Dream saw it coming and swivelled to the left to dodge the incoming punch. Schlatt let out a guttural sound, growing frustrated with his miss. The hit to his temple left Dream seeing stars; however, he managed to duck and strike Schlatt in his stomach, earning a deep groan. The older man recovered quickly, picking himself back up to his full height as he mumbled, “bastard.” 

Dream was losing shamefully, lazily avoiding punches and swaying lightly as Schlatt grinned at his anticipated win. 

Whilst Dream stumbled slightly, Schlatt snickered, his fist coming across to hit him again. This time, the punch followed through and cracked his ceramic mask fully, the object dropping to the ground and shattering on impact. Schlatt barked out a laugh as he watched the pieces scatter.  

“And here we have, the real Dream! You know, you’re not what I expected. Definitely uglier.” He cackled, doubling over in laughter as Dream watched. He blinked and was void of any emotion as Schlatt stood back up. 

“What? Can’t take a joke?” Dream clenched his jaw, and he lunged forwards, his hands coming to grip onto Schlatt’s shoulders and bringing his knee up to jab him in his stomach. He groaned out in pain as he doubled over, yet again, but this time not in joy. 

The back of Dream’s belt that held his handgun was screaming at him. So, reaching behind him, Dream revealed his firearm. The weapon had wiped Schlatt’s smug look off of his face, replacing it with one of fear. His expression mocked Dream, although he didn’t catch onto Schlatt’s taunting. 

“Dream, listen, buddy—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Schlatt.”

But, Dream’s face contorted to something of confusion and horror when Schlatt started chuckling. He pulled the side of his suit jacket to the side to reveal a similar Glock, making Dream freeze his once confident motions. 

“You see, I’m always 3 steps ahead of you, Dream,” Schlatt tormented, pulling the gun from its secure place in his jacket.  

“You’re fucked now.” Dream went to lunge at him again, but Schlatt stepped to the side and pushed him down.

Dream’s gun went sliding across the polished concrete and out of his reach. The blonde swore as he saw Schlatt stumbling towards his fallen body. He lifted himself off of the ground, panting heavily as he ducked another punch from the older man. Dream stepped back, balancing his weight on his right foot, and threw his fist out towards Schlatt’s cheek. The punch landed, and Schlatt staggered backwards slightly, blood dripping from his lips as he grinned. 

“I see how it’s gonna be,” He lifted his arm and aimed the gun towards Y/n, who stood in the cell behind him. Dream leaned to the side to catch Y/n’s pained gaze. 

“Please,” Dream’s strained voice was barely audible through Schlatt’s booming psychotic laughter. Clenching his fists, Dream glared at him, “Don’t do this, Schlatt.” 

“Oh, Dream, I could do this all day!—” A flat crack bounced off the concrete room and was soon followed by a heavy thud. Dream swallowed in shock as he watched deep red blood spill across the floor, oozing out of the fresh wound. He was frozen in his spot as he watched the body twitch and then loll, unmoving. 

“Dream?” Dream’s eyes flickered from Schlatt’s body to Y/n, who stood with his gun loosely in her hand. 

“Y/n?” His voice was weak as he struggled to stand. The clatter of the gun dropping on the hard surface didn’t come close to silence the thoughts running through his head.  

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m okay, I’m here. Dream?” Y/n cried, wrapping her arms around Dream’s stiff body. His hand came up to feel the wetness on his cheeks, and he pulled it away, seeing red smeared on his fingers. 

“He’s gone?” He whispered, earning a nod from Y/n, “It’s okay.”

“No, I know. It just shocked me, that’s all. I thought he killed you.” 

Y/n sighed, tightening her grip on him, pressing her face into his shoulder, “I’m right here, see. I’m not hurt, I’m fine, with you.”  

Dream turned his head towards her, an unsure expression on his face as he threw his arms around her. 

“Fuck, I thought—” 

“Dream. Deep breaths.” He nodded, following Y/n’s motions in breathing evenly. 

“Jesus, usually you’re the one helping me calm down from something like this,” Y/n giggled, her hand coming to run her fingers through his hair, not minding the dampness of drying blood. A smile broke out on Dream’s face before he noticed Y/n’s eyes widen and her head fly to the side to search for something. 

“What’s wrong?” Dream asked, seeing Y/n’s eyebrows crease, “Your mask.” She whispered, spotting the shattered ceramic feet away from where they sat. 

Dream breathed out a laugh, bringing her face back towards his, “My mask is the least of my worries right now.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” 

“Of course, you will.” 

“Y/n!” Sapnap yelled, running towards the girl as she pushed open the security office door. Y/n locked her arms around Sapnap’s shoulders as they embraced, the pair giggling in disbelief. 

“How have you guys not been kicked out yet? The fire’s out.” Dream said, closing the door behind them. George shrugged, “Paid ‘em off.” Dream snorted in response.

When Y/n pulled away from Spanap, she hugged George, who was eagerly waiting behind them. 

“Don’t do that ever again. You left me with two dumbasses for so long,” George mumbled. Y/n felt tears fill her eyes as she squeezed George tighter, “I missed you guys so much.”

And after a teary reunion, the group sat around the desk in the middle of the room. 

“Where’s the big man himself?” Sapnap nervously laughed, dread ate at his conscience at the thought of Schlatt coming after them again. 

“Schlatt’s dead.” The news had George raising his eyebrows and pushing his head forward, “Huh? Sorry? What?” 

“He’s dead, Y/n killed him.” Dream stated, earning a small smile from Sapnap that Y/n laughed at. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Sapnap’s reaction made me giggle.” 

The group shared a collective rumble of laughter before Dream suggested they went back to the motel. 

“Hey,” Dream whispered at Y/n when she passed him, gently grasping her elbow. “You guys go ahead, I just need to speak with Y/n,” He continued, waving the boys in the direction of the car. George and Sapnap shared a knowing look and tried their best to conceal their cheeky smiles. 

“What’s up with them?” Y/n asked, throwing her thumb over her shoulder at the boys. Dream shook his head slightly, “No clue.” 

“Anyway, I just wanted to ask how you are. You know, after everything.”

Y/n nodded, “I’m okay, I think. I don’t think anything’s really hit me yet.” Dream sighed in response. 

Y/n sucked her lips between her teeth, throwing her arms around Dream’s neck in a hug. He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“Thank you,” She whispered in his ear, her voice cracking with emotion. Dream’s heart clenched at the sound and tightened his grip around her. 

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, you know that,” He murmured, hiding his reddening face in her neck. He flushed, even more, when he felt her lips against his neck, “I love you, so much, Dream.” 

Dream’s heart skipped a beat before he pulled his head from her neck. His green eyes looked into hers, the closeness of them making Y/n inhale sharply. 

“And I love you. Don’t forget that, okay?” He replied, his voice low. Y/n nodded shortly, inching her lips up to his. 

“Kiss me.” She muttered, nudging his nose with hers. Dream laughed breathy before leaning down and brushing his lips against hers. 

Their bodies had become flushed against one another, her hips against his as they shared a heated kiss. Dream pulled away first, his cheeks pink and his lips plump. Y/n whined silently, bouncing in her heels at the loss of his lips. 

Dream smiled widely at her, “I guess I want you more than I thought I did.” Y/n gasped, taking her hand from his neck to slap his chest, giggling like a schoolgirl at his teasing. 

“Shut up, you’ve wanted me since you met me,” She said to which Dream nodded. 

“You got that right, baby.” 

Feedback is greatly appreciated, always xoxo

[spidernerdsblog]

Hey dear💟 how are you? Can I ask for some mob!tom smut?? Like he's smoking a cigar at a boring wedding when he meets a mob!reader and after talking a bit things just happen and he takes her home for fucking all night?

Oh and ends in fluff??

Hi nonnie! I'm fine hope you are well too. Here's your request hope you like this.

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Mob! Reader

Warnings : 18+, SMUT, mature content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

His Queen, Her King

Being the mob boss Tom had to be a part of various social gatherings, galas, parties etc but the most he dreaded were weddings. Especially when you're an eligible bachelor, people around you are constantly nagging you with the most evident question ‘when is your turn?’ There were several occasions where the leaders of other mobs had tried to set him up with their daughters to forge an alliance but he would turn them down every time because he never found them to be his match. He likes to be in control but that doesn’t mean he would settle for a mere puppet who would dress up pretty and do as told, he wanted someone powerful, fierce who would challenge his authority, a real queen to his vast empire.  

It was one of his childhood friends' wedding day so he couldn't say no. The hall was buzzing with people as he was seated with a couple of his friends at a table drinking and laughing loudly talking about their busy lives and their businesses. One hour to the wedding reception and Tom was already bored he lit up a cigar and took a long puff from it watching everyone silently. 

Just then you walk in through the doors in a long red silk dress hugging your body like a second skin with a thigh high slit paired with pointed stilettos making heads turn. Your hair styled into loose curls cascading down your shoulders complimenting your dewy makeup. Your wrists and ears sparkling with the most priceless authentic diamonds.  Apart from being the maid of honor you are the only woman in the mob business who owns the biggest diamond business in the country. 

People were obviously envious of your power though they never dare to say anything to your face but you have heard how people think you just got lucky with the business as the only daughter of your father, women have no place in the mob even to the extent of being slut shamed and being accused of sleeping with your rivals to run the business. You had simply shrugged it off and showed those people with a flourishing business and earning double profits than your father used to earn when he used to run the mob. You walk over to your best friend.

“Congratulations Jane, finally you’re a married woman now!” you give her a hug.

“Thanks Y/N it feels like a dream honestly” she chirps “but when are you…”

“Please you also don’t start” you both chuckled and continued gossiping.

“Man why are these receptions so dull and boring” Matt groaned “couldn’t they do it at a bar or strip club?”

“Yeah it would have been fun to watch your wife beat the shit out of you after you flirted with one of the strippers” Carl mocked to which everyone laughed out loud including Tom.

“Hey!!” Matt revolted in protest as all of them laughed again.

Your conversation was constantly getting disturbed with their constant brawls and loud laughter. Even the other guests had a frown on their face with the noise they were making.

“I apologize on behalf of my friends, they can sometimes be a little loud” Paul the groom said apologetically.

"It’s ok I know how to deal with guys like them. Let me handle it” You offer and stride your way to their table. 

“Sorry to crash the fun boys but some of us are actually here to attend the reception not to hear your meaningless chatter” you jibe forcing a smile as the men turn their attention towards you. Tom puts down his cigar blowing out the smoke as he takes a quick glance of you.

“I'm sorry love, are we offending you?” he remarks with a smolder and the men around him hollered. The corner of your lips quirk into a sly smirk as you step closer to him drawing a finger along his jawline.

“It will take a lot more than this baby face to offend me” you taunt him back with a grin amusing everyone including Tom at your comeback.

“Oooh damn!” the men hollered again while you turned your back and strutted off to join your friends again. Tom just sat there completely blown away by your boldness. He had heard about you but now that he saw you he understood that you weren’t just a beautiful face after all who just got lucky in the mob business you were a complete badass. The very image of you radiates power and triumph. 

His eyes seeked yours the whole time and then he found you finally all by yourself near the open bar drinking a glass of whisky. He approaches you as he clears his throat.

“Ahem, hey” you lift your eyes from the glass and then put it down on the counter smacking your lips.

“Here to apologise for being a jerk?” you quip.

“I thought we were even already” he remarks with a smug grin.

“Yeah maybe” you half shrug

“Tom Holland by the way” he reaches his hand out and you dismiss it by picking your glass again and taking a sip. 

“I know who you are, the boss of the most powerful mob in London” you say nonchalantly

“Keeping tabs I see” he smirks as he signals the bartender to hand him a drink as well.

“It’s a risky business Holland you gotta keep records about your potential rivals” you state blandly.

“Absolutely, couldn’t agree more” he takes a sip wincing at the strong taste of the drink. 

“So all alone? Bossman didn’t get any arm candy for the night?” you snicker.

“Only a queen fits beside a king like me darling and I haven’t found one yet , what about you?”

“Well I haven’t found my king either” you clink your glass to his as you both gulp down your drinks.

“You look ravishing in that dress I must say” he compliments with a suave in his voice.

“Thank you. You don’t look bad either” you flirt back as you bite the corner of your lip checking him dressed in an Armani suit the Rolex on his wrist glinting in the golden light of the chandeliers.  

“I really admire you. Honestly it’s really hard and dangerous to run a business when you’re a woman” there was a different kind of sparkle in his eyes which you recognize very well.

“What can I say I just love playing with danger” you shrug with sass in your voice. 

“You wanna get out of here? I’m sure nobody will miss us” he licks his lips eyes darkening with pure desire. 

“Well what are we waiting for?” you smirk with a mischievous glint in your eyes both of you coming to a silent agreement.

The whole ride to his mansion was a blur as soon as you were inside he had you pinned up against the door as his lips met yours hungrily. His lips tasted of burnt cigar and whisky.  He started leaving trails of kisses on your jaw and neck while his hand snaked down to your thighs through the slit of your dress unclasping the thigh holster from your leg as it dropped on the ground with a loud clatter. His hand moved further to your flimsy lace thong to feel your sex. 

“So wet already, love? I haven't even touched you properly” you can hear the smirk in his voice. His hand goes to unzip your dress as he leans in for a kiss but you stop him placing two fingers on his lips slowly tracing them. 

“Bedroom?” you ask breathing heavily.

“Upstairs left” he informs between shallow breaths.

You gave him a peck on his cheek and made your way up the stairs. Tom’s eyes never left you as he watched you slide the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders and dropping it off on the floor striding away in just your strapless bra and thong your heels clacking against the marble floor. Tom scoffed in amusement a toothy grin forming on his face . You were really something who was just driving him crazy.

The moment he walked in the bedroom he felt himself twitch inside his pants. There you were sitting in the middle at the edge of the bed slightly leaning on your palms with your legs crossed one above the other. You looked like a viscous siren slowly entrapping him with your charm and beauty. 

“Nice bedroom” You gently smoothed the silk sheets with your hand.

“Glad you liked it” he said smiling.

“Are you just gonna stand over there?” You unclipped your bra and lazily dropped it on the floor putting on a show for him as you lifted a hand pointing a finger motioning him to come closer. A low groan escaped from his mouth at the sight of your exposed breasts as he strolled towards you unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his body drinking in your almost naked form with lustful eyes. You subconsciously licked your lips marveling his taut muscles. He tilted your chin up as you gazed in his brown eyes with parted lips.

“God you’re gonna be the death of me” he mumbles in a husky voice.

“That was the plan all the time, I can then take over your mob” you giggle playfully.

“You minx” he knelt down to capture your red tinted lips passionately tongues clashing against each other as you ran your fingers across his abdomen, nails scraping his skin. He gently pushes you down on the mattress as you shift back in the middle of the bed. He spreads your legs to accommodate himself as he crawls up to be at level to your face pressing a soft kiss to your swollen lips. Goosebumps covered your skin as you felt his bulge brushing on your thighs. You tilted your head to the side as he took the opportunity to suck marks on the nape of your neck. One hand squeezing your ass the other palming your breast as he placed butterfly kisses all over your skin.

“So pretty” he mumbles, pressing kisses between the valley of your breasts,you shuddered when he flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud.

“Oh” you gasped when he wrapped his mouth around your breast sucking the nipple between his teeth, kneading the other fingers pinching and tugging on it. After paying equal attention to the other one too before continuing his journey south. Your stomach flutters as his lips trail down your rib cage, navel the cold gold chain dangling down his neck feeling ticklish against your hot skin. He placed a soft kiss over your soaked panties and you felt that your body was set to fire as you gasped lightly chest heaving up and down. A smirk forms on his face as he moves to kiss your inner thighs ignoring the place where you needed him the most.

“Please” you let out a quiet whimper

“Please what darling?” he whispers with a husky voice. 

“Touch me” 

“I’m touching you love” he lightly chuckles, you whined in protest. “You gotta be more specific with your demands, love, what do you need?” he coos.

“I-I need you, your mouth” you breathed out. 

“See that wasn’t so hard” he practically rips off your thong and throws the shredded fabric away letting out a low growl at the sight of your glistening cunt. He hooked his arms to your thighs, the rings on his fingers felt cold against your skin. He licks a long stripe up your folds sending jolts of pleasure up your body making you squirm in his hold.

“So sweet” he mumbles against your heat. You let out a soft gasp, your hands threading into his soft brown curls as he swirled his tongue through your folds.

You cry out when his tongue flicks your swollen clit giving his hair a harsh tug he groans into your heat. He continued to suck on your clit between his lips pushing a thick digit inside you. Your body arched bucking your hips into his mouth he had to place a hand on your lower stomach to keep you in place. He then adds another finger pumping it in and out of you his teeth grazing your sensitive bud soothing it after with his tongue immediately. 

“Fuck!” You moaned feeling euphoric eyes fluttering shut as he devoured you. Your body tensed up when he added another finger to your heat, your one hand was pulling his hair painfully and the other squeezing your breast rolling your nipple between your fingers. He curled his fingers hitting your spot sending you over the edge.

“C’mon love, let it go want you to cum all over my fingers” he moaned into your heat the vibrations leading you to tumble down the edge as you came undone around his fingers. He helped you ride your high still sucking on your clit, your legs trembled as he lapped up all your juices. He pulled away after sometime his chin glistening with your arousal. 

He got rid of his dress pants along with his boxers and then crawled over to you. You gazed into his warm brown eyes still in your post orgasmic haze as you pulled him down to capture his lips with an urgent need. You tasted yourself on his lips as he deepened the kiss grinding his hips into yours. 

A soft gasp escaped your lips when you felt the tip of his member brushed against your entrance. He gripped his member giving it a few pumps before lining up against your core. You placed a hand flat on his stomach signalling him to stop. He knitted his brow in confusion when you flipped him over to be on top him sitting on the back of your knee straddling his waist. 

“I wanna ride you” you whisper in a sultry voice and his lips curl up to a smirk.

“Then go ahead, darling” he shuffles back a little resting himself comfortably against the headboard. You brought your hand to your mouth and gave it lick before grabbing his member using it for lubrication, slowly pumping his length and lining it up to your weeping core. Your breath hitched when you felt his tip slide through your entrance stretching your walls in a nice way. You slowly sank down on his length feeling so full of him. You stayed like that, your walls warm and snug squeezing him like a vice. Tom groaned when you clenched around him. 

“Oh god Y/N please move or I'm not gonna last for another minute” you leaned down to kiss him starting to move your hips slowly adjusting to his thick shaft.

“Shit” He hissed as you lifted yourself hand gripping on his thighs for leverage to go a little faster, the soft sound of your skin slapping against each other filled the room. Your stomach clenched as you paced up and down his cock, each time filling you up to the hilt. His hands held your hips, fingers digging in your skin groans rumbled in Tom’s throat as he clenched his jaw. He gazed at you with hooded eyes smitten by the way your back arches towards him and your tits bounce with every thrust.

You started to feel a little exhausted, a thin sheen of sweat lining your bodies as you slowed down your pace. Tom’s hands slid down to your ass, spreading your cheeks as he took control, thrusting up into you. You jolted forward moaning out loud, grasping on to his shoulders tightly for support. 

“Just because you're on the top don't think you're in control darling” he says cheekily you let out a light chuckle at his comment before whimpering when his cock hit your sweet spot.

He lifted his knees, planting the heels of his feet into the mattress for leverage as he began to fuck you roughly. He grunted, feeling your walls clench around his cock with every thrust of his hips. You leaned down to kiss him sloppily he reciprocates by slipping his tongue into your mouth swirling it inside your mouth. You moaned into the kiss as you felt a tight knot build inside your stomach.

“Tom” you moan breathlessly, eyes squeezing shut as your hands slide down his shoulder to his chest nails scratching his skin.

“Gonna cum again for me love?” Tom murmured against your lips as he spanked your ass lightly. You nodded your head vigorously starting to roll your hips desperately. He brought his thumb to your swollen clit and rubbed circles as the coil inside you snapped and you screamed out your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. Tom wasn’t too far either as he continued rutting his hips and soon he was spilling inside you.

“Fuck.” He moaned as his face screwed up in pleasure, his eyebrows furrowing as he emptied his seed into your tight pussy, not letting go of his grip on your body. You collapsed onto his chest panting both of you catching your breath, your walls still pulsating around his cock, deeply buried inside you. He caressed your back gently, your chest pressed to his, head resting over his heart as you listened to his steady heartbeat while your fingers fiddled with the chain around his neck. He took your hand and kissed on your knuckles gently brushing his thumb over them lovingly.

“I really like you” he finally spoke out

“What?” you frowned, still a bit dizzy.

“I think I have fallen in love with you Y/N” he confesses softly as you straighten yourself to look him in the eyes.

“Are you asking me out when you are literally balls deep inside me?” you snicker raising your eyebrows.

“I’m serious Y/N” he cradles your face with both of his hands “the moment I saw you I knew you are the one I have been waiting for all my life. A strong, independent and fearless woman who doesn’t need anyone, you are a hell of a queen, Y/N. I want this queen to be only mine, together we can rule the world love. I don’t want this to be a one night thing I want to make love to you every night, kiss every inch of your body and appreciate you, adore you” he rants

“The last part sounded a little creepy though” you chuckled “Well I do like you too my king let’s just take things slow and see where it goes maybe?”

“Sure my queen” he smiles as you kiss him softly.

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

[awesomerextyphoon]

Speculum Cupido

Summary: You’ve been Dr. Strange’s apprentice for some time now and you wanted to prove your best friend wrong. It goes awry and both of you find yourselves in a ‘dark mirror’ universe where the Captain, the Asset, the Kraken, and the Fallen Angel want to make both of you theirs.

Pairing: Dark!Steve x Female Reader x Dark!Ransom, minor Dark!Bucky x OFC x Dark!Sam

Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Word Count: 3,072

Warning: Dub/Non-Con Smut, Oral (m & f receiving), Daddy Kink, MMF Threesome, Double Penetration, Spit Roasting, Non-Con Drugging, Breeding Kink, and Artistic License w/Biology

A/N: This is my gift to @labella420​ for @drabblewithfrannybarnes​, @chrissquares​ , and @amythedvdhoarder​’s Happy Hoelentine’s Day Challenge.  Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​. Shout out to @saiyanprincessswanie​ for letting me borrow an idea of hers for this fic. Thanks to @the-soulofdevil​ for the beta.

Back to Masterlist

Another Valentine’s Day, another day for the world to mock me being single.

You were having enough of a ‘meh’ week as it is. Dr. Strange had to return to Kamar-Taj for an in-person meeting and Wong was who knows where. They had instructed you to work on your portal and transfiguration spells while they were away which was fair since you’ve been lacking in that department.

It’s just that you longed for some excitement.

Luckily you wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s completely alone; Isabeau, your best friend, was coming over due to as she put it, ‘no one cares about a day where all one gets is somewhat good sex’.

Fast Forward two hours and you’re getting your room ready for Galentine’s Day Movie Night. You had decked out your room with homemade baked goods, drinks, best friend movies, all the good shit.

“I have wonderful news!” Isabeau burst in with gusto yet again.

You shot her a bemused smile, “What is it this time?”

“I have a new crush! It’s Eric from IT!”

“Are you sure this won’t end up like last time?” you queried in reference to the time when Isabeau’s crush turned out to be a complete asshole.

“Oh hush! This won’t be like that at all,” Isabeau retorted, “Now how about you? Have you had any luck with a hot sorcerer?”

“If only I’d be so lucky,” you muttered as Isabeau started on the Toffee Crunch Cookies you made.

A few minutes later, Isabeau’s eyes narrowed and her full lips curved upward in a mischievous smirk.

She had one of her ideas again.

“Hey, why don’t you try an ambiance spell. They’re harmless and you always feel better afterward.”

You didn’t like casting them due to something always going awry, but you relented once Isabeau broke out her puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, alright, I give,” you submitted, “I’ll try a simple floating star spell. Let me find the book.”

 Both of you went to the library for the book but it was nowhere to be found. All of the ambiance and illusion books were blank.

“Is this a sorcerer thing? I’m not seeing any words or illustrations,” puzzled Isabeau as you went through book after book in the library only to find them blank.

“No. Maybe we should just go back to my room,” you suggested as you made your way to the exit.

“Wait! There’s one book left. You could try that one.” Isabeau pointed to the last book on the shelf. It was a little worn like many of the books that resided in the library, but the inscriptions seemed odd; like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

Yet it was the only book that had anything in it.

“Fine,” you relented as you took the book back to your room.

  The spells in the book weren’t anything out of the ordinary, but one spell seemed to stand out to both of you.

“Speculum Mundus?” Isabeau wondered.

“It means Mirror World in Latin.”

“Oh,” her eyes got a mischievous glint to them again, “I bet you can’t cast the spell.”

“Not this again.”

“Oh come on,” Isabeau goaded, “It’s a simple mirror world spell. You’ve done it before. What’s the worse that can happen?”

“I don’t know…”

“Are you gonna chicken out again?”

“No! Just give me a minute,” you mumbled as your hands got into the starting position and recited the incantation.

  The room changed instantly.

It was filled with prism-like structures and kaleidoscope imagery giving the space a surreal ambiance.

It wasn’t unlike the last time you went into the Quantum Realm with Dr. Strange and Wong, and yet the hair on the back of your neck stood straight, and a chill shot through your spine.

You heard a gasp and turned around to see Isabeau with her protruding eyes opened wide and her mouth gaping. Following her line of sight, you saw four of the hottest men you’ve ever seen.

Though something was amiss.

For one thing, there were two Steve Rogers; one with a beard and one clean-shaven. Bucky Barnes’ arm was silver and not dark gray with gold highlights. All of them were in black uniforms with sections of vermillion and/or maroon. Clean-shaven Steve had a black tactical suit with a vermillion Kraken on his chest. Bearded Steve had a skull with tentacles on it. Sam had three vermillion stripes and one maroon stripe across his chest and shoulders with a falcon’s head in red surrounded by a black circle between his pecs.

But the thing that set off all your alarms was the fact that Bucky’s outfit was a dead ringer of his Winter Soldier days.

Instinctively, you grabbed Isabeau’s hand and made a mad dash for the hallway. You needed to get some distance so you could ground yourself.

You tried breaking the spell but to no avail. Not only did the spell not break, but your hands also burned at each attempt.

“We won’t lose you again!” one of the Steves yelled as you and Isabeau turned a corner.

“Come here, mici prințese!” another voice, probably Bucky’s shouted as the two of you made your way into a closet.

“I think we’re okay for now,” you breathed telepathically as the four Adonises crept past your hiding place.

“What’s the plan now?” Isabeau asked fearfully as her heartbeat started to rise in terror.

“I don’t know but-” you were cut off by a strike to the back of your head and your vision rapidly fading to black.

  Muffled voices and the beeping of medical equipment brought you from the void.

“Nothing is wrong….they’re…good, sir.”

“Be sure that they are. We can’t leave anything up to chance.”

Groggily, you open your eyes to find yourself in a sleek hospital room lightly chained to a bed. Several other people were monitoring your vitals. One of them is Dr. Bruce Banner, or what seems to be Dr. Banner.

Bruce turned to see you looking around with a slightly confused expression, “Ah, you’re awake,” he turned to one of his aides, “Contact the Captain and Lieutenant. Tell them to come to get their bride.”

You blinked. Bride?

“Where is Isabeau, my friend?” you inquired as one of the aides brought you some water.

Bruce scowled, “Don’t think about her. You might be able to see her if the Captain and/or Lieutenant wills it.” he remarked while eyeing you up and down in a condescending almost lecherous manner, “Hmm, looks great for breeding,” Bruce noted as he fondled and prodded your curves.

You’ve always been proud of how you looked, but at that moment you wanted to shrink in the corner after giving this Bruce a roundhouse kick to the groin.

You were about to tell Dark!Bruce to fuck off when Tony Stark, fuck it, Dark!Tony entered the room. This Tony looked a lot more sinister with his silver, gray, light, and steel navy blue armor. His face and hair were mostly uncovered with his facial expression positively predatory.

“Cap’s one lucky bastard. He gets a sexy bunny along with Lieutenant Smart Ass.”

Recalling how some megalomaniacs liked shows of submissiveness, you lowered your head and asked where you were.

Whether it be out of pity, spite, or malice, Tony answered your question, “You’re in another earth, another universe.”

You nearly swiveled to look outside the window. NYC’s skyline was radically different. There were fewer buildings and HYDRA insignias everywhere.

“HYDRA took over this world.” You deadpanned. FUUUUCK!

“Sexy and smart.” Tony praised sardonically.

It didn’t take time for HYDRA to regroup after WWII. Zola and his associates were able to convince Howard Stark to give them the Tesseract with the promise of great renown, riches, and no longer being bound by the laws of weaker men. They were able to create a superweapon with the help of Dr. Whitney Frost and have been ruling the planet ever since.

It could be worse. HYDRA knew they had to offer the people comforts in exchange for their obedience. They eradicated all diseases, created a good standard of living, and ended all petty conflicts under the new world order.

Though Tony didn’t feel the need to tell you. You’ll figure it out on your own.

The doors opened to reveal Steve Rogers and his younger, clean-shaven counterpart in all their masculine glory.

“Good, you’re here.” Bruce welcomed smirking at your silent pleas.

Both soldiers walked over and inspected you.

“Hello, kitten. Name’s Ransom.” The clean-shaven soldier drawled as he moaned from your scent, “Nice set of lips you’ve got there.”

“We’ll definitely have some fun with her,” Steve noted as licked his lips ogling your curves.

You had to use all of your restraint not to spit in their faces.

“We’ll take her.” Ransom decided while Steve nodded.

Several of the aides breathed a sigh of relief as Steve broke the chains on your bed like they were nothing.

“Don’t have too much fun now!” Tony called as Steve picked you up bridal style.

“Who am I kidding? they’ll breed her like a Catholic rabbit!”

  “Um, where are you taking me?” you queried, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You will address us as ‘Sir’ in public unless instructed otherwise. Is that understood?” It took all that Steve had not to push against the wall and pound your pussy with his cock he was so enraged.

No, he needed to wait. No one was to see what’s theirs.

Ransom, for his part, chuckled and shook his head, “Best not to anger this one, kitten. He hasn’t been in the best of moods.”

  You gasped once the doors to their living quarters opened.

The place was huge!

It had a modern yet retro design; it should’ve been confusing, but it worked. Grand windows showcased the skyline with a balcony in the middle with a huge kitchen next to what looked to be a restaurant-style fridge and a huge living room with a TV and a fireplace.

Yet there seemed to be something missing.

“Place needs a woman’s touch,” Ransom commented sending a smirk your way.

“I’ll see you in the guest quarters Ransom” Steve deadpanned as he led you down a hall.

  The bedroom was enormous yet sparse like they didn’t know what to do with it.

You were about to say something when Steve dropped you onto the incredibly soft mattress. His eyes darkened with lust and you knew what he wanted. You couldn’t think of a way out of this, not with the magic inhibitors Bruce placed on your wrists.

Maybe you could give escape one last try; you just had to wait for the right opening.

Steve smirked upon seeing you removing your clothes. He liked that you knew your place, his pretty little princess.

You could only gasp when Steve removed his uniform top. He had an incredibly defined musculature: broad shoulders, beefy biceps, chiseled pecs and abs, and a seriously drool-worthy Adonis Belt. The light shining behind him made his body appear even more glorious.

Steve looked like an ancient god brought to modern times.

With a predatory smirk, Steve slowly crawled to you loving the smell of your arousal. “Let me lay out a few rules, sweetheart. You will make our meals, clean our rooms, bear our children, and be our good little whore. You must earn the right to wear a bra; panties are out of the question.”

Each rule was emphasized by a kiss or a love bite to your jaw, neck, collarbone, and shoulders.

Finally, you are to address us as Sir in public and Daddy in private. Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you muttered with your eyes downcast.

Steve lifted your chin up with his forefinger, “That’s a good girl,” and brought you in for a kiss on the lips.

The kiss was demanding yet soft. You were surprised he was capable of such gentleness.

Steve was about to push his tongue into his mouth when Ransom strolled into the room.

“Does she know the drill?”

Steve broke the kiss with a smirk,” Just finished explaining it.”

Ransom shot you a sardonic smirk, “You got the rules, kitten? Good. Now if you misbehave, I’m gonna send you to the dungeons for a few days.”

Steve started up again, “But...if you’re good-”

“A good little wifey,” Ransom interjected caressing your right cheek and leaning in for a kiss.

This kiss started off soft then intensified (really know how to lure a girl) into one filled with passion and dominance. Ransom forced his tongue into and moaned at your taste. A few seconds later he was pushing what felt like a small tablet past your tongue forcing you to swallow.

“Did you do it yet?”

“Cool it, grandpa! I did, don’t you worry. She’s gonna feel it. Aren’t ya, kitten.”

You started to feel strange. Your body temperature skyrocketed, your mind was in a deep haze, your thighs were clenching on overtime you were so turned on. You needed relief and fast.

“Please Daddies!” you begged as you tried your best not to touch yourself.

“See grandpa? She’s ready.” Ransom purred as he grabbed your thighs and placed them over his shoulders. He planted a few kisses near your entrance and groaned at the smell of your arousal.

It only took one long, slow lick to your slit to turn you into a moaning mess. You couldn’t believe the pleasure you were feeling. It was like a bolt of lightning shot through you.

Ransom groaned at the taste of your juices. Not even Stark’s overpriced chefs could compare. “Fuck, she tastes divine,” he groaned and dove in for more. Ransom attacked your folds and swollen clit with insane intensity and precision alternating between his tongue and fingers.

You were on cloud nine. Each motion took you further to the precipice of an orgasm. Ransom kept bringing you back from the edge only thrust you back into his level of tumultuous.

Steve got in on the action by covering your moans with a kiss of all-consuming passion and started playing with your breasts.

“Fuck, these tits are amazing! Can’t wait until these are filled with milk” Steve purred as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and the other between his big and forefingers.

After twenty minutes of teasing, Ransom finally let you come. A volcanic eruption of ecstasy erupted from your core and Ransom lapped up all of your juices.

“Rogers, you’re in for a treat!” Ransom exclaimed as he hopped off the edge of the mattress.

“I get her pussy first since you got to eat her out,” Steve uttered as grinned at your blissed-out state.

With a tsk, both of them got you into position with Steve’s thick, muscular thighs on either side of your hips and Ransom standing in front of you taking off his pants.

He was huge! His cock was long, thick, and veiny. It wobbled against his masterfully sculpted abs with each step he took. You wondered how that was going to fit in your mouth. Turns out Steve’s was no smaller if his tip being coated with your slick is any indication.

“This won’t hurt, kitten. You were made for us.” Ransom cooed.

You didn’t know how right he was.

Steve made his move by pushing into you inch by delicious inch and moaned at the sensation. “Fuck, she fits like a dream.”

“Don’t take forever, grandpa.” Ransom chided.

“Shut up, ya punk!” Steve retorted as he began thrusting into you loving the way your pussy clenched around him like a vice’s grip.

“Open wide, kitten,” Ransom started to push his throbbing cock into your mouth.

It took a bit of time and effort to loosen your jaw enough for him to fully enter you. He started fucking your mouth before you were ready. You tried not to gag he was so rough.

What happened to the man from earlier?

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Ransom breathed as he was approaching his climax.

Steve came with a primal roar that reverberated throughout the room after making you come two more times.

“Swallow it, kitten” Ransom ordered.

Funny thing is, you didn’t need the order. You delighted in the salty, tangy, and slightly sweet flavor.

Two minutes after you swallowed all of Ransom’s spent, both men decided it was time to move. Ransom got onto the mattress and pulled you on top of him with his tip nudging your entrance. Steve got behind you and placed kisses along the juncture between your neck and shoulders while positioning himself at your ass.

“Please...please don’t do this!” you pleaded, the pill’s effect slipping for the tiniest of moments.

Steve grabbed your neck with just enough force to pause, not hurt.” Best be a good girl now, sweetheart,” he warned.

Ransom slid in first, “Holy fucking shit!” he moaned, “Sam owes me $40.

“That depends on how well their bride is taking to them,” Steve pointed out.

“Eh, we’ll say ours is better.”

Ransom moaned again once he bottomed out and grabbed the globes of your blessed backside. He couldn’t wait to grab and smack it around in their quarters.

Steve moved slowly causing both of your breathing to hitch, his from pleasure and yours from slight pain.

With a grin and smirk, they started moving in tandem. Your body almost couldn’t take the immense pleasure you were feeling.

“I could get used to this,” Ransom remarked.

“Well, we have the week,” Steve breathed past your ear.

Both kept at it until they came in you twice. You nearly passed out after your twelfth orgasm.

“Rest kitten,” Ransom purred as you finally gave in to your exhaustion.

  “The bride took to our seed,” Steve reported to Director Pierce.

“Good. We found their parents along with the rest of the resistance.” Pierce imparted.

Steve scowled at the information.

You and your friend, Isabeau, were the only ones to survive the Eve Project. HYDRA wanted to genetically groom compatible brides for their top soldiers. You were promised to Steve and Ransom and your friend to Bucky and Sam. Both of you were whisked away to another Earth by the resistance and your treacherous parents.

Now you were back where you belong.

“When do we leave?” Ransom growled.

“Once Strange and Wanda crack the protection spell. In the meantime, enjoy your bride.” Pierce turned to leave, but stopped before turning off the screen,” I want to see some little ones soon.”

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 16: 6PM Walks

[prev] [next]

[masterlist] [kia’s slambook]

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

“What did you call me a while ago?” Kiyoomi asks Kia, not listening to what you’re saying.

“Kiyoomi, this isn’t our issue right now.”

“No, it is. She has to call me that again.”

“She won’t.”

“She will. She did it a while ago.”

“Kia’s probably playing with you,” you mumble to yourself, but you leave the two of them to continue making breakfast before the whole fiasco. You figure that Sakusa is too excited being called papa that he won’t listen to anything you will say at the moment.

“Kia say it again. What you called me a while ago,” Kiyoomi asks Kia. They are on the couch in the living room, Kia’s eyes stuck on the television screen. She ignores Kiyoomi. He takes the remote and turns the TV off. The little girl looks at him in disapproval. “Say it again and I will turn the TV on.”

“What?” Kia asks, obviously not hearing Kiyoomi’s pleads a while back.

“What did you call me a while ago?” Kiyoomi pushes, his eyes piercing through hers, begging.

“Kyo,” Kia deadpans.

Kiyoomi pouts, turning the TV back on. He leaves Kia on the couch, then goes to you at kitchen. You don’t notice him so he just leans his back on the counter, admiring you from behind. You looked so cute with his shirt and boxers on, the apron you’re wearing is the cherry on top. He’s trying his best not to jump on you especially that Kia is just there.

You, on the other hand, are slicing the apples, Saki in your mind. “That fucking bitch,” you mutter, slicing rougher than needed. “She better not show up here again.”

“Have mercy on the apples,” Kiyoomi chuckles. He wraps his arms around your waist, his chin on top of your head. You continue to slice, Kiyoomi carefully watching your hands. “Where’s the ring I gave you?”

“It’s in my bag. I took it off when we were in Universals since it was slipping off my finger. I was scared I’d lose it,” you reply. His hug feels comforting so you slow down in slicing. “Have you given up on Kia calling you papa?”

“No,” he huffs, his chin now on your shoulder. You giggle at his determination. “You’re probably shocked about what happened.”

“Didn’t know your fuck buddy was psycho,” you respond. He starts leaving small kisses on your exposed neck, so you put the knife down and turn to him. “Kiyoomi, why are you so touchy today?”

“What do you mean? I was also touchy yesterday,” he corrects you. His hands intertwine with yours as he brings it close to his. He gives all your fingers soft kisses, completely calming you down. “You seem so stressed. You should get a massage or something.”

“That sounds nice.” You smile at the thought of simply relaxing. Ever since you had given birth to Kia, time for yourself was impossible.

“Then take a day off from being a mom today,” Kiyoomi mumbles, planting a kiss on your forehead. You look up to him in confusion. “I’ll drop you off at the mall. I actually booked you an appointment at a salon and spa a week ago.” You stare at him in suspicion but he seems solely genuine about wanting you to relax.

“What about Kia?�� You ask hesitantly.

“I’ll take good care of her,” he responds. “Get changed. I’ll continue making breakfast.”

After eating breakfast with Kiyoomi and Kia, they send you off to the mall. You are so excited to relax. “Me time” is rare as a mother. You shall cherish it without questions on how and why you got to do it.

As you left the car, Kia and Kiyoomi drive to another street in the city of Osaka. They leave the car, and go to a small cafe that doesn’t have a lot of customers. A woman waves at him and he goes to where she’s seated.

“Kyo who’s that?”

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

You finish your appointments at around 5:30 PM. Kiyoomi really wanted you to relax. He had appointed a full body massage for you, a hair treatment appointment, manicure and pedicure and lunch at a 4-star sushi place; he’s spoiling you.

You see his car at the driveway outside the mall. You enter his car, then you sanitize your hands. Kia is asleep so you keep quiet. You take a look at him and he looks nervous.

“Are you okay?” You ask him and he nods. You eye him warily as he starts driving off without a word. “What did the two of you do today?”

“We went to a cafe, then met up with my nutritionist. Kia is also gave him a checkup. Apparently, Kia is taller than most of her peers. She’s 8 centimeters away from 100cm and she’s only 30 months old...” Kiyoomi states in a stressed manner.

“Are you afraid she’ll get bullied by other kids for her height?” You look at him and he seemed upset about it. “On the brighter side, with her height she can be a volleyball player like you.” You reassure him, he still looks like he’s on the edge.

“It’s the flower field Kia and I went to a while ago. Do you wanna take a walk?” He suddenly suggests, looking out the window of his car. You hum as a yes, then he parks his car somewhere near the flower field.

“Baby...” You coo at Kia, taking her seatbelt off. Her eyes slowly flutter open and she smiles when she sees you. You lift her off her chair then close the car’s door.

You look around, and notice that there aren’t a lot of people. No wonder why Kiyoomi wanted to take a walk. The place is peaceful and breathtaking. Rows of different kinds of flowers, but mostly roses and tulips. You look down to Kia and see that she is staring at the sun setting over the flower field.

You finally sense Kiyoomi beside you, but the energy he’s giving is off. You take a glance at him and he isn’t wearing his mask on. Now your suspicion has risen to the highest level. You want to ask him about it but Kia suddenly wriggles out of your hold. You run after her but stop when you see two familiar boys.

“Mu-chan! Ki-chan!” She squeals in excitement, running towards the said boys. You greet them with a wave as they are standing from a far. You watch Kia run to them before walking towards them too.

“Mama! Turn around!” Kia shouts but you don’t hear properly.

“Turn! Around!” Atsumu shouts this time, signaling you turn with his hand. You raise an eyebrow at them before turning around.

3rd Year, Itachiyama Academy

August 19

“Omi... I suddenly thought of something,” you spoke, watching the sunset. You two were at his backyard, enjoying your first anniversary in the comfort of his home. “How will you propose to me?”

“Are you really thinking about marriage just because we’ve been dating for a year now?” Sakusa squinted his eyes at you. You shrugged, leaning on his shoulder.

“I’m just curious since you hate surprises. You might tell me to get my nails done a week before so it’d look good in pictures,” you joked. He let out a chuckle in agreement.

“I might do that.” He saw the excitement in your eyes. Now, he’s curious about your dream proposal. “How do you want me to propose? Do you want a grand one or a simple one?”

“I want you to propose just like this,” you replied, eyes glued on the setting sun. “You, me, on our anniversary, with the sun setting.”

“Do I have to be on my knee? The ground might be dirty,” he rambled so you pouted.

“How is it a proposal if you don’t go on one bended knee?!”

“Then I’ll do that,” he replied, determined. There was no hesitance in his response so your heart beat faster.

“Really?” You asked, hopeful. You were now looking at him and so was he.

“Yes.”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi, why?!” You exclaim as you cover your face with your hands, tears already falling from your eyes.

The Sakusa Kiyoomi who well known as a germaphobe is on his knee in front you, with a ring in his hand. You check your phone to see the date, just to make sure. August 19. You cry even harder, not able to process what’s happening. Your heart is about to jump out of your chest. How does he remember even that?

“Will you marry me?”

Unable to answer due to too much emotions, you pull him up and kiss him deeply, hooking your arm on his neck, pulling him close to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up the ground in excitement. He puts you back on the ground, then gives you another chaste kiss before slipping the ring in your ring finger. He gives it a kiss, before kissing you once more.

“Mama!” You hear Kia run to the two you. Kiyoomi lifts Kia with one arm, his other arm not leaving you. “Look! Kyo proposed to me too!”

“Kyo who’s that?” Kia asked as she and Kiyoomi sat in the same table with a strange woman.

“Is this your daughter?” The woman asked Sakusa. He nodded. Kia was still looking at her weirdly. “Hi, I’m Nako. I’m a jewelry maker. I make necklaces, bracelets, and rings. Do you wanna see?”

“Sorry, I’m late,” a familiar voice spoke, catching Kia’s full atention.

“Mu-chan!” Kia greeted him with a kiss. He sat down beside her, greeting Nako and his teammate with a smile and wave. Nako was Atsumu’s classmate in high school that has become a famous jeweler in Japan.

“Here’s the ring and necklace you have requested to custom made,” Nako told Kiyoomi, handing him two black velvet boxes. “Just as requested, a palladium engagement ring with a 2.4 carat round cut diamond. And in this box we have a 14k white gold ring attached to a 14k white gold chain. I also made sure that this won’t choke your daughter. But to be extra careful, take it off during her sleep or if she’s playing without you or your wife around.”

They finished their transaction and Nako left, leaving the boys with Kia in the cafe. “So we’ll wait for at the flower field near your house and Kia will run to us, then you’ll propose?” Atsumu clarified.

“Yes. That’s right,” Kiyoomi approved. “Please thank Kita-san for me.”

“I will. I will. We’ll meet you there.” Atsumu bid his good byes, leaving the father-daughter duo.

“Papa what’s the rings for?” Kia asked, staring at the shiny jewelry set in front of her.

“Baby, I’ll propose to your mama,” Kiyoomi started to explain. “I’ll give her this ring so we can get married and we’ll be together forever.” He tried to explain in simpler words so the child could understand.

“Why do you want to be with mama forever?” Kia questioned, which made Kiyoomi smile.

“Because I love your mama.”

“How about Kia? Do you love Kia?” Kia tilted her head to the side, her hopeful eyes peering at his. He cupped her cheek, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“So much. I love Kia so much,” he replied. “That’s why I’m giving you this.” Kiyoomi took the necklace out of the box, presenting it to her.

“You’re proposing to Kia?” She asked in an excited manner, her hands clasped together, pressing them close to her chest. “You wanna be together with Kia forever?”

Kia started crying in joy so Kiyoomi picked her up from her chair, giving her a tight hug. Her sobs quiet down so Kiyoomi put the necklace on her. She hugs him again, giving him a lot of kisses.

“I love papa, too.”

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

Facts:

The idea and tradition of engagement rings dates back to ancient Egypt. The Egyptians believed circles were symbols of eternity.

The truth is the most popular engagement month in a year is December. 

In all, about 70% of brides wear their rings on the fourth finger of their left hand; a tradition that comes from the Roman belief that the vena amoris, or vein of love, was located there.

Wedding rings were traditionally made of gold because it was considered the most pure and valuable metal, and was thought to perfectly symbolize marriage.

[prev] [next]

Taglist:  @elianetsantana​ aoi-turtle ptv-hades  aquzairus a-applepi justoneofthefangirlsarianna-r13 morenabambinii chaelysian loser-keiji mxngy ne-kuroon1fangirlsblog d-efendmissalicebaskervillemarvelousbakugou @agaashesmilktea​ bonkyandloki kimi09 ntimacy @mkazuyuh  ushi-please minty-mangos-world @dearest-kiyoomi​ yeehawslap  onlyshinji obsessedwhxre

[thedragonnerd]

Fic: Love Languages

Headcanon suggested by a lovely anon, which spawned into a fic. Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

Words of affirmation

Receiving compliments or words of encouragement are not uncommon for Namaari. She has gone through life aiming to be the best at everything she does – the best leader, the best warrior, the best Princess – and along with her success come compliments on her fighting techniques, her decision-making skills, and even her ability to look formidable in her formal attire.

As royalty, people lavish her with praises when they see an opportunity to get into her good graces, despite the obvious lack of sincerity behind their words, and it tires her to deal with fawning citizens. She loves her people, but she’d rather they’d love her back truly; false words mean nothing.

Chief Virana does not give out compliments easily, and is often faster to critique than to encourage. Namaari pretends her mother’s approval is nothing more than something important to receive from her Chief, but in reality, she craves hearing soft words such as ‘well done, Morning Mist’, whenever she is lucky enough to have them bestowed upon her.

As she grows up, she decides that sweet words are nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary – nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement is needed, before one can place it aside and move on to more important things. And then Raya comes back into her life.

Raya, who can flirt endlessly with elaborate innuendos until Namaari rolls her eyes at her ridiculousness. Raya, who is quite happy to press herself closer than absolutely necessary in their sparring sessions, just to set out some unspoken physical challenge.

And yet, when it comes to providing a genuine compliment, Raya practically freezes.

‘I like…like your hair,’ she mumbles one day to Namaari, glancing off to the side in order to avoid making eye contact. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, even though earlier in the day she had made a lewd comment about a sword which didn’t even have her blinking.

For some reason, Raya’s lack of suaveness when it comes to providing true compliments delights Namaari, and she hoards each instance close to her heart, happy in the knowledge that every word spoken was genuine in its meaning.

In return, she starts to gift Raya with compliments of her own.

For Raya is not used to receiving compliments, at least not in a long time. Her Ba used to provide encouragement and compliments often, but that was many years ago, and now he hesitates to put them into words sometimes, unsure of how this new dynamic works when he’s looking at a grown-up daughter rather than a small child.

Namaari has no difficulty in sharing them though.

‘You look very beautiful today,’ she tells Raya softly one evening, when they are having dinner. Raya stammers out some incomprehensible response, and spends the rest of the meal staring down at her bowl, occasionally darting her eyes over to Namaari.

‘I love that hairstyle on you,’ Namaari says to her a few days later, watching as Raya braids her hair back with expert precision.

‘Umm…thanks?’ Raya squeaks.

‘Your techniques were excellent today,’ Namaari informs her after a sparring session. This time, Raya just nods, and clears her throat before trying to awkwardly change the subject. Namaari can still see the smile on her lips though.

Eventually, Raya becomes better at both giving and receiving words of affirmation. Namaari learns how true compliments can be more meaningful than expected.

It isn’t the most important aspect of their relationship, but they like to encourage each other all the same.

Acts of service

Raya sees how much of a burden Namaari perpetually takes onto her shoulders, in her duties for Fang. She is so focused on helping her people rebuild and expand, or going away on diplomatic missions to help form better relations with the other lands, that she forgets to take a moment to breath sometimes.

Raya wants to take some of her stress away, by helping her carry out some of her duties or at least be involved in organizing certain aspects of the expansion projects, but she discovers quickly that Namaari is somewhat of a perfectionist. It is almost more stressful for her to find herself out of the loop or uninformed about decisions, than it would be to allow her undertake the duties in the first place, and so Raya finds it more helpful to just back off from the work unless asked to provide support.

It’s also a way for Namaari to feel as if she is atoning for her past actions. Raya wishes she wouldn’t feel the need to do so, but it is something they’ve argued about before, and they always end up stuck in a perpetual loop.

One of the ways Raya can help however, is with her cooking.

Namaari is an awful cook (something Raya unfortunately discovers herself with one ill-fated meal), but she is fascinated by watching Raya conjure something up in the kitchen.

Gone are the days of living off jackfruit jerky; with so many fresh and interesting ingredients at her disposal, and with the occasional reminders from Ba when she is unsure about something, Raya makes a whole array of different foods over the months.

It’s one of the best ways of getting Namaari to relax, Raya finds. Every mealtime when Raya is behind the pot, Namaari will abandon whatever work she is doing, and will sit and watch Raya finish making the dishes. They’ll always eat it together, and for a short while, Raya can feel the stress lift free from Namaari as she laughs over Raya’s words and enjoys good food.

Gifts

The first gift Namaari ever gave Raya has almost become a symbol for their entire complicated history. It represents new friendship, betrayal, and after so many years…forgiveness and a fresh start.

Namaari gives it back to her not long after the return of Kumandra, before she can second-guess herself.

‘It was a gift,’ she says, half-expecting it to be thrown back in her face. But Raya runs her finger gently over the surface of the dragon pendant, and then sends her a small smile. The next day, Namaari sees it hanging around her neck once more.

Once they start dating properly, Namaari can’t get it out of her mind how much the gift seemed to mean to Raya, both times.

‘She still doesn’t have that many personal belongings,’ Namaari informs Sisu, as an explanation as to why she was forcing the dragon to accompany her around endless market stalls in Talon, looking for the perfect gift for Raya. ‘I figure it’s because she was on the move so much in life, she couldn’t carry a lot.’

Sisu makes an ‘mmm’ sound, clearly not buying her reasoning completely, but allows the topic to drop when she’s distracted by shiny objects at the next stall.

Namaari finds a small knife that can be strapped to a wrist and slipped up the sleeve. She knows how much Raya prefers to be carrying at least one weapon with her at all times, and this would be perfect for diplomatic meetings – subtle, and easy to hide. And indeed, Raya wears it continuously after receiving it as a gift.

On another visit to another market, this time in Spine, Namaari spies a comb with a beautifully carved handle.

‘For your hair,’ she says in an attempt to be casual, thrusting it awkwardly in Raya’s direction that evening. Raya loves it, and it is indeed used every night before bed to comb out her braids.

Every time Namaari has to travel on diplomatic missions, she now ensures that she brings back something small for Raya.

‘I love the gifts,’ Raya tells her one day. ‘But I love even more how it shows you’re thinking of me when you’re away.’

One evening, as they are getting ready for bed, a small golden ring drops out of Namaari’s pocket by mistake.

‘Is…is that my old hair band?’ Raya asks, peering over the side of the bed as Namaari scoops it up in a hurry. ‘I thought I’d lost that years ago.’

‘I found it,’ Namaari says defensively, clutching it tight in her fist. ‘I guess…I never asked you if you wanted it back?’

Raya shakes her head with a smile, but the following evening, she steps up behind Namaari, sliding her hand into her pocket. Namaari watches as she pulls out the hair band and threads it onto a small gold chain.

From then on, they both wear a gift from the other around their necks.

Physical touch

Sometimes, everything can become overwhelming, the past traumas so great that it seems suffocating. And in that darkness, sometimes the gentle touch of another is the only thing keeping the world grounded.

Raya goes six long years without receiving a hug. At the time, she doesn’t see it as a big deal – she’s grown up fast, and learnt that the world isn’t the welcoming place her father once hoped it could be. Even moreso, her Ba was the last one to hug her, and she doesn’t mind keeping it that way.

Now though, she finds comfort in the small touches. It’s in the featherlight way Namaari’s nose brushes against her neck as they curl up together in bed, waiting for the morning sun to rise. It’s in the gentle trail of Namaari’s fingers across her back, as they stand talking to others, and Namaari absentmindedly reaches out for her. It’s in the soft kiss against her temple, when Namaari has to go back to work after lunch.

Occasionally, she will need to be encompassed by that comfort, and in this moment, she will go and find Namaari, stepping closer until her forehead rests on her shoulder. No matter what she was previously doing, Namaari will pause everything, wrapping her arms tightly around Raya, and they stand there until Raya can feel as if she can breathe again.

Namaari has a habit of falling too far into her own mind sometimes. She is an outwardly composed and pragmatic individual, but internally, all sorts of doubts and guilt still plague her, and there are days where she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t doing enough in her life to atone for her past, or that she is a fraud who has no right in stepping up and trying to lead her people when her previous actions cost them so much.

It’s difficult for her to ask for help in these moments. Raya learns instead to notice the signs of a bad day, or whenever Namaari gets trapped into a downwards spiral, and she will take Namaari by the hands and sit them somewhere quiet.

There they can actually talk, and sometimes Namaari feels comfortable enough to share her fears. But the most important thing, Raya finds, is to slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight and peppering her cheek and bare shoulder with small kisses.

Raya refuses to let her go until she sees at least one small smile.

Quality time

In the early days of the relationship, there is still so much separation between the two of them. Raya is in Heart, helping her Ba welcome back everyone to their lands, fixing up the buildings, ensuring the harvest gets started…There are so many jobs to do, and Raya knows Namaari is undergoing the same issues back in Fang, coupled with an expansion of their kingdom.

On top of all of this, there are endless council meetings and diplomatic missions, so if it isn’t Namaari being busy with politics, it is Raya, much to her annoyance.

Whenever they do get to spend time together, they ensure no minute is wasted. They have meals together, and spar together, and find all sorts of random ways to entertain themselves. Namaari loves to go out in the evenings and watch the night sky, attempting to teach the constellations to Raya; but Raya decides that these constellations are ridiculous, and so they create their own. Raya meanwhile loves to go for hikes in the woods, dragging Namaari along to discover new plants and wildlife, and occasionally climbing the trees.

They both love to sit in bed next to each other, quietly reading their books, or discussing their day. Sometimes, Raya will lie sideways on the bed, her stomach across Namaari’s legs and her arms hanging over the edge, so she can carve pieces of wood into intricate shapes, with Namaari reads out loud for the both of them.

Even after several years, and living together permanently, Raya finds herself reflecting on the fact that she never gets bored as long as she’s with Namaari.

They are currently lying in a field somewhere in the depths of Heart land, enjoying the sun shining onto their faces and the grass tickling their skin. She lazily wiggles her hand until it makes contact with Namaari.

‘Dep la?’ Raya whispers, and Namaari grunts in response. ‘You don’t get bored with me, right?’

Namaari merely shuffles closer without even opening an eye, resting her cheek against Raya’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she mumbles, and she’s curled up so close that Raya can feel the vibrations of her voice on her skin.

‘Didn’t think so,’ Raya says in satisfaction. They continue to enjoy the peace.

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 4

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 6.6k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, non-graphic description of blood and injury, cursing, alcohol consumption Summary: You and Mando choose Sorgan as your place to lay low, only to get wrangled into a risky job. Notes: I didn’t post last week, so have two chapters! Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme​​ @beskarhearts​​ @dincrypt​​ @honey-hi​​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00​​ @red-leaders​​ @zoemariefit​​

Previous Chapter​ | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

The next few days passed in a haze of planning and training. You helped instruct the villagers in hand-to-hand combat alongside Cara and firearms training with Mando. When Cara asked why you happened to be proficient in both skills, you told her that working with the clientele you did occasionally necessitated self-defense. That was true enough.

After a day or two, however, you decided it was best to leave the blaster training up to Mando. You focused on assisting Cara, who was good company, and joined the crew that was constructing barricades and digging trenches.  

It was irritating to feel a tinge of jealousy at the comfortable way Mando interacted with Omera so soon after meeting her. She was beautiful and clever, welcoming and kind. You understood her appeal. Still, despite yourself, you were annoyed by their borderline flirtatious interactions.

You could practically feel Mando’s heart drop when Omera was the only villager to raise her hand when he asked the group who knew how to shoot. He looked like he might actually be in physical pain as he watched her hit the pan she was aiming for over and over in quick succession during target practice. He was visibly tense, holding his shoulders back uncomfortably far as he regarded her, deeply impressed.

You were honestly even a little nettled by easy relationship that had developed organically between Cara and Mando. Their connection was strictly platonic, but they acted like they’d been friends for years. 

Why is it so different with me?

Both of these developments were irritating, but what really drove you to avoid Mando was your frustration at yourself. This wasn’t the plan. You weren’t supposed to get invested or attached—both because you’d part ways soon enough and because you were witnessing Mando get attached to someone else.

It was easy enough to limit your interactions with him during the day. You spent what little spare time you had playing with the kid and the gaggle of children that followed him around to squeal at every adorable flap of his ears, or wandering through the forest. You always stayed closed to village, but it was relief to get some time alone. As nice as it was to have regular company—something you’d wanted for so long—you also missed some aspects of your solitary existence. It was simple and comfortable. It was what you knew best.

***

At night, you made sure to stay away from the barn as long as possible so Mando could have plenty of time to eat and do whatever else he did with his helmet off.

Each night, you would approach the barn after dark had fallen, making sure to stomp loudly up the steps. You’d stand off to the side of the doorway and knock, waiting to hear the telltale sound of beskar dragging across the wooden windowsill and the subsequent hiss as he fit the helmet back over his head.

The fourth night, however, when Mando arrived back at the barn in the early evening, he stopped at the doorway.

You had stacked every box, crate, and stray item in a line down the center of the back half of the room to make a barrier that was as high as your shoulder. You’d hung a sheet across both sides, so you each had an enclosed space.

“I know it doesn’t fix it, but I thought it might make you feel better? I promise not to get up with out warning you... I know you’ll probably keep your helmet on anyways, but I have to imagine sleeping in it is killing your neck, and since you won’t let me figure out somewhere else to sleep, this is the best I could come up with,” you stopped rambling, punctuating the end of your sentence with a decisive nod.

“Thank you,” he said.

You were relieved—and slightly surprised—when later that night, after darkness had fallen and you were tucked under your blankets, hovering on the edges of sleep, you heard a hiss and a thunk, which you registered as him removing his helmet and setting it on the floor. It was slightly harder to fall sleep knowing that Mando was only feet away from you, helmetless.

The warmth that blossomed in your chest at this display of trust stayed with you well into the next day.

***

The next night, after a long day of training, you were back in the barn, getting cleaned up before bed. Mando, having just entered, was untying the knot in his cape. The kid was standing in his crib, tiny hands gripping the bars, watching you and Mando with eager curiosity.

Seated on a crate, you pulled the necklace that was tucked under your shirt over your head, preparing to wash the sweat and grime of the day off you. You leaned over to stow it in a tiny zip pocket on the outside of your bag, when you felt a tug on the thin gold chain. You looked down at your hand, thinking the child must have tottered over when you weren’t looking. But, looking up, you saw that he wasn’t near you. He was still standing in his crib, and he whined at you, his tiny hand outstretched. He seemed concerned, his eyes squinted and forehead wrinkled in concentration.

You looked from the necklace in your hand to the kid and back.

“What the—?”

You glanced at Mando. He was watching you, the cape he was folding frozen in his hands. He dropped the cape and strode over to the crib to grab the child, hugging him tight to his chest. He turned to leave the barn, walking to the doorway. The child struggled against him, until his big ears and eyes appeared over Mando’s shoulder, a tiny hand stretched toward you again.

Curious, you opened your hand and straightened your arm, offering the necklace on your palm.

The baby’s face wrinkled in concentration once again. Mando was almost out the door when the necklace jerked out of your hand and flew across the room. The chain hooked on one of the kid’s tiny fingers. He grasped it, and the purple crystal at the end of it clinked distinctively when it collided with Mando’s pauldron. Mando stopped dead in his tracks.

Your jaw dropped. Mando whirled around, adjusting his grip on the child so he could see the necklace clutched in his tiny hand, the pendant swinging back and forth like a pendulum. The baby was cooing and wiggling his ears in triumph. His other hand grabbed at the crystal.

Mando’s entire demeanor shifted in the space of a second. He stopped breathing and crossed the space between you in a few long strides, raising a hand to point a threatening finger at your chest.

“You can’t tell anyone.” The anger in his voice failed to conceal the fear underneath it, even through the modulator.

“I won’t.” You were absolutely bewildered by this development, but you’d never do anything that would endanger the child.

Mando stayed frozen like that, his hand outstretched. In his arms, the child tittered and cooed, examining the object clasped in his tiny hands.

“Mando, I promise. I won’t.”

He nodded, dropping his accusing hand, and looked down to gently extricate the necklace from the three-fingered hand it was wrapped around. You could see the reflection of the baby’s huge, imploring brown eyes in Mando’s visor. The baby let out a frustrated huff in protest and began to whine in earnest when Mando successfully disentangled the necklace.

He thrust it back into your hand, turned on his heel, and left.

The Mandalorian has a baby... Jedi? And he does not want to talk about it.

***

After two weeks of preparation, the day finally arrived. Tension was high among the villagers as the final arrangements were made. The plan was reviewed, and finally, the sun began to set. You and Mando headed back to the barn to gear up.

It only took a few minutes for Mando to grab all he needed. Slinging his rifle across his back, he walked toward the doorway and paused. He turned around to face you.

“We’re headed out. You’ll make sure the kid is safe with the others?” he asked.

“Of course. Be careful out there.”

“You too.” He gave you a curt nod and swept out the door.

You gathered what you needed, delivered the child to the building that was designated for children and a couple caretakers, and took your place with the villagers behind one of the barricades. You shared words of reassurance with those around you.

The night passed in a blur of adrenaline. You had been put in charge of one of two groups of the villagers who were capable of fighting. Omera led the other. Mando and Cara attacked the raider’s camp, drawing them out of the forest. The Klatooinians rushed the village, purposefully funneled to the open space between your group and Omera’s by the barricades, and the AT-ST stuttered into view shortly after.

The villagers were roughly trained soldiers, but in the end, it was enough to scare off the Klatooinians—especially once Mando and Cara managed to lure the reluctant walker into the trap, incapacitating their largest weapon.

Halfway through the fight, your blaster jammed, so you traded it for one you took off a dead Klatooinian. It was large and awkward in your hands, but it did the job well enough.

When the walker fell and the remaining Klatooinians turned tail, the villagers began to cheer, letting their guard down immediately. Mando and Cara disappeared into the woods after the retreating raiders to clear out any stragglers.

You scanned the dark scene from where you stood behind the krill ponds to ensure that every Klatooinian had left. When you turned back toward the village, you noticed an injured raider, who had been lying on the ground, lurched to his feet. He started towards Omera, who was kneeling beside an injured villager, tending their wounds, with her back to him. As he stood, he pulled a long knife from is belt.

“Omera!” you yelled. She looked around at the sound of her name and exclaimed when she saw the man charging her, only a few feet away. Her hands scrabbled along the ground around her, trying to locate her blaster. The other villagers in the vicinity, caught off guard, froze and watched in horror.

You fumbled with the safety on the unfamiliar blaster in your hands, feeling slow and awkward. Fuck.

You sprinted forward to position yourself between Omera and the Klatooinian, catching him off guard and meeting his face with the butt of the heavy blaster. He growled in pain, closing his eyes for a moment as he reeled back, slashing the air blindly with his blade. You took the chance to kick him in the stomach, putting all your weight behind it. He doubled over, but managed to throw out his arm as he stumbled backwards, just as you were drawing your leg back. You cried out in pain as his blade bit through the meat of your calf.

Omera, who had recovered behind you, shot the raider before he hit the ground.

You staggered back, breathing hard, and sat on the ground abruptly, gritting your teeth at the sharp pain. He’d cut deep into your muscle, leaving a laceration as long as your hand. Bacta would fix you well enough, but it hurt like a bitch. It was bleeding freely, thick droplets of blood running down your shin into your boot. Without thinking, you ripped your shirt off over your head, leaving you in just your breast band, and wrapped it tight around your calf to staunch the bleeding. Several villagers rushed over to help you, but you waved them off, reassuring them that you had it under control.

Omera knelt beside you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Thank you for having my back,” she said genuinely.

You smiled at her and covered her hand with yours: “Anytime. Thanks for having mine.”

You heard the familiar clank of Mando’s armor behind you. He must have finished flushing out the nearby trees. He crouched next to you.

“What happened?”

“Knife wound. Not bad. I’ll be fine.”

Blood was rapidly soaking through the thick fabric of your shirt. Okay, I might need stitches.

“You need stitches,” Mando said, verbalizing your thought.

“Yeah.”

“I can do those for you,” Omera offered. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you nodded.

She threaded a hand under your arm to help you to your feet. You started to get up.

“I got her,” said Mando, waving Omera away. She moved back.

You were too focused on the stinging pain of your leg to process what he meant. Mando got to his knees and leaned forward to slip an arm under the crook of your knees and one around your back. You flinched at the feeling of the cold beskar on your side.

“Mando, I can walk,” you protested, surprised, as he lifted you. You instinctively wrapped an arm behind his neck, while your other hand held tight to the shirt around your calf.

“You’re losing too much blood.”

His chest plate was cold against your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You were surprised when he turned in the direction of the barn where the two of you slept, instead of toward the structure that had been designated for medical care. On the way there, he poked his head into the room where the kids were hidden. The child chirped happily up at the two of you from where he was seated in Winta’s lap. Satisfied, Mando turned to carry you the rest of the way to the barn.

If you weren’t exhausted and in pain, you’d probably be more acutely aware of how exposed you were in just your breast band in his arms. You would probably be enjoying the easy way he was carrying you.

He stepped onto the porch in one stride and strode inside, setting you down gently on your blankets. You lay back immediately, bending your injured leg to keep the pressure steady with a tight grip on your shirt. You closed your eyes, trying to not focus on the pain. You heard Mando rummaging around.

“My med pack is in my backpack,” you said. “Will you hand it to me?”

But when you opened your eyes, you saw that he already had his own med pack open on the floor next to you.

“I have anesthetic bacta spray. I’ll use that first so you don’t feel the stitches.” He held up an aerosol can to show you.

Knowing how expensive that was, you protested: “No, no, save that for something more serious. I’ll be okay. I’ve had stitches before.”

“It’ll be easier for me if I know I’m not hurting you,” he insisted, a note of genuine concern in his voice.

“I can handle it.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? Yes, I can. I’ve done it before.”

“Will you just let me do it?” he asked, exasperated.

“Are you okay though? Don’t you have any injuries?”

“No. Beskar,” he replied, tapping his chest plate. “Just let me do it,” he pressed with an imploring head tilt.

“Okay,” you agreed reluctantly. “Thank you.”

He moved down to your calf, taking the shirt gently from your hands. When his fingers brushed yours, you registered that it wasn’t a glove you felt—his hand was bare.

You closed your eyes again, trying not to fixate on the feeling of his bare skin on yours. Plus, you still weren’t sure if seeing his bare skin would somehow violate his Creed.

He peeled back the fabric slowly. You winced.

“The worst of the bleeding has stopped,” he said, using the shirt to wipe away the drying blood on your skin. “I’m applying the spray.”

You nodded vaguely, then hissed through your teeth at the sting of cold spray on your leg, but the effects were immediate—the pain disappeared instantly, completely.

“Ah, fuck, I forgot how good that stuff is. I got so used to getting patched up without it.”

He let out a grunt of agreement. “Stay still.”

“I will.”

You glanced down at Mando, appreciating how out of place he looked, his large metal form crouched over your leg, administering precise medical care with careful movements.

Feeling like you were in good hands, with the pain gone, you let the fatigue overtake you. Your eyes drifted closed.

Sometime later—you weren’t sure how long in your hazy state—you felt Mando move beside you. You opened your eyes, and he was on his knees by your shoulder, his gloveless hand hovering a couple inches above your arm like he wasn’t sure whether or not he was going to touch you. You gave him a sleepy smile, and in a sudden movement, he lowered his hand the rest of the way down to your bare shoulder.

I guess it isn’t against the Creed to reveal your skin to someone else.

“I’m done.”

“Thank you,” you replied, reaching up to pat the hand on your shoulder. You kept the gesture brief, concerned that your touch might prompt him to pull his hand away.

He didn’t.

His hands were softer than you were expecting.

“Rest,” he instructed. “I put water next to you.”

He stood to leave, the weight of his warm hand retreating with him.

You tried not to overthink how tender Mando had been with you. You didn’t want to process what it meant or the fact that it sort of left you swooning. Though, maybe that was the blood loss.

As you drifted to sleep, you thought about what the future might hold. It was a relief that the fight was over and the village was safe, but it also meant your job here was done and it would soon be time to leave Sorgan. You weren’t sure what this meant for your partnership—if you could really even call it a partnership—with Mando. Would you go your separate ways now?

It wasn’t until the next morning—when you were examining the precise row of stiches on your calf—that you realized, with great dismay, you’d exposed the scar on your chest to Mando, Omera, and a handful of other villagers.

***

The following evening was a celebration. The entire village stayed up late into the night eating, talking, and drinking in the long hall.

After dinner, you were five shots into a drinking game with Cara when Mando rejoined the two of you. You were drinking a clear liquor, something stronger than spotchka that you didn’t know the name of.

Mando sat down stiffly across from you, watching the two of you howl with laughter over a joke he’d missed.

“I was just here half an hour ago. How are you both already drunk?”

“We’re efficient,” said Cara in a mock-serious tone.

“You want to play, Mando? I could get you a straw,” you offered.

He tilted his head, and the sassiness of the gesture made you cackle.

Cara laughed heartily, slapping her hand on her thigh: “I guess that’s his way of saying he can’t handle his booze.”

“What exactly are the rules of this game?” he asked.

“We stopped worrying about the rules awhile ago,” you admitted.

“So who’s winning?”

“Me!” you declared, reaching for the half-empty bottle once again.

“I don’t know about that,” said Cara, skeptically, snatching the bottle and unsteadily pouring two more shots. She handed one to you.

“Maybe you guys have had enough,” Mando said, reaching out to take the glasses from Cara.

“Maybe you’re not the boss of us,” you sassed, knocking his hand out of the way and tipping the proffered shot down your throat. You were drunk enough that it didn’t burn anymore.

“We’re celebrating, Mando!” Cara proclaimed before she downed hers too, and you both laughed at the long-suffering sigh that Mando let out.

A woman that Cara had been spending most of her free time with sauntered over to your table and leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Cara smirked.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to,” she said, standing and taking the woman’s hand.

“Have fun,” you said, winking.

“You too,” she shot back.

You turned to Mando: “Welp, looks like you’re my new drinking buddy.”

He sat silent, helmet following Cara and the other woman as they left the hall.

“Oookay, then. I’m going to bed.” You slapped your palms onto the table and pushed yourself up. 

Mando followed you as you stepped out into the cool night.

“Where’s the kid?” you asked.

“Asleep already.”

“That’s good. Babies need sleep.”

“He’s fifty.”

You turned to Mando, spluttering, “Fifty?!”

“Different species age differently,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, no shit... Still, that’s crazy. You have a fifty-year-old toddler. Your baby is older than you...I mean, I assume so. I don’t know how old you are. If I had to guess, I would say... Is that rude? I probably shouldn’t guess...”

Not paying attention, you started wandering in the wrong direction, and Mando laid a guiding hand on your lower back.

“Come on,” he sighed, directing you toward the barn.

You pushed out the loudest, most dramatic sigh you could muster, and he looked down at you.

“That’s you. That’s what you sound like. You looooove sighing, you know that? It’s your favorite thing, second only to the kid. You might like it even more than the kid, actually,” you mused, making yourself chuckle.

“You’re a chatty drunk,” he observed.

“Everyone is chatty compared to you, Mando.”

He grunted.

“What are you like when you’re drunk? I want to see that. Do you even drink?” You stopped walking, and he did too, visor trained on you.

“Sometimes.”

“I bet you’re a nice drunk.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, no, I know so. Because secretly you’re a nice not drunk person so I bet you’re an extra nice drunk person.” Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered that your usual verbal filter was completely gone. Oh well.

“Is that right?”

“Yep, you pretend to be all scary with your sexy voice and your blasters and your bounty hunting and your fire bracelet and your shiny outfit, but really you are soft, and you love babies and helping people and carrying injured friends.”

“My sexy voice?” He titled his head suggestively.

“Really? That’s what you took from that?” You hiccupped. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what your voice sounds like. This is the way.” You hit him with your best Mando impression.

He chuckled.

Your mouth fell open, and you pointed up at him, incredulous. “You laughed.”

“I did.”

“Well, don’t do it too much or I might start to think that you’re a real human being under all that.” You gestured at his beskar.

“We wouldn’t want that,” he said, and you both started walking toward the barn again.

“Look at you, making jokes.” You tripped slightly, and Mando steadied you.

“My boot is untied,” you announced, flopping onto the ground unceremoniously to tie it.

Mando set his hands on his hips and leaned down to watch you.

You held a palm up to him. “Before you do it, I’ll sigh for you,” you said, letting out another exaggerated exhale.

He crouched down in front of you and batted your hand away, pulling your laces tight to knot them.

“You’re trying my shoe,” you said stupidly.

“Yeah, because you’re taking too long.”

“You don’t have to wait for me, you know. I am perfectly capable of getting back by myself. You can go to bed.” You waved dismissively in the direction of the barn.

“I’m not going to leave you out here drunk and alone.”

“See.” You tapped a finger against his chest plate. “Soft.”

“I guess so.”

“Andddd, I think you still feel the need to babysit me because you don’t trust me.”

He looked up at you. “That’s not true.”

“Convincing.”

He shook his head and stood up. You reached out both hands, and he gripped them, pulling you to your feet.

“How’s your leg?” he asked, replacing his hand on your back.

“Oh, it’s good. You make very tiny, very neat stitches. I was impressed. I assume you’ve had lots of practice.”

He hummed.

You hiccupped again.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” you scowled up at him. “I’m not even that drunk.”

He pushed your shoulder lightly, and you stumbled.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

“Proved my point though.”

Putting all your weight behind it, you shoved his arm as hard as you could in retaliation. He didn’t falter. Taking a different tack, you snaked a hand under his arm and tickled his unarmored side. He leaped away from you.

“WHY!?” he grunted.

“You’re ticklish!” you announced triumphantly.

“No. I’m not.” But he was careful to stay more than an arm’s distance away from you.

“Yes, you are! But don’t worry, I will take your secret to my grave,” you promised solemnly, placing a hand over your heart. “It wouldn’t be good for business if everyone knew the greatest bounty hunter in the parsec could be bested via tickling.” Your voice cracked, and you dissolved into giggles.

Mando halted and turned to you, putting his hands on his hips again.

“Oh, Mando, lighten up. I’m just teasing you.”

In two decisive steps, Mando closed the distance between you, crowding you backward. You looked up at him, surprised, unable to get a read on him. “I didn’t mean—.”

In one swift movement, he hauled you over his shoulder.

“Hey!!”

He chuckled and tightened his hold around the back of your thighs. You surrendered quickly, going limp. His pauldron dug uncomfortably in your stomach, but otherwise, it wasn’t so bad.

“That is the second time you’ve laughed in the last five minutes. Are you feeling okay? Are you sure you didn’t sustain some sort of head injury yesterday?” you asked.

“Pretty sure, but I’m starting to think you might have.”

“Hilarious. You know, I could still tickle you like this,” you threatened, trailing a hand down his side.

“Not if you don’t want me to drop you,” he warned, jolting you slightly to demonstrate.

You huffed. “You can’t just cuff me or pick me up any time I’m inconvenient. That’s not how friendship works.”

“I think it works well for us,” he said as he climbed the steps to the barn.

***

The following two weeks were a period of peaceful recovery and restoration. You, Mando, and Cara helped the village return their home to normal—disposing of the dead raiders, breaking down the AT-ST, taking down the barricades, filling in the trenches. Every day, as there was less and less to do, you wondered when Mando would broach the topic of leaving. You had a feeling he, like you, was also putting it off for as long as possible. You were enjoying the easy routine you’d fallen into, spending time with the kid, Mando, Cara, and Omera; you’d happened into a community and were loath to leave it.

You were seated on the porch of the barn, watching the clouds roll slowly across the sky, when you noticed Mando making his way over.

As he walked toward you, you admired (not for the first time) the way the soft, green light of Sorgan danced across the surface of his beskar. You looked him up and down surreptitiously, wondering if he’d always worn such an elaborate outfit or if it had evolved over time. You knew the armor at least had been replaced. But had he always worn a cape? And like three layers of clothes? And the sash-like bandolier? You weren’t familiar enough with Mandalorian culture to know if they strapped all of that on as kids or if they donned the armor at a certain age...or how any of it worked.

Your eyes paused at his middle. Weren’t utility belts usually worn lower, on the hips? Not cinched closer to the trimmest part of the waist? It did seem to secure the softer part of his armor that covered his stomach, so maybe it had to be positioned there. The idea that Mando had thought about his silhouette when donning his armor was absurd... but something told you that it was not impossible. Honestly, you hoped the belt was just as much for fashion as it was for function because that was too funny. The man wears a cape... it is definitely possible that more than one part of his outfit is both aesthetic and practical.

You definitely weren’t complaining. You enjoyed the view.

You wondered if he fully understood the nature of his effect on people. He was acutely aware of how intimidating he could be; he wielded that advantage liberally and expertly, but you were unsure if he was aware of his appeal. It wasn’t just you who was drawn to him in that way—Omera, for one, was immediately taken with him. And you saw how others in the cantina that first day, or in the Sorgan public house, or even here in the village trailed their eyes down his body when he wasn’t looking.

Your face burned slightly at the memory of telling him he had a sexy voice. You were grateful you hadn’t admitted anything more embarrassing, and that he hadn’t brought it up again. To your relief, that night of joking with him had shifted things slightly—he’d been a little more relaxed around you since.

Mando walked up the steps and leaned on the wall of the barn, joining you on the porch. He glanced down at you.

“How was your patrol?” you asked.

“Good, no sign of any raiders.”

You nodded and let silence hang between you for a long moment.

“That fight was too much action for a backwater town like this though—word travels fast and it’s been a couple weeks. We should cycle the charts and move on.”

Your eyes found the child, who was seated amidst a group of children in the middle of the village. He looked so happy, giggling and playing outside in the sun. Krill flopped on the ground around him.

“I know you’re right, but the idea of taking him away from this place is... hard to think about. He’s so happy here.” You nodded your head toward the baby.

Mando heaved a sigh. He stared forward as he said, “I’m leaving him here. Traveling with me—that’s no life for a kid. I did my job, he’s safe—”

You were shocked.

“Your job, Mando? Your job was to turn in an innocent child for a bounty, and you knew that was wrong, so you didn’t. After that, he became your responsibility, not just a job.” The words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them.

You looked away from him, suddenly cold. He said nothing.

“I don’t understand you. You flip flop between being heartless and being caring. How do you go from saving him to leaving him in some random village? He’s attached to you. Please, explain it to me because I don’t understand.” You made no effort to hide the venom that was seeping into your voice, as every frustration you’d felt toward Mando over the last couple weeks bubbled to the surface at once.

You looked up at him. His helmet was trained on your face.

“He’ll get over it. We all do.”

You glared up at him.

“Why don’t you stay here with him? You could settle down with Omera. You know she wants you to stay.”

“She asked me to stay, but I don’t belong here.”

“You could if you wanted to. Don’t pretend like you don’t have a choice.”

You stood and walked away, leaving him on the porch. You couldn’t stand to look at his infuriatingly blank mask for one more second.

You stomped all the way to the forest’s edge and passed under the cover of the trees. You walked until you reached a clearing surrounded by chest-high berry bushes and began to pace back and forth.

What is he thinking?

How could he do that to the child?

How could he just leave him like that?

You knew it didn’t make sense that you would have a say in what happened to the kid, but you couldn’t help the fact that you’d grown attached to them both over the past several weeks. You wanted Mando to be the man you suspected he was—soft and kind-hearted. You didn’t want him to confirm that the moments of selflessness had been outliers, and he was really the ruthless bounty hunter that he looked like on the outside.

But...he was right that his life was not the best life for a child. You thought about your own lonely, unsettled, nomadic existence—not unlike Mando’s. Except, his life also included regular violence in a way that yours hadn’t in a long time. His life would be even worse for a child than yours.

And it made sense that he wasn’t willing to abandon his entire way of life, everything he knew to stay on Sorgan. That was a lot of ask of anyone. He didn’t ask for this.

You’d come out here to calm down but had only made yourself more irritated now that you’d come to the annoying conclusion that Mando was probably right. You huffed.

The threatening crunch of twigs off to your left brought you back to the present moment. You crouched amidst the bramble of berry bushes.

You watched through the tangle of branches as a figure made their way carefully through the forest. They were carrying a long rifle, their face concealed in a mask.

A bounty hunter. A tracking fob blinked in their hand.

Who is their target? The kid? Me? No, it can’t be me. The fob isn’t beeping fast enough. Mando? Cara? Probably the kid. The thought made your heart squeeze.

You stood silently to follow, keeping a safe distance behind them.

The hunter stopped at the edge of the forest, where the view of the village was clear, and set up the sniper rifle on a boulder. You waited to see where the sight was trained before making your move.

Sure enough, the scope was aimed at the baby, who was sitting on the ground beside a krill pond with Winta. Omera was standing in the water, submerging a basket, beside them.

You rushed forward, raising your blaster to the back of the hunter’s head, and pulled the trigger. Birds screeched and took off into the sky in response to the sound.

You smashed the tracker fob under the heel of your boot before rushing back to the village, knowing the ringing shot would have incited panic.

As you sprinted back to the village center, you spotted Mando. He was standing close to Omera, one hand placed reassuringly on her shoulder. The child was held tight in his other arm. Winta was hugged against her mother’s stomach. They looked like a family, the way they were huddled together.

When Mando saw you, he dropped his hand from Omera’s shoulder.

“What happened?” He looked you up and down, inspecting you for any signs of injury.

“There was a hunter in the woods. I took them out. They had a fob for the kid, Mando. They know he’s here,” you panted.

Neither of you spoke, sharing a moment of mutual understanding. You reached over to lightly stroke the kid’s ear. He cooed up at you.

“What does this mean?” asked Omera.

“It means that he isn’t safe here,” responded Mando. The pain in his voice was clear, even through the modulator.

Omera reached out for Mando’s hand, and he took hers for a moment, squeezing it gently before letting it drop.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He nodded stiffly. “Me too.”

You and Mando both turned to head to the barn at the same time. As you walked beside him, you looked over to find his helmet trained on you.

“I—uh, I owe you an apology. This would be a great place for any child to grow up—safe, loving. I get why you wanted to leave him here. I’m sorry that he won’t be able to stay now.”

Mando reached his hand out, as if to touch your arm, then thought better of it and let it fall to his side.

“You know, I actually did turn him in for the reward,” he admitted. “That’s how I got enough beskar for the new armor.” He gestured at his chest plate, hanging his head slightly, ashamed.

You looked at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“I regretted it right away and went back for him. That’s when I ran into you. Or, I guess, you ran into me. ” He let out a small huff of a laugh.

You grimaced, remembering the pain of slamming into his back.

“I understand why you were mad,” he continued. “But, I didn’t want to leave him here. I’m still trying to work out what’s best for him, but I know it’s not staying with me forever.” The thread of grief in his voice was pronounced.

You nodded in understanding, wishing you could somehow help him carry this profound responsibility. You weren’t sure how to express that, or if he wanted to hear it, or if it was your place to say it, so you settled on something else: “He’s easy to get attached to.”

Mando scoffed, “You’re telling me.”

You smiled at him, and you couldn’t be sure, of course, but you felt like he was smiling back at you.

***

You said your goodbyes and readied yourselves for departure. While you hugged the kids and packed your things, you thought about your next move.

A stubborn, cold part of you wanted to tell Mando to drop you off at the closest planet with a major port. You didn’t like that after just a few weeks, you were getting emotionally attached to the pair. It would be easier, safer, less complicated to return to your solitary existence. Plus, your continued presence added to the risk they already faced. That wasn’t fair to either of them.

The quieter, more truthful part of you wanted to stay with him and the child. It was a relief to not be alone all the time, but this was supposed to be a loose, short-lived alliance, not something that made your heart squeeze slightly when you thought about eventually going your separate ways.

You told yourself you’d wait until he brought it up, see what he wanted, and go from there.

You, Mando, and Cara stood at the speeder, ready to leave. Everyone in the village was there to see you off. After a few final goodbyes, Mando and Cara jumped into the speeder. You handed the baby to Mando.

You were about to grab the edge of the speeder to haul yourself up when he reached down to offer you a gloved hand. You accepted. The gesture didn’t surprise you—he was generally polite by nature. What did surprise you was the steadying hand that moved to your waist as you stepped carefully over crates and supplies to find a seat. He squeezed your side gently before letting you go.

***

You had prepared yourself for a conversation that never came.

As you were leaving the atmosphere of Sorgan in the Razor Crest, Mando turned to you to ask, “What are you thinking for our next move?”

He flicked some switches and pressed a few buttons on the console, and a holo-map of the area flickered into view in front of him. A constellation of planets hovered before your eyes.  

***

Chapter 5

[merakiclosed]

Princess of the tower

》Pairing: Thief!Jungkook x Princess!reader 》Summary: The thief of the town who goes by the name of JK finds the lost princess but didn’t expect to fall in love with her along the way. 》Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst, Disney!au/Fantasy!au , Strangers to lovers!au, Tangled!au (2010)   》Word count: 7k 》Notes/Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and fighting, manipulation, long-haired Kook because that’s a danger in its self. 

Masterlist | All messages and requests are open All rights reserved © Merakiiverse. Do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. I do not own the characters nor the concept, (Tangled 2010). 

The sky looked like a fresh blend of colours brushed onto a canvas. Pomegranate pink and papaya orange teased each other, daring to touch but not completely mixing. You’re tempted to close the shutters and go to bed, tiredness pulling at your being. But you were defiant, what good would tomorrow bring? It would be like any other day; clean up, read, paint, sing, cook.

Pascal sleeps on your shoulder when you look down, unconsciously he matches with the sun, his normal green scales changing golden. Sighing, you move your gaze to watch the silhouette of birds fly past, wishing to be as free as them. Reaching out, you touch the plants that wind around the tower, almost crying out to be touched and held as you caress the soft ridges with your fingers.

Finally, you stand up straight and brush the imaginary dust off your purple dress, the silk smooth on your skin. You can remember vividly the day that you made this with your own hands, sewing and cutting material for hours because you grew out of your previous one. Unfortunately, this was the cheapest material your mother could get you, meaning that all of your dresses looked similar. You were dying to get out of the tower and get some more material, experimenting and trying on different styles and colours. But that would never happen. You weren’t allowed out of the tower. It was mother’s number one rule, not under any circumstances were you to step foot outside of this tower.

Your bare feet echo in the empty room as you descend to your bedroom. Along the staircase you run your hands along the carvings that were like a tale of a story that was long forgotten, remembering the day you spent on the hard work. Were you 15 at the time? Maybe, the days are all forged together.

Carefully, you set Pascal down on one of the pillows as you flop down beside him, trying to not wake him up. Gazing up at the roof, you find the multiple paintings you did, filled with flowers, birds and butterflies, thinking when your life will truly begin.

Your hand moves along the wall, almost like your mind is directing it without you. You never think too much whilst painting, it’s where you see the reflection of your own imagination and mind. Every colour is bold and painted with precise lines, curved yet defined. Small dots of gold contrast with the deep blue of the background, representing the floating lights. The same ones that you know will appear tomorrow night, on your birthday. You could only hope and wish that this year, your mother allows you to go see them.

Faintly, you could hear the familiar echo of shoes on the stairwell causing you to shove the paint palette down and draw the curtains to hide the painting. Quickly, you get down from the fireplace, getting ready to greet her as the chain and lock sound heavy against the door.

“My precious daughter.” she cooes, pinching your cheeks making you wince slightly.

“Mother -”

“Would you let your mother brush your hair whilst you sing dear?” she interrupts you. Instantly you’re moving around, grabbing a chair and the brush, rushing to sit her down.

As soon as she is sat down you put a pillow on the floor to sit on, singing the song as fast as you can. Your hair reached the bottom of your bum, thick and tangled from having a busy day, though you don’t wince or groan when she pulls at a knot, too excited and nervous to ask a question. Behind your closed eyes, you briefly see the glow of your hair along with a Zapp at how fast the magic worked.

“Y/N -” mother begins to scold, but you couldn’t care less.

“Mother, I was thinking about what I want for my birthday. Wou- would I b-be able to go outside. To see the floating lights?” Your once confident voice trails off with uncertainty, “They only appear on my birthday and I need to know what they are” you plead, moving to show her the painting you did today, behind the closed curtains. But your grip quickly loosens when you hear her next words.

“Y/n. You want to go outside? You know why we stay in the tower, trust me mother knows best.” She says firmly, standing up towering over you. Her eyes are as dark as her hair as she looks unimpressed, “there are many bad guys out there, diseases that can wipe you out. You know what they do to bright things in the world. They eat them up.”

“You don’t ever ask to go out of this tower ever again.” she finalises, pulling at your dress harshly, “do you understand?” Her gaze is firm and hard making you nod your head meekly. Though, she wanted more than that as she grabs your chin roughly, tilting your head to look her in the eye, “Yes mother I understand.” She beams at you and kisses your cheek. Grabbing the keys, she heads for the door and with another kiss to your head along with a quick I love you, she’s gone again.

Not soon after you could hear laboured breathing coming from the door, the person bangs against the door, followed by a groan. Frantically, you look at Pascal who also has wide eyes, who then points to the frying pan, “Pascal you’re a genius” you whisper. You run behind the door, continuously hearing the stranger try and break the door, making it rattle and echo throughout the room. Any moment now and he’ll end up-

The door breaks off its hinges, the chain now scraping across the ground. It’s silent for a moment as you watch the man look around, failing to look behind him. “OW.SHIT” He shouts when you hit him in the leg with the frying pan, he whips around to look at you. Your mother’s voice sounds in your head of the hideous men with sharp teeth and ill intentions. But this man in front of you was nothing like that. His white shirt was dirty and rolled up to his elbows as underneath was a blue vest, wheat-like string buttoning it together. Brown pants are tucked into brown, leather boots that have clearly been worn for a long time as they are scuffed with mud splattered on them. When your eyes finally land on the satchel in his hand, he moves it closer to himself protectively, interesting.

Like deja vu, you hear another step of footsteps and instantly you know who it is. You and the strange man look at each other wide-eyed and shove him under the stairs, where the kitchen is and hide him behind the curtain. The man stumbles from your push as you take the opportunity to take the satchel out of his hands. Luckily, your mother only gets halfway before she decides to shout, “Y/n, did you want me to get the paint from the beach?” you know that she is doing this so that you don’t talk about going out of the tower, “Yes, mother.” And she’s gone, once again, thankful that you didn’t have to explain why the door was broken.

Cautiously, you creep towards the kitchen, coming face to face with the man, frying pan at the ready in one hand, the satchel in the other. You both looked at each other, he was young, possibly around your age judging by his face. His eyes were deer-like, sparkling with a hint of mischievousness in them, slightly round cheeks but sharp jaw and eyebrows as his black hair slightly hung in front of his eyes, obvious that he hasn’t had it cut in a while. His eyes scan your figure, wanting to roll his eyes, you look innocent and scared. It was obvious that if he shouted at you right now, you would cower. However, he notices the satchel in your hand, “that’s mine, give it back.”

Shaking your head, you hold it closer to you, “No. why are you here?” you foreign confidence when in reality you could feel your erratic heartbeat in your chest. He wasn’t threatened as his face showed confusion, making his nose scrunch up, “Is that all of your hair?”

Your mind starts to connect the dots, “Do you want my hair, is that why you are here? How did you find me?” you accuse, trying to sound threatening.

“I don’t want your hair, I want to get out of here. Now, give me my satchel.” You were shocked by his firm and deep voice as he hardened his gaze on you. Neither of you said anything, his ice-cold stare not wavering as you came up with an idea.

“No. I won’t give you the satchel until you take me to see the floating lights tomorrow night. You will take me there and in return, you’ll get your satchel.”

“That’s it? You want to see the lanterns?” he sounds bored. Well, he shouldn’t have broken your door! You unconsciously pout and nod, “Yes.”

“So, is this a deal then?” he says, cocking his eyebrow. This will be easy.

“Yes.”  

“Well let’s get going then”

The words make you pause, you’ll be leaving the tower. Without your mother’s permission. It was against the rules. What if she comes back early. No, you can’t think of that. You either leave the tower now or stay and never be able to see the outside world, “well what are you doing just standing there princess, let’s get moving.”

Feet firmly planted, you look up to the sky that is bright but soft all at once, it looks bigger from down here, reminding you how small you are in a big world. Looking back, you see the plants that have grown thick on the tower, stone of grey peeking out as rigid pieces crumble to the floor. The grass is soft on your feet as you timidly take a step forward, the bottom of your dress soaking up the morning dew as you bend down to pick out a flower. The petals are vibrant and proud as you softly brush your finger along the soft texture. Your hair flows behind you in the grass, but you don’t care. Pascal takes in a big, deep breath of the fresh air, peering over at the young man. He doesn’t trust him.

The man looks at you unimpressed, but in reality, he finds it quite endearing as you look around. The scenery was normal to him, but watching you appreciate all of the little details makes him think more about taking things for granted. But he can’t think like that. He needs to leave you - somewhere safe of course- and run. All he has to do is steal the satchel from you when you sleep and then he will be on his way. He strolls up to you and plucks the flower out of your hand, causing you to pout, but soon turns into a shy smile once he places it in your hair, next to your ear. Firstly, he has to gain your trust.  

Walking away, he hears your feet pad on the ground before you walk next to him, “So, princess what’s your name?”

“Y/n.” You say softly, looking up at him, he mulls over what to say before talking, “Mine’s Jk.”

Now fully in the forest, you take it all in. Trees that you once looked over, towered over you causing you to smile like a kid in the candy store, they were bigger than you imagined. You gasped at the sight of a bunny, running over to it, the motion causing it to squeak and hop away. Subconsciously you frown with a pout prominent on your face, you only wanted to pet it, the fur looked so soft! JK looks over at you, cocking his head to the side. How strange and innocent you were, shrugging it off he walks off, wanting to get this over and done with.

“Hey - wait up.”

The woman trudges up the stairs, huffing with every step, her shoes clacking against the stone. She can sense that something is wrong, the echoing doesn’t sound as harsh to her eardrums as before. Thoughts of something getting to her precious prize, causing her to fasten her steps before she abruptly stops, two steps before the top. The wooden door lays on the floor, pieces of wood aloof. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears, adrenaline rushing through her as she shouts out, trying to find her. Pots and pans on the floor, material is thrown all over. Nothing.

As she lays on the cold, hardwood floor, she thinks about all of the possibilities of what could have happened. She can’t lay around all day, she has to do something. Standing up, she pulls her black cloak over her head as her blood-red dress dances against the door, her boots crushing the debris. She will do whatever it takes to get her back.

You walked until it was dark, the atmosphere between you both was awkward for the full day, asking him questions but only getting either one-word responses or gestures of yes or no. Goosebumps appear on your arms from the evening chill as crickets start to sing in the swaying grass.

“I’ll get some firewood, stay here.” He commands, not waiting for an answer as he walks off into the woods. The green canopy almost looks black, drained of colour almost like it was muted under the artist’s hand. Every noise and russell from the bushes makes you jump, you’ve practically been alone for most of your life, but you were surrounded by the tower walls. You’re vulnerable under the moon that shines in the night. It was a weird experience, you’ve seen the nightfall and the sunrise, yet witnessing it outside was so much more magical. You only wish that your companion would be better, but at least Pascal is with you, though he isn’t much help as you look over to find him knocked out on the edge of the branch that you’re sat on. The familiar crunch of boots makes you gaze up at the man, his biceps bulging in the shirt that he wears.

The fire crackles as soon as he has light it, you watch him silently as he tears a bit of his shirt off to stop the bleeding of a scrape on his arm. Maybe, you can get him to talk if you become closer. Wordlessly, you scoot over to him and reach out softly to stop him, he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows wondering what you were doing. Winding some hair around the cut, he hisses as your small hands press harder onto his forearm, with a cautious gaze you look up at him, “Please don’t be scared.” The vulnerability in your voice is evident as he looks at you skeptically.

“Flower gleam and glow” Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine”

Jungkook watches you as if you were crazy, but confusion knocks into him once he feels a tingle in his arm, looking as your hair starts to glow. Staring at your face, the light illuminating your face. Your eyes are closed firmly, he observes the silent features on your face that draws him closer to you, you look so young, yet so worn out. Watching as delicate lips sing the song.

“Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was mine.”

What and why were you in that tower?

Opening your eyes, he’s taken out of his thoughts, clearing his throat. Meekly, you look up at him as you unwrap your hair from his arm, the cut no longer there. You wait anxiously at what he will do next. You haven’t shown anyone other than your mother that.

“H-how long has your -uh. Magical Uhm. Hair been doing that?” He coughs when his voice cracks, not wanting to show how scared he actually feels.

“Forever. Something like this” You gesture to your hair, “has to be protected, that’s why my mother - why I never left the tower.” Your voice trails off at the end, still uncertain about what he is thinking.

His thoughts are running wild. He’s sitting there, in the middle of the night, with a girl who has magical hair. Is this a dream? Something like this doesn’t happen, maybe he’s going crazy. Maybe the guards have already taken him and this is all some sort of hallucination. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you twiddle your thumbs, waiting anxiously. He had a perfect plan for tonight, wait until you fall asleep, take the satchel and run. He knew you wouldn’t be able to stay awake for long, yet he doesn’t think he can do it. If someone gets to you, you’re a goner. And for some reason, it makes his gut twist at the thought of you in danger, especially after you showed him your little trick. People like him, eat people like you for dinner. He yearns to know everything about you already, but he doesn’t think he can bring himself to do it. He’s not a good person and you don’t deserve that.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh?” You look up at him quizzically.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook.”

You gaze up into his deep, marble eyes where you could see tales - most likely fascinating, secrets and stories that he’s held up in his head for years. He was far more interesting than you, that’s for sure.

“How did you find the tower?” You questioned, averting your eyes to pascal as he sleeps peacefully.

“I ran, I didn’t plan the journey to the tower, I just ended up there.” He says with a humourless laugh, thinking about how he had run away from the guards at the palace, then proceeding to ditch the two others. His eyes unconsciously flicking to the satchel around your shoulder. Was all of this worth it?

You nod at him, not knowing what to say, you want to know what he was running from, why he never gave you his real name from the start, why he was so desperate to get the satchel. You had so many questions for people outside of the tower, but now sitting in front of him, Jungkook, your mind runs blank. Yawning, you rub your eyes, but you’re fearful of sleeping outside. Will someone attack you? Will it rain? What if a giant creature comes and gets you?

“Easy there, princess. I can see your head about to blow smoke from how hard you’re thinking.” Jungkook said in a small voice, presumably not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night. Laying down, pieces of wood stabbed your side, but it would have to do if you want to get to the lanterns tomorrow. Your head lays gently on the bark, the constellations that have witnessed centuries watch over you both in this small moment before you finally close your eyes drifting off to sleep.

Jungkook looks over when he hears your breathing slowing down, to see you knocked out like a light. Chuckling to himself, he can imagine how hard today was compared to being in that tiny room in the tower. He sits on the grass, leaning against the log you’re asleep on, looking at your figure. He was so curious to know you, he never heard anything about a girl being locked up in a tower, and surprisingly, he felt bad for you. So youthful and full of wonder, and he was youthful but full of danger.

Luckily, the town wasn’t far from where you slept, only a couple of hours in the morning and you finally saw the opening to the village. Even from afar, you could feel the energy that the people emit, vibrant clothing shining in the sunlight as people dance to the music. They move around each other like pebbles in the water, flowing around one another, as they fill each other with adrenaline-pumping happiness. You only see joyful faces as they bring the village to life. Chatter between sellers and buyers as if they were old friends. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Mother was wrong, there are good people in the world. Pascal looks in wonder, as he hides in the pocket of your dress, he’s never seen something like this in his life. If he thought your paintings were colourful, this was on a whole other level as they whizzed past him. 

Purple seemed to be the main colour as it is splashed onto every bit of material you see, as you get closer you see a group of young girls that paint a mural on the floor, a star in the middle of purple paint. A picture of, who you presume are the king and queen with a young daughter in their arms, was in front of the painting.

Jungkook watches you silently as you smile widely, your eyes darting in every which way to take everything in. He gently grabs at your sleeve and tugs you towards one of the stands who does hair, sitting you in the chair. You look up at him questioningly, as the woman starts to braid your hair, making sure not to hurt you. She doesn’t question the twigs and leaves she finds, simply plucking them out. You sit in wonder, trying not to dart your head around to see more.

Your hair feels lighter and is easier to manage as you walk past the stalls. Briefly, you smell something sweet as you get closer to a particular one, your face lighting up at the sweetness. You pause your steps, taking a closer look at what it was.

Jungkook turns around to find that you’re not following him anymore, sending him into a panic as all he can see is a crowd of people. He’s familiar with his heart racing, normally from running away, but as he looks around he feels a different type of adrenaline, but all he has to do is breathe before calming down. His eyes are quick to find you, your purple dress matching perfectly with the theme as your hair flows down your back, flowers intertwined in certain strands. Walking towards you, he laughs when he sees your nose practically smudged against the glass that holds the doughnuts. You stare at him in shock, forgetting that you were supposed to follow him, causing heat to rise in your body.

“Do you want one?” He asks softly, nodding towards the sweet treat. You nod enthusiastically, causing another chuckle to rise from his throat as he hands the man behind the glass some money. You whisper a thank you as you take it from him, “what is this called?”

“It’s a doughnut.” He’s careful in calling you princess in the village, knowing it’s a sensitive topic and he doesn’t need to be at the center of attention right now, especially with all of the guards that he has seen. Tentatively, he watches you take your first bite, a giggle passes your lips once you’ve eaten it, taking another bite, clearly enjoying it as your cheeks fill like chipmunks. He watched fondly, before catching himself. No, he can’t fall for you. In a flash, he turns serious, cocking an eyebrow at you. Humiliation falls over you, at your obvious display of enjoyment. You’re not sure what you’ve done, but you still feel it as he looks at you with his sharp gaze. Lowering the doughnut, you avoid eye contact before nodding at him to continue with where you were walking to, giving the last of it to pascal. 

However, you get distracted once again at a group of people dancing, their bodies speaking for how they feel. You have danced before, in the comfort of the walls you call home, but here where you see young girls skipping and weaving past the seas of people, smiling as if nothing bad ever happened, you realise that you’ve never truly danced. Forgetting about the moment earlier, you grab Jungkook’s hand and dance with him. His larger hands encased in yours as you follow the rhythm, being carefree of everything, feeling freedom run in your bones. You know that after tonight, life goes on as normal, so today you will be free of all of your worries.

Smiling and giggling you look up to find him mirroring your expression. His laugh is beautiful as you finally get to see him enjoy himself, maybe he has realised that he can also be carefree. Your feet pad against the stone floor, you know you’ll have to make up an excuse as to why your feet are battered and bruised when you get home, but right now you don’t care.

But you’re soon thrown out of this dream when his eyes widen, looking at something behind you. You go to look back when he softly puts your head in his chest, holding you close, your breath hitches at the contact of your bodies pressed together. The feeling of having someone so close was bizarre, even your mother didn’t hold you like this especially as long as this. Suddenly, he pulls away, holding your hand in his as he runs, shouting of guards impales your ears, clattering of boots and metal follow behind you as each step is calculated. Not used to the exertion of energy your breathing starts to get laboured as you both rush past people, it’s all a blur as your steps start to falter, Jungkook’s grip on your hand getting tighter. Your bare feet sting as they slap against the moss-laden rock, each stride of his were worth at least two of yours, his long legs and previous endeavours made this easy, barely breaking a sweat. With a good distance between you and the guards, Jungkook drags you around another corner and into a darker and smaller passageway. Abruptly he shoves you against the wall, causing you to wince, his body once again up against yours. In your pocket, you barely realise that Pascal is shaking, clinging onto your dress for dear life. But all you can do is look at his face, tight-lipped and his gaze is sharp as he listens for the guards, your breath hot against his hand that is against your lips, keeping you quiet. His own breathing is steady but slightly offbeat as for the first in a while, he is scared of being caught. He’s been running away from guards the whole of his life, but he couldn’t get you in trouble because of his actions. You can hear the guards getting closer, footsteps matching in beat with each other, trained to perfection as they rush past you both.

A sigh of relief from him as you smile up towards him, “that was an adventure” you laugh. The adrenaline that pumped through you was certainly a new experience, though your feet are paying the price as you look down at them. Jungkook copies you and looks at how red and bruised your feet are making him grimace. He opens his pouch in his pocket and hands you some coins and points to one of the stalls, “I’ll stay here, are you alright buying your own shoes?”

Looking around you don’t see any of the guards and nod at him, slightly uncertain. You’ve only socialised with two people, but you can do this! You can totally do this! Hesitantly, you walk up to the stall before looking back to Jungkook to find him standing with a smile and two thumbs up. Briefly, you look down to Pascal who nods at you, a small smile on his face. You nod your head again and continue forward, with timid steps before looking around at the shoes on show before finding a pair of loafers, white with a golden pattern on the front, matching perfectly with your dress. The woman that owns the stall laughs at you before guiding you to try them on. You smile widely at her before giving her the coins, to which she accepts with a small smile, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons. Putting them on your feet, you wiggle your toes before skipping back to Jungkook. He smiles at you watching your eyes brighten up, talking animatedly about how you think they’re pretty and soft. Again, he can feel his heart skip a beat. But once more he ignores it. He’s not meant for you.

Unknown to both of you Pascal notices the looks he gives you and tilts his head, maybe he isn’t as bad as he thought. 

As the sun descends and an ashen moon rises into the darkness he walks you along the beach, where a river lies in front of the castle. A small rowing boat sits upon the pale yellow of the sand, still against the calm waves. Jungkook unwinds the rope from the wooden pole and throws it into the boat. Holding out a hand he helps you get in as he pushes it off into the ocean, jumping in after, making the boat rock. You yelp and hold on to the side, crouching into a ball as you can feel it rock beneath you. You hear him laugh as he sits down, not bothered by the sway of the waves. He grabs the paddles and starts to row, you watch as his face contorts into concentration, his tongue bulges against his cheek, his once injured hand gripping the paddle with a tough grip, veins run along his forearm. A foreign feeling surges through you as you watch him, butterflies invading your stomach.

Soon enough you’re in the middle of the river, as he stops rowing, wiping off the sweat that formulated on his forehead with the back of his hand. Swiftly, Pascal crawls to the side of the boat and seats himself on the wood, waiting for the lights to warm up the sky. One particular question has been nagging in the back of your head ever since you saw the lanterns, “why do they send them off every year on my birthday?”

“The lanterns?” You nod.

“The daughter of the King and Queen was taken on this day and was never seen again. They hope by sending these lanterns off that she will find her way back.” He sighs, running his fingers through his already unruly hair. You know that he is hiding something as he avoids your eyes, looking out in the water. Before you can say anything a singular light floats up into the sky followed by thousands more. Gasping, you jump to the edge of the boat, trying to get a closer look, ignoring the tilt of the boat in your excitement. Lanterns illuminated like stars against the inky black night, the water merged the reflection of those in the sky, an autumn orange. Inside each lantern holds a small candle, lit with a prayer, calling out for the lost daughter. The pale silk hand-painted with the same star you saw earlier.

A cough from behind you causes you to look back, to find Jungkook sat with two lanterns in his hand and a sheepish smile on his face. Gasping, you reach forward to grasp one, and softly it floats between your fingers and into the sky, circling around Jungkook’s. The world feels like it’s shifted, warm and bright even in the crisp night. Turning around, you thrust the satchel in his hands, “You took me to the lanterns. This is my end of the deal.”

Shaking his head, he pushes it away, “I don’t want it.”

Tilting your head in confusion, he continues to look in your eyes, his eyes uncharacteristically soft, leaning closer to you, “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve changed me. You made me question everything that I’ve done if only I had met you sooner.” you can feel his breath on your face, his gaze wavering to look down at your lips as you unconsciously lick your lips. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you scoot closer to him, resting your hands on his knees. Your lips centimetres apart before the boat rocked, but it wasn’t due to the waves. A dark shadow cast over the both of you, laughter of three people getting closer to the boat, “well, look what we have here.” A rough voice calls out.

Looking up, you find your mother standing next to two men who are easily 6 foot in height, scars all over their bodies. Slamming their boat into yours, you go to topple over the edge beforehand reaches out and pulls you into them, “My sweet, precious daughter.” Her familiar scent engulfs your senses, her bony frame hugging you in a death grip. Jungkook heaves in a breath as his wet form is slung into the boat, coughing up water. The two men hold him in a vice grip, hauling him up by his arms as his body shivers from the cold.

Struggling to get out of your mother’s grip, Jungkook looks up at you and shakes his head, telling you to stop. Ignoring him, you continue, “Let him go.”

“Oh no, sweetheart. He took you from me, we can’t have that can we?” her patronising voice sings in your ear. One of the men punches him in the gut, as the other kicks his back legs causing him to fall to his knees, the wood digging into his skin from the impact. “And these lovely boys helped me, aren’t they sweet,” she says, grabbing your chin and harshly tugging it to make you look at them. An uppercut to head and he spits out blood, “Mother. Stop.” your voice is filled with panic, watching helplessly as they repeatedly punch him and kick him. Your mind goes wild, why isn’t he fighting back? Pascal watches on with wide eyes, knowing that he can’t do anything, feeling useless. 

The pain that he feels is excruciating but he doesn’t do anything other than let it happen. He hears your blood-curdling screams but it comes in and out like waves, his sight becoming blurry as they continue. He deserves this. The stealing, the robbing, the slowly falling in love with you. He doesn’t deserve to be in your life. He screams as he’s cut in the shoulder, the knife shortly ripped out of him to be plunged into his left side. His blood is hot as it pours out, burning his cold figure. Looking up, he finds your face covered in tears, eyes bloodshot as you kick and scream for your mother to stop. You were one of a kind. He didn’t know how you did it, but you made him want to change for the better. He didn’t want the crown. He didn’t want wealth. He wanted you. But fate had a cruel way of showing him that he couldn’t have you. Another stab, another scream. Not from him, but you. He smiles weakly at you as he can feel himself about to pass out, his skin turning paler by the second.

“Mother, please,” you beg, tears cascading down your face like lava.

“Boys.” She says simply, both of them stopping and holding a bruising grip on his arms. His head sags, not having the energy to look up at you anymore.

“P-please. Please… Let me heal him and then you can take me. I’ll l-live with you forever. You and me. I’ll never go outside, I’ll do everything you ask of me. Just let me heal him and let him go.” You sniffle and choke on your words, breathless from screaming. Your mother cocks her head to the side before looking back to the two men, “Shoo. Take the crown and go.” A sick, twisted smile coats their faces as they both look at each other before jumping into the boat you came on, picking up the satchel and rowing away. Jungkook slumps to the floor, weakly holding onto his side.

Her grip on you disappears and you throw yourself to the floor, “Jungkook.” You frantically try and stop the blood, but too much has already been lost, “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” you whisper, pushing down on one his wounds causing him to wince.

“Y/n.” you ignore him, grabbing your hair in your hands to wrap around him, before pale hands grip yours, “I can’t let you do this.” A single tear makes its way down his face, his hands are cold against yours signifying that you don’t have much time left.

“Please, please let me do this or you’ll die.” you softly caress his cheek, moving some hair out of his face, “If I let you do this, you’ll die.” he whispers, eyes blinking rapidly to try and stay awake. His breathing is heavy as he wheezes. Gently, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into him as your body shakes, “I love you.” With all of the energy that he can muster he snatches the knife from the floor before grabbing your hair and cutting it in one swipe. Jagged lines of hair fall to the ground, as you gaze at him with wide eyes.

A piercing screech comes from your mother, “what have you done?” she shouts, pulling her cloak over her, as she stammers around the boat before reaching the edge. It was like it was in slow motion as she topples over the edge and into the water, her arms flaring, struggling to keep afloat before her body slowly sank, as her body ages before you. 

Jungkook’s grip around you becomes weaker, his breathing getting slower. Your heart sinks to your stomach, as you watch him take his last breath. “No, no, no, no, no” you whisper, choking as a sob threatens to tear at your throat. Pascal climbs on top of him, eyes sad as he watches the both of you, beneath him he can feel Jungkook’s breathing slowing down. Your hands shake as you watch blood ooze from his wounds, and you burst like a dam. Salty tears run down your face, racking with sobs. This was your fault, he didn’t deserve this. If only you would have stayed in the tower. If only you didn’t fall in love with him. 

“Flower gleam and glow” Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine.

Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was m-mine.”

Your voice cracking continuously as you breathed the song. It was a bittersweet moment as the lanterns around you continued to float around you, full of life, burning into the ever glowing night sky, almost like they were mocking you. Light beamed around you, a golden hue spiraled around the both of you like it was dancing to a song before bursting, like a firework, into the star that has been engraved into your memory since this morning. 

A wave of dizziness crashes over you, making you lose balance, your hands scraping against the wood. Flashes of memories burst through your mind. A small hand touching bigger ones. Chubby legs that look like they’re learning to walk for the first time. A mobile hanging from above the crib. And a star. The same star that you painted on your ceiling. The same star that’s been in front of your very eyes this entire day. Another flash and you see a man and a woman. The parents of the lost daughter.

Gasping, you see Jungkook getting up and holding his head in his hands, his body feeling sore. Throwing yourself at him once again, you swallow thickly holding back another sob. Gradually, he lifts himself up whilst keeping his arms around you, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“J-Jungkook. I-”

“It’s fine, I know,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head as he manoeuvres your body to sit in his lap. “Y-you know what I am?” you sniffle, looking up at him, watching as he nods. “There was no way that you weren’t the missing princess. A girl that was kept in a tower, magical powers and the fact you looked identical to the picture painted on the wall in the middle of the village? I put it together fairly fast”

Leaning up, you kiss him softly on the lips but soon gets broken as you both start smiling uncontrollably, “Let’s get you home, princess.”

The balcony stood over the village, the open porch in front of you was held with detailed pillars, painted in a brilliant white. The architecture fitting perfectly with the village buildings, get standing out in the most ostentatiously way as the castle stood the tallest. Guards surrounded the both of you, causing Jungkook to be on his toes. If this all goes wrong you’ll both be jailed for life. The white stone of the castle glistened in the summer sun as you both wait anxiously. 

Heels clack on the polished floor, steps full of purpose as you clutch Jungkook’s hand tighter. Two people; a man and women step out. A gasp escapes them both as your eyesight gets blurry. Your parents. Your mother runs towards you and embraces you, knocking the wind out of you as she storks your cheek as if you were made of glass, her bloodshot eyes smiling at you with love, “y/n.”

“Mother, father.” you smile at them taking a hand each in your own.

“This is Jungkook. He helped me get here.” You say as you turn around to face him. Your dad walks towards him, boot heavy on the ground as he embraces him, “thank you for bringing my daughter home.”

Smiling at the sight, you pull Jungkook towards you and squeeze him tight, “thank you.” you whisper into his chest, feeling the rumble of his chest as he laughs, “anything for you princess.”

Pascal squeaks from Jungkook’s shoulder before turning blue, when all of the attention is on him from his celebration of joy, making you all laugh and coo at him. The princess of the tower was finally free. 

Please comment and reblog, tell me what you think!! It took me around 2 weeks to write this and I’m sorry if the ending isn’t as good :(( But I still hope you enjoyed 

[bastillewolf]

Corpse's Bride (I)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Summary: When you end up in an unfortunate arranged marriage to salvage what is left of your parents’ wealth, it seems fate has other ideas in store for you; or perhaps it was the Devil who decided to bring back the dead?

Notes: Yea, I don’t know why I wrote this either, and no idea where this series is gonna go. If you have any suggestions, please send them. But I wanted to write something for Christmas since I haven’t posted in a while. I hope you all have safe and happy holidays! Let’s just get 2020 over with, please.

Tag list currently closed.

Chapter I - The wedding

Somewhere through the clouds of smoke erupting from the city, just beyond the hills, lies a small town called Gloomington. Where the streets are always swept and yet seem never clean, where birds fly high through the sky yet never manage to reach the clouds, and where dreams are crushed underneath the wheels of creaking carriages and half-empty fish barrels. It might seem like the most boring old town, with its inhabitants that look like they’re either on the brink of death or very much willing to be, but it wasn’t to you. No, to you life appeared much more interesting, though not by your own volition. You did not turn a blind eye to the grey streets or creaking bones or listening ears, as they had always been the same to you, but the troubles you had yet to bear were much too big to focus on anything else.

Your parents had deemed that on your twenty-first birthday, you were finally fit for marriage. It was the age that they had gotten married, and by tradition, through their parents as well. Why they had decided to force this upon you as well, you did not know, for as long as you could remember you’d only ever thought of your parents to be miserable together. Their time with you was now something of the past, however, because if all went well today, you would be married within just a day or two.

It was already raining, which would’ve made the situation so much gloomier to you if you hadn’t been revelling in the fact that it meant you could take the carriage instead of walk. You didn’t mind getting your shoes or the hem of your dress dirty, but other people did. And the people you would be seeing today would not approve of anything that wasn’t perfect upon arrival.

You only remembered the Everglots vaguely from your childhood during the instance when you’d been playing in a similar storm and one of their maids had shooed you away, saying you were being too loud and an unfit view for their folk. Their house was a different story, however. It stood tall above all other houses, even yours, so it was hard to miss. You weren’t rich, even though your parents liked to pretend they were. Your father owned the biggest and only fishing company in town; the main source of income from Gloomington. The thing was though, the seas were being overfished, and all he was getting from the ocean now were ones the sizes of goldfish.

You presumed this is why your parents decided to marry you off to the Everglots’ son, Thomas. According to your nanny, they were a bunch of washed-up aristocrats. Otherwise, you’d never even caught a glimpse of them, let alone of their offspring. Which is probably why you were so nervous. If he was anything like his parents personality-wise, you hoped he at least made up for it on the outside.

“Stop fidgeting,” your mother said, snapping you from your daze. You looked down to your hands, which had been crumpling a bunch of the fabric of your dress together, probably creating creases. You wonder if you had subconsciously done it, simply out of spite, because the nerves had numbed any other senses. You smoothed it out, crossed your legs and folded your hands across your lap, to which your mother gave a pleased nod.

A glance towards your father told you not much else, he was too busy going through last-minute calculations in his notebook. This must seem like ordinary business to him.

Your heart jumped a little as you watched the horse pulling your carriage nearly slip in the mud. He’d been in your family for fifteen years now, it was a wonder he was still standing. Perhaps the whip was reason enough for such a solemn animal, confined to his leather straps and iron mouthpiece. You tugged on the silver chain your mother had draped across your neck. Some of the diamonds had been taken out, but you could only see it if you looked very closely.

The carriage wavered and eventually managed to stop with another crack of the whip. It went almost simultaneously with the clash of thunder.

Hopping out, you looked down to see your polished shoes had landed directly in the biggest puddle on the square.

“Oh, miss, you should’ve let me put my coat down for you,” the old coachman called out, rising from his seat.

Your mother’s unnerving gaze followed yours down to the puddle around your feet. “Yes, you should have. I told you to watch your step with those shoes. Henry, clean them up.”

The coachman then proceeded to lay down his coat in the puddle anyways, and even after your protests continued to polish your shoes with his previously clean white handkerchief. You thanked him when he was finished, to which he tipped his hat.

“Hurry up. We’re already late,” your mother said. You wanted to rip the whip from his hands and hit her with it, but your composure and good sense got the better of you.

The massive doorknocker hit the hardwood three times because of your father’s shaky hand, which seemed to collapse back down to his side immediately after.

To your surprise, no maid opened, but the lady of the house herself did. Missus Everglot looked down upon you with a smile that looked more like a sneer. Her hair was greying, almost to the point where it was white, a colour matching the black dress she wore. Weren’t you supposed to wear colour for a special occasion such as this? You’d been so bold to wear something green; your best dress, to be perfectly honest. Were you supposed to wear black?

“It is good to see you again,” she hummed, and your parents made noises of agreement.

“Our apologies for bringing the bad weather. But that usually means good luck!” Your father said. You all laughed, though mostly out of politeness.

She invited you in, and you were finally able to see the grandeur of the Everglots household. Or well, what was left of it. The unlit fireplaces on either side of the entrance hall made you wonder if they no longer had maids working for them or if they simply enjoyed the cold. There was only one butler you saw so far, the one who took your coats from you and then scurried off. A big staircase stood in front of you, leading two opposite directions upstairs.

“Ah! You must be the daughter we’ve been hearing so much about!” Mister Everglot suddenly appeared, his arms spread wide with the same smile as his wife spread across his pale cheeks. He also wore black, though he bore quite a bit more weight than his wife, almost to the point where the top button of his shirt looked like it wanted to bail ship.

“It’s a true pleasure meeting you, mister Everglot,” you replied quietly, holding out your hand for him to shake. He barely did, before brushing you off to gloat about things to your parents. “You know, we’ve picked out the finest gold for the rings. The blacksmith in town just did a marvellous job on them-“

The ring on your hand felt heavy. It was your grandmothers’, passed down from your mother and onto you. Now you had to bear the burden of a loveless marriage.

Your silent sigh was interrupted by a quiet clearing of someone’s throat.

You looked up to meet the eyes of a dark-haired boy, who was scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He asked you if he got your name right. You nodded politely.

“Hi, I’m- I’m Thomas. It’s very nice to meet you, miss.”

You huffed in amusement at his stuttering. “I don’t think you have to call me ‘miss’, Thomas. We’ll be married soon.”

He smiled shyly. “I would keep calling you ‘miss’ if you preferred it. Marriage wouldn’t change that for me.”

You stood there, slightly aghast. This boy was nothing like his parents. You wondered who had raised him because as you had been fortunate enough with your nanny, you couldn’t imagine his having been any different.

“Better watch it there, Thomas.” Another man strutted down the stairs behind him. He looked just about as pretentious as mister and missus Everglot. “Don’t want to scare the little lady off there.”

Sykkuno only chuckled, but you could sense that his friend didn’t have the best intentions. He introduced himself after you, “The name’s Barkis. I’m a… good family friend of the Everglots, I suppose.” He kissed your hand, which made you shiver uncomfortably. You tried your best to hide it, instead turning your eyes to meet Thomas’ again. They seemed much brighter in this gloomy place.

At least, that’s what you kept reminding yourself of as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to refrain from fainting as your mother kept pulling on the strings of your corset until you were quite certain a few ribs had been broken off in the process.

“Now,” she reminded you, “This will be good for the family. I know you’re an unconventional spitfire, - I don’t know who you got that from – but you shall learn to listen to your husband. It will save your father’s business and his honour, not to mention your dignity.”

You couldn’t breathe, you needed air. Your mother saw the look in your eyes.

“And as a final warning, young lady, if you dare to try to run, you better remind yourself that this family will never take you in again. Not when you come crawling back with not a penny to carry, not with a baby you got from another man. You will be as good as dead to us, if you wouldn’t have already died in some gutter.”

You nodded, “I understand, mother. I just need some air.”

She gave you one last glance, before nodding. She locked the door after she left.

It allowed you to burst through the doors to the Everglots balcony, where outside the rain had thankfully settled a bit to a slight drizzle. But you didn’t care if your dress got wet. You had to untie the knot at your back.

Quickly.

But you couldn’t reach.

You leaned across the railing.

If you could reach a little further-

But your hand slipped, and you felt your feet being thrown the wrong way as you plummeted down the second floor.

TAG LIST CLOSED (unless you want to be removed, I completely understand lol) @annshit @simonsbluee @majolittlemixgurl18 @redosmo @mythicalreader @gracehaileym @leikarinn @its-bootz @ollwinchester @thehatredofshiprrick @curlyhairedbrock @thatbandchick39 @reddeserths @mitseuul @potenzel @tanchosanke @tooturntashbash @stephn-prkr @missingpuzzlepiece @sweetasphyxiation @goldiefox1 @imrisaluk @chimchimsugakookies @helena-way07 @danny-devitowo @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @richkookie​ @cherry-piee @artist-bby @bluewneptune @bratttyaphrodite @eccedxntesiaast @faithneko @thebootythrasher @bethpiercwhy​ @theeerealpunkin @heartbroken-writer @chisaikuki @realnicoleworld @candystoregirl @derpygiraffe43110 @rintomoj @phantomamethyst @helloitsmeamie203 @falcon-arrows @nvthvlyy @ellomellows @loraleiix @ladolcedea @lunaruss @princess00wifi @pennnyroyalty @cultofandom @easygoingtheatre @crpseclt @thatonefangirlbornonfriday @myherotrashbin @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @martinimom @gummybear123 @sparklingblacktea @lovelynervouskingdom @kingsuals @weeblyheaux @flightsandfantasy @chanelle-jackson @actual-spawn-of-satan @dixielumsden  @consumegods @mirandabarry @ikearandl @narwhalsaremagicalbroski @armycandy10 @chillininahottub-withaghost @mitchiesdungeon @yeolliedokai @alyofmusic @qatiee @dzzizzi @johnjacobjingleheimerschmidt @leilanixx @thefuckthesaurus @hughugh20 @thanossexual @moneybagmara @squintyangel @motheroffae @arossebyanyothername @vacaprincess @jinxedanxrchist @peterparkerspjsuit @chrysanthykios @wildflowerwhore @punkrainbows  @justalilsimpsometimes @bunniwritesx @sunnsettee @justxanotherxshipper @alilshit @dekahg @laugh-like-the-moon @sadness-babee @corpsie-bby @corpsesgirl @dead-boys-stuff @roses-and-grasses @sakusawife @byunniebaekhyunnie @lazy-little-me @phantomamethyst @letsloveimagines @polahorvat @sokkas-paintings @possiblyanxioushuman @a-dot-dev @aniyahsucks @choicesstan1 @error-loading-sorry @bi-andready-tocry @agustdpeach @punkrainbows @xibrokensunriseix @genjicats @forest-rav3n @devilishducky97 @alyss01 @anacrcarvalho @siriuslystupid @bakugonua @n0t-a-simp @notmewrongb1tch @c00ln3rdz @rolls-and-rolex

People I wasn’t able to tag (please check your settings lovelies):

@holosexualunicorn7000 @theroyalsaikou @timotheessoleil @devilish-ducky @000-22-000 @matcha-chaii @corbins-kinda-smart @milybones @theinbookss @mintchip17 @arghm8ty @ry-winter @namjoons-crabssss @sbfandom  @petitebitvh @corbins-kinda-smart @marmeladebreadwithhoney @solielfhuz6942 @xsarcasm101x @emmapotato88

[systlinsideblog]

Part 3

The Great Crimes are as follows;

There are three Great Crimes, for which the punishment is death.

The first of the Great Crimes when, in cold blood, a person murders another who has offered no offence. The punishment for murder shall be death, the sentence to be carried out by the loved ones of the murdered or by one they give the right to in their stead.

The second of the Great Crimes is rape. The punishment for rape of another shall be death, the sentence to be carried out by the victim or by one the victim gives the right to in their stead.

The third of the Great Crimes is to enslave another, and hold them in bondage. The punishment for holding another in slavery shall be death…

-The New Laws, or The Change in the Laws of Gor, The Great Ubara Systlin Stellas, on the new laws of the land, speech given in the Throne Room of Turia, 0 AGU. Chiseled on a pillar before the Law Rooms of Ar in its entirety

 Kutaituchik, the Ubar of the Tuchuks, was dead. 

It had been a very brutal and confusing few hours. The strange woman had refused to show courtesy or deference. She had made no apology for killing Tuchuk warriors. She had not relinquished the slave girl clinging tight to her side, the one whose master she had killed when he moved to chastise his slave.

She had stood before the Ubar of the Tuchuks like a queen before her court, and had demanded. 

I pulled at the slave collar around my throat, and found it quite secure. 

I have seen many things in my day. Many horrors, and many wonders. But I have never before in all my days seen a horror like the one that the woman Systlin had brought to the wagons of the Tuchuk. 

I looked to the wagons of the Ubar. There was light within them, bosk-dung fires in braziers. The woman Systlin had claimed it for her own, and gathered all the haruspexes and soothsayers to confer with them. 

My leg throbbed. It had been set and bound skillfully, but the bone would take some weeks to knit. Until then, I could scarce walk, hobbling with the aid of a cane. 

The woman had not even touched me to break it.

Sorceress, I thought. I had not believed in such things, and would have attributed such powers only to the Priest-Kings. But I had seen it now, with my own eyes, the terrible power that woman held, the power to shatter bone and steel with will alone. 

The corpses of some of the Tuchuks who had risen in rage against her after she had slain their Ubar were still lying where they had fallen. I tried not to look at them, but found my eyes drawn. 

Shapeless things they were, only scarce resembling men. The bones, I gathered, were nothing more any longer but needle-like splinters. Those splinters had driven through flesh and vital organs, and once-proud warriors lay where they had fallen, shapeless piles of bloody meat. 

I had been fortunate that it was only my leg that had been broken. 

I shivered. My leg throbbed. And I wondered, what terrible force had set a terror like this woman loose upon Gor.

 The water was cold. 

Systlin hated cold baths. Cold in general, really. But it was, in this situation, useful. 

Her Power screamed and fought inside her, eager to be used again, and she wanted to. Oh, but she wanted to, and that was the danger of it. The cold water was a good distraction. 

She didn't know how many men she'd killed. Some with sword. More, many more, with her power for Breaking. And it had been good, it had been so good, to stand there untouchable and terrible, hearing their screams and seeing their terror, to walk among them like a terrible, unstoppable, untouchable goddess, tearing down everything in her path...

She shivered, and ducked under the surface of the stream. 

It was always...hard, after, and she'd let herself go further than usual this time, in her rage. She always felt brittle after, hollow, the desire to kill and kill until nothing remained clawing to be let out again. She'd be short now with people, she knew, and snappish. Easily irritated, even over trivial matters. Once you started to kill with the Breaking gift, it was so very easy to continue.

Breaking was a terrible gift. The seduction of the sheer power it gave, the delight in using it, were as dangerously addictive as poppy milk. 

To look upon a Breaker is to look upon a madman. She remembered hearing that as a child, reading it in books. 

Under the water, sounds were muffled. But she still heard the sound of footsteps on the stream bank, muted and distorted. She came out of the water in a rush, her hand landing on Ice's hilt, and the sword was half drawn before she realized that the intruder was the girl she'd rescued from being beaten. 

The girl cringed back, falling to her knees and prostrating herself in what was clearly ingrained habit. "Mast...mistress! I am sorry! I did not mean..."

A little of the brittle anger ebbed out of her. Systlin sheathed her sword. "It's all right. I've spent too much of my life with people trying to kill me, is all. You did nothing wrong." She stepped out of the stream, wringing out her hair and shivering in the chilly air. 

The girl looked up at her, eyes wide. It was...unnerving. Systlin was used to people bowing, but bowing and the groveling the girl was doing were two different things entirely. "I have not displeased you, mistress?"

Oh, tits. 

"No. And you needn't call me that." Systlin pulled her trousers back on, and the quilted silk gambeson that went under her scale armor. "My Lady' will work quite well. I'm not your mistress. You're a free woman. I've no interest in owning anyone." 

"My lady?"

"Please stand up." Irritation flared, but Systlin tamped it down hard; it was a bleed-over from the cold joy of destroying, nothing more. It was not her, and she would not acknowledge it. She reached a hand out. After a moment, the girl took it hesitantly, and Systlin pulled her to her feet. "There. That's much better." 

The girl blinked at her, eyes still wide, and Systlin saw a hint of awe there. 

The girl had, she noticed, fashioned herself rough trousers of hide, patterned much like Systlin's own. 

"What's your name?" She asked. 

"I am Sabra." The girl was still staring, eyes moving up and down as she took everything in. "You...you are very strong. I have never seen...I did not know a woman could swing a sword like a man." 

Systlin tugged her armor over her head and hopped a bit until it settled into place. "Swords don't weigh that much. Anyone can swing a sword with practice. The strength to do it well will come with time and training." 

Sabra's head came up a little at that. "Anyone?" There was a thin thread of timid hope in her voice.

Systlin smiled. "Yes. Anyone. You included. Would you like to learn?"

There was a long pause, and then a long, slow, genuine smile from the former slave.

“I….think so, Mi…my lady.”

“Well. Then you shall. You’re a free woman, and free women do as they like.”

“Free.” The woman echoed, as if the word wasn’t real. “Free.”

“Unless of course you wish to go elsewhere.” Systlin shrugged as they walked. “Have you a family anywhere? A home you were taken from?”

“I…a long time ago, I did. If I wished…”

“I would give you gold, supplies, anything you needed, and take you there, and wish you well.”

The look the other woman gave her was naked astonishment, and something like awe. For a moment she looked wistful, but then… “No. If I returned home, I could quickly be made a slave again.” She touched her upper thigh; Systlin had noted that many of the freed slaves bore brands of various types there. “I am branded as a slave; any man could take me and sell me or keep me and be within the law.”

Systlin saw red for an instant. “Then you will stay.” She ground out. “Until we pay a visit to your former home, and teach them the error of such ways.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Sabra breathed. “You would…you would do this? Free other places as you’ve freed us in this camp?”

“If the men of this world insist on being awful,” Systlin growled. “I will do as I must. Slavery is among the greatest crimes, and rape another. I will not abide either.”

“You were sent.” Sabra breathed. “I begged the Mother for aid, though I was beaten for worshiping false gods. Other women also begged the old gods for aid, I know it. We begged for mercy and help and here you are.”

For mercy.

Systlin tilted her head back and stared at the sky. There were three moons here, which seemed to fly across the sky quite rapidly. She picked out the largest nearly by instinct, and glared.

Mercy. Lady’s mercy. Fucking pits. Now it made sense.

Gods. Gods and their machinations. She scowled.

Well. At least she knew how she’d ended up in this shithole.

  Morning brought no greater comfort. 

The slave collar around my neck had been forged for a woman, and though it was the Turian style on me it was too tight, and bit into my flesh. I could breathe, but it was uncomfortable

Between the throbbing of my leg, the pinch of the collar, and the chill of the night, I got but little sleep. Inside the wagon, under warm furs, slept slave girls. Their collars had been removed, and many of the surviving Tuchuk men wore them as did I, bound wrist and ankle and neck. 

I wondered what had become of Kamchak. I had not seen him since the furor had begun outside the Ubar's wagon. 

My wrists were securely chained behind me. Bells jangled with my every move. The ground was hard, and cold. I wondered, for the first time, how slave girls could sleep this way. 

The night passed in interminable slowness and misery. There was movement, among the wagons, and the sound of men's angry voices and chiming bells from other poor souls so humiliatingly bound as myself. There were the voices of women, hushed, and often with a tone of disbelief. 

I heard women laughing. There was rather more of it than I was accustomed to. 

Twice slave girls had come to see me. They seemed to find the sight of a warrior in slave chains novel. 

"You must let me free," I had said, my voice stern and commanding. "You are slaves; you must obey." 

They had giggled, ignoring my words, and left. They were, I noted, no longer attired properly; their hair was bound back in plaits, and they wore leather blouses and had fashioned trousers, hastily made but quite obviously patterned after those of the vicious she-sleen that had brought this ruin and humiliation down upon us. 

At dawn food was brought, dried bosk-meat. I was fed, given water, and then left alone again. 

The chain that connected the rings on my wrists and ankles and neck was quite securely linked to the axle of the wagon. I had tried to loosen it with some vigor the day before, without luck. 

Some time passed. I pulled at my chains, for all the good it would do me; my leg was quite broken, and I could not flee even should I get loose. 

As dawn broke, the scent of charring meat reached me, and south of the camp I saw great plumes of smoke begin to rise. 

I had smelled enough corpses burn to know that the dead of the slaughter the night before were being burnt. 

As the sun rose towards mid-morning, I was approached. 

The she-sleen had chosen herself a fine black kaiila. She rode well; I could see that she was not quite used to the sleen, as she rode as one would an ordinary horse. But she sat well, and when she dismounted it was gracefully and with ease. 

She had shed her leather tunic. Instead, glittering in the sun, was armor formed from what looked like scales, each perhaps two inches long and half as wide. They were of many different colors, each iridescent and gleaming brilliantly in the sun. 

She looked me over. I met her eyes steadily; I was a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba, and I would not be cowed before a woman. 

"Hm." She made a noncommittal noise at last. "You are not of these people."

I said nothing.

"No matter." She shrugged, and turned. A group of slave-girls were following her. All were collarless and had plaited their hair, and wore clothing of various types; some skirts, some trousers. All wore blouses or vests of leather or cloth that sadly covered their charms. "Take him." 

"Am I to be a slave, then?" I glowered at her. 

She turned her head to look at me again. It occurred to me again that had she been less mannish and muscular, she could have been a beauty. 

"I've no interest in keeping anyone as property." She said. "You are to be judged." 

"By what authority?" A girl wearing the long skirt and leather vest of a Tuchuk woman moved to loose me from the wagon. Her hair was plaited. I remembered, not two days ago, seeing her dancing in pleasure silks and bells for her master around his fire. 

I thought of breaking loose and overpowering the girl. But the woman Systlin was still watching me, and I saw her, as the girl chose a key and unlocked my chain from the wagon, curl her hand around the hilt of the long dagger on her belt. 

I am ashamed to admit, but it stayed me. I had seen flashes of the woman fighting, and though it pain me I would be forced to compare her favorably with the greatest warriors of Ko-Ro-Ba. In my current state, I had no chance. My hope for flight lay in my recovering and stealing a fleet kaiila, I knew. So, as the chain was loosed, I gave no resistance. 

"Mine." The she-sleen's voice was crisp. "Can you walk?"

Pride demanded no less of me. I am a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba. By leaning on the cart, I managed to get to my feet. 

"Help him." She told the girl who held my chain. The girl nodded.

She did not say what would happen to me if I resisted. She did not need to. 

I was taken to the tent of the Ubar. Before it was piled many fine carpets, and cushions of silk and leather. On top of it all was spread a worn gray robe; it was this, I supposed, this simple garment that was the grey robe of the Ubar. 

There were other men, chained as I was, chained to the palatal wagon of the Ubar of the Tuchuks. I tried to estimate their number; a hundred and a half, perhaps two. 

This was all that remained of the proud warrior men of the Tuchuk. 

I am no stranger to death. But upon seeing this, and realizing the full scale of the disaster which had befallen the Tuchuk, I must admit that I felt a flicker of fear. 

What terrible creature was this woman, to slay three thousand strong men in a night? 

The she-sleen walked past the men chained to the wagon. Her back was straight, and her stride purposeful. 

I could not help but notice that, despite her too-strong build, she had what appeared to be marvelously shapely hindquarters. 

She did not hesitate for even a moment; she went directly to the gray robe, the throne of the Ubar, and seated herself upon it with all the air of one born to it. 

I heard a groan rise from the captive men, myself included. She sat cross-legged, a man’s stance, not a woman’s proper kneeling stance. Women who sit so are often ridiculed as wishing to be men, but everything about this woman was unnatural and wrong.

One man started up, and my heart leapt; it was Kamchak! 

His arm was splinted, as was a leg, much like mine, and his eye was black and swollen. He spit in the direction of the she-sleen on the throne of the Ubar, and cursed her. 

"You! Sleen! You say you wish to judge us? What right have you?"

Her head turned, very slowly, to regard him. Then she smiled, and turned back to look out at the gathered crowd. 

Around the throne of the Ubar of the Tuchuks, women thronged. Tuchuk women, some grim-faced and some smiling. Slave girls, by the hundreds. Many wore trousers. Most had braided their hair. 

Mothers were holding their children. Babies fussed, and were soothed. Some of the older boys looked angry. Some of the girl-children cried too. The elder of the girls, however, were smiling. 

There were many more smiling women than scowling women in the gathered crowd. 

"Tuchuk," said the she-sleen, voice unconcerned and even. "Who is Ubara here?"

The roar of voices was near-deafening. "SYS-TAL-IN!" The women, freewomen and slave girls alike, screamed it. Only a few of the dour Tuchuk free women refrained. "SYS-TAL-IN! SYS-TAL-IN!" 

Systlin looked back at Kamchak, and her smile was an unpleasant thing. 

"There you have it." Her voice, again, was mild, deceptively so.

"You cannot..."

"I did." Her voice rose above Kamchaks'. "By your own laws, it seems, might makes right. The strong triumph, am I wrong?" Her eyes glittered. "It appears, warrior, that I am stronger than you, for I sit here on comfortable rugs and you are defeated and chained to a wagon."

"You used sorcery!"

"Yes." She agreed easily. "Though your warriors were easy enough to defeat without it." A horrible grin. "But yes. I used sorcery, and however I did it one woman, alone, brought every one of your great warriors to their knees. The pyres for those I killed burn still. And now, you will be silent, until it is your turn to be judged." 

"WE HAVE COMMITTED NO CRIMES!" Kamchack's outraged roar drew cries of approval from the other shamefully chained warriors. 

Systlin's mouth...it was a full mouth, and could have been pretty, were it smiling...compressed into a thin line. She nodded to one of the girls standing near the throne of the Ubar, in a grotesque imitation of the honor guard of an Ubar. 

"Gag him," she said simply. 

To my astonishment and horror, the girl moved promptly to do so, with a cheerful and almost gleeful demeanor. 

Kamchak surged to his feet as best he could as the girl approached with a strip of leather; several of the bound warriors gave cries of encouragement. Systlin's head snapped around, fast as a striking sleen, and she was on her feet in a moment and at the girl's side in a moment more, that vicious sword of hers drawn. 

The tip of that blade was pressed close against Kamchak's groin, and the she-sleen kept smiling, even as he drew a breath, naturally alarmed by the sharp steel near his male parts. 

"Sleen." Kamchak hissed this, proud even in chains. "You cannot always be there, woman. Your unnatural sorcery cannot protect you forever."

Systlin laughed. A little huff of a chuckle, even as the slave girl bound the gag around Kamchak's mouth and head with every sign of enjoyment, which disturbed me. 

"I have had," Systlin said, "Far better men than you try to kill me." A wide grin, with all of her teeth bared. "Now be quiet, and wait your turn." 

She returned to the seat of the Ubar. 

"Bring forth the first prisoner," she commanded. 

It was done. A warrior was dragged, bound hands and feet so that he could not even stand, before the grotesque display, and forced up on his knees. He spit at the she-sleen on the Ubar's seat; she did not turn a hair at this. 

"Your name." She asked. 

"Sleen!"

"Your name." The same patient tone. 

Silence. 

She sighed, lifted her eyes. "Can anyone tell me the name of this man?"

"Braltak." A woman's voice. I did not see who spoke. 

"Braltak. Have you, Braltak, in your life, held women or men as property?"

Silence. Braltak looked down his nose at her, and spit again. 

"He has." The same voice. Female. There was a quaver to it now. 

Braltak spun, as best he could. "Kala!" His voice was furious. "Kala, be silent!"

"Come forward, if you would." The she-sleen's voice speaking to me and the warrior had been curt, cold, commanding. But to the girl Kala, it was softer, and gentler.

Timidly, looking always at Braltek, a girl stepped through to stand before the self-proclaimed Ubara. 

She was a lovely girl. Turian, I was certain, with golden hair and eyes as green as summer grass. Her figure was delicate and trim, though it was difficult to tell through the long leather skirt and baggy blouse she wore. 

"Your name is Kala?" Again, the softer, gentler voice, encouraging. 

"Yes, Ubara." The girl was still glancing nervously at Braltek. "And...before you freed us...I was his slave." 

The idea was hard to swallow, at first; every slave in the Tuchuk camp, free!

But she had, I had to admit, the right. She sleen she may be, but she had defeated the warriors, by sorcery or not. She had taken their slaves for her own, and had done with them as she liked. 

I did not like it, but it was fact. 

"He kept you as property." Systlin's voice was hard; her eyes were back on Braltek. "Did he, Kala, ever place hands on you against your will? Did he ever force you to pleasure him?"

"She is a slave! That is her purpose!" Braltek roared. 

"Ah. I have my answer." Systlin nodded her head, once. "By the law of my lands, such a crime carries the penalty of death. As the victim, you have the right to seek mercy. Do you desire mercy for this man?"

Kala's lovely green eyes fixed on Braltek. 

"You are mine, Kala." Braltek's voice went lower. "You are mine. I am your master, you know it."

The lovely girl turned back to the she-sleen on the robe of the Ubar. 

"I do not." Her voice was almost inaudible, but then she spoke again, more strongly. "I do not! I do not seek mercy for him!"

My mouth hung open. 

Kala was slave. A slave loves her master. It is what they are trained for. 

"I do not seek mercy for him!" Kala's voice rose, almost a scream. 

"Then I, Systlin Stellas, Queen of the Northern Lands and Ubara of the Tuchuk, proclaim this man Braltek guilty of the crimes of rape and slaving, and sentence him to die." The she-sleen stood, graceful, and picked up a quiva from among the rugs she had sat upon. She flipped the blade, catching it easily by the tip without looking, the motion smooth, automatic, and practiced. She offered the hilt over to the girl. "It is your right, as offended party, to carry out the sentence yourself, if you so wish." 

To my incredible shock, the girl Kala reached out a hand, almost tentatively, and took the hilt of the quiva. 

She could not do it, of course. She was a slave, and a slave belongs to her master, utterly. 

The slender fingers tightened on the hilt. She did not seem to know how to hold the quiva properly, holding it as if she were about to slice bosk meat for the spit. 

Her eyes turned to Braltek, and in them burned something like hate. 

No. She was slave! A slave serves her master!

"Kala." Braltek's voice sounded suddenly uncertain. "Kala, I have treated you well, better than most would..."

Kala screamed then, high and furious and long,  and flew at him. The quiva rose and fell. 

She was inexpert with the weapon. The blade hit Braltek's shoulder, and slid down, slicing a long cut into his arm. Blood flowed, and Braltek yelled in shock. 

The quiva rose and fell again. Again, again, again the girl struck, inexpert, but the wounds adding up one by one until Braltek lay in a pool of red-stained grass. 

Kala dropped the quiva, and fell to her knees. She was sobbing, great wracking sobs that shook her small frame. 

The she-sleen came down from her throne, went down to her knees beside the girl, and placed a hand on her shoulder. 

"It is all right." Her voice was soft, and Kala leaned into her blindly, as a child might seek comfort from its mother. "He cannot hurt you again." 

Some other girls came forward then; Kala was taken away with much patting of hair and comforting. 

The she-sleen returned to her throne of rugs, sitting down once more. She smiled then, as if nothing had happened. 

I, and the men chained as I, were silent. The shock had not yet sunk in. 

"Had he a wife, or any children?" Systlin asked. 

No one responded. 

"Then it is my order that all the worldly possessions of Braltek now go to Kala. They are hers, to do with as she will. Bring forward the next prisoner." The she-sleen commanded.