#and told our field guide he could hear it

[preppyacademy]

Breaking and Remaking : No Thoughts, Only Obedience

Kyle or Prescott's story

Kyle was in his senior year of high school and part of the football team. Academics were secondary for him—it was sports in the morning, sports at noon, and sports in the evening. He hoped to earn a scholarship by being one of the top athletes in his school. Unfortunately, Kyle always acted before thinking, which sometimes led to avoidable accidents.

One game night in early November, his team faced an opposing high school team. Kyle, prone to arrogance, didn’t warm up much, believing he didn’t need to—after all, he was one of the strongest players. His team was scoring well, but in the final decisive minutes, time seemed to slow down. Rain had started to fall, making the field slick. As he caught the ball mid-air, Kyle slipped on the wet grass and crashed violently to the ground before being tackled by several other players. His teammates, still in action, grabbed the ball and scored, securing victory.

As for Kyle, he ended the night in the hospital. His team won, but his medical results were far from victorious. A fractured collarbone, six to twelve weeks of recovery, immobilization, and rehabilitation. He was told he had to remain bedridden for weeks before he could even move.

Kyle had no choice. The hospital that admitted him had to transfer him to a specialized rehabilitation center, located six hours away but renowned as one of the best. His family spared no expense, wanting only the best care for him.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Kyle felt well received. He quickly noticed that most of the staff were male, which struck him as unusual. He was assigned to Dr. Pritchard.

Dr. Pritchard: "You’ll be well taken care of here. You’ll be staying with us for at least six weeks, possibly ten if your condition doesn’t improve. I hope we’ll get along well."

Kyle: "I hope so too."

The first few nights, Kyle struggled to sleep. The feeling of being far from home and his friends weighed heavily on him. Moreover, a low, constant noise resonated throughout his room—a repeating frequency that played over and over. The following nights were the same, but Kyle gradually became accustomed to the sound.

Dr. Pritchard: "I know time may feel slow, but here, rehabilitation is not just about physical recovery—it’s also about relaxing your mind and body. From now on, no more phone screens. We took yours last night. You need rest and must adapt to our institution’s methods."

Kyle was furious but couldn’t fight back—his body was in too much pain, forcing him to comply with the medical staff’s instructions. How was he supposed to survive weeks without his phone?

Dr. Pritchard: "When you wake up, the screens in your room will display relaxation and meditation videos. Follow them, and you’ll see—time will pass much more quickly here."

The next morning marked the beginning of Kyle’s first session with the videos. They consisted of breathing techniques and mantras to repeat. A spiral accompanied the voice-over, guiding him through the instructions.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, my body is relaxed, I let myself be carried by the waves, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss, I feel calm, every word I hear is a new way of thinking to embrace, to listen, and to learn."

Each day, Kyle was captivated—hypnotized—by these screens, which seemed to absorb his attention completely. Slowly, his thoughts began to change, and time passed in a rhythm dictated by the spiral and the mantras. Over time, the words evolved into something else.

Kyle, repeating the words: "I feel good, I am happy, my body is relaxed, my mind sinks deeper into the abyss. I am obedient, I listen to what I am told, I must act as I am instructed, I feel calm, I love to obey, I want to learn to obey."

As the days and weeks passed, Kyle healed not only physically but mentally as well, thanks to the soothing words of the spiral. His mind was gradually shaped into a model of perfection, discipline, and obedience.

Kyle: "I wish to submit to the orders of superior men, I wish to obey them, I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive. I wish to be submissive."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy. You have found true relaxation within your body."

Like a machine executing programmed instructions, Kyle regained mobility in his body. His absolute obedience, now stripped of all arrogance and rebellion, made rehabilitation much easier.

Then, the final week of his stay arrived. Kyle sat on his bed, staring into the distance, still repeating the obedience mantra.

Kyle: "I listen, I obey, I serve. My will is that of the Academy. To doubt is to fail. To resist is to fall. Order is my truth, obedience is my virtue. I bend, I disappear, I become. Every command is an honor, every task a privilege. I do not need to think—only to answer: Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "Good boy, you make me proud. You’ve done well in your exercises, and now, after ten weeks, your time with us has come to an end. Unfortunately, we must make room for new arrivals like you."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "As you say—'your will is that of the Academy.' Your mind has been shaped for the Academy—the Preppy Academy, to be precise. Would you like to join the Academy, my boy?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You no longer wish to return to your old high school, correct?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "You will remain a good boy—obedient and disciplined?"

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Dr. Pritchard: "We will now relieve you of these hospital clothes—you no longer need them."

Dr. Pritchard placed a harmonization device over Kyle’s head. It resembled a large lamp with a metallic tube beneath it, sending electric signals into the subject’s brain. He activated it while Kyle continued to chant his desire to obey.

Kyle remained immobilized, paralyzed by the machine—unable to move of his own will. In his mind, the words "Obedience," "Submission," "Discipline" flashed over and over again.

Two nurses arrived, cut off Kyle's clothes and stripped him naked. Dr. Pritchard pulled a chastity cage from a drawer and locked Kyle's penis in it. He locked the cage and gave the key to a nurse, who left with it.

Dr. Pritchard: "You'll learn that your sex is no longer of any use to you; it belongs to the Academy. You only need it to urinate, because that's a natural need. But to urinate, you'll have to ask permission. If you feel pleasure, your penis, now the size of a phalanx, will be compressed, you'll feel pain and you'll learn to live with pain. Pain is a gift to be cherished, the very essence of a good Preppy Academy student. The more time passes, the more you won't even feel it anymore, you'll get used to what you've become."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle did not flinch. Who he had been just weeks ago had disappeared into the abyss of his mind. Sometimes, though rarely now, he could hear a faint inner voice telling him this wasn’t him, urging him to fight. But that voice was slowly drowning beneath the waves of his consciousness.

Dr. Pritchard: "Now, we will dress you. You haven't learned this here yet, but you will soon understand that being a good boy means being elegant at all times. Appearance is an extension of your obedience. It’s not about having style—it’s about proving your submission through every detail of your attire. Dressing preppy is fundamental. It is a duty, not a choice."

Kyle: "Yes, Sir."

Kyle was dressed from head to toe, like a boy being sent off to school. A neatly pressed, button-down plaid white shirt, tucked into light khaki shorts held up by thick brown suspenders. Long white socks and polished black loafers completed the outfit, along with a large, subtly checkered bow tie.

When Dr. Pritchard tied the bow tie around Kyle’s neck, Kyle opened his mouth—not in surprise, but as if this attire had been meant for him all along, as if the relaxation of feeling truly himself in this clothing had loosened his jaw. His body and mind understood: he was meant to be a good preppy boy.

Dr. Pritchard: "That’s a good boy."

By late morning, Kyle was transferred to the Preppy Academy, placed in a class appropriate for his age. He was quickly integrated among other students eager to learn submission, obedience, and discipline.

He embraced the academy’s dress code without hesitation, developing a particular fondness for plaid patterns—the very motif Dr. Pritchard had introduced him to. In time, the administration and Kyle himself sent a letter to his family, informing them of his transfer and his wish to continue his education at the Preppy Academy.

Kyle’s father had heard of the institution through a friend whose son had returned home completely transformed—eventually becoming the family’s butler. Pleased with the results, and reassured that this was Kyle’s own request, his parents placed their trust in him.

Dr. Pritchard frequently visited the Academy to check on Kyle. Over time, he began calling him Prescott—his middle name—which suited him far better and carried a more refined sound.

Dr. Pritchard became Master to Prescott, who, with the Academy’s approval, would come to serve him every weekend—submissive and obedient. For example, he offered him his mouth to be filled with the doctor's cock from times to times.

Dr. Pritchard decided how Prescott should dress. He had even noticed during Prescott’s hospitalization that he often squinted from staring at the spiral for too long. As a result, he gifted him a pair of elegant glasses—enhancing his preppy and exemplary style even further.

Far from the field, far from his arrogance, Prescott had become a good boy. He could thank the Preppy Academy for that.

Who’s next?

[cremeful]

you love your friends alot, you really do but sometimes they act a certain way towards you everytime you even imply the fact that you are interested in someone. — possessive. 

especially rafe cameron. you’ve been best friends with him since the second grade and inseparable ever since, so much so that people started calling you two eachothers shadows.

you didn’t trust anyone but rafe, but as you two got older he started getting into “relationships” and overtime his hookups of the week didn’t really like you lingering around him, which ultimately led to him always calling the quits and left you feeling like you needed your own friendship away from him.

so eventually you started getting into the field of dating and your friends did not like that.

“no, i won’t tell you again so stop asking.” rafe being the stubborn born boy that he was, was firm on his answer and didn’t let up. he didn’t have time for your nonsense, not that he would have an entirely different answer if he did have time for it anyways. 

kelce and topper sat on the couch watching all this play out. you were on keens with your chin propped up on rafes leg giving him your best puppy dog eyes hoping he would give into your ridiculous question about helping you get shane faultons number. 

“this is my first time asking!” desperately whining out, you hear topper let out a little laugh, “why do you even need that bastards number anyways princess?” you know exactly where this is going by the tone of topper’s voice, so by default you lie.

“for my friend! she really likes him and i promised i would help her get his number, you know girls code and what not.” you let out a nervous laugh.

the three boys exchanged looks as if they are calculating what one of them will say next and it was kelce to speak “you shouldn’t have volunteered yourself for that, the answer is still no.” as quiet as kelce is, he is just as scary as rafe.

you drop from your knees with a pout from your glossy lips “this isn’t fair, why do you guys even have friends if you aren’t going to give me their numbers.” you know the answer to that question yourself. you grew up with these three boys, you knew the crowd they accustomed themselves with and they be damned if they let a sleazy college kid get their hands on you.

rafe let out a sigh leaning forward reaching for the blunt on the coffee table, lighting then bringing it to his lips to take a hit. “faluton isn’t our fucking friend, so cut the shit.” his voice is firm laced with irritation, your still sitting arount rafe’s feet, back is against the couch with your arms folded with a scowl on your face.

“this is fucking stupid.” you muttered. obviously pissed at the known outcome of your little situation, it was indeed stupid but did the three boys care? no. not one bit, not when it meant keeping you on a tight leash and most importantly safe.

“you are being a fucking brat, i don’t got time for this shit, you knew the answer before you even came up with the idea.“ rafe laughs in disbelief while shaking his head, you ignored him of course and began texting your friend already coming up with another way to get the boys number.

if they aren’t going to help you then you’re going to find another way to get it yourself.

eventually you get shanes number with the help of cleo, which results into you being invited to a frat party. you have no clue why you agreed in the first place, you have never been to one without the company of either rafe. he would literally kill you if he found out where you were.

you ignored the pit in your stomach and the voice in the back of your head telling you it’s a bad idea; of course its a bad idea. you are lying to your best friend and you also went behind his back and got a number he specifically told you no too. so yeah this could potentially blow up in your face but at least outfit is cute! 

you soon arrived to the party, the music vibrating the floor as you walk in being guided by shane. you weren’t quite out of your comfort zone but still the scene was new for you. you were briefly introduced to shane’s friends, most of them already intoxicated by the time you arrived. “yo! aren’t you rafe’s girl?!” loud and obnoxious, one of his friends that you can’t remember the name, yells. you go wided eyed unsure of what to say you try sputtering out a answer but another one of his friend’s chime in before you can deflect, “oh shit! that is her, yooo shane how did you manage to get set up with her?” overly hyped, like you are the shiny new toy in kindergarten.

shane chuckles awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, “um her friend cleo set us up together.” you shuffle uncomfortably at the conversation. shane senses your discomfort and makes an excuse to get away from whatever that was.

you two find an unoccupied couch in the living room, “im sorry if my friends made you uncomfortable.” shane sounded genuine. it made you smile a bit, “its okay, i guess i was more so taken back by them knowing who i was.” you let out a smile giggle.

you and shane sit on the couch for a while talking about your childhood memories and whatever else you two have in common until you saw out the corner of your eye a very familiar blonde haired boy with the two that come along with him, your heart dropped. you quickly slid down the couch tucking into shane’s side who is looking at you confused by your sudden action, “w-what, why are you doing that? what happened?!” concerned, he looked around the room confused.

“shane we have to go right now!” you say it faster than your brain can keep up, you should’ve listened to your gut and stayed home but no! you just had to agree to this stupid date. shane still oblivious to what is happening, is trying to figure out what made you act so frantic. he was about to ask you why, until your phone flashed indicating you received a text, you froze.

he stopped fucking answering, you never been so scared in your life. you frantically looked around not seeing the blonde or topper and kelce near you until about 3 mins later when you heard kelce’s voice from behind you. “you got to be fucking kidding me.” you shut your eyes and clasped your hands together and silently prayed that for once the universe would have your side, but again you would be asking for too much.

you slowly turned around with a guilty smile to see kelce staring directly at you, you were just about to beg him not to tell rafe or direct his attention over to the three of you but before you could even get the words out he cuts you off “he is going to beat your ass.” he says matter factly, you grab kelce by the arm and beg him to help you but even he couldn’t save you from rafe.

you totally forgot about shane until he spoke, “lol whats the big deal? she is grown.” you whipped your head around and stare about the brown haired boy and mouth “shut the fuck up!” trying to at least lessen the situation for him, but he doesn’t take the hint and suggests that your friends get to know him first, stupid and reckless.

in all honesty if you thought shane was this stupid you wouldn’t have considered going out with him, he seemed intelligent at the time but its hard to tell when you were to busy trying to defy at your friends.

so here you are, sat across from shane as kelce is sat next you. it’s awkward, kelce being kelce doesn’t say anything but just stare at shane, shane shifts uncomfortably under the boys stare. “this is fucking ridiculous, all because you wanted to go against what we said.” kelce mumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed at you and your actions.

you roll your eyes, picking at your nails. you clear your throat and clasp your hands together, “anyways, let’s start with introductions! kelce this is shane, shane this kelce!” you say trying to lift the mood but kelce was budging, scoffing at you actually trying to make an impression.

shane sits up straight and starts talking about his intentions with you, going in one ear and other the other kelce cuts him off, “your telling me like i would ever be okay with you being around her. it’s not me who you need to be kissing ass too. its him.” he says, nodding to the boy thats walking over, face stern, eyes holding irritation in them.

kelce says it like its a fact; it is. — before you can even speak your piece rafe is on you like a lion on its prey, he is now standing in front of you not acknowledge shanes out reached hand waiting for a handshake. rafe’s chest is raising rapidly, you never seen him like this, not this mad ever.

“you must be out of your fucking mind, not only did you lie. you went behind my fucking back and came to a fucking drug fueled party, what someone you don’t know!” you look like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to say, rafe knows you are more than capable of speaking for yourself but shane once again speaks over you. “dude chill the fuck out. she’s not your girl, she can do what the fuck she wants.” you are convinced shane has a deathwish.

before you can tell rafe to stop, he is across the coffee table and yanking the boy up from his seat. “the fuck you just say to me, huh?” shane tries to pull rafe off of him but rafe’s grip isn’t loosening around the boys collar, you gasp uncertain of what to do, by this point kelce is in front of you trying to shield you from the scene unfolding in front you and topper has you pulling to his side, rafe’s voice is low “you don’t know shit, you think just because you waltz into her life and say a few sweet words, that youre gonna fuck her?”

shane is still trying to prove that he knows more than rafe, that he knows whats best for you and rafe isn’t having it. “i know that when it comes down to it, she’s going to be in my bed, crying out my name.” shane says it confidently, which makes rafes movements stop and face drop. he sees red, he slams shane on to the floor and starts punching, by this point a crowd of people are looking and shouting, some are trying to get rafe to stop and some are encouraging it.

“SAY THAT A FUCKING AGAIN. I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” rafe is seething, and by this point you are full on sobbing because you now realize that rafe, kelce and topper were right as always. you should’ve listened when they told you to say away from the boy to begin with.

rafe grabs the boys face forcing him to look at you, leaning over him, gritting through his teeth “ she will always be mine. i kill you or anyone for that matter behind her. if i see you talking to her or even looking at her, i swear to god that will be the last time you ever did.” rafe sits back up, roughly letting go of his face before topper pulls rafe off of him.

your face is ruined from the crying you had been doing, you felt guilt for lying to rafe all while feeling horrible for what the situation caused for the other boy. you sat on the couch waiting for rafe to come back downstairs, lost in thought you felt someone softly kick your feet, looking up you see rafe.

you stare up at him with glassy doe eyes, your chest unsteady you feel yourself getting worked up again, your brain overworked and overwhelmed. “im sorry, i didn’t mean for this to happen, i didn’t think that he would actually turn out to be an asshole” rafe sighs, sitting on the coffee table in front of you, wiping your tears stained cheek. “oh, sweetheart..of course you didn’t know, im not blaming you.” he says it so softly like every word will hurt you.

“are you mad at me? i don’t like it when your mad at me ray.” your playing with his fingers, he looks down at your hands cupped against his. yours are so much smaller and soft than his; dainty. he shakes his head, before clearing his throat “no not anymore.” your hands stops, he sees your brain working..overthinking. “i know im hard to handle as a friend-” before you could even finish, he grabs your face in between his hands and pulls you in for a kiss.

you gasp, hands clutching against his black tshirt. you melt into his touch, kissing him back. he pulls away, “i always know how to handle you, just gotta keep a short leash on you now, isn’t that right pretty girl?”

[ghostofhyuck]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗺 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀. ✧₊⁺

Ghost! Mark Lee x Tourist! Reader

Summary: The North city is eerie, believed to be haunted, and yet, it’s flocked with tourists. You found yourself alone in the midst of the busy city — or perhaps not. Especially when you met Mark Lee who gave you more than what you need. 

Word count: 3.7k

TW: contains suicide and death. Read at your own risk.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Now, up next is the Northwest Plaza Hotel. It was built during the 1920s, a prestigious hotel that hosted parties and was patronized by our presidents. It was destroyed during the war and while there were attempts to restore the hotel, some guests didn’t have a pleasant stay due to the paranormal experiences they felt.” 

You watched as the flock of tourists entered the abandoned hotel. You can hear the blaring echo coming from the guide’s megaphone, still giving information about the hotel. You entered the lobby area and you couldn’t help but feel goosebumps around your neck. As if someone’s watching you. 

“There are only a few areas where we are allowed, so please do not stray further. There’s an entrance on the left side where the garden is located, you may go there to take pictures too.” she added. 

That was your cue, you separated from the group and entered the garden. You found yourself surprised by how well-maintained the garden is. The grass is green as if it’s being watered daily, pinecone trees stood tall, covering you from the heat of the sun even though the weather’s always cold in the North, and small stray flowers field some areas. There were a few benches around, so you decided to sit on the nearest that you can find and just let the ambiance relax you for a moment. 

It was an impulsive decision of yours to run away from your home and take a one week vacation in the North. You couldn’t help it. Everything is overwhelming you and somehow, you don’t know where you feel safe anymore. You went to the bus terminal and chose the nearest bus to arrive — which is the bus going north. 

You knew about the North city. Not only is it famous for its cold weather and peaceful ambiance, it is also believed to be one of the most haunted cities in your country. You don't believe in the supernatural, that’s why there’s nothing for you to be scared about the North city. You’ve been here for a day and so far, there’s nothing eerie that happened to you. 

“You seem to be thinking deeply —” you let out a startled scream when a voice disturbed your thoughts.

You turned around and saw a guy, who’s about your age. He’s wearing long white sleeves and a checkered cotton vest. You found his outfit a bit out of date but there’s a small smile on his lips. 

“Are you the type of person who just approaches people and talks to them?” you asked with a rude tone. 

He shrugs, “I’m just curious about what's bugging your mind.”

You know guys and their attempts at flirting. His may be old-fashioned but it’s not going to work on you. 

“Why would you care —-”

“You know what they say to the people who go to the North alone? They’re either depressed, heartbroken, or in need of healing. I wonder which one you are.”

You were surprised by what he said. You found yourself staring at him who only gives you a small smile. 

“What do you think?” you asked instead, not even wondering why the question slipped out of your mouth. 

He tilts his head as if he was scanning you. You found yourself locked onto his bright eyes, his soft smile still painted there. You can feel your ears heating up. For a stranger, he surely is good-looking. 

“You want to run away don’t you?” 

You felt your heart skip a beat. How is that, he was able to read you? 

“So I guess I’m right?” 

You were about to say something when someone tapped your shoulder. You turned around and saw that it was the guide, she only looked at you with a worried smile on her face.

“Don’t stray too far, remember?” she told you, and before you could say anything, she’s pulling you back inside. You glanced once again at the stranger but you found nothing but the empty garden. 

“We don’t want our tourists to be haunted by wandering spirits,” she gives you a wink and with that, she goes back in front where the other tourists are. You were surprised with her action but at the same time, it piqued your curiosity. What did she mean by that? 

As you tour around more to the upper floors of the hotel, you couldn’t help but to be more curious about your encounter at the garden. As you attempt to take a peak from the windows, there’s nothing but the pinecone leaves covering your view. 

You left the hotel without your questions being answered. The tour bus dropped you at the city’s center where your hotel is located. It was six pm. The night is slowly creeping and the streets are becoming more busy. You could only let out a sigh. You couldn’t help but to be curious about the stranger earlier. You found his presence mysterious and intriguing. You wanted to know how he was able to read you, and who he is after all. 

So with your mind fogged with all the thoughts, you hailed a taxi, convincing the driver to take you back to the Northwest Plaza Hotel. 

Upon arriving, you felt the ghostly presence of the hotel. It stood broadly against the gleaming moon of the night. But you braved yourself to enter the area with your phone’s flashlight to serve as a light. There were no guards around the area, which you found odd. As soon as you entered the lobby, it was merely pitch black, much colder than it was before. 

You gulped, braving yourself into the entrance of the garden. And as soon as you reached the same bench, you stopped when you saw him again. Near the trees, holding a guitar as he tries to pick on a few chords. 

“Hello?” you called out. He lifted up his head and his eyes went wide when he saw you. You watched him lay down his guitar, stand up, and walk to you. You couldn’t help but to take a step back, wondering why the place became more cold than before. 

“You came back,” he said. 

“I was curious,” you answered honestly. “How did you know?” 

“You look lonely. The moment you stepped into the hotel, you didn't want to be with the tourists, isn’t that why you went here?” 

“You were staring at me the moment I entered the hotel?” you raised an eyebrow. 

But he only crosses his arms, “well, you did catch my attention.”

A faint blush formed on your cheeks, you looked away from him, flustered with his words. 

“Is that why you returned here?” he asked. “Only crazy people would go here alone.”

“Then you must be crazy,” you said. “And yes that is the reason, and now that I know the answer. It was nice meeting you stranger.”

“You can call me Mark,” he proposed, offering a hand. 

You couldn’t help but to shake his hand, a goosebump forming on your nape as you felt his iced-like hands. “Nice meeting you Mark, this might be the last time we see each other, but my name’s y/n.” 

“I hope this won’t be,” Mark teases, eyes locked on you as he gently shakes your hand. 

True to his words, it wasn’t the last time you saw Mark. The next day, you encountered him once again. You found out that there’s a much secluded park outskirts of the city center. That’s why instead of opting for the tourist-filled park, you venture out to check if it was really secluded. 

You understood why, the place has an eerie atmosphere around it. There’s nothing but narrow walkways and hills where pinecone trees are planted. It looks empty and lifeless. No wonder no one goes there. But it fits you and your want for isolation, so you decided to walk further in the area until you noticed a figure from afar.

“I didn’t know that you’re here!” he said with a tone so bright, it was as if he was happy to see you. You were a bit taken back but you only gave him a small smile. 

“How did you even know this park?” you asked, deciding to just befriend him. You sat beside him who only lightly chuckled. 

“This is my favorite place in the city,” Mark said, looking at the view. “It’s quiet and peaceful, plus it’s clean. You’re surrounded by mother nature unlike the parks in the city, it’s always filled with people.” 

You only nod, “I get you.”

“Is that why you’re here? Because you want to feel lonely? Do you want me to leave?”

“No! I did say I want to feel lonely, but,” you only glanced at him. He was looking at you with curiosity. “I don’t mind having someone too.” 

You saw how Mark’s smile formed into a small smile. “Well, I’ll be happy to accompany you while you’re here.” 

It felt easy having Mark around. He’s not that weird guy that you first met. There you thought, maybe befriending a stranger wouldn’t be that bad at all. 

At first it was merely companionship. He was a gentleman. His tone was soft and he looked out for you. You notice it by the way he pulls you to the safer side of the walkway or whenever you two are in a crowded place, he holds your hand so you wouldn’t separate from him. It’s also how he makes you smile and laugh without you knowing about it. Being with him made you forget all the worries that you left in your town. 

Your heart was heavy when you went to the North. You shared it with Mark one night at the abandoned hotel. You two went further upstairs where the rooftop of the hotel overlooks the whole city. The stars scattered at the sky with the moon accompanying you two. There, Mark quietly listened to your story, even wiping off the tears from your face. 

Your family was a disaster. After your father died, your mother remarried and had a son. Your step-father was nice to you, albeit strict since you’re still young. But it still leaves a bitter taste on you that your mother quickly moved-on from your father’s death. You rebelled and found yourself in the wrong group of friends. Worse, you found out that your boyfriend was cheating on you with your best friend. 

Feeling like everyone is against you, you decided to leave your hometown. Feeling suffocated and alone in the world, you took the first bus that’s departing and that’s how you got yourself in your situation right now. 

You swore to yourself that it’ll be just a few days, but days turned into weeks and no one seems to care that you’re gone. No one, not even your family even bothered looking for you. 

“Sorry for sulking down the mood,” you chuckled. Trying to hold on to the tears that’s still flowing. 

“What? I don’t care about that!” Mark said. “I care about you! You’re strong yn, and if I could, I wanted to show you that you’re not alone.”

You laughed at his sudden declaration. “Stop saying stupid things Mark.” 

“Really, I swear to you,” Mark swore. “I wanted to show you that you deserve everything in this world, and that there are people who can care for you.” 

“Really?” you mocked. “Who then?” Silence. That was Mark’s answer. You don’t know what to feel about it. You two stared at each other, when slowly, realization hit you. 

“You’re not joking aren’t you?” you asked, appalled. 

“Why would I joke about that?” he asked. “I like you yn.”

“But we just met for like a few days ago,” you pointed out. 

“Just trusting my gut feeling,” he shrugs. “When I first saw you, I just wanted to give you a hug, I’m not kidding. You just feel like you’re going through a lot and I want to be that person that will give you strength.”

You became quiet because of his confession. Your heart starts beating fast and you can feel your cheeks flushed. Is this what it feels like to be loved by a person? You didn’t notice how another tear streamed down your eyes. You were speechless, dumbfounded at how Mark is staring at you with a gaze that’s so soft that you barely recalled when was the last time someone looked at you like that. 

Mark followed his guts right? Maybe you should too.

You slowly leaned onto him until you felt his lips. Cold as always but you were hoping that you would give him warmth and love, just like what he told you. You were willing to reciprocate his feelings even if it means being with him in a short amount of time — or not, your mind went hazy. Thinking that you can just settle here in the North and be with Mark forever. The only person who could give you the love that you’ve been longing for. 

Mark responds to your kiss. Soft and gentle just like how he has always been. His hands trailing to your jaw and although you felt goosebumps on your nape due to his cold hands, you ignored it nevertheless. You never felt more alive with Mark by your side. Slowly, he trails his hands on the hem of your shirt and as you two broke the kiss, he was staring at you, waiting for your signal. 

You gave in. That night was filled with nothing but love and yearning. There was nothing but bliss and love as Mark showed you how much he cared for you. 

-

After that night, you stuck around with Mark. Happy and content with the new found love in the North. You two would go around, have dates and be in love endearingly in the city. You noticed that there are a lot of people looking at you two but you ignored it nevertheless. Maybe you two are a bit affectionate in public, but you couldn’t care about it. 

You found yourself in a garage sale a few days later. You are fond of garage sales, especially antique trinkets and jewelries. The sale can be found in a huge mansion that was once owned by a politician during the 90s. 

You looked at the jewelries, different rings adorned with gemstones that haven’t faded yet. You could only smile as you tried to locate its price when a small notebook caught your attention. 

You opened it and noticed that’s written already. It looks like someone’s diary. You open a few pages, admiring the owner’s penmanship and how they collected trinkets and stickers. And as you scroll through it, a piece of paper falls from it. 

As you picked up the paper from the ground, you were frozen to see that it wasn’t just a paper, it was a picture of a couple. 

There, they stood beside each other. The background being familiar — the secluded park that you once went to. The girl was short, she had her hair tied to a high ponytail as she rocks a windbreaker jacket and tank top. While the guy has his hands wrapped around him. He was smiling ear to ear and despite the picture’s color faded, you knew that face. You’re very much familiar with that face. 

You couldn’t help but to be nailed in where you are standing. You don’t know what to feel but your hands are shaking. 

“Hey —” you were surprised when it was snatched away from you. By a lady who’s in her forties, she also stared at the notebook that you were holding, making you return it to her. 

“I’m sorry but these are not for sale,” she said with an apologetic tone, you only nod but something struck you. 

“I know but can I ask,” you said. “Are you the girl in the picture? Who’s the guy?” 

“He’s my ex-boyfriend,” she said casually. You watched as she placed the picture in between the pages. 

“Is his name Mark Lee perhaps?” you asked. 

Her eyes widened. That’s when you started to feel more nervous. 

“How did you know him?” she asked. 

That’s when you decided to grab your phone and open your gallery to show her. Pictures of you and Mark together. 

“These are all blurred dear,” she said as she looked at the photos. “It won’t make sense too, Mark’s been dead for almost twenty years now.” 

It was as if cold water fell on you when you heard her words. You stood there frozen. Her stare at you was built with confusion, but as she noticed the shocked expression on your face, her eyes widened. 

“When did this start?” she asked. 

You grew confused with the tone of her voice, it was as if she’s nervous about your answer. 

“A few weeks ago,” you answered. 

“Oh no dear, you need to stay away from him,” she warned. “Mark…he’s not who you think he is. For a moment you thought he was sweet and kind, but the more his love got deeper, it’ll turn into an obsession. He will not let anything hinder his love for you.” 

“What do you mean?”

“He's been dead for years! His ghost will not be in peace until he finds someone who can love forever.” she said. “Don’t meet up with him anymore. But he will keep on showing up wherever you are, that’s how obsessed he is. So avoid him as much as possible, even if it means leaving this city.” 

Her words stuck to you even when you returned to your hotel room. You felt stupid. Falling in love with a ghost? It sounds so absurd. 

There were signs, but you were completely oblivious about it. Like how Mark has always been cold or there’s an aura around him that you couldn’t explain. You wouldn’t really suspect him as a ghost either. He looks like a normal human being. 

Or so you thought. Maybe that’s why people are staring at you too. Because they knew that the guy you’re with isn't human at all. 

You let out a frustrated groan as you decided to take the matter in your own hands. You left your hotel room and stormed out of the night.

It was a rainy night, past midnight and the North seems to be empty at this hour. You ignored the way the night became colder than usual. The eerie silence of the road didn’t budge you as you found yourself returning to the abandoned hotel. 

As you step inside, you notice how empty it is. It felt weird, Mark’s not here. 

“Mark?” you shouted, echoing through the void. You called him once again but only the empty hallways responded to you. 

You went to the garden, calling his name once again but Mark wasn’t there. So you went up to the rooftop, hoping that Mark’s there.

The rain becomes a heavy downpour as you reach the rooftop. You didn’t mind that you’re sopping wet because you’ve come face to face with the guy that you’ve looking for. 

“Mark,” you mumbled. 

“So you found out,” he said instead, letting out a bitter chuckle. 

You ignored his words. I guess his ex-lover’s words were true, he does follow you everywhere. 

“Just be honest with me Mark,” you said, taking a step closer to him. “Is it true?”

“Why does it matter if it's true or not?” Mark asked instead, his tone rising a bit higher. “So what if I am a ghost? Does it matter?”

“It matters because you’re dead!” you shouted. “You’re dead Mark! You’re nothing but a spirit lurking around this city.” 

“What’s with the sudden change of heart? Everything doesn't matter anymore just because I’m dead? Have you forgotten that I’m the only one who cared for you?” 

You didn’t answer. Mark’s eyes were filled with anger, he turns around and just lets you be there. 

“Just so you know, it didn’t matter to me if you’re alive or not. I love you regardless, that’s why it hurts that everything shifted just because of something so simple,” he lets out a sigh. 

“It’s not that simple, Mark. You’re dead, while I’m not. We can’t be together.”

“And what? Return to your place? Back to your miserable life when you were here with me, you’ve always at your happiest. Are you willing to throw everything away again?” 

Small warm tears are falling from your eyes. You couldn’t rebut him anymore knowing that he’s right. 

“I’m the only one who loves you yn, why can’t you see it? I tried my best to make you smile and happy. That’s why I hid the fact that I’m dead. I just want you to be happy and not cry anymore,” there, he gently weeps off the tears from your face. His cold hands make contact with your face and yet, you can feel the warm gesture of it. 

“Mark, I don't know what to do,” you said, breaking out in tears. You felt his arms wrapping around your shoulder, hushing you slowly as you leaned on his chest. 

“It’s okay yn, I’m here. I will never let you be sad anymore,” he promised. You lift up your face and as you face Mark, he only gives you a smile as he brushes your hair. 

“Mark —”

“Just promise me that you’ll trust me in this one okay?” he asked, sealing you with a kiss. 

“Mark, what are you going to do?” you asked, heart beating fast. 

“I just want your answer yn, do you trust me?” he asked once again. 

“I —” you found your words stuck in your throat. 

There you two. On top of the hotel rooftop. The rain slowly deafens everything. 

But Mark’s arms never left yours. He’s just there, staring at you. Waiting for your answer. 

“I trust you Mark,” you breathed. “Just take my pain away.” 

“Of course,” he assures you. Leaning on to give you another kiss. “I will make you happy and will love you for eternity.” 

Slowly, Mark takes a step back. One by one you two slowly walked. All you can see is Mark who’s gazing at you lovingly until you take another step but your eyes widen at your feet and feel nothing but the air. 

“See you on the other side yn,” Mark bids before pulling you towards him. And with that, you felt yourself heavy as you fell to your own death.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Reader: Mystery Of Love

A/N: I want to write more soft!Azriel because honestly 🥲

Summary: Things between Night and Spring have been on the mend over the past centuries, yet despite the steady improvement, the shadowsinger finds himself longing to return to Spring for the chance to visit the Court seamstress

Visual Prompt here!

Azriel suppresses a grin as he watches Cass’ nose twitch, the General no doubt pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He catches the shit-eating glint in his eye, sending a glower to the Spymaster, knowing exactly what he’s subtly gloating over.

Rhys turns away from Feyre, sending a glare over his shoulder, sensing that his brothers were up to something, “keep yourselves out of trouble.” Azriel sends a shadows skating up his brother’s back, making Cass shift, “I’m serious, Cassian. Don’t get kicked out of this Court too,” Rhys adds, sending a serious look to him as he places his hand on Feyre’s lower back, guiding her down the hall.

Cassian mutters something under his breath, before turning and punching his brother in the arm, “enough of your underhanded tricks. We’re supposed to be on the same side here.” Azriel allows the corners of his mouth to curl upward, “I’d rather not have a partner who’s sneezing all over me.” His retort makes Cassian scowl, but there’s a playful glint in his eye, “fine, but you’ll be the one having our High Lady scold you for that,” the General calls as he moves after the two figures, pretending to be on his way to snitch on his brother.

“Don’t get into trouble,” Azriel calls after him. He hears the faint sounds of Cass mimicking his words, making jabbering gestures with his hands as he rounds the corner, leaving Az to himself.

He schools his features into neutrality, turning to glance out through the archways, noticing how the sun is dancing across the lush greenery. His eyes catch on a familiar female carrying a heavy-looking basket inside, stacked with earth-toned fabrics. She seems to be struggling, making his mouth tilt upward.

Turning away, his gaze drags across the large expanse of meadow, casting over the forests fencing the mansion in. On the surface it appears open, flushed with life, until the breeze nips a little too hard, or the flora grows a little too thick, showing more thorns than petals. He can see how easily the land could turn into a cage.

————————

You wobble up the steps, hauling the basket with you until you reach your designated work room. It’s a marvellously open room on the third floor of the mansion, your windows overlooking the sprawling fields, a perfect view of how the lands merge into luscious forest, ripe with greenery and pigment.

Setting the fabrics down on the armrest, you flop down beside them, resting in the afternoon sun that’s spilling through the window. You’re on the verge of nodding off when a voice echoes through the room, “so hardworking.”

You release an audible groan, mouth twisting into a grin as you lift yourself from the chaise longue, spotting the male leaning against the doorframe. “You have a habit of catching me in the wrong moments,” you complain, moving to a sitting position, “and I’m beginning to think it’s intentional, Spymaster.”

His eyes sparkle as he enters the room, walking over to where you’re half sitting, half lounging. “Or maybe you never actually work,” he shoots back, eyes sweeping across your studio. “I get plenty of work done!” You snap, indignantly, “that’s why I’m the favoured seamstress in this Court.” You bat your eyelashes at him.

He knows you’re being modest. At four hundred and twenty-three, you’re most likely the favoured in the land.

You sit up straight, “wait. I have an idea for your next gift, but I need your measurements.” He raises an eyebrow in suspicion, the mention of your so-called ‘gifts’ making him wary. “What do you have planned for me this time?” He drawls, putting on an air of defeat as he moves over to where you’re sat.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now. Would it?” You grin, unfurling a measuring tape from your pocket and brandishing it. He merely sighs, a glimmer of life sparking in his hazel eyes, “do your worst.”

“I think you’re going to regret that,” you reply, moving behind him. He tenses, realising what it is you’re after. His wings tense, skin pulling taut over his shoulders as the muscles contract with apprehension, muscle rippling across his back with the movement.

You stop shy of his back, “I can estimate, if you’re too…” scared? Nervous? Shy? “I mean, I understand they’re sensitive.” You take a step back for him to know exactly where you are, “it’s not my intention to make you uncomfortable.” His gaze latches onto yours as he looks over his shoulders, expression unreadable.

“You try anything funny I’ll cut you down where you stand,” he settles on, mouth curling up at the sides though there’s a sinister tone that has your tongue drying. It takes a moment for you to formulate a response, not really having expected him to allow you this opportunity. You smile, cheekily, “yes sir.”

You work in silence, save for the occasional request for Azriel to shift his wings to different positions, which he follows exceptionally. There are a few times your tape doesn’t span long enough; you have to press the marking fabric against his skin to note where to restart. Each time you give him a heads up along with a free invitation to veto at any time. He just nods along with your requests, indulging your curiosity each time until you’ve completed your measurements.

“I’m dreading returning,” he admits when you set the tape down, jotting down each measurement you took into your notebook, catching a glance at some designs you have sketched on previous pages. Your brow curves in sad curiosity, “why’s that?” A grin twinkles in his eyes, lips curving, “to see whatever you’ll have created.”

A huff of relieved laughter escapes your mouth, smiling to yourself as you shut your notebook, “and here I thought you were enjoying my company.” You move across the room to where you keep your fabrics, “how foolish of me.”

Azriel watches you with dilated pupils as you riffle through the materials, pulling a few scraps from the mix then returning to him, “what do you think of these?”

He arches a brow, “I’m going to need a little more guidance?” Your lips quirk up at the edges, “how do they feel? Too heavy? Too thick? Not breathable?” You prompt making his own lips lift.

“For what?”

Your eyes skip upwards to his as you make an innocent look, feigning ignorance, “oh, I don’t know… your skin? Maybe your wings?”

His grin widens, nodding his head conspiratorially, “I see.” Then he frowns, “actually, I don’t. Why do you need to know how the fabric feels in regard to my wings?” You widen your eyes slightly, pouting as if you’re clueless, glancing away from him and pulling your hands behind your back, as if to hide the evidence. He just sighs again, holding his hands out to sort through the fabric, testing each of them out.

“I like this one,” he settles on, “it feels stretchy, and heavy, but not so it would be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll make sure not to use that one,” you quip, taking the fabric from his hands, fingers brushing for a moment.

Azriel watches you return to your work bench, wondering if your hands are also tingling.

“Should I be concerned over your sudden fascination with my wings?” He speaks after having silently crept upon you. You jump, turning with a scowl on your face. You jab your finger at him, “first of all, never do that again.” You make to set your hands against his chest, then think better of it, choosing to simply shoo him away, “secondly, stop peeking over my shoulder. I have classified information in this notebook. I can’t be letting the Spymaster have a free flash.”

He allows you to walk him backward, “so I should be worried?” You keep an eye out to make sure there’s nothing he could slip on as you guide him back to the sofa, “presumptuous to think the classified information is about you and not other clientele.” Your eyes latch onto one another the moment he reaches the sofa. Your hands skim his shoulders and he allows himself to sit, looking up at you who’s between his legs.

“And no. You don’t have anything to worry about,” your tack on, turning away, “though I’ve been known to lie, on occasion.” His hand circles your wrist firmly, pulling you back to him. A smile breaks across your face as a matching one graces his features. “Sorry, that was in poor taste,” you snicker, seeing his expression. “It’s for a decent project, I swear.”

He lifts a brow to tell you he doesn’t believe you, “you’re sure it wasn’t for personal gain?” He taunts softly, his thumb brushing circles into your skin. It takes you a moment to piece the dots together, but when you do, a laugh breaks from you. You hold a single hand up in defeat, “fine. You caught me. Can’t believe you saw through my master plan so easily.”

He smiles back at you, playing along, “well, I am the Spymaster. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“And yet you let me take your measurements anyway,” you drawl, pretending to think, letting the implication hang in the air.

His smiles fades as he meets your gaze. “I did.”

The skin beneath his thumb tingles, your clothes feeling stuffy and heavy beneath his gaze. You suck in a breath, “good to know.” There’s a pause, and you wonder if it feels as long for him as it does for you. “Anyway,” you break the silence, “how’s the Night Court treating you?”

He huffs a laugh, rich and deep. You want to feed on it forever, wake up to it and bathe in it. “Not as well as you, apparently,” he casts a pointed glance across your room that’s emptier than usual, devoid of the usually highly decorated mannequins that support your various designs. “Ugh, you know I work. You just come in at the worst times.” He gives you a look that tells you he doesn’t believe a word of it, making you huff.

“You know, with all the gifts I make you, you should know how hard I work,” you snap, mouth tipping at the edges into a tell-tale smile. His features are a mask of neutrality as he gazes up at you, “I think it shows the amount of free-time you have on your hands,” he drawls, a smirk twisting the corners of his lips. You scoff, “and I think it shows I care. But if you’d like me to stop, you need only say the word,” you taunt, raising a brow expectantly.

He huffs a soft laugh, your blood heating at the sound, body lightening, “I would never dream of depriving myself of your luxuries,” he flirts, making you roll your eyes.

“One day, Shadowsinger,” you grin, “one day I’ll create something so obnoxiously beautiful even your endless patience won’t be enough to overcome it.”

“I suppose until then, you’ll just have to keep trying. But I assure you, your efforts are in vain, dear seamstress. My patience is indeed endless, and your humour is boundless. Overall, your company is a pleasant bonus with every sojourn I must take down to this wretched Court.”

Your mouth drops open.

He cocks a brow expectantly, and you snort a laugh. “I have absolutely zero idea what you just said, but screw you.”

His lips tilt, “I confessed to enjoying your company, my lady.” He brings your knuckles to his glorious mouth, pressing a kiss to the pockmarked skin from your time spent as a seamstress. “‘My lady’ indeed,” you snap, but not pulling your hand away, “you’re cunning with your words, Shadowsinger. But I’m aware of the tactical benefits to flattery and so refuse to trust a single word that comes from your gilded tongue.” You smile, satisfied.

A wicked smirk dances over his elysian mouth, “my gilded tongue can do more than just flatter, my lady.”

You cock a skeptical brow, “pray tell.”

He grins, “as silver-tipped it is, words will not suffice for my talents. They’re practicalities that must be demonstrated.” This time your brow dips in concentration as you attempt to match him, “I do hate to confess my loss, but you’ve quite confused me with your courtier’s mouth.”

His thumb brushes cheekily over the knuckles of your fingers, your eyes following helplessly, “this is my form of retribution - your form of payment - for every so-called ‘gift’ you have created.”

You shake your head, brows curving, “oh for goodness sake! I can hardly understand a word when you speak like that. It does my head in.”

He laughs at your frustration, “then I have served my purpose.”

“Your purpose is to boggle my mind?” You retort, one hand lifting to the side of your head as you pretend to massage and ache from your skin. A grin breaks on your mouth, despite your stoic attempts to conceal it. “My purpose,” he repeats, thumb stilling, “is to bring a smile to your face.”

This time you don’t laugh, or attempt to brush him off. A flush lifts your cheeks as you look down at him, sizing him up, “do you mean that, Azriel?”

“I would not lie to a lady as noble as yourself,” he mocks, a teasing lilt to his pleasurable voice. You purse your lips at his reply before smoothly lowering yourself to his lap, settling over one of his thighs, leaning against the solid warmth of his chest.

With the proximity you’re able to feel his breath catch, his hand tightening over yours as you allow the connection. “One word,” you remind him, gazing up into his hazel eyes, “and I will stop entirely.” You shift further against him when he remains quiet, taking you in silently as if afraid you’ll turn in a fright at the slightest of movements. Utterly ridiculous, really.

“One word, Azriel,” you breathe, words brushing over his mouth, “and we can pretend this was all part of the jest.” Your hand unlatches from his in favour of pressing against his chest, sloping over the broad framework of his shoulders. Your own breath stutters a bit when his hands drop to your waist, one settling at the small of your back, dangerously low. Should anyone walk in at that moment, it would look positively scandalous.

“I’ll conceal everything, if that’s what you’d prefer,” you murmur over his lips, “even from you, spymaster.”

“Never.” The words are dragged from his throat, roughly spilling from his mouth as his fingers press into the soft fabric of your clothes. A small smile graces your features, before you’re gently pushing against him, mouth catching over his.

It’s hesitant, both of you curious to see how the events will unfold. His lips feel like heated silk beneath your own, pillowy and plump as you move against him. You pull away, eyes latching onto his before he leans forward, capturing your mouth again with his own, his hand supporting your back as you’re taken by surprise.

A faint moan slips from your mouth to his, a hand cupping the back of your neck as he pulls you against him, tongue pushing in as he tastes you. He groans when your fingers thread in his inky hair, fingers brushing delicately over his skin, oscillating in smooth, reassuring patterns.

When you eventually manage to untangle yourself from his mouth, you’re panting, staring into his hazy eyes that clear as the set on your own. “Gilded tongue indeed,” you pant, softly, tracing smooth marks in his silky hair. A glint of mischief shines in his hazel eyes, “I aim only to please, my lady.”

“Would you like to know how to further delight me, then?” You breathe, unable to remove you eyes from his own. “Gods, tell me.”

“Touch me as you wish to be touched,” you whisper, “I want to learn what excites you, Azriel. I want to become your necessity and your indulgence.”

Your forehead presses to his own, hands coming round to cup his jaw, pulling back as you tilt his head. “Please, let me love you,” you breathe, uttering that silent prayer you have kept so securely, “allow me this one desire.”

His eyes are pools of reflection, mirroring the adoration you know has revealed itself to him. The male nods, a slight coil of satisfaction settling in your lower belly at reducing him to actions.

He kisses the answer into your mouth, reverence flowing with every press of his tongue, every brush of his fingertips, every steady beat of his heart. He gives all of it to you.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

[babygirl-riley]

Just a Dream

You’ve been told that Simon was KIA, only you invited your immediate family and of course 141 Task Force to the burial

“Everybody’s saying: “He’s not coming home now.””

I’m so sorry y’all 😔

Warnings: swearing, angst

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst list

You started to walk towards the tent that covered a certain area of the field. You held onto your daughter’s hand, trying not to fall onto your knees. This was real. At first you thought it was a sick fucking joke but when Price appeared into view…you knew.

“Mommy Uncle Johnny is here!” yelled your daughter running up to you.

Confused you looked up it was only him at first. “Wh—Johnny I didn’t expect you to be here,” His eyes were telling the story. “Allison go upstairs honey.” Allison looked at Johnny then at you.

“But…”

“Now.” It was stern. You usually weren’t but when you were it was business so she went.

“Is that where daddy is?” Allison whispered looking up at you.

She was in her black dress your mom went to pick out for her. Your mom was kind enough to go take her shopping while you stayed back planning the worst possible thing you could think of. Sat with Soap planning on what the military expected and what you wanted to happen.

“Yes,” You said picking her up. “Daddy is in that casket there.” You pointed to the casket that had the British flag covering it.

You put your hand up, stopping Johnny to take another step. “Where is he?”

“Lass…”

“No where the fuck is he?” You said with more venom lacing your voice. “This is a fucking joke. He better not be outside or I swear to fucking…”

Price walked in, trailing water with him. He took his cap off and stepped around Johnny to get to you. You were frozen. Simon always told you that if were to die. Price would give to you straight. “Y/N,” He sighed grabbing your shoulder. “I’m…Simon is gone.”

You saw Gaz, Soap, Laswell, and Price standing around. Everyone except Laswell was wearing their blues. You held your breath until Allison signaled to be down. She sprinted to Johnny. “Johnny!” She yelled leaping towards him as he held her.

“Eh isn’t my favorite Riley.” He said excitedly but you could hear the strain.

Price looked at you, you knew that look. Look of guilt. Look of worry. “How you holdin up?” He asked in a whisper while Johnny kept entertaining your daughter.

“Uh…”

Nononononono you thought over and over. It was like your world just shattered. You turned and held onto the closest wall. “You’re fucking lying,” You whispered feeling your heart pump. That’s all you can hear is that, your heart beating louder harder. “You’re—He can’t. No.”

Price grabbed your shoulder and you shoved his hand. “Y/N.” He whispered.

You started to gasp for air. You can’t breathe. You can’t see. You can’t hear. No not him. Please. You can’t. You felt his hand again. “No don’t touch me!” You yelled walking away as you kept gasping.

Price grabbed you and turned you to him. His mouth was moving but you couldn’t hear. That’s when you heard a scream, a scream you never heard of. You felt your knees buckle and you were falling to the ground. Price followed you as he held you close to your chest. “He can’t be. He doesn’t know. Oh my fucking god no. He can’t. He doesn’t know.”

“I’m good.” You whispered looking slightly over at the casket.

“And our fourth Riley?” Gaz asked looking at you now.

Allison giggled. “We don’t know if he is going to be a boy!”

You smiled at her rubbing your stomach, there wasn’t much a bump but you can feel it. “Yeah we don’t know just yet.”

Johnny looked at you with curious eyes. “Wouldn’t ya…” Gaz jabbed him in the side.

Your smile faded then looked away. You didn’t want to know, you wanted to know less. You couldn’t do it on your own. Simon was suppose to be here. You sighed. “I know.”

Allison looked over at the casket. “Can I see daddy?”

You looked over at the casket. “No we said goodbye last night, this is where he can sleep now.”

Allison frowned. “Okay mummy.”

Johnny placed her down as she walked towards you. “We should get started. Is everyone here?”

You looked around to see your family approaching. “Yeah that’s them.” Price nodded once as he told everyone to get into place.

Your daughter came down, scared, confused. “Mummy?”

Gaz was about to grab her until you stopped him. It has probably been hours that you sat there with Price. “Come here babygirl.”

She walked over to you cautiously. “Why you cryin?” She asked moving Price out of the way. You gulped and you tried to talk with no words coming out. “Daddy’s not coming home huh.”

You frowned and tried to get the tears away. She was too smart for her own good. Just like Simon was. 8 years old shouldn’t be going through this. Be able to tell you that daddy isn’t coming home. “Baby…” Your voice broke.

Her eyes started to water and her lip trembled. “It’s okay mummy.”

You sat with your daughter as the funeral went on. Watched as Soap gave a small speech about how he was a hard ass until he was around his wife and kid. You don’t remember a lot of what happened during the funeral. You were numb. Can’t feel anything but the fluttering of your baby moving. You couldn’t even feel your breathing just the same flutters. You kept thinking about how it had to be a long nightmare. You just had to wake up.

Part of you didn’t know if you could have the child. The child that won’t meet their father. That will never have a father. You daughter was barely understanding what was happening. Hell she was taking it better than you.

“Daddy is still here mummy.” She whispered, two days ago.

You shook your head. “Baby daddy is not here.”

Allison frowned before shaking her head. “He is here.”

You sighed grabbing the stuffed ghost that Simon got her. She is obsessed with them ever since she was a infant. “Honey daddy is dead, he isn’t coming back.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “No mummy right here.” She sat up pressing her hand on your chest. “Daddy told me that he would always be right here when he would leave.”

Price walked to you and knelt down, holding the British flag. It was folded, his dog tags on top of it. You just stared at it then looked at Price. “I can’t.” You whispered.

Price frowned and sighed. “I know.” He grabbed your hand gently before placing the flag in your hands.

You held it in your hand before bringing it to your chest. That’s when you sobbed, you felt your dad put an arm around you holding you close. Price got up before walking back to his men. That’s when you felt your daughter’s hand. You looked over with her face stained red and tears staining her cheeks.

You frowned and placed the flag in one hand and wrapped your arm around her with the other. That’s when they shot the guns. One after the other.

BANG

“Promise to come back home.” You would say after he would be dressed in his uniform.

You could tell he smiled at you through his balaclava. “Ya know I can’t do that lovie.”

You held your daughter harder. BANG.

“Simon I’m serious,” You said walking to him placing a hand on his cheek. “Humor me?”

Simon stood there saying nothing. Just looking into your eyes. God how was so beautiful.

You heard one of the men stifle a cry as the last one goes off. BANG.

He grabbed your chin lifting it up more to face him. “I will always be come back my sweet girl.”

You smiled rolling your eyes as he lift up his mask kissing you.

You sat there listening to the bang echoing throughout the field. You felt like the bullet hit you, hit straight into you. You couldn’t move. Scream. It felt quiet. Nothing moving normally just slow. Each one of them came to pat your shoulder before walking away.

Your mom said that she would take Allison for a moment. She knew you couldn’t move at the moment. You stood up after what felt like years and walked to the casket. You held the flag close with your arm still, not letting it go. You pressed your hand on the wood. “You knew didn’t you,” You whispered. “That day you left you fucking knew you wouldn’t be back huh,” You felt a small shake and anger hitting. “I was counting on us staying here forever. That we would go down together. Why did you have to die,” You cried. “What am I suppose to do without you?”

You leaned to place your head against the casket, holding onto it. “What am I suppose to do?”

You were never the same after that day. That last bullet was the one that took your life like the bullet that took his.

[lunajay33]

Scared & Sick

Summary: You are pregnant and the prison breaks out in sickness and you’re scared of what might happen

•Masterlist•

The day started like it usually did, waking up and wrapped around Daryl all warm and cozy

“Mmm can’t we just stay here all day?” I asked tired

“Nah sweetheart we gotta get ya fed” he smiled as he got up and pulled on his vest then handed me my shirt

“Ugh fine” he took my hand and we walked out to the communal kitchen

Daryl got us me a bowl of fruits while he had meats as usual, we sat on a little bench and just watched the sun rise higher and hear the birds chirp

“Do you think we could have a family here?” I asked nervous of his answer

Recently finding out I’m pregnant it’s been very stressful and I finally needed to tell him but I wanted to know what he thought about maybe having a family

“Don’ know, maybe but somethin could happen like Lori and I don’ know what I’d do without ya”

It was silent for a while it was upsetting

“But….if I could I’d love to have a lil family ya, they’d be beautiful jus like ya” he said wrapping his arm around my shoulder making the butterflies truly in my stomach

Being with him has always made me feel happy and safe ever since we met in that crappy old small town when we were 16, hes my everything

“Daryl I know this isn’t an ideal place but I found out yesterday…..I’m pregnant”

He looked at me with an unreadable expression that made me extra nervous, he moved and squeezed my hand comfortingly, a habit he picked up over the years

“I’m sorry” I whispered

“Don’ say that, I know it ain’t perfect but….its our baby, and I couldn’ ask fer anyone else to experience this with” he said with that little smirk he claims is his biggest smile

“Well what do we do now?” I beamed, my heart was soaring

~~~~~

After visiting Hershel and us awkwardly trying to estimate how far along I was, we guessed about 3 weeks so he told us we needed prenatal vitamins

As we left his little infirmary someone walked past us and it sounded like they were coughing up a lung

A bit worrying since it’s summer and not many causes for sickness

I looked back at Daryl and he had the same worried expression

“Come on, we shouldn’ be round here no more” he said wrapping his arm around my waist and guiding us back to our little family cell block

~~~~~

Time went on and almost half the prison was infected with a deadly strain of the flu, thankfully Daryl was smart and kept me away from people

I was sitting up in the watch tower where Daryl had moved me, cause he was too worried and didn’t want to risk anything especially with me being pregnant now

As I sat on the edge of the tower resting in the rails I heard someone coming up, obviously Daryl cause he’d kill anyone that tried to come up, I usually would be annoyed by it but since he’s found out I’m pregnant he’s been in protective mode and it’s adorable

“Hi baby!” I said excited as he sat next to me

“Hey peach, how’re ya feelin?” He asked as he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close

“I’m alright, just been really tired”

“Ya need to rest as much as ya can”

“But I don’t wanna sleep without you, you’re my big teddy bear” I laughed as I saw his face redden

We continued to sit there when the watch tower across from us exploded, we looked out into the field and it was a group of people stocked with weapons and in the center of it, The Governor……

~~~~~~~

part 2

[fanficwriters-posts]

Hiro hamada x spiderman! Reader

Nobody knew reader was spiderman until reader swoops in, in their spidersuit, and saves the main 6 from a villian they couldn't beat. But ends up getting super hurt and having to take their mask off.

That sounds interesting and inspiring! 😃

Hiro Hamada x Spiderman!reader

It was like any other day in a normal human life. I got out of bed, take a quick shower, brush my teeth, pick out my clothes, put on the clothes, grab my necessary items for school and my homework, go downstairs, eat my breakfast my mother prepared for me, kiss my parents' cheeks before i leave to go to Hiro's place.

I do it every single day, it's just the same routine. Until one day...

There was a school field trip to this campus in New York City and mostly it was because Professor Granville didn't want any of us to slack off while she's away so she decided to bring us with her and make us learn about Alchemax with Doctor Octavius being our tour guide.

I got a little bored and was sidetracked with this spider that has a 42 number on its back. I was sorta staring for a few seconds until Doctor Octavius caught my attention away from it and lead us into another room. I didn't even realize the spider escaped its closure. Not did i felt it crawling up my pants and to my hand.

When Doctor Octavius introduced us to one of their latest inventions, i was amazed and wanted to take a picture. That's when i saw the spider. It bit me and i nearly drop my phone from shock. I grab it from the back of my hand and i put it on a table so no one will notice.

Hiro came over to me, i think he saw me when the spider bit my hand. He checked to see what was wrong and I just told him that my hands were just shaking from excitement. He found that amusing and grab my good hand to bring me back to the rest of the group.

Thankfully, that was the end of the tour and we all got home. Me? I was sweating the whole way back so i went straight to my home. A lot of things happened.

I ran really fast like i don't usually do, I can jump really high, i can hear almost everything that's going on, I can even stick to anything. Walls, metal poles, etc. But what made me so shocked is that i can shoot spiderwebs from my wrists. I found that out when i put down my backpack and try to reach for the bathroom.

I decided to experiment on myself and turns out, i have super-strength. I've seen these in the Spider-Man comic books and i didn't think it would happen to me, too. I was so psyched about it but... i didn't tell any of my friends. I was scared that they might report this to professor Granville and have me change back to normal.

But, i wanted to be a hero. Like those Big Hero 6 guys. So, i trained myself in this old, abandoned factory that i can use as my training arena. Of course, i had to put everything together first before i can start.

I've been training myself for 3 months just so i can do everything perfect. Somehow, in the process, i didn't realize that i got myself sorta fit and tough. I even cut my hair a little shorter.

Once i know i'm ready, i started designing my suit while watching the news about the Big Hero 6. Sometimes, i write down the villains and their powers in my notebook that i keep to myself.

And if you're wondering, what about school? Yes, i still go to school and everything went on smoothly. Though, sometimes they ask during the first week about why i'm so happy but i just tell them that the Alchemax field trip made a whole new perspective in my life.

I did everything i could to keep my secret from everyone and it works so well. And now, i'm a new superhero of San Fransokyo. (Hero name)! Heck yeah! I saved a bunch of people, get interviewed by the press, even got my own superhero action figure. Everything went smoothly on my side but with all the homework that started piling up, i couldn't keep up and let everything to the Big Hero 6.

I wasn't aware of what the villains were up to behind my back.

Present time

I'm in Hiro's lab doing my homework per usual but this time he wasn't here or Baymax. I called him and he said he had to help around in the cafe with Baymax before he gets here. I just said, "Take your time." And "Love you." Before we hung up.

When i set down my pen, a notification appear on the screen of my phone while i was watching (Favorite Cartoon Series) and i press it.

"This just in, a group of robot has attacked downtown and with Big Hero 6 on the job- Wait, sorry." The news reporter spoke before he press the earpiece he has on. "Oh! It looks like the Big Hero 6 are down. Take it away, Carol." The screen switches to another news reporter and she's in a helicopter.

"Thank you, Bluff Dunder." Carol said to the microphone in her hand. "It seems like our heroes have been outnumbered by unknown robots and can't seem to find a way out of the corner. Our former lovable mascot, Noodle Burger Boy have gathered robot mascots from all around fast food restaurants into villainy. If only (Hero name) was here to aid them in their battle."

I couldn't believe my ears and immediately i texted Hiro that i needed to get home because my parents called me and change into my spider suit. I grab my things and my clothes into my backpack before i swing out of the campus and drop off my bag at my bedroom window.

I head straight to downtown and... Oh yeah! I can go camouflage mode but right now is not the best time to use it because these are robots we're fighting. They might have heat-signature visions, but it wouldn't hurt to try it out. I landed on the rooftop above the Big Hero 6 and i went camouflage mode as i slowly crawl down the building over the heroes and robots.

"There's no way of escaping, heroes! Give it up!" Noodle Burger Boy exclaims with this girl robot beside him and Hyper-Potamus on the other. There were a few other robots i've never seen before.

"What do you want with us, Noodle Burger Boy?" The guy in purple ask the robot, standing in front of his team.

"The whereabouts of the new superhero, (Hero name)." Noodle Burger Boy replied before the robot girl beside him speak up, "She can be of use as our ally."

"What? No way! She will never side with you! She doesn't even side with us! Because we never ask." Another hero spoke but he's wearing a blue monster suit.

"Then tell us where she is. 'Cause we'll make her." Noodle Burger Boy tells them before the rest of the robots got into stances, ready to attack.

"That's my cue." I muttered before i un-camouflaged myself and jump down between them.

"You wanted to see me, Noodle Burger Boy?" I ask him, my voice high and mighty.

"Oh! There she is!" Noodle Burger Boy tells his group of robots, clapping with joy.

"(Hero name), what are you doing here?" The guy in purple asks me, walking up to me. I look back to him and stop him.

"Stay back. This is gonna get a little ugly... For me." I tell him, my voice slightly deepen.

I turn back to the evil robots and i shot my web at one of them, swinging them to the others before i leap up and attack the rest. They fought back and of course, a hero such as myself cannot take on this many but i try to.

I took the fight elsewhere so that no one would get hurt, using my spiderwebs to swing me and let them chase after me. I landed on a dock and turn around to face them. Finally realizing how many there are.

"Oh, boy." I whisper in shock. They're made out of metal, i should've thought this through.

"No where left to run, (Hero name)!" The girl robot exclaim with a menacing grin before she shoots multiple rockets at my way.

I gasped and dodged it as my spider sense went off. I thought i was save for a couple of minutes until the robot, which i think is Crushroom, punched me so hard that it send me into a side of a boat.

I groaned and got myself out before i stick my feet and hand on the wall of a building. "Okay, this is a bit unfair, don't you think? I mean, there's literally some of you but you're made out of metal and i'm made out of flesh, myself."

I hear the Big Hero 6 coming from my right and i look up. When my eyes landed on the guy in purple, i feel a bit of familiarity to him. Like i knew him from somewhere. Obviously, behind that orange glass shield he has black hair but his face... Somehow...

And it's not right to be deep in thought when you're being chased by a bunch of robots is not highly recommended. My spider sense went off but i didn't have time to react before i was shot off of the wall and fall to the ground. I fell! A great 6 ft from the building and i think i got scratches on my suit because i was not full conscious.

I got up from the ground and i pant heavily from the great impact. I look up to the rest of the robots and i use this advantage to shoot my spiderwebs at their faces to blind their sights. The Big Hero 6 took care of them as soon as they arrived and i had to leave the scene but my limbs were aching with pain. And they're killing me!

Don't blame me. This is my first time getting actually hurt during a mission.

I hear the big red robot land behind me and help me stand up. "Are you alright, (Hero name)?" The robot asks, his voice calming.

"Yeah. I put my guard down for a second and they just shoot me." I replied, holding my side. I look up to the rest of the team and i think a quarter of my mask was torn.

"What were you thinking taking those crazy robots on your own?! You could've died!" The big guy in green exclaimed at me with worry.

"Not to mention putting your life at risk just to save ours." A girl in pink with long blond hair spoke softly.

"Super cool! But dangerous. But SUPER AWESOME!" The guy in blue yell with excitement.

"You could've asked us to help you." The guy in purple steps up, his height same as mine but i was sorta bend down from the pain.

"Yeah. I just... You guys were already in trouble. I just wanted to give you guys a break." I tell them.

I grunt in pain as my side aches even more and i nearly fall forward but the guy in purple caught me before i hit the ground.

"My boyfriend will not like this at all." I muttered under my breath as i let him support me.

"Your body cannot take anymore muscle use and you have a cut on your face. In order for me to heal you, you must take off your mask." The giant red robot said before he approaches me.

My eyes widen and i hold out my hand. "No, no, no! The hospital is fine! You don't have to heal me." I say quickly, holding the guy in purple's shoulder.

"Oh, come on. You can hardly stand up by yourself, let alone swing back to the hospital." Said the girl in yellow.

I groan in defeat and look up to them. "I know where you can heal me, but, you have to promise to keep it a secret." I tell them.

All six of them agreed and took me to my training arena because i have first aid kit and a bed there. Not plain. I decorated them so that it doesn't look so bland.

The red robot lay me down on the bed while the others look around at the training place i build.

"You built this place yourself?" The girl in yellow asks, standing in front of one of my deadly obstacles.

"I like to challenge myself and make it a whole lot more interesting." I replied to her as the robot place a pillow behind my head.

"Huh." She muttered. "Awesome."

"Alright. Let's take off this mask of yours." The robot said. I sigh heavily.

"It's a big no-no. But from one hero to another, i guess." I say to him before i take off my mask and set it aside.

"(Name)?!"

I was startled by the sound of my name and i look up to the guy in purple with wide eyes. "Y-you know me?" I ask him nervously.

He walk towards me and take off his helmet. My eyes widen even more and i stare at him in shock. "Hiro?!" I exclaim in surprise.

The two of us stare at each other for a solid 5 minutes while the red robot heal the wounds on my body.

The rest of the BH6 came and take off their helmets which made my heart nearly jump out of my chest. I look at each of them before i look up to Hiro again.

"Wait, wait! You lied to me about help Aunt Cass?" I tell him, going to sit up but he held my shoulder and keep me down.

"Y-you lied to me about hanging out with this whole new group of friends when it turns out you were here! Training yourself!" Hiro said back.

I frown a little and look down to my lap. "I..." I sighed heavily and lay down on the bed. "I didn't want to tell you because i was afraid that you guys might tell Professor Granville and that she might take me back to Alchemax and make my powers disappear."

Hiro sit down on the edge of the bed beside me and he hold my hand. "So, this whole time you lied just so you can be a hero?"

"In my defense," I quickly said. "You guys inspired me to become one. I thought that with this power, i might be able to help but i just didn't have the guts to say anything, yet."

Hiro frown at that and he brush my hair out of my face. "And yet, here you are, laying on your bed with Baymax healing your wounds."

"I'm sorry for not telling you. For not telling any of you." I apologized, looking up to them with sincerity. "I know i'm supposed to trust you with this but..."

"Hey, don't worry about it, (Name). I mean, we hid all this from you. We should be the ones to apologize for not telling you that we're heroes." Honey Lemon speak up, walking towards me with a warm smile.

"We could've told you but someone didn't want to because he didn't want to risk your life." Fred steps in, looking at me with a smile.

I look up to Hiro from him and he just look away sheepishly with a blush across his face. I chuckled and i hold his hand. "Aww, really? That's so thoughtful of you!"

He smiled back as he turn his head back to me and he lean down and peck my forehead. "If any of them knew that you were connected to us, i wouldn't know what i would do if something happens to you, (Name)."

"You're my boyfriend, Hiro. You have all the right to be worried but you have to trust me with protecting myself. I can handle anything." I tell him to reassure him, my smile never falter.

Hiro chuckled and nod his head. "You're right. I should've told you and i should've listened to my friends, too."

"I told you she'd be cool about it." Fred tells them which made us all chuckle.

And let's just say that from now own, we tell each other everything and we help each other. I'm not part of the BH6 but i still help around. Hiro and i's relationship became stronger also mine with our friends.

With great power, come great responsibility. And that responsibility is protecting everyone i love and this city.

[bullet-prooflove]

Summertime Blues: Dwayne Pride x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989@mandy426@keyweegirlie@luckyladycreator2 @dizzybee03

Ro - Dwayne starts to see you in a different light.

Roses - Dwayne realises your being courted by another man.

Waiting - Dwayne can't stand to see you with another man.

The Storm - Dwayne and you take shelter together during a hurricane.

Crescendo (NSFW) - You and Dwayne spend the night together during the hurricane.

Room At The End of The World - You explain what happened to LaSalle.

Second Fiddle (feat: Douglas Hamilton) - You go to see Douglas in the aftermath of the hurricane.

You haven’t told Dwayne that you’re leaving NCIS, he finds out when he receives an email from your superior notifying him that his new NOPD liaison will be joining them next week. It feels like someone’s punched him right in the chest.

For a minute he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he simply stares at the screen in front of him as the words stare back at him. Everything he didn’t want to happen is now happening and Dwayne is powerless to stop it.

The two of you haven’t spoken since that night, he’s been trapped in a continuous flurry of disaster meetings and you’ve been out in the field helping to put the parish back together. He’s thought about calling you in your off hours but he worries that you’re with Douglas, that he’ll be interrupting.

He feels empty when he returns to the Tru Tone that evening. There’s a vacancy that resonates throughout the entire core of his being as he sits down at the piano, his fingers wandering over the keys. He doesn’t have a tune in mind when he begins to play, he simply chases the notes as he seeks to find a path through the grief that overwhelms him.

One song bleeds into another and then another, it becomes a frenzy of disjointed chords until a warm hand squeezes his shoulder and a voice cuts through the music.

“Dwayne…” You say softly and all of that noise just stops.

“Ro.” He greets you, inclining his head in your direction as you take a seat on the piano bench alongside of him.

“There’s a lot of sorrow in those songs.” You remark as your shoulder brushes against his and Dwayne shrugs his shoulders,

“Don’t have much to be happy about these days.” He tells you as he plays the opening bars to Summertime Blues.

“Do you…” You trail off for a second and he pauses in order to give you his full attention. Your gaze is focused on his hands, those rough musician’s fingers that played your body like a symphony on the night of the hurricane. “Was it a mistake for you? Being with me?”

There’s silence for a moment as his fingertips linger on the keys.

“No.” He tells you as he pulls his hands away from the piano and sets them on his lap. “The timing maybe, but not you, I could never regret you.”

There’s such pain in his voice, it makes your heart ache as he sighs looking down at the piano.

“You must have some regrets through.” He murmurs, busying himself with the keys once more. “Seeing as you’re leaving and all.”

“Ah that…” You say as your hand comes to rest on his, stilling his fingers. “That’s not about regrets, that’s about building a future, our future.”

You hear his intake of breath as his eyes lower to your joined hands.

“I don’t understand.” He says as he tilts his head up to meet your gaze.

“We couldn’t be together if we were still working together.” You tell him, squeezing his hand lightly. “We both respect the chain of command too much.”

“Is that what you want?” He asks you, hope blossoming in the centre of his chest. “To be with me?”

“Yes.” You murmur as you raise your hand to touch his face, your fingertips ghosting along the line of his jaw. “That night, it’s never felt that way before. It felt perfect. It felt right…”

“That’s way it’s supposed to be what you love each other.” He whispers, his lips brushing over your palm before he takes it and guides it down to the centre of his chest. “It’s supposed to be beautiful, like listening to a song and feeling the lyrics right here in your heart.”  

“Have you felt like that before?” You ask him and the edges of his mouth tip up into a smile.

“No.” He whispers as his lips brush over yours. “But I’ve never loved anyone, the way I that I love you.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[swanimagines]

LOSING BUT WINNING | PIN HAWTHORNE

Summary: Imagine falling off a horse while competing and hurting yourself, and Pin helping you.

"And now, our final competitor number seven for our second race today, from Bright Fields stables," the announcer bellowed as you rode to the field and you tried to swallow your nervousness. You were a good rider - the best bet against Pin, as Mia had said it.

Pin. Pin rode for Holloway now and Mia expected everyone at Bright Fields to hate him for that, basically saying you're betraying the team if you don't. You had to beat him. You had to be better than him. Especially after Zoe fell off Raven and was disqualified with the last section of the competition. But at least she hadn't had her crush racing beside her.

You took a shaky breath and squeezed Pixie into a walk. The rest of the competitors were trotting down the track, you in the middle. You had to beat them all. You had to win. If you didn't, you felt like Mia would pretty much kill you as the whole team would have been disqualified and then the stables would likely be bulldozed with all its debts.

Pixie seemed to pick up on your nerves and began to snort and tossing her head.

"You've got this, Pixie," you muttered and patted her neck, trying to calm the horse. You took another deep breath, trying to focus, to remember the training you had done during the past weeks as you settled on your spot beside everyone else.

It would be just a little country race riding. You had done the course dozens of times. You knew how to do this.

You could win this. You could be the star of the Bright Fields team, you would outdo yourself.

"Ready, set, go!" the announcer's voice shouted through the field.

You nudged Pixie and the horse launched into gallop. You kept your eyes on the course, feeling like flying over the obstacles. Trees were just blur at the sides of your eyes and your heart was racing from the adrenaline. Pixie's mane was flying around her head, and the horse's hooves pounded the dirt of the course.

You felt like a hero from some fairytale as you raced there and barely hearing others behind you. You would win this, you would outdo yourself.

The course had you crossing through the forest and came to a small creek. Pixie jumped over the log obstacle, and then jumped the next jump, the one after that, and just when you were guiding her to steer right, she neighed and on the next moment, you were sent flying off the back of the horse.

"Ahh!" You cried out as you landed on the mud pond by the creek.

Pixie fell down and neighed some more, and you tried to get up. Your chest and legs hurt and your face felt wet from the mud. You tried to stand but it hurt. You wanted to get up, to check on Pixie, but you just couldn't. You saw Pixie lying there, trying to get up, but she was in the same shape that you were in - she couldn't get up either and her neighing soon turned into quiet whimpers.

You heard the horses galloping towards you and looked up to see Pin, who immediately stopped Elvis upon seeing you and dismounting him.

"Are you alright?" He asked you, his eyes roaming over you in concern.

You groaned. "No... I think I broke something."

"Here." Pin hooked his arm over your waist. "I'll carry you."

"I can walk..." You tried to get up, but you almost screamed when the pain shot through again.

"Looks like it," he chuckled, lifting you with his arm around your waist.

Other competitors came by you too, looking at Pixie lying on the ground and you in Pin's arms.

"Are they ok?" One of them asked and Pin shook his head.

"Call the medical team, Pixie needs help," he told them and nodded towards you. "I'll take my them back and check on them," he told them and then turned to you. "Come on."

You didn't protest and just let him take you. You were grateful for his help and he seemed to understand you were in pain. He helped you mount Elvis and soon you were riding back double, him sitting behind you, ensuring you wouldn't fall off.

"And we have a winner! It's Pin Hawthorne from-"

The announcer cut off her speech as she saw you slightly slumped forward in front of Pin, covered in mud, looking like you're going to pass out soon, and on the next moment, a medical team was rushing up towards you and helping you down Elvis. You were lowered down on the stretcher and carried away, your mind not really working at that point anymore.

---

You woke up in a hospital, in a private room with Pin sleeping on an armchair beside you. You groaned as your headache came back, and Pin immediately woke up and he blinked at your for a second or two before taking a light hold of your hand.

"Hey, it's alright. You're in the hospital, you had an accident," he said softly, rubbing your fingers with his thumb.

"Where's Pixie?" You asked, your mind immediately going through the worst scenario.

"She's in the stables. She's getting treatment too." Pin explained quickly. "She'll be alright, she's young and strong."

You nodded. "Thanks..."

"They almost didn't let me come here," he muttered. "So I lied about being your boyfriend."

Your cheeks immediately heated up from that, but you smiled at him bashfully. "Oh... that's nice of you."

He smiled slightly at you again, before squeezing your hand slightly. "I'll be here with you for as long as you want. Do you want anything from the cafeteria?"

You shivered slightly at his touch and looked at him. "You'll... you can stay here with me?"

He nodded. "You're one of my best friends, of course I'll stay here with you."

You couldn't help but smile widely again and you were sure your heartbeat gave away your true feelings for the boy. "Thank you. And uh... a hot cocoa would be nice. With marshmallows and whipped cream."

"Of course," he chuckled and left the room, leaving you wanting to squeal at yourself for having Pin staying with you. And maybe it was hopeful thinking, but you were sure you saw a blush tinting his cheeks too when he admitted about lying about being your boyfriend just so he'd get to be with you... which could tell about him returning your feelings. Maybe.

In any case, losing the race and hurting yourself wasn't so bad after all.

---

"What do you mean we can't see them?" Becky frowned at the nurse. The nurse sighed and took off her glasses, meeting Becky's eyes.

"I already told you, it's against the rules, miss," she explained, looking at Becky like she's bored of explaining it. "Only family and partners can meet them, but I'm sure they're fine. They have their boyfriend with them."

Becky let out a whine, missing Jade frowning. "But—"

The nurse held up her hand, her face showing that she's had enough of Becky's whining. "As I said, their boyfriend is with them, and that's enough."

"I don't care if they have a boyfriend with them, I'm not letting you keep us from seeing them!" Becky tried to argue, but then Jade touched her friend's shoulder.

"Becky, since when have they had a boyfriend?" She muttered, and suddenly Becky's eyes showed a realisation too.

"Oh," she mumbled and then turned back to the nurse, who frowned at the two girls. "Um, what's the boyfriend's name?"

The nurse checked something from the computer screen again. "It reads Pin Hawthorne, do you not know him?"

"Wait, he's not—" Becky started but Jade elbowed her. "I— I mean, no. I mean yes! We do know him. He's their boyfriend, yes. We just... didn't know he's here. We're sorry for bothering you."

The nurse raised her eyebrows momentarily but then nodded, putting her glasses back on and continuing to work on the computer.

"They are dating?!" Becky hissed at Jade, who just shook her head.

"They would have told us, they've been in love with Pin since forever. And they were nervous about making the relationship dire when it was revealed they'd be competing together in that race, it can't be that," she explained.

"I guess you're right," Becky mumbled. "I just wish they'd let us see them. But... why would Pin— ohh, he lied about it!"

"So he'd be able to be with them!" Jade giggled, and Becky nodded, basically jumping a little in place.

"He has feelings for them too, I knew it!" she squealed and hugged Jade's arm.

The nurse looked at them for a second before looking at her screen again.

"Hey, is... are they alright? We came here as fast as we could," Zoe asked her friends, Rosie trailing behind her. Becky immediately beamed at them.

"Pin is pretending to be their boyfriend," Jade whispered. "So he'd be able to be with them in the hospital room."

Zoe blinked. "Wait, what?"

Becky nodded, her smile only growing wider. "He's so sweet and brave!"

Zoe beamed now too. "We knew it!" she laughed and glanced up just in time to see Pin coming from the cafeteria with a big mug and a small paper bag.

"Well well, Mr. Duke has found himself a partner, it seems," she teased, and Pin's cheeks grew pink at that. "How are they?"

Pin cleared his throat. "They're fine. They wanted a hot cocoa," he mumbled and then turned his head away, but the girls could see he was grinning.

"Tell them to text us when they can. I mean, if they have time during your honeymoon," Zoe winked.

Pin's cheeks just grew redder at that but he nodded. "I'll let them know."

He disappeared to the hallway, leaving the girls grinning behind, and they all knew that it wouldn't be long before you and Pin would be together for real.

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[givethemsmut]

The Pack | Chapter Eight

“Her mom use to swim when she got sick. She swore by it. Every time she’s not feeling right, she swims.” Alex didn’t ever whisper and I was close enough to still hear every word.

“What about that guy?”

Dylan heard Posey’s question and sat down to listen cracking open another beer.

She told them, “They grew up together. Everyone thought they were together. Would end up married or whatever. That just never changed how she felt about sex… he was the perfect boyfriend in public but in private he was fucking everything that had two legs. We were all acting up and she was saying no to drugs, sex and a good time. It was complicated.”

Dylan was annoyed with the same info, “Complicated like how?”

Alex sat up, “She loved him but she led him on. Do you want the dirty details?”

“Yeah, I do actually. You don’t date someone you’re whole life and say no to sex.” Dylan wanted the truth to be ugly.

“Everything but pussy. You’d be surprised how long someone will hold on to the hope of scoring her. Now you get why he was so pissed off.”

I did lead him on.

We took advantage of each other.

Alex went on to explain the Big Bear ski trip his senior year and I got lost in my own memories…

In school, the two years we had high school at the same time, he’d use me as a pretend girlfriend and behind closed doors I would get to experience sex without sex. I remember one year our school did a field trip to Big Bear for Seniors, Juniors and Sophomores only. It was his last year of high school and he was already crowned king of senior year. Everyone treated us like the world’s best couple as soon as people found out I knew him pretty much since birth.

We weren’t suppose to have a room together but the senior boys had their way around the facility and I was put in the same room as Brody. At this point in our relationship we had showered together and had been fooling around since I was a Freshman. We never discussed dating or even loving each other romantically but we did immediately start fooling around because we thought that’s what you do at that age.

Up until then I was able to play pretend, let people assume, be the perfect girlfriend for everyone around us. In the privacy of my room we knew the truth. The lines were clear until now. I was so nervous and I didn’t want to blend two worlds nor let anyone else notice. All day I had to hear about the way people thought we were perfect and so cute together. I was ready for a break from the world. The first night of the trip

Brody and I went to the hot tub after hours. It finally felt normal to talk, the closeness without being forced and without people watching our every move.

I was comfortable with Brody, I took my bikini top off and his hands guided me onto his lap. We fell right into our private world that was just ours and quickly explored each other. He picked me up quickly switching positions as my arms held onto his neck. Our tongues twisted together as I felt him pull down my bottoms and pluck them out of the water. Brody had touched every inch of me before.

I whispered against his neck as he kissed mine, “Slow down.” He had been hearing this from me since we started fooling around. I could fool around but giving him my virginity was a whole new game. He was breathing heavy as his hands grasped my hips and teased my legs.

He whispered to me, “We’re on the big ski trip. We’re all alone. We’ve been fooling around for two years. What are you waiting for?” I looked up at him with my arms still around his neck, “Just not like this. A hot tub? We can do better.”

I was lying and saving face from telling him I was terrified. I was nervous, I wasn’t sure, I didn’t know how I felt about him beyond friendship and what sex would mean to him because it matter to me. I felt his fingers push inside me as I gasped and I heard him whisper as he watched me react, “Better like our room upstairs?”

I swallowed hard and knew there was only so long I could avoid this talk, “Brody, I’m scared.” His kisses were venom, poisoning my mind against my heart’s desires. He hot breath on my skin he spoke, “I’m not a virgin baby. I know how to take care of you.”

My lips couldn’t hold back the moan from his fingers, “Brody.” His hips slightly moved against my leg showing me he was hard. He knew I was close, he’d made me cum before, I gripped his biceps knowing I was climaxing. “That’s it, good girl. Ride my fingers.” He nearly smoothed out all my wrinkles with his voice.

We went back to the room and fooled around more, I blew him and he didn’t bring up penetration again. The next morning was when all hell broke loose. That was when the rumors started that I was basically a whore willing to fuck in public.

We commandeered the continental breakfast like a high school cafeteria. As I walked in and the room went silent, everyone was looking at me. Alex ran up to me shoving her phone in my face showing me a video of myself moaning against Brody in the hot tub. I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. I scanned the room for Brody but his best friend said he was skiing the mountain. I hid in our room all day until he was back.

The video captured it all – me taking off my top, him taking my bottoms off and what looked like Brody fucking me because his hips were moving. He almost laughed when I showed him and inquired who could have done this. He told me, “People we’re getting suspicious. The guys were asking me why we don’t kiss and shit. I had to babe. Nothing is showing.”

My blood boiled immediately, “Did you film me blowing you in our room too?! What the fuck Brody! Your leaving for college but I have two years left of being called some whore!” He tried to touch me but I pushed back. Smirking like he knew he’d get away with it, “Its me babe! Your boyfriend. No one is gonna think that! They’re just not gonna doubt we do shit now.”

I felt betrayed, exposed knowing I came on camera and now my whole school has seen. He tried to kiss down to my lips but I stood frozen as he said, “We minus well have sex now. Right?” I pushed him away and locked myself in the bathroom. I only came out later for our friend’s room party and Brody was already gone.

Once I was at the party I down as much alcohol as readily available. By the time I ran into Brody I was drunk. I pulled down his T-shirt forcing myself on him, covering his neck and jaw in kisses. His friend who were never far away started cheering for him. He was their fearless leader, king, all around Mr. Popular. His eyes looked concerned at me being drunk but he knew better then to ask that with his friends there.

Straddling him lap as he sat down on the couch I lightly suckled his skin until I made a hickey. He kissed my lips quickly, a peck, before pushed my hips down, giving us space, “Hey, it’s a party, later we can do that.” I slipped off my crop top revealing a black strapless bra underneath. Brody immediately pushed me off his lap and we both stood up as he tried to cover me with his flannel he had over his shirt. I laughed, “They’ve already seen me topless and getting off Brody so who cares.”

Brody laughed bumping firsts with his friends before telling them, “That’s my cue. She needs that vitamin D.” The room was spinning some when I threw myself on our bed. Brody slammed the door, “What the fuck was that?!” I slipped off the bed losing the flannel and my skirt before I crawled on my knees to the edge of the bed where he stood.

I touched his belt and kept my voice low, “It minus well be true Brody. They all saw.” I dragged him down to me and I could feel his hard cock against my panties as my skirt pushed up. I looked up at the ceiling as he kissed me neck and the room was as dizzy as I was. I leaned up pulling my band bra off and letting my body fall back down. Brody took the opportunity to pull his shirt off and push his jeans down leaving on boxer briefs. I watched him undress as I pushed my own panties down my legs with the most effort I have ever used. I laid there naked once again with Brody hoping for exploration without giving away the ultimate prize. We resumed kissing, our tongues hungry and eager.

His hands grabbed my breasts and hips as he positioned himself still in his underwear. He stopped holding himself above me just looking at me before I said, “What?” His head dropped to my chest before he said, “You’re drunk. I can’t do that to you.”

That was also the first night he found out I knew about the other girls. I pushed him off me covering myself with his flannel, “Can’t or won’t? Your just gonna go fuck some random call who obeys everything you say!”

He leaned back against the pillows, “What are you talking about?”

I was angry and drunk, “I know about the other girls Brody. I know you fuck around because we don’t have sex.”

He laughed trying to deny it but I had the hard hitting questions he can’t ignore, “Then why aren’t you a Virgin too Brody? When did you have sex? Why didn’t you tell me?” Brody sighed deeply, “I have sex. It’s difficult to do what we do and not get sex. I lost my virginity Freshman year when you were in 7ths grade. I never told you because I didn’t wanna hurt you.” I raided the mini bar drinking the miniature alcohol with the same punch as a full size. I sat in a chair and said, “We were suppose to do this together. Be awful together. Your my best friend Brody.” That was the night I learned about make up sex.

Brody got on his knees in front of me telling me, “I knew you wouldn’t be awful after all we did. You weren’t ever gonna be awful. I wanted to be a pro for you.” I shook my head in disagreement as he continued, “I’m not your best friend. I’m your boyfriend. Do best friends do this?”

I felt his kisses cover my legs and finally make it to my pussy. He licked, suckled and teased my clit the way he always did. I forgave him instantly, melting into the chair as I orgasmed. The next morning, our last full day in Big Bear, we got breakfast together. As soon as we walked in his group of friends stood and started clapping before Ian announced, “To the guy who got laid most all weekend!”

Brody laughed and playfully pushed Ian. Ian kept joking telling Brody while we ate, “You have a real minx on your hands here. First the hot tub and then those moans last night bro. She’s a freak!”

I looked at Brody and Ian kept talking, “Babe those tits. Supreme. I gotta thank whatever geek put your sex tape out there!”

Brody filmed us and released it, Ian was the catalyst and the student body would keep it relevant for months. Brody kept eating letting his friends praise him while degrading me and what seemed like us having sex more then once in a few days. His other friend chummed in hitting his shoulder in praise, “That’s why your so calm during games, huh? Constant relief!” I got up trying not to cry as everyone stared at me again. What did the whole student body listen outside our door for moans? Wasn’t a tape enough?

Brody got high fives while I got called a slut. It lasted for months. I was the crazy horny girlfriend that guys would wink at and girls would talk shit about.Our relationship didn’t change behind closed doors, I still wasn’t ready for him to be the one and he still pushed for more. That was his own battle he was willing to fight as long as our peers deemed him a King. Dylan stood up and put his beer down, “Enough. Fuck. I already hate him without the image of him fucking my girl in my mind.” He started taking off his pants and shoes. Next was his shirt. He sat on the edge of the pool waiting for me to notice him. I swam to him and moved between his legs. “What’s the deal with the swimming?” My heart dropped knowing it was part of my mom, “My mom got sick with cancer. She refused chemo. Instead she lived in the water. She said it always helped, like a cleanse and believed it could healed anything.”

“Shit… he was more serious then I thought, huh.” “It wasn’t. He was just a close friend. The person I navigated the world with, I knew he wasn’t a virgin and was cheating on our agreement. You dated Britt for how many years?” “I don’t like knowing some asshole pressured you for sex. I also don’t like knowing he’s seen you naked, touched you and shit.” Shifting gears, he snaked down into the pool taking me close, “Let’s not talk about him.”

“It’s not easy seeing you make out with hot red heads mister. Which is probably a good time to tell you my dad wants me to produce and direct an episode. 3 from now. I read the script…” “I haven’t even read it! Babe. That’s amazing!”

“Apparently Stiles finally has sex…” “What! Seriously? Shit.”

Posey polled his head out, “Bro just don’t fuck in the pool, okay? We’re gonna head to bed.” Dylan shouted, “Hey Posey! Did you hear us last time?”

Posey shook his head and looked down, “Dude. Just keep it down. Didn’t you two just fuck before we got burgers? Slow down.” “I’m off tomorrow. We’re gonna get drunk and fuck bro. Celebrating! My girl is gonna direct next month’s episode!” “Congrats! Let’s do shots! But have your girl put on a top. I’ll get the whiskey!”

Dylan jumped out putting the fire pit on and grabbing me one of the throws on the chair. I wrapped myself up as I sat down in one of the chairs. “We’ve been up like 24 hours now.” Dylan laughed, “That’s why I sleep the whole day after 17 hour days.” Posey gave everyone shots and we cheers to the long day. Alex was well rested and laughed at our delirium.

It was the first time I witnessed Alex and Tyler kiss. “Everyone always asks about us. What about you two?” Alex said, “What? We hang out. We have sex. I don’t think either of us want a relationship. Not everyone is hopelessly in love.”

Dylan looked at me without saying anything but I knew we weren’t fooling around or wasting our time. Posey shouted, “Never have I ever! Yes! Great way to know each other without sex. And we’re all delirious now. I’ll start, never have I ever made YouTube videos.”

Dylan and him locked eyes and Dylan drank. Dylan poured more whiskey into his shot glass, “I never had sex in high school.” Both Alex and Posey drank but it was Alex’s turn, “Never have I ever been caught having sex by my dad.” I drank with Dylan and said, “Never have I ever been drunk and high in the same night.” They all drank up but Posey went next, “Never have I ever… lost my keys.”

We all drank except Posey and Dylan went next, “Never have I ever had a girl ride me… except tonight.” Posey stood up shocked, “What the fuck! No ones rode you except her?! Damn baby!”

Dylan grabbed his own crotch, “Too big man. They complain.” They both died laughing. And we were all at least 6 shots in by now. Dylan shouted, “I dare you two to make out!”

Posey easily took the challenge as Dylan leaned over whispering, “It’s our chance. Come on.” They’re tolerance was high because I felt drunk already, “Dylan I’m a light weight!” He laughed, “Oh yeah? Do a little boxing in your off time?”

I almost crawled up the stairs, “I’m so tired and drunk. Save me.” Finally, in his room I dropped the throw I had covering me and slide into his bed. Laying on my side I felt

Dylan’s body against mine, kissing my shoulder, “You’re amazing. I’m really glad you didn’t pick him.” I turned over on my back and Dylan leaned over me while I asked him, “If we’re making love, doesn’t that mean we’re in love?”

He licked his lips, “It’s crazy. Some part of me knows I’m gonna love you.” I asked him, “Was it always making love with Britt?” He laughed, “No. God no. It was always quick, rough – like before we got burgers. We hardly saw each other because of acting.” I felt his body adjust between my legs, “It’s another world with you. I lose control. I forget everything else. The way you feel – I can’t describe it. The way you react to me.”

Leaning up to kiss his neck, my hips were moving heading him talk and he was getting hard between my legs. I whispered, “How do I feel? How do I react baby?” I felt his finger tips push into my panties rubbing me, “Like this. Already wet for me. I love that. And when you feel my tip like this when I push your panties aside your hips beg for me.” A small sigh left my lips, “Dylan.”

“Yeah? You want me to put this inside your pussy baby?” I felt his hand holding his tip and rubbing it against me. He stopped quickly taking my panties off and tossing them as he leaned down kissing me on my lips.

My legs bent our tongues touched and I felt him push inside me and I moaned. “Oh fuck.” I knew he felt good the way he pushed inside me and slowly dragged out painfully slow. I kept kissing his neck and chest. Torturous or not, he still felt like heaven. Nothing like Brody. After we climax we both laid there just talking, cuddled up like we would die if we weren’t touching. I asked him, “What is your family like?” He smiled a little thinking of them, “My dad is a camera operator. My mom teaches. Married for like 30 years. My sister is a year and a half older then me. She’s also a lesbian.”

I was shocked and didn’t know why, “Wow. Super close in age. Was that hard for your parents or they’re open minded?” Dylan pulled out his phone scrolling until he found a photo of them both, “No. My mom missed out on girly stuff but she had me.”

I asked him how he felt about the sex scenes coming up and he said, “You’ll be directing the sex. Shouldn’t I ask you?” I was already jealous which wasn’t good. That must mean I liked him more then I was willing to admit. “I’m not thrilled to see it. You’d feel the same if I had to do sex scenes.”

“Yes I wouldn’t wanna see that. My experience with Brody the ex was enough for me. I’ve never gotten into a real fight.” I knew that wouldn’t be the last time I saw him. We both grew up in LA, going to the same places. We’d been up more then 24 hours now and I felt my eyes close as I was cuddled up against Dylan.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 37: Ghosts of Memory

Nonchalantly, Astarion hands her a dagger sheathed in a buckled strap, scanning the room as he leans in close, speaking in a low voice. “Arm yourself. I don’t like the size or energy of this crowd.” Celeste casts a sidelong glance at him but takes his offering anyway, pushing aside the slit of her dress and concealing herself behind Karlach’s frame as she fastens the weapon to her thigh. “Not provocative enough for you, Astarion?” Wyll taunts. Astarion’s eyes flicker towards him with annoyance. “Crowds usually mean trouble,” he murmurs. Without so much as a look in her direction, he extends his hand toward Celeste, palm upturned. “Dance with me.” She takes it and waves apologetically at her friends as Astarion guides her onto the polished floor of the ballroom, situating them amongst the other couples. Celeste feels a pang of self-consciousness as he leads her with confidence into a slow waltz, intertwining his fingers with hers while his other hand finds her waist. She reaches for his shoulder apprehensively. Astarion growls in her ear, “I told you I’d think about it, not that you should inquire about it with the high priestess.” He focuses on their steps before adding, “You look nice.” 

Chapter from ongoing fic Forms of Imprisonment. Full story on AO3.

Pairing: Spawn Astarion (post-tadpole) x OFC

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+. Big warnings for allusion to SA (nothing particularly graphic in this chapter), violence/blood/gore (very graphic), murder, trauma/trauma response. Hurt/comfort. Soft Astarion, protective Astarion. fluff.

“Traitor.”

Violet shadows obscure Celeste’s vision as smoke encircles her, leaving her lost in a field of impenetrable darkness.

Her heart beats at the corners of her vision as she watches a dagger impale her father’s chest. Once, twice, then too many times to count. 

“Oathbreaker.”

The blade comes away from his body in a clean motion, blood glistening on the tip of the blade. Adril Delios’ vacant eyes stare up at the ceiling, while the cacophony of screams from Celeste’s neighbors echo outside over the crackling of burning houses. It had been a pleasant existence to live so close to others like her. To be seen, acknowledged, and shielded from harm. Until now.

“Coward.”

Suddenly, she becomes aware of the large, calloused hands encircling her wrists that are keeping her in place as her father dies. Helpless and motionless, Celeste watches as the murderer approaches her mother, knowing there’s nothing she can do to stop him. Her beautiful mother, who stands proudly, accepting her fate, silent tears falling onto her cheeks as she stares at the body of her beloved. Her attention shifts slowly to Celeste. A lifetime of watching people, reading them as if she could protect herself if she understood them, tells her it’s not fear on her Geriana Delios’ face, but regret. Shame. She wants to run to her, to tell her this isn’t her fault. How could anyone prevent something like this?

Shock. You’re in shock.

She's forced to her knees, made to watch her mother’s execution with her head jerked back. Her mother’s hand touches the moonstone at the base of her neck and whispers something, but all Celeste can hear is the roaring in her ears.

Don’t say it, gods, please, don’t say it, because then he’ll-

With a twist, the hooded man snaps her mother’s neck. Like a lifeless doll, she crumples to the ground, and Celeste reels from the quiet of it. Something that would destroy her universe shouldn’t sound any quieter than a thunderclap.

From beneath a dark hood, a sinister face grins at her. This wasn’t retribution for Shar. This was opportunistic. Personal.

The hands holding her shove her face against the floor, sliding to the waistband of her pants and she claws at the splintered floorboards toward the open front door, as if anyone could save her. As if anyone…

“Celeste?”

Her childhood home fades away and a teenage Gale Dekarios gazes down at her in his bedroom, shirtless. He brackets her between his hands, his movements filled with apprehension and concern.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head, a solitary tear escaping from the corner of her eye, betraying her demeanor. He withdraws, placing the bedsheet over her unclothed form. He rolls onto his side, tenderly brushing her cheek with his thumb. 

“We didn’t have to do this. We could have waited. We could just be friends, Celeste. I didn’t need this from you-”

“I needed it,” she whispers. “I needed you to know how much I appreciate your kindness. You deserve this. It’s all I have to give you in return. And besides, I…knew you’d be gentle., and I wanted to do it with someone gentle-" He winces, as if her words hurt him. 

“Don’t betray yourself like that, Celeste."

After closing his eyes for a moment, he opens them again and a soft smile appears on his face. 

“Thank you, Celeste. I’m glad it was you. I just wish it had been different. For you.”

A deep ache settles in her chest. Forever haunted by her memory, he’ll always question the sincerity of anyone who shares his bed. Because of her .

“Gale…”

A shadow falls over him, and he wraps his fingers around her throat, squeezing. She desperately tries to form words, but they fail as she struggles to breathe. He speaks with a voice that doesn’t belong to him.

“Did you think you could hide from me, Celeste?”

“Celeste! CELESTE!”

Her body is propelled upward, and she ascends through layers of enveloping darkness, progressively returning to consciousness. Icy fingers grip her shoulders, shaking her gently. A panicked expression on the most beautiful face she’s ever seen hovers over her, a galaxy of stars still shining behind him. As she gasps for breath, her throat sears with pain and her lips prickle, the numbness of suffocation dissipating. Blood flushes underneath her skin, painting her cheeks a bright pink even in the dim light.

“Gods below, Celeste, what the hells was that?” Astarion’s voice trembles with concern. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he crushes her against his chest. His chin brushes against her shoulder, his gaze fixed ahead as he tries to regain his composure.

“Just a nightmare,” she croaks. He loosens his grip but still holds her by the shoulders to assess her condition.

“A nightmare that makes you stop breathing? I could hear your heartbeat slowing.” Releasing her, he points to a long, raw, and bloody cut on his temple. “You nearly took out my godsdamned eye when I tried to wake you up.”

“No, no...” she reaches out, her fingers hovering over the wound, her mouth falling open with horror.

He dismisses her apology before she can finish it. 

“It’ll heal momentarily. I shouldn’t have said anything.” His hand cups her cheek. “I’ve had my share of nightmares as well, even if I don’t wake up clawing and spitting like a feral cat. Do you want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head and leans into his touch before she shifts and pushes herself out of bed. She moves through the room to the balcony where the sun peeks through a crack in the curtains and slips through their sun-warmed velvet, careful to not let any more daylight spill into the room, enclosing herself where the darkness can’t touch her. Astarion moves from the bed, standing cautiously on the other side, his gaze curious.

“I always wondered what your eyes would look like in the sun,” he says with a bittersweet smile.

“I’m sorry-”

“It’s nothing you can help.” He shakes his head. “Don’t deny yourself comfort on my behalf.”

“There’s a lot we haven’t spoken about.”

He crosses his arms. “Anything in particular?”

“Since you discovered the ring…wasn’t what we thought it was...have you considered my offer from before?”

“Your suggestion that Selûne could cure me?" His lip curls slightly. "It’s been on my mind.”

“And?”

He sighs heavily, combing his fingers through his hair. “As much as I’d enjoy the freedom from my… condition,” Astarion squeezes his fist shut, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles as he speaks, “The benefits of being quicker, stronger… immortal, are hard to sacrifice.”

“But you’ve thought about it?”

There’s a knock before the door swings open, and a doe-eyed woman holding a tray of porridge and fruit looks between the two, surprised. 

“Breakfast,” she squeaks, setting the tray down on a bedside table and rushing out of the room. Astarion watches silently, pupils tracking her every move. When the door clicks shut behind her, he retrieves his trousers from the floor and steps into them. 

“You should eat.” He says flatly, fastening them at the waist and then scooping up his shirt.

“Don’t change the subject.” Celeste slides out from behind the curtains and carefully pins them closed again. The beam of light disappears, and her vision adjusts to his form.

“I’ve thought about it.” Astarion shrugs on his shirt and buttons it quickly.

“And?”

He presses a tender kiss against her forehead. “I’ll continue to think about it.” He inclines his head. “I’ve got to go find my breakfast.” 

“You could-“ Celeste begins, stepping forward and pulling aside the collar of her robe to expose her neck.

“No.” Astarion responds resolutely. The door falls shut behind him, and she stares after him. She glimpses her reflection in a nearby mirror and steps closer, examining herself. Fingertips moving to the glass, she hesitates, squinting as she inspects the shadows against her skin. Bruises. 

Fuck.

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

“Shar’s magic cannot penetrate these walls.” The high priestess insists as Celeste and her companions stand in a small room holding the Moonstone Shard, a magical artifact capable of animating to defend the temple should it come under attack. Astarion is noticeably absent, no one having seen him since this morning. 

“Then how did I wake up with bruises on my neck after dreaming of being choked? ”

“Perhaps your lover-“ Minthara begins, but is silenced by a sharp look from Shadowheart.

“The Tear enhances magic,” Seraphina explains, pacing to a thick, enchanted glass display across from the Shard. The Tear of Selûne glows faintly, as if responding to being acknowledged. “You likely drew upon it subconsciously in your sleep, making a dream reality.”

“Why were you dreaming about being strangled?” Gale asks with concern. Celeste’s jaw tightens, and she deliberately shifts her gaze. 

“Just a nightmare I have from time to time.”

She senses movement near the door and watches Astarion slip inside, positioning himself on the wall between Gale and Wyll.

“Where have you been?” Wyll whispers, his arms crossed in front of him.

“Breakfast.” Astarion answers, staring ahead.

“Nothing innocent, I hope?” Gale asks warily, keeping his voice low.

“Come to think of it, I think the pig was a Lathanderian priest.” Astarion mutters.

Gale ignores him and returns to his conversation with Seraphina. “So how come the Tear isn’t going wild with the magic from everyone in this temple? Why just Celeste?”

“It’s attuned to Selûnites, and Celeste was born of the same essence the Tear encapsulates. It responds to her more strongly. With others, it’s more discretionary.” The high priestess answers. 

“So it’s sentient?”

“No. Just…discerning. It responds to Aylin as well.”

“Have you tested it at all? To see what it’s capable of?”

“It doesn’t need to be experimented with. We know what it’s capable of. It just needs to be kept secure until the right moment.”

“If it’s so discerning, what good is it to the Sharrans?” Karlach asks skeptically.  

“They want to destroy it. But in order to do so, they’d need to weaken Mystra and Selûne. How they would expect to do that, I do not know.”

“So naturally, you’d throw a giant gala, inviting half of Waterdeep inside these walls while what the Sharrans want is right here? ” Astarion gestures to the Tear. 

“It remains guarded at all hours, and access to these floors is restricted. Entrance to the gala is invitation-only, and we’ve been very particular about who-”

“This seems like a terrible idea.” Wyll grumbles. As Astarion and Celeste’s eyes meet, the high priestess’ words fade into a distant hum. He furrows his brow in silent inquiry.

“-besides, the honoring of the new high priestess will occur this evening, and it is not a ceremony that can be postponed.” Seraphina finishes. Celeste’s head snaps towards her.

“New high priestess?”

“We all must pass the honor sometime. My understudy is perfectly capable.” She replies with a shrug. “You’ll meet her later. Which is why..." Seraphina gestures in the direction of the hall, “You should all prepare yourselves.”

“If I might have a word, Seraphina.” Celeste reaches for the high priestess as her companions file out. With suspicion in his eyes, Astarion lingers in the doorway, watching intently, until Gale forcefully pulls him out and the doors are promptly shut by the guards. 

“I…” Celeste looks over her shoulder. “I want to talk to you about curing Astarion of his vampirism.”

Seraphina raises an eyebrow. “Selûne does not make a habit of granting such miracles to vampire spawn.

“Astarion is different. He’s done a service to Selûne and this temple by returning the Tear, proven his loyalty, saved Baldur’s Gate, killed his master, and shown a great capacity for morality…”

Seraphina shakes her head. “Such decisions are not up to me, Celeste. There’s no benefit in petitioning me for such a favor. Even if it were, I would not grant it.” 

Anger flares in Celeste’s cheeks. “Why not?”

“He has taken the lives of innocents.”

“Not by choice! He - well, I…”

“I’ll see you this evening, dear.” The high priestess exits the room, and Celeste stares after her, locking eyes with Astarion as the doors swing open.

Seething, he turns on his heel and disappears. 

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

Celeste descends the marble stairs, approaching the rising music emanating from the temple’s grand hall. As she proceeds, a knot of dread tightens in her stomach, intensified by the sight of the vast crowd before her. Contrary to the modest gathering she had anticipated, there are hundreds of attendees from various backgrounds, not just Selûnites. Wealthy lords and ladies, influential dukes, esteemed temple leaders, and members of the community line the stairwell, the crowd becoming more dense as she moves through it. She tries to conceal her unease, searching the room for her companions.

With a wave of relief, Celeste spots Karlach at the bar, donned in a deep maroon dress that accentuates her features flawlessly. Next to her, Minthara sulks in a fitted, understated black gown, sipping wine and discreetly assessing for potential threats.

Celeste pushes through the sea of finely tailored doublets and elegant gowns until she finally reaches them, exhaling when Karlach pulls her into a crushing hug.

“Stunning!” Stepping away, she admires Celeste’s shimmering pale blue gown, its long sleeves gracefully concealing the markings of both Shar and Selûne on her shoulders. As the dress opens at the back, it reveals the expanse of her upper spine before hugging tightly against the base. Her hair cascades down in soft, loose curls that delicately frame her cheekbones. Subtle, black shadow follows the natural curve of her eyelid. A matching shade of pink adorns her lips and cheeks.

Karlach releases her and rejoins Minthara, beaming. 

“Good to see you in something other than training leathers.” Shadowheart’s purple silk gown hugs every contour of her body as she approaches, leaning in close. “Hopefully, the Selûnites don’t mind that I still prefer Shar’s color palette.” Celeste giggles at her friend’s words, giving Gale a slight nod of acknowledgement as he approaches.

“You clean up nice.” Celeste says, squeezing their hands, feeling a sense of relief as the lingering unease from her dream gradually dissipates. “Has anyone seen-”

“Astarion?” Wyll asks from behind her. She spins to find him in a dark blue doublet, Nocturne wearing a dress of the same material and hue. “He’s lurking around here somewhere in a piss poor mood.”

“I think I saw Aylin and Isobel as well.” Gale mentions, standing on his toes to peer over the crowd. Celeste strains to hear him over the melodic chatter, laughter, and occasional clink of glasses.

“You can’t miss the wings,” Astarion purposely bumps into Celeste as he joins their tight-knit circle. How he’d held on to his rage for hours doesn’t surprise her nearly as much as the all-black doublet adorned with intricate silver embellishments, laces tying its front together. She’d half-expected him to refuse to attend after his reaction earlier. 

Nonchalantly, he hands her a dagger sheathed in a buckled strap, scanning the room as he leans in close, speaking in a low voice. “Arm yourself. Something’s not right about this crowd.” Celeste casts a sidelong glance at him but takes his offering anyway, pushing aside the slit of her dress and concealing herself behind Karlach’s frame as she fastens the weapon to her thigh.

“Not provocative enough for you, Astarion?” Wyll taunts. Astarion’s eyes flicker towards him with annoyance.

“Crowds usually mean trouble,” he murmurs. Without so much as a look in her direction, he extends his hand toward Celeste, palm upturned. “Dance with me.”

She takes it and waves apologetically at her friends as Astarion guides her onto the polished floor of the ballroom, situating them amongst the other couples. Celeste feels a pang of self-consciousness as he leads her with confidence into a slow waltz, intertwining his fingers with hers while his other hand finds her waist. She reaches for his shoulder apprehensively.

Astarion growls in her ear, “I told you I’d think about it, not that you should inquire about it with the high priestess.” He focuses on their steps before adding, “You look nice.” 

“Likewise.” Celeste mumbles, “And I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if it was a possibility.” 

“My body has not belonged to me for centuries,” he continues, maintaining a neutral disposition. “The choice to go through a transformation like that, again, should be up to me.”

Surprised, she pulls away, searching his face. “I never intended to take away your choice, Astarion. I only sought the possibility of giving you a choice at all.” 

“I suppose I can’t blame you. It must get lonely in all that sunlight.” 

Celeste’s eyes narrow. “It hurts me too, remember?”

“Is that why you’ve been gallivanting in it with our friends?” He asks bitterly.

“Stop pushing me away!” She snaps.

Heads turn at the sound of her outburst. Astarion offers a few curious onlookers a smirk that oozes charm and nonchalance, followed by a casual shrug. “Two left feet.” 

His charming facade falls as he pulls their bodies close. Celeste’s breath catches, a gasp escaping her lips. 

“How’s this?” Astarion angles his head to the side, challenging her. 

“I’m sorry.” She rasps. 

“I am not pushing you away, Celeste. I am letting you in.” He keeps her close as they move together. “Unfortunately, I’ve never done this before, and lack experience.” He traces the faint bruising on her neck with his knuckles, barely noticeable under the makeup she’s applied there, and swallows hard.

As they sway, she lays her head on his chest. “I haven’t either.”

“What is it you want, Celeste? For yourself?” She feels a rush of heat as his whisper brushes against her ear. “Because I think you should take it.”

She looks up at him slowly, meeting his ruby irises, before being interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Celeste watches Astarion frown and turns to find the high priestess behind her, mouth pressed into a thin smile. 

“Pardon,” the high priestess says, her voice melodic yet commanding, “but could I steal away Celestria for a moment? I’d like for her to meet the new high priestess before my speech.” Astarion gives Celeste a pointed look, as if to emphasize his last question, and releases her. The warmth of his touch lingers on her skin.

“By all means.” He gives Seraphina a polite bow, his voice grinding out forced formality.

“You have my gratitude.” She says curtly, beckoning for Celeste to follow. Astarion watches them go, then resolves to find his friends again.

He weaves through the crowd, Wyll and Nocturne’s bodies moving gracefully in synchronized steps as he passes them, followed by Karlach and Shadowheart, whose laughter intermingles with the music as they sway drunkenly together.

Astarion greets Gale and Minthara on the edge of the dancefloor. “Can’t dance?” 

“Lose your partner?” Gale fires back, not looking away from Shadowheart. 

Astarion snorts, a soft sound of amusement escaping his lips. “She’s in high demand.” 

Gale grunts, returning his focus to the ballroom floor. 

“You’ve got it bad, don’t you, Dekarios?” Astarion teases. 

“I’d be wary of throwing stones in glass houses, spawn.” Minthara says in her deep growl. Astarion scoffs and takes her wine, finishing it in one gulp to spite her.

The three watch in silence for several minutes. 

“Never took you for a wallflower, Astarion.” Gale muses. 

“I’ve been to enough of these things to know they’re all the same.” His tone is tinged with a touch of boredom. He snatches a drink from a nearby server’s tray. “This one’s particularly stuffy, however,” he adds, his words accompanied by a slight grimace.

A scream echoes across the hall and Astarion’s attention shifts towards the other end of the room. Too many people obscure his view and he shoves his wine into Gale’s hands, the glass slipping smoothly from his grasp. He forges through the crowd, the press of bodies against his own, the sound of incoherent screams and gasps of alarm filling his ears.

“Where are you going?” Gale calls after him. Next to him, Minthara unsheathes two hidden blades from under her gown, the metallic glint catching the soft light of the chandeliers.

“Celeste’s up there!” Astarion yells, his voice strained with worry as he shoves past hysterical guests. “Gods below, move!” He snarls, sending one man toppling over another as he leaps for an opening.

The scent of unfamiliar blood fills his senses, and he’s comforted only by the thought that it isn’t hers. In the chaos, someone slams into his chest. His eyes widen as Celeste stumbles back, her body trembling. She looks up at him, a portrait of shock and terror. Blood stains her dress, smearing her chin and splattered across her abdomen. 

“Celeste…” He begins slowly, his fingers reaching out instinctively but hesitating in the air. His eyes trail the crimson dripping from her hands down the blade of the dagger he’d given her earlier. “Whose blood is that?”

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed and have a moment, could you please, pretty please, leave a kudos/comment on AO3 and/or, interact with this post in some way? I'd be forever grateful. Thank you thank you! xo

[preservationofnormalcy]

How much of the job is telling people 'get some fucking help' and how much of it is actually like, pleasant?

I would never use those words (because it’s inappropriate of me to do so on my job) but a lot of it is….yeah, gently guiding people in need to people who can help.

Before my…injury, I used to do a lot of field work. I was a lot of people’s first contact with the Office, often doing preliminary interviews, examinations, what have you, so we could determine what help, if any, was needed. A lot of times I was undercover, of course. Plumber, mundane law enforcement, animal control, social worker - I was a “paranormal investigator” more times than I can count. Sometimes the issue was someone’s imagination, or a badly built house, or they just needed someone to talk to. I also did a lot of what we call ‘intracommunity’ work, helping people who were already in the extranormal community. I knew a little about everything and got along with most everyone, not to brag, so I got to know people in various sectors of our community.

I was a lot of people’s point of trust with a system larger than they could really conceive of, much less interact with.

Those kinds of jobs sometimes ended….poorly. But often I got to help people, even if it was something simple. I really did treasure the look on people’s faces when they realized I was going to help them. Those are the moments that made the job worthwhile.

I remember once I helped an older woman in Chicago. By happenstance she’d had an Imp take up residence in her boot closet, and after a quick and dirty exorcism I kicked the little troublemaker out and got him back to the Board of Infernal Affairs.

The woman was so scared. When I told her it was gone, she gave me this look that made my blood run cold. The absolute terror in her face when she asked me what it had been. I told her an “evil spirit” - I was undercover as a member of Upper Chicago Paranormal at the time - and she kept clarifying that it wasn’t human, it wasn’t male, right? It wasn’t an old man.

Eventually she broke down, she grabbed me and sobbed into my chest. She was so, so scared that she was being haunted by her husband who’d passed the year prior in an accident. She had all this guilt and fear and regret and it was being expressed like this, and to hear me say it wasn’t him, that he’d moved on like he should, it was such a relief for her. I wanted so badly to break secrecy regulations and see if I could contact him for her, but I didn’t. I didn’t need to. I spent the afternoon listening to her cry and talk about him and show me pictures of him. That’s all she needed, the imp in her closet had just been an unfortunate circumstance.

Those are the times that help me remember why I do this. I’m just sad I don’t get as much of those moments, anymore.

[shi-daisy]

Future Plans

Day 2! I'll be honest this entry is a bit short, cuz I was seriously stumped but I hope you like seeing Tammy in his soldier days. Hope you like!

@tamlinweek

Tamlin Week 2024- Day 2- Warrior/Poet

Future Plans

The bonfire burned brightly as they gathered around it and ate some rations before sleeping, Tamlin was about to fall over if Amdras hadn't wacked him in the back of the head.

"Eat before you pass out, princey!"

"Jerk."

"Leave Tamlin alone, Andy!" Rosencratz said as he took a sip of wine. "He saved our asses today!"

"Yeah! Just for bothering him it's your turn to talk!" Clavel told him.

The brunette twins and the rest of the squad didn't give up so he shrugged. "Fine. Once we are done with service I'll become a sentry and work until retirement, maybe get married ans have kiddo if I find the right person."

"Awww that's cute! Okay me next! I want to be a chef!" Lilianne, a blue haired blue skinned soldier spoke up. The tiny woman certainly always brought a good fight. Tamlin had no doubts she'd make honors when service finished.

"Ill cook with you Lili! What's say you, Lance? What shall you do?" A tiny male pixie spoke to their shadow wraith friend.

The tall grey skinned fae smiled. "I want to be a gardener. I love Spring! Moving here was the best decision I made!"

"I hear that!" Andras beamed, he was still pale and cold to the touch betraying his Winter heritage yet he seemed very happy to be here. "What about you, Tamlin? What shall you become after military service ends?"

What could he become? He wanted to be a traveling muscian but doubted that could come to pass before Oisin died and one of his brothers took the throne. Then he thought back to the parchments and verses that were on his pack along with weapons.

"I'd be a poet."

"A poet...That suits you, your limericks are always a riot!" Rosencratz said.

"Write about us!" Lilianne joked.

The rest of the group chuckled, approving his decision. He felt slightly bashful having a familiar moment that he sorely lacked at the manor with his blood siblings.

No matter, they'd go back home tomorrow and be done serving in two days. Tamlin intended to reward all his squadamtes upon the end of service. For now he wanted to sleep.

None of them quite heard the roaring monsters in the distance.

***

Death is certain as the sunset over the horizon

Today I stand before you with eyes of iron

That our farewell would come in a thousand years time

Not just as we are about to reach the end of the line

Rest well, in fields of daisies and marigolds

Until we meet again in times of old.

Tamlin finished reading as he stared at the coffins. Only he and Andras made it to the end of service alive, for the rest of the squad perished during the attack on their camp. Tamlin doubted he'd ever forgive himself for failing them. He spent his nights since swearing such a thing wouldn't happen again.

Tamlin put his feelings into reading the verse before collapsing into a fit of crying. Andras held him in a hug until he was quiet.

"That was perfect, you did very well. Come, let's go back and let the morticians do their job. I heard Prince Dorevan called the Autumn prince's to celebrate. Luce will cheer us up."

He smiled sadly. "Yes, it's been a while..."

He stood and let Andras guide him away as they left the room. With one last glance at his friends he swore he'd write them a thousand poems.

"C'mon big guy. I'll take care of you for them." Andras said as they walked away, unaware of the smiles on his ghostly friends faces.

Hopefully neither would join them any time soon.

[theyshareoneheartbeatnow]

Lost Letter from Mal

Found near Ravka’s northern border.

            Alina.

            I’ve been staring at your name for almost an hour. I hate trying to chase my thoughts down this way, hunting for words. The pen feels wrong in my hand. Makes my fingers itch for a bowstring or a trigger.

            But I better get to it. It’s late now, long past curfew, no sounds but snoring, Dubrov muttering in his sleep, and the wind, wrapping itself around the thin walls of the tent, clawing to get in. Supplies are tight, and I’ve wasted most of the oil in the lamp sitting here, staring at your name.

            We’re two, maybe three miles south of the Fjerdan border, deep in the permafrost. I thought I knew winter, but the cold up here is something else entirely. It gets in your head.

            It doesn’t help that we’re tracking a creature no one is sure exists, that no one has ever managed to get a look at. You should have seen our captain when he told us we had new orders, that we were joining up with another unit to track Morozova’s stag. None of us could keep a straight face, and when we finally got back to the barracks, Mikhael laughed so hard I thought he might sprain something. “Are we tracking fairies next? Khitkii? Elves?” No one’s laughing now, not since winter set in.

            The first couple of months weren’t bad. We met up with the other trackers south of Ulensk and followed them east, then back south, skirting the Petrazoi. Some of them took the hunt seriously. Some didn’t. But we saw cropped grass in otherwise untouched fields, tracks that came from nowhere, even trace. (That’s right—we’ve seen magical deer scat. Mikhael thinks we should collect it and sell it as a cure-all. I’m not entirely sure it’s a bad idea. Or maybe the cold really is making me crazy.) But no one has actually seen the stag. Not yet. Apparently there have been units assigned to track the herd for years, depending on how cracked the current King or Darkling is. Now this Darkling wants the efforts stepped up. Rumors are he wants the stag for you. The orders came down and, mad as they seemed, we were happy to march, to get away from Kribirsk and put some distance between ourselves and the Fold.

            No one’s been the same since the attack on the sandskiff. The memory is too clear in my head, too sharp—lying on my back on the deck, my body going numb, realizing the dampness pooling beneath me was my own blood, then your face lit by those last gasps of Grisha fire before everything went white. We don’t talk about it much, but that’s why no one’s moaning at me to douse the lantern. Most of us can’t sleep without one burning. Even in the day, I see people walking around hunched up, cricking their necks like they’re afraid something’s going to come at them from above. Everyone thinks that’s why I keep to myself more, why I toss and turn, why my rations go uneaten. But it’s not volcra I see when I close my eyes.

            I need to sleep. I can’t afford not to be alert tomorrow. This isn’t a place that tolerates mistakes. Old Kovac used to say that you had to have a feel for tracking, that either the land spoke to you or it didn’t. Well, this land speaks—and when it does, it howls so loud I can’t hear myself think. It groans with the weight of snow, the rush of wind. That wind—the moment you step outside the tent, it grabs at you, hungry, snapping at any bit of exposed skin, gobbling up any little warmth and spitting it back out into the miserable gray sky.

            A few weeks ago we got caught in a blizzard. When a storm hits that way, hard and fast, tearing down from the north, the guides call it Gruzeburya, the Brute. We knew it would wipe out any sign of the herd, but there’s no way to travel in something like that, so we made camp and hunkered down to wait. Then Pilkin stepped outside to take a piss and didn’t come back. By then it was dark and the storm was on us. All you could see were sheets and whorls of snow. You’d take one step and suddenly it was like standing in the middle of nowhere, like the camp had just disappeared.

            We tied ropes to each other and waded out, looking for Pilkin, moving from tent to tent. We shouted until our throats were raw. Nothing. Finally we gave it up, pulled each other in, one after another, shaking from the cold, holding tight to that thin, frozen tether. We figured Pilkin had gotten turned around, headed in the wrong direction, away from camp. But the next morning we found him next to the mess tent. He was there all along, probably just a few feet from us, just steps from shelter. We must have walked right by him in the dark, our voices drowned by the shriek of the wind.

            That’s what this place is like. You can feel the cold waiting, patient, for you to put one foot wrong. It starts to wear on you. Each morning Mikhael makes the same stupid joke about which part of him froze off in the night. I can just see you rolling your eyes at that, see you scowl and say, “You’re the only one who would miss it, you miserable oaf.” This is going to sound ridiculous To hell with it—I miss your scowl.

            I need to sleep, but I know I won’t. I can’t stop seeing the look on your face that day in the Grisha tent, the fear and confusion, the blood dripping down your arm. He cut you, Alina. I saw the knife in his hand. How many times has he cut you since? How many times has he hurt you? How many times have I failed to stop him? I know if you were safe and whole you’d write.

            I felt sure there would be a letter waiting for me when we finally reached Chernast, felt it in my gut, but all I found were rumors, each one crazier than the last. People are calling you a Saint or a fraud. They say you’ve been assassinated, imprisoned, betrothed to a Lantsov prince. They say there are cells beneath the Little Palace crowded with dissidents, that the Darkling has a secret group of Corporalki trained in torture that he uses to keep the Second Army in line.

            We passed through a town before we entered Tsibeya. They’d built a little altar there, painted in blue and gold, piled high with gifts for the Sun Summoner, for you. I don’t know what to make of it all. I know what I saw on the Fold, in the Grisha tent, light pouring from your skin, so bright it was hard to look at, you shining like a star. You were one thing and then you were another. You were Alina and then I didn’t know you at all.

            Months gone, and still no word. I’ve made formal requests, informal requests. I tried talking to one of the Grisha in Chernast, a high-ranking Heartrender named Koh. I asked if she’d had any real news, if she could get word to you. She laughed in my face. “I don’t know the Darkling’s business,” she said. “And I don’t ask.” When I petitioned the captain to see if he would write to the capital on my behalf, all he said was, “Keep your head down and do your job, Oretsev.” No, that’s not quite true. Before he dismissed me, he asked, “What is she to you anyway?” I didn’t know what to say.

            I keep seeing that bloodletter dragging you through the crowd while I just stood there like a fool. What would they have done if I’d run after you? Shot me? Stopped my heart? Let me say some kind of goodbye? I’ll never know. Because when I finally got my head together, I didn’t start shouting or throwing punches. I turned to my superior officer and, while they hauled you away, I tried to explain. I made my case respectfully, reasonably, like the good soldier I am.

            That can’t be the last time I’ll see you. When that thought creeps in, when it’s late like this and the lamp burns low and the flame starts to sputter, I feel every empty hollow in myself and the wind just blows through. I feel how flimsy I am, how all the things I thought were strong and whole were just held together by you.

            What is she to you anyway? Here’s my answer, Captain. She’s the thing that made this all okay—the threadbare coats and the old boots and the guns that jam when you most need them to fire, the loneliness of knowing that you don’t matter, that you will never matter, the fact that you’re just another body, another uniform to be sent into the Fold or the frost, another good boy who knows his place, who does his job, who doesn’t ask questions, who will lie down and die and be forgotten. What is she? She’s everything, you dumb son of a bitch.

            Alina. I want to take off walking, to brave the snow and the permafrost and head south to you. Do you know why I don’t? I’m not afraid of the dark or the cold. I’m not even afraid of being called a deserter. I’m afraid of the moment when I stand at the gates of the Grand Palace, pleading to be let in. I know that I could beg and scream and wail all night until the guards dragged me away or put a bullet in my brain just to shut me up, and those gates still wouldn’t open. I could be that close and you’d never know. Like Pilkin, shouting in the dark.

            I did something stupid this morning. (I can almost hear your voice in my ear—“Why should this morning be any different?”) A few days back we got into a skirmish with a Fjerdan patrol. Out here, you can’t tell if you’re dealing with friend or foe until you’re right on top of each other. They had repeating rifles, and all we had were our old muskets. It was a miracle we came out of it with just one casualty, and that was only because we had better numbers. I killed three men—two with the rifle, one with the bow. The captain had us take their uniforms. We stripped their corpses right there in the snow. Even if we’d wanted to bury the bodies, the ground was too hard, so we left them for the wolves.

            It wasn’t hard to imagine what the captain had planned. The herd is moving north, past the Fjerdan border. He wants us to cross over, right into enemy territory, and bring back the stag. This morning he offered double pay to anyone who volunteered, but before he was even finished my hand was in the air. I don’t remember what I said, just the captain clapping me on the back. Then Mikhael was volunteering, and Dubrov. I don’t think they would have said a word if I hadn’t opened my big mouth, double pay or not. You always warned me they were idiots, but I’m glad I won’t be going alone.

            It’s a stupid plan. Just how far into Fjerda does he expect us to go? And even if we do locate the herd, our orders are to sight and capture the stag, not kill it. How are we supposed to get back over the border without being stopped? The captain isn’t thinking straight. He’s desperate to get south, to get back to Chernast and in front of a fire. I guess I’m desperate, too, because tomorrow I’ll put on a dead man’s clothes and make the crossing. The Darkling wants that stag. He wants it for you, so I’ll find it. It’s the one thing I can still give you. The only thing.

            Almost no oil left. The flame is guttering and I guess there’s not much left to say. I’m not sure why I bothered to write this letter. We’re far from any post and I may never have a chance to send it. I don’t know that I meant to. Maybe I’ll step outside and let the wind take it. This wind is strong enough to reach you, to travel south past Tsibeya, to scale the Petrazoi, and wend its way through the streets of Os Alta. This wind won’t stop for gates or guards. It will climb your tower and rattle the window of your room, or slip through a hidden doorway and twist past the bars of your cell. It will lift your hair and brush against your cheek, and maybe you’ll look up and you’ll hear me.

            Maybe that’s why I wrote this letter, Alina. Maybe it’s a promise—that I’ll survive tomorrow and the day after that, and somehow, no matter what it takes, I’ll see you safe again.

M.

[tinyinvadr]

The next chapter is here!

TW: Abandonment

Borrowed Family

Chapter 4

The coast was clear, not a human in sight. I crept along the wall until I found the secret entrance into our home. Mom was gonna be so happy to see me! She and Dad would be so proud that I made it back by myself.

Well, okay, Dib helped, but they didn’t have to KNOW that!

I walked through the tunnel leading to the living room, and I could hear voices in the distance. It sounded like Dad was already home. He must’ve been so worried that he couldn’t find me.

As I got closer, I was able to hear what they were saying.

“It sure is quiet without Rosie here.” Mom said.

“Yes, much quieter. Now we don’t have to worry about being discovered.”

I stopped in my tracks. What did Dad mean by that?

“It really is a shame, isn’t it? I tried so many times, but that kid just doesn’t listen. I hate that we had to do this, but we’ve had too many close calls. We can’t afford to keep a kid with a behavior problem, it could cost all of us our lives.”

Oh… That’s what he meant.

Dad told me many times before that borrowers don’t keep problem children. I always thought that was an empty threat, and he wouldn’t REALLY get rid of me, but…

All I could do in that moment was sit down, curling in on myself and crying. They tried to ditch me. Dad took me to that house so he could leave me there and never come back. He didn’t even seem to care what happened to me, either. I could’ve died, and it wouldn’t have mattered.

These awful thoughts kept flowing through my head, and I just wanted to throw the biggest tantrum ever. I wanted them to know how much they hurt me, and I wanted them to feel horrible about it.

With all my strength, I gave the support beam behind me a swift kick, making it shake a little. I heard my Mom let out a startled yell.

“You’re being too loud.” I muttered under my breath.

I wanted to kick the beam again, but my eyes trailed up to something moving above my head. Apparently, there was a spider living at the top of that beam, and I disturbed it.

The creature slowly descended, and I froze up in terror. I never liked those things.

“H-Hi! Sorry if I bothered you. You can go back up, now!”

The spider kept climbing down its own thread, with no intention of stopping. It was getting closer and closer, and I started feeling itchy chills all over.

Maybe I was a problem child.

Finally getting the sense to run, I darted down the tunnel, stopping at the exit that led out into the humans’ house to catch my breath. I couldn’t stay here. My parents didn’t want me, and I couldn’t take care of myself. I was doomed.

The only thing I could think of to do was go back to Dib, but I didn’t want to put that burden on him. He was a kid, just like me. Still, I really didn’t have any other choice. I’d just have to hope he still wanted me around.

So, I left the walls that night for the last time and never looked back.

I left that house and ran across the lawn, the electric field in front of Dib’s house guiding me as it cast a blue glow on the grass.

When I crawled under the door, I didn’t see anyone, and my heart sank. Dib had to have gone back upstairs. I was almost about to give up all hope, but then, I heard footsteps coming from the kitchen.

I watched and waited, and sure enough, it was Dib. Without thinking, I ran right towards him. He didn’t seem to notice me, so I grabbed onto the bottom of his long black coat and tugged on it.

He stopped and looked down, seeing me standing right by his foot.

“Recap? What are you doing back here? I thought you went home.”

At that, I started crying again. That place wasn’t my home anymore. I don’t think it ever was.

“Whoa, okay, I don’t know what’s going on, but let’s get you somewhere safe first. I could’ve stepped on you.”

He knelt down, offering his hand again, and I climbed on. This time, he held me cradled against his chest, with his other hand guarding me.

I buried my face in his shirt as he carried me upstairs, still crying my eyes out. He didn’t say a word until we got to his room, and he closed the door behind us. As I felt him try to move me away from his chest, I clung to his shirt. I… wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“O-Okay, you can stay there. Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

It was hard to get the words out through my sobs, but I had to say something. “Dib… c-can I stay with you for a while?”

“Of course, but… why do you need to stay here?”

I just kept crying. How could I even explain something so horrible?

“Y-You know how my Dad told me to wait for him in this house? Well… it turns out, he kind of… lied to me. H-He brought me here so he could… leave me and never come back.”

At that, Dib suddenly smushed me against his chest, holding me so tight but still being careful not to hurt me. He started to gently run his finger across the back of my head, taking slow, deep breaths. It was like he knew how much pain I was in, and was doing everything in his power to bring me comfort. I honestly didn’t expect this. I already knew he was harmless, but I wasn’t sure he would even know what to do in this situation.

“Recap… I’m so sorry… you can stay as long as you need to, okay?”

I gave him a little nod as he continued rubbing my head.

“We’re gonna figure this out. I hate that you have to go through this, but I’ll do what I can to help you. Man… if I had known what was going on sooner…”

He trailed off, at a loss for words. That was okay, though. I was already under so much stress from what happened that I didn’t want to think about it anymore. So, I shifted all of my focus onto how warm and calming it was to be held by Dib. I was so nervous the first couple times, but in this moment, I felt strangely safe.

I stopped crying after a while, but neither of us made any move to separate. Of course, I was perfectly fine with that. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy, and I let out a yawn.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed. Are you good with sleeping on my coat again? I’ll try to find something more like an actual bed for you tomorrow, but I can’t think of anything else right now.”

I yawned again. “Yeah, the coat’s fine.”

So, Dib set me down on the desk, and folded up his coat like he did the night before.

“We can talk more in the morning. I’ll be home all day tomorrow since it’s the weekend. Until then, you should definitely get some sleep. Let me know if you need anything else. I’m a really light sleeper, so I should wake up if you drop something off the desk again.”

With that in mind, I climbed onto the coat-bed, and immediately flopped down onto my back. I was unbelievably tired.

Dib climbed into his own bed, and before I went to sleep, I looked over at him and smiled.

“Thanks, Dib.”

[seehowyourgardengrows]

day 5: our last full day on the farm (and we thought we lost the dog)

one hike we wanted to make sure we got to, was the hike that leads around the north side of the island, taking you all the way back to the ferry if you cared to. it starts you in one eco system, only to take you past mansions and vineyards and to the ocean and to more woods and then fields and then there are sheep, it's wonderous. we were asked to take Willow with us and we were told she's a good pup on walks.

one thing is, due to her electric fence, we had to drive her off the property and park at the end of the drive. no problem, but keep that in mind as i weave this tale.

trek starts out great, we try to spot the eel that lives in the stream. (no luck) we get through the steep climb past the first vineyard. we get to the ocean. Willow is beaming.

our way back Carson says, "I'll put her back on the leash once we get to the stream". Willow had gotten out to this stream a couple of times and we knew it was a trigger for her.

it's like she knew.

she bolts.

no problem, she had been doing great at recall the whole trip so far.

heart sink after 10 minutes.

annoyance.

worry.

20 minute mark. we're yelling her name over and over.

okay we just build right up to a mild panic around 35 minutes of no return.

Esme has done this to us one time, early on in our having her. I'm having major flashbacks. at least there is no traffic.

Carson heads back to the water, i decide to see if she snuck back home. this takes me a good 10 minutes, plus the 5 it takes up the drive. I no longer hear Carson at this point.

Up at the house, Tana and Charles are both in meetings, so I tip toe around acting like I'm filling up my water bottle. no Willow.

i try to play it cool but i'm so worried at this point. i start kind of run walking which is comical because it's down hill and i have no grace to lean on. my back pack is bouncing up and down on my back like a loose turtle shell.

i make the turns down the drive and there she is. she's sitting like a perfect angel at the hood of the car, grinning her teeth off. the look of a pup who knew exactly what she was up to. she is drenched in mud.

luckily, i'm able to text carson as the calls kept dropping. "Oh thank god I'm on my way back".

I get her in the car and she just flops with exhaustion.

Carson meets us, we laugh/cry? we drive back.

We are welcomed with questions like "how was your walk?" i break, i fess up right away. we are met with rowdy laughter and a simple explanation of "oh she does that all the time, we should have told you."

we all get baths, some of us with the hose, and I freshen up to join Charles on a Zoom call, he's guest lecturing on his family therapy work with a group of grad students from Texas. how lucky am i? also lucky for Charles because Zoom was "Willowing it" on him and nothing worked right and I could use my youth to guide him. it was a complete honor to hear about his work and see him in action. he knows his stuff. we've gotten to talk shop a lot over the trip.

Tana bakes for our event tomorrow but let's us taste test after dinner. we catch that sunset. we can't believe how fast our time is going.