#choices au fanfiction

[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

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🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn. 

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now. 

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.  

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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[a-great-tragedy]

I want to personally go to every marauders fan’s door and force them all to sleep

I know you all stay up past 3:00am reading jegulus fics don’t lie

[lulublack90]

Prompt 22 - Sparkle

@wolfstarmicrofic December 22, word count 316

“I wish this night would never end,” Sirius murmured as he gently stroked his fingers up and down the soft skin on the back of Remus’s hand. They were sprawled across Remus’s bed in a part of London Sirius had never been. He hadn’t even known the crumbling block of flats was even there. 

“Mmmm, me too,” Remus hummed sleepily as he shuffled until his head was on the pillow, the thin duvet that covered them pulling across Sirius’s naked torso and leaving him shivering in the room's cool air. He quickly wriggled back under the covers and snuggled into Remus’s side. 

Remus held his arm out, and Sirius settled against Remus’s shoulder. He shivered as Remus’s fingers began to trace intricate patterns on his back. He let his lids flutter shut as he gave himself over to the electric feeling his finger elicited. 

They hadn’t known each other long; his parents would disown him if they knew he was with someone well below his rank, but Sirius had fallen for Remus the second he laid eyes on him in that seedy pub he’d run into to escape his watcher. There was a sparkle in Remus’s eyes that Sirius had never seen before. He was addicted to the light there, especially the way that flickered, turning into a blinding beam that would put a diamond to shame right before his eyes would close as he found release. He would happily chase that sparkle in Remus’s eyes for the rest of his life. 

He had a decision to make. Lead the life his parents had planned out for him long before his birth, or throw it all away for the chance to find true love with the man beneath him. 

Remus turned his head and nuzzled happily into Sirius’s hair. He felt his heart stutter at the touch and knew he didn’t have a choice at all. 

[arielchelby]

Stardust

An overdue birthday gift for @moondancer71 and my submission for free choice for day 3 of Falling for You 2024 hosted by @iceandfirejonerysdiscord

A star has fallen in Westeros and the would-be kings and witches of the Seven Kingdoms have taken notice. So has a young man in the North with a sick brother; he’s been told a fallen star can cure any ailment - even at the brink of death. Some want it for love, and others for power, but it’s a race to see who will reach her first.  Or… A fallen star has landed in Westeros, and all she wants to do is find her way back home.

The lovely MB was made by @moondancer71 who also beta read for me (thank you!). She asked me to give credit for the lovely edits to @justwandering-neverlost and @waking-dreams-of-harmony 💖

Ice & Fire Jonerys Discord

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted — Betrayal (Chapter Twelve)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach, but everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x f!MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found. Not beta'd.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Tags - @choicesficwriterscreations

It's another long one 😬👉👈🥹. Oops.

Liam and Drake closely followed as the guards led Bastien into the depths of the Portavirian estate. The halls remained eerily quiet as the nobility slept; not a soul to be found other than those involved with Penelope’s homicide investigation. Neither male spoke a word, but both reeled in this blindsiding revelation.

The betrayal Liam felt was like no other. Bastien was like a father to him, always around when he needed someone, but now he wondered if he ever knew him. Bastien saw him at his lowest and protected him at all costs, but somewhere along the way he changed; he couldn’t determine when that shift happened or if his guard was that good of a deceiver from the start, and felt like a fool for not seeing his insubordination sooner. It didn’t matter what he said, nor how much he pleaded; Liam already knew he was guilty, but didn’t know the extent of his involvement.

So many unanswered questions ran rampant through his mind, but ultimately the one he cared about was, where is Riley? The scandal was no longer relevant; all that mattered was finding her and ensuring she was safe. Justice would be served to all who deserved it later but right now, she was the top priority. That wasn’t a new revelation, but the urgency suddenly skyrocketed.

Liam did his best to stay afloat, but couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. If Riley was still in the country, what did that mean? Was she being held hostage somewhere? Would a ransom note appear at some point? Is she even alive? The continuous spiral intensified and formed a vortex of frustration and confusion, enveloping him from the inside out. He wanted to scream and cry to the heavens, anything to relieve some of the never-ending tension slowly constricting his muscles. Every second that passed without knowing she was safe, he grew weaker, feeling control slip right through his fingertips. The never-ending vat of unanswered questions took their physical and mental toll on Liam as a monarch and man alike.

However, every ounce of strength that remained pushed him forward. The adrenaline coursing through his veins mindlessly carried him, as he and Drake walked in deafening silence.

They continued until they entered a dark room with a table and two chairs. The guards sat Bastien down on one side and secured shackles in place over his wrists, much to his displeasure. Liam took the seat that mirrored his, shooing the bystanders out as he did. Drake lingered close by, reeling in his feelings of hurt, betrayal, and anger. Bastien quieted, but his entire body went rigid after his former subordinates exited the room. Liam placed his hands on the table and stared at them for a long while, trying to slow the wild rush inside his mind.

He finally raised his head and spoke to Bastien in the flattest, calmest tone he could muster. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I don’t, sir.”

“First, let’s talk about Penelope. You and I both know she did not take her own life, so I’m curious to know how you came to that conclusion.”

Bastien furrowed his brow. “Not to be forward, but she was literally hanging from the ceiling… We found a note in her room, and she had every reason to want to do it — considering she was about to be arrested.”

“Right… Speaking of that… I want to see that report again.”

“Pardon?”

“The report — the one that says Penelope’s DNA was all over the murder weapon because honestly, I think you’re full of shit.” Liam hissed.

“I most certainly am not, sir. The documents are in the security office. If you remove these cuffs, I will gladly retrieve them.” Bastien confidently responded.

“That won’t be necessary.” Liam knew if he told the truth, Olivia would find them and if she didn’t, Bastien just caught himself in another lie. “Now, the next order of business — where were you the night of the jamboree? I don’t remember seeing you at all.”

Bastien stiffened. “I was doing security checks around the estate—”

“If you were doing security checks, how’d a rogue photographer make it in?” Drake interjected.

Bastien swallowed thickly, his gulp echoing in the silence. “... What?”

“You heard what he said — answer the damn question.” Liam snapped.

“She must have—”

“She?” Liam interrupted with a chortle. “That’s funny — because I never mentioned gender. Do you know something that I don’t?”

“I only took a guess — there was a fifty percent chance I would be correct.” Bastien calmly, yet firmly, answered with a dismissive shrug. “I’m not precisely sure how they breached the perimeter, but we’ve been working to strengthen our units ever since.”

“Right…” Liam nodded and forcefully clenched his jaw. It took every ounce of his restraint not to reach across the table and wrap his hands around Bastien’s throat because he couldn’t trust a single word coming out of his mouth.

Drake spoke again before Liam could act on his intrusive thoughts. “What about the Apple Banquet? Where were you then?”

“I was with His Majesty while he spoke to the Beaumonts. Someone alerted me to the body, and I immediately sprung into the proper protocol.”

“No, not when the maid was found — earlier. Where were you before that?” Liam demanded.

Bastien hesitated, but quickly fixed his features. “I was addressing an issue regarding Countess Madeleine’s security arrangements. Her old guard needed to take personal leave, so I had to find a suitable replacement.”

“... And she will vouch for you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Liam’s frustration skyrocketed, as he didn’t know how to take that statement. The number of people he could trust seemed to only shorten by the day, yet Madeleine was never present, nor even an honorable mention on that list; the time to trust her word was not amid this chaos.

“Okay, then—” Liam started again, his agitation noticeably rising. “Do you know where Riley is?”

“I don’t, sir. All I know is she returned to New York, and—”

“How did you come to that conclusion, exactly? Because I’ve done some digging and found nothing to point to that. There are no traces of her after she left the jamboree whatsoever, Bastien; not flights, not vehicles — nothing.”

Bastien shifted in his seat. “My information led me to that conclusion, Your Majesty.”

“Well, your information was wrong, and I can’t help but feel you knew that all along, didn’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but—”

“You knew she didn’t return to New York because you took her away, right? Is that how she made it out undetected? Or are you the one who assaulted her?” Liam thought back to his out-of-body experience and remembered the shadow lingering in front of her door. “Or did you stand guard while it happened? Is that it?”

“I did no such thing.” Bastien hastily replied, but cleared his throat and added, “What would I gain from any of this? Why would I give a damn who you choose?”

“That’s kind of what I’m wondering.” Drake inserted with a skeptical eye. “Look, Bas — I don’t want to believe you had a hand in all this, but it’s not looking good, man.”

“What doesn’t look good?” Bastien returned. “All I’ve done is look for her! I’ve been trying to help you!”

“Bullshit,” Liam seethed. “You know something and I demand you tell me — right now.”

“I know nothing, sir. I’ve kept you updated on every piece of information uncovered.”

“You need to understand something —” Liam's breaths turned heavy and his face flushed every shade of crimson. “I am not fucking around. This is your final opportunity — if you know something and do not tell me, I will serve your head on a silver fucking platter at the next state function. Is that clear enough for you?” He rumbled through clenched teeth. The hand he raised to point at Bastien visibly trembled, as the dam broke and rage flowed freely through his body.

Bastien’s eyes widened, and he visibly swallowed. He quickly composed himself and softly answered, “I understand the circumstances have been — tense — for everyone involved. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks, and —”

Liam slammed his fist onto the table and shot up from his seat. “Do NOT fucking patronize me!” He bellowed.

The door suddenly swung open and Olivia marched inside. In her hands, she carried a folder along with a few smaller items, but her facial expression was the picture-perfect image of unrestrained fury. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” She rumbled as she bore her eyes into Bastien.

Never could she have imagined the man sitting before her would betray them in such a way, but now they had proof; undeniable, unavoidable, but yet — incredibly unsettling evidence.

Bastien audibly gulped as he recognized the documents and all traces of pigment in his complexion vanished. With so much going on, he didn’t have the chance to dispose of everything properly. Liam and his group of friends moved faster than anticipated, and with their unexpected changes to the tour, he fell behind. The important information was extracted long ago, but what remained was still very incriminating — for Bastien.

Powerful forces expected him to pull off the impossible, but he was only one person — how was he supposed to fend off four people, plus a hired professional? Multiple ends that should’ve received immediate attention didn’t. Penelope ranked fairly high on that list, but his concerns got cast aside. His instructions were to deflect, deter, and stay silent regarding the madness; trust the process and your reward will be bountiful, they would say. Regardless, he didn’t want to aid in this crazy scheme, but had no choice — they knew information about his past nobody should have uncovered, so he found himself backed into a corner.

But as Bastien stared at the evidence of his transgressions, he realized silence would no longer be an option. He knew one way or another at that moment he was as good as dead; the question was would it be at the hands of his seething monarch, the man he practically raised, or the people who made his life a living hell to begin with?

Olivia rifled through the things on the table until she found what she searched for. “Remember when Bastien told you he disposed of Riley’s phone and her note?” She held both items up to show everyone along with her letter, noting how the guard immediately tucked his chin into his chest. “The penmanship matches mine, meaning it’s the same as Penelope’s.”

Liam forcefully clenched his jaw. “You lied to me?”

“That’s not all,” Olivia continued. “Bastien told us Penelope is the one who killed the maid, but that’s not true. Sure, the gum was hers — hair too — but the funny thing is that as it turns out, there are two sets of results on that knife.”

“There’s not—”

Olivia cackled, cutting Bastien off. “Don’t even try to lie. I’m holding what appears to be the real results in my hands. What kind of moron keeps the original if he’s planning on cloning it to frame someone else? Fucking nitwit.” She shook her head, distaste lacing her words. “Of course, we’ll have these confirmed for legitimacy, but considering who this one lists as the culprit, I can see why you’d want to cover this up.”

Liam snatched the documents from her and scanned them. His eyes widened as he went through the text, his jaw falling further and further the longer he read. Penelope's fingerprints were on the murder weapon, but unlike the last report he saw, this one went more in-depth. Her DNA might've been on the knife, but only one or two barely distinguishable smears on the blade itself belonged to her. However, the lab noted prominent traces from someone else located everywhere, but mostly on the handle, indicating that their person of interest should be whoever the second set of prints belonged to.

But Liam never received this report, and when he read who the database found as the owner of that second set of prints, he realized why he wasn’t shown.

“It was you…” Liam gasped, finally tearing his attention off the file to center his glare on Bastien. “Why?”

Bastien remained silent. He kept his gaze locked on the table, but the sweat forming on his brow wasn’t unnoticed.

“We know why, Liam. He was trying to shut her up because she spoke with us. And that’s why he offed Penelope too — right, Bastien?” Olivia answered. “Dispose of the loose ends before they can out you?”

“I did not harm Lady Penelope in any way,” Bastien stated with utmost determination, looking directly into Olivia’s steely eyes as he did.

“But you know who did, and you were working to bury that too, correct?” She quickly retorted, arching her brow.

Bastien clenched his jaw and looked away, refusing to speak, but he didn’t need to — Olivia knew she was right.

“You can deny those accusations all you want, but the next ones will be fairly difficult to talk yourself out of,” Olivia snapped as she produced another file and showed it to everyone.

“Operation Ghost?” That title caught Liam’s attention, and his mouth fell agape when he read it. He flipped through the papers inside and realized this was a meticulously planned mission, not a coincidence. While he spiraled deeper into the abyss, further away from reality, intentional carnage ran rampant within his court, and it was all a part of the elaborate plan from the beginning.

Someone plotted to hurt Riley and take her away from him, and that thought momentarily left him breathless.

“Apparently so,” Olivia answered, remorse cracking through her stony features upon seeing Liam’s broken shock. She’d already searched the file and knew what lay ahead, but didn’t know how he would react; it wouldn’t be good regardless. “Someone altered or destroyed most of this —” She paused to throw a death glare at Bastien. “But… There’s something else…”

“What is it?” Drake inquired as he and Liam took in her hesitancy, causing the hair on the nape of their necks to stand at attention.

With a heavy sigh, Olivia opened an envelope and produced a few smaller documents. She slammed them down on the table one at a time, directly in Bastien’s downward cast line of vision. “Here’s Riley’s ID, her passport, and even her goddamn credit cards. Now tell me, Bastien — how did you think she got to New York without those?”

Liam snapped his head over to her. “What?!” He snatched the items off the table and stared at the photo on Riley’s passport in his trembling hands, his heart rate taking flight.

His worst fears suddenly became reality, because he knew it would’ve been impossible for her to get out of the country without identification. This confirmed that Ray was right; she never left Cordonia. Of everything he suspected of Bastien, the things he knew and worked to cover up completely blindsided Liam. It hurt him in a way he didn’t know was possible, to be betrayed by someone he put every single ounce of his trust in.

Plus, had it not been for Olivia and Ray, he probably would have gotten away with it, too. The thought alone created a forceful swarm of guilt as Liam realized once again — this was what he ignored for so long. His breaths turned shallow as his mind took this new information and ran with it, automatically assuming the worst and with no signs to point in a different direction, he couldn’t find any strings of hope no matter which way he looked.

The waves came crashing down, sending him into an instant spiral of equal parts devastation and fear. He swayed on his feet, but eventually lowered himself back into his chair, willing the wild rush to slow.

“What the fuck is this?!” Drake exclaimed, smoke nearly barreling out of his ears. “Where is she?!”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit! She couldn’t leave without this! You’ve been lying to us all along!”

“I did what I had to,” Bastien returned, his voice devoid of all emotion. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“What did you do to her, Bastien?!” Olivia reiterated. “You can’t deny you know something — if she’s in danger, you need to tell us so we can find her!”

“I did nothing to her! All I did was escort her from the premises to the airport — that’s it.” Bastien huffed, immediately regretting the slip-up, which earned him a unanimous gasp.

“What did you just say?” Liam rumbled with clenched fists, his daze of self-hatred shattering on the spot.

Bastien hesitated but realized it was useless to redact. “I said I escorted her from the premises—”

Liam lunged for him without a second thought. He slammed his face into the table and held him there with all his might by the back of his skull. “So you not only knew, but you fucking helped too?!”

“I did what I had—”

“You son of a bitch!” Liam yelled as he lifted Bastien’s head, only to bounce his cheek against the table with increased force. “I trusted you!”

Bastien tried to respond, but Liam swiftly continued. “You have manipulated and made a fool of me for the LAST fucking time! I told you what I’d do, yet you still lied to me? YOUR MONARCH?!”

Again, Bastien attempted to speak, but Liam wasn’t quite finished. “This WHOLE TIME… You’ve known — you fucking helped — but you continuously led me astray.”

“Sir—”

“YOU DO NOT SPEAK OVER ME!” Liam bellowed, slamming Bastien’s head a third time.

A long silence passed as Liam securely held Bastien by the back of his neck, using more force with every passing second. He saw nothing but blood — everything that would’ve gotten covered up ran through his mind; the murders, Riley, and what seemed to be a never-ending list of other possibilities.

Finally, Bastien timidly sliced through the tension. “Sir, I’m willing to tell you what I know and what I’ve done in exchange for safety. If you do not ensure my life, I will be dead within hours.” He pleaded, preparing to meet the table again. “You have no reason to trust me now, but I will tell you what I can…” He emphasized.

Liam met eyes with Olivia and Drake, a silent conversation taking place. In all honesty, nobody cared what happened to him after the fact; all that mattered right now was getting Bastien to talk by any means necessary. Whoever wanted him dead was more than welcome to finish the job, but not until after he confessed.

Liam released him with a shove but never said a word. Instead, he strode back to the chair across from Bastien and slowly retook his seat. When Liam lifted his head, the pure fury staring back at him slightly took Bastien aback. The patient presence he’d grown accustomed to was long gone, replaced by a man driven to the brink of insanity. Those typically bright baby blues were now dark, vicious, and wild — nearly animalistic as his stare tore through Bastien. It sent a shiver of dread down his spine and made him momentarily fearful of his usually calm and composed king. His head throbbed, but he knew that would not be the worst of what he received — regardless of whose hands he suffered from.

Liam intently held his gaze for a long moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw, but finally spoke in an eerily calm voice. “... Tell us.”

Bastien strode through the country jamboree with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he recalled what would happen tonight. A suitor would be removed from the competition, with or without her cooperation. The trap was loaded and ready to go; all they needed was the prey — Riley.

Bastien located Penelope in the crowd and watched her approach Riley. She was deep into a conversation with Maxwell, but Penelope slipped in and played the part surprisingly well. He recognized her shaky hands even from afar, but she discreetly slipped at least half of the pharmaceuticals into Riley’s drink, unbeknownst to her or Maxwell. He didn’t think that part was necessary, but the force beyond insisted it was essential so they would force her to her room before everyone else.

After a time, Bastien observed as Riley hugged Maxwell and headed toward the estate. He quietly followed behind in the shadows as she walked through the deserted halls to her room, cursing the creaky floorboards underneath his feet, but the woman he trailed didn’t notice a thing. Riley skipped, hummed a tune, and even did a little twirl; she had no cares in the world and had no clue that her perception of a fairy tale was about to be shattered.

As her door shut, Bastien took position outside, crossed his arms, and waited for the job to be completed. Everyone else remained at the party outside; it was his assignment to ensure the vicinity stayed clear. He knew who occupied the room neighboring hers, which only fueled the need to get this done and over with as quickly and smoothly as possible.

People spoke behind the door — the voices escalating by the second — but Bastien made it a point to drown them out. The situation could go one of two ways, depending on Riley's cooperation, and it didn't take long for him to realize she chose the hard way. Although he found it difficult to ignore her pleas for help, his allegiance aligned elsewhere.

After a time, a few gentlemen approached but Bastien allowed them access, as he expected them. He didn’t know who they were, just that they would deal with ‘relocating’ Tariq; his task was Riley. One had jet-black hair, while the other donned a baseball cap. They wore a matching dark ensemble, aside from the hat and one having thick, circular lens glasses. A holster of weapons surrounded their belts, making the hair on his arms stiffen. The pair went inside without a word, but Bastien felt their eyes on him as they entered.

The deafening silence hung for what felt like centuries, but eventually, they re-emerged with their cargo in tow.

“Unhand me this instant!” Tariq demanded as the muscles dragged him away.

“Not a chance, fancy boy.” The man with glasses snickered. “Got a special place for you.”

“I did what I was supposed to do!” Tariq pleaded, his tone changing once he realized the seriousness of his situation. “Please — have some compassion!”

“No can do. Boss’s orders were strict — toss you in a hole and throw those God-awful loafers into the ocean.” The dark-haired male snapped his fingers before adding, “I can leave the shoes on if you’d prefer — put some cement in them and send you both on a journey to the bottom of the Mediterranean.” His delight showed brightly, causing Bastien’s pulse rate to skyrocket.

Tariq suddenly planted his feet firmly on the ground. “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?! OR WHO MY FATHER IS?” He bellowed. “You won’t get away with this — I WILL ENSURE THAT YOU—”

Out of nowhere, the male with the ball cap hit him with the butt of his pistol, silencing his tirade. Tariq slumped to the floor with his eyes rolled back, blood gushing from his nose in an instant.

“Thank you, Claudius. I couldn’t stomach another second of his useless ranting.”

“You and I both.”

“Get him loaded up — we’re on a schedule and need to move.” Claudius hefted Tariq on his shoulder with ease and quickly left out the servants’ exit. As he disappeared, the remaining man shifted his attention to Bastien. “So… You’re prepared to handle the fallout?”

“Of course.” He confidently responded.

“Are you sure? Because I don't think you understand how messy this situation could get in the future… And honestly? If the boss hadn’t enlisted little Miss Penny, this entire operation would’ve crashed and burned before it even took off.” He rolled his eyes. “You thought she would agree to this just for a spot beside the queen?”

“It might surprise you what people will do to get ahead around here.”

“Yes, but they’re willing to execute better with a little — added motivation.” He flashed a wide, sinister smile. “You should know better than anyone…”

Bastien swallowed thickly, his entire body going rigid. “I’m not sure what you’re referencing.”

“Of course not.” He snickered. “I don’t blame you — I wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re the one who mur—”

Bastien held a hand up. “That’s enough.” He spat out.

The male’s smile widened. “As I said, people execute better with added motivation.” He patted Bastien’s shoulder with a little too much force.

“Was there a point to this?” Bastien rumbled through clenched teeth, shaking off the man’s palm.

“I just wanted to make sure it’s one hundred percent clear — you need to ensure anything regarding this stays buried. If too many people ask the right questions before we reach the finish line and the boss has to get involved again… Well —” He grinned, baring his teeth. “That’d just be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

A chill shot down the length of Bastien’s spine. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you threatening me?”

“You may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re not that stupid — you know what will happen.” He responded, amusement written on his cold features. His almond eyes deepened to black, leaving Bastien momentarily speechless.

“I’m certain that won’t be necessary.” Bastien confidently answered after he regained his composure. His companion nodded with an eerie smirk but casually lingered around the door. “Is there something else I can do for you?”

“I was just wondering about Lady Riley… Where you’re planning on sending her since you received the — opportunity to handle her?” He nonchalantly inquired, acting as disinterested as possible. “Such a great honor you have… One I practically begged for.”

“The States, where she came from.” Bastien’s direction was to ship her back to New York as discreetly as possible. Even though the plan took a drastic turn, that was the one constant that couldn't change because otherwise, they would out themselves for taking the reins and disobeying a direct order. She would land on her feet, start a new life, and forget all about Cordonia. Liam would surely want to search for her, but all Bastien had to do was stall until the coronation, when their cover for removing Riley would come to light.

“I see, I see… Well, hopefully, that works out for her.” He smiled, the sight raising goosebumps on Bastien’s arms.

Before Bastien could respond, the door creaked open, and a hooded presence strode out. He paid Bastien no mind, instead focusing on the dark-haired male. “Let us vacate. The party is nearly over, and we have tremendous amounts of work ahead of us if we want to pull this off.”

“What about the court? We can’t go back to —”

“Do not fret, Anton… We have a plan… Trust the process; this is only the beginning. Everything will work out as it should in due time, but we must move — now.”

The pair quickly walked away, but not before Bastien heard Anton loudly whisper, “About that — pit-stop…” to his companion.

Bastien momentarily pondered that statement, but shook off the queasiness inside his stomach, concluding they must be referring to Tariq. As he stared at Riley’s door, a brief flicker of guilt traveled through him. Riley did nothing wrong, and he knew that, but this is the task he regretfully accepted. It was not a personal vendetta, by any means, but this clueless woman aimlessly landed herself in the middle of the nobility; she didn’t understand the untold, dark side of the court and its inhabitants, but would learn on this day.

Bastien cautiously opened the door and entered to find Riley on the edge of her bed, cradling her side. She snapped her head over to him as she heard his footsteps, and her eyes filled to the brim with tears when she met his gaze. He once again fought a wave of remorse at seeing her hopeful expression, knowing he was not the knight in shining armor she assumed he was.

“Bastien, you—you have to help me… Please…” Riley croaked. Her words came out slightly slurred, although it surprised him that the earlier sedatives hadn’t taken a harder effect.

“I’m going to, Lady Riley. First, I need to ensure you’re not carrying anything on you.”

Bastien assisted Riley to a standing position, which she slowly did without question. He didn’t know exactly what transpired, but she had a gash on her side, blood soaking through the thin hoodie she wore. With her permission, he checked the wounds, none of which were bad enough to seek immediate medical attention. Her face was littered with cuts, surely bruises to follow with time, as one of her cheeks was already tinted with a light purple. He started at her shoulders and patted down to her abdomen, but stopped when he felt something in her pocket and pulled out her phone. He nonchalantly slipped the device into his jacket, but despite his best efforts, Riley watched him do it.

“That is my property! You can’t take that!” She protested.

“I’m afraid I can… You are to leave completely empty-handed. Now, we have to get going — you have a flight to catch.” Bastien placed a hand on Riley’s arm to lead her away.

Riley firmly planted her feet in place, shaking away his grip. “Don’t do this, Bastien!”

“You have no choice in this matter and we’re on a time limit,” Bastien replied as he checked his watch.

“What about all my stuff?”

“As I said, empty-handed.” He didn’t understand that part either, but concluded it was easier to shove her on a plane with no items to accompany her.

“On whose authority?!” Riley exclaimed. When he didn’t answer, she reiterated, “Who told you to do this to me, Bastien?!”

“That is confidential information.”

Riley snorted, her frustration written all over her face. “Bullshit! At least be man enough to tell me!”

“Fine. You want to know who did it?” He held her glare, letting the tension linger, but finally answered, “It was Liam.”

Riley stepped away as if she took a blow to the gut, but her devastation quickly morphed into the polar opposite.

Riley laughed; hard enough that tears spilled down her cheeks. “You expect me to believe that? Liam? Of all people?” She shook her head, slightly bouncing from her chuckles. “You think I’m that naïve and stupid?”

“Believe what you will, that matters not to me but my instructions were simple, so we must get moving.” He stated, very matter-of-factly.

“Bastien,” Riley pleaded, any signs of amusement suddenly disappearing. “Don’t do this. I’ll just — I don’t know!” She cried, anxiety prominent in her features. “I won’t say anything to anyone — I swear on my grandmother’s life! Or–or we can tell Liam! Whatever got you wrapped up in this, he will understand.” She reasoned. “Please — you don’t have to conform. We can find a way out of this together.”

Bastien considered it for a second, but ultimately gave Riley a sad smile and nudged her toward the door. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, but he remained firm. He quickly dropped her phone and the pre-written note he received inside her bedside table and went to the threshold, stepping over shards of glass from a broken planter and a bloodied garment.

Leaving her phone there meant it would be an immediate dead end for Liam and her sponsors. He would want to call her — possibly track her — but this ensured that door was closed before it could even be opened. It was a distraction tactic to keep the prince occupied until his reason for her departure would present itself to him, where hopefully, he would drop the matter for good.

Bastien held her stare for a moment before he cleared his throat, emphasizing the need to move. Riley hung her head and eventually slowly walked out the door, quietly sobbing as she did.

Bastien led her down the long hallway toward the servants’ exit, as their SUV waited close by. Riley was incredibly unsteady on her feet, whether it was from the earlier medication or her injuries, he wasn’t sure, but he held his hand out to steady her wobbly steps on multiple occasions. He glanced back and locked eyes with the maid he summoned to clean the area, and even with his dark sunglasses, he still spotted her apprehension. The interaction was brief as he and Riley reached the end of the hallway, but something in his gut said he would have to deal with that later.

Assisting Riley down the stairs turned out to be tricky, as she was in an incredible amount of pain. By the end, he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her the rest of the way down. She didn’t yell or scream, not that it would have mattered if she tried; the party still ‘raged’ in the opposite direction, leaving the vicinity barren of wandering ears. If she got combative he had a plan for that as well, but was glad she opted to cooperate, instead of throwing a tantrum and meeting a fate similar to Tariq.

He sat her on her feet when they emerged outside and escorted her to the vehicle, quickly securing her inside. He used no restraints, but she didn’t resist one bit; almost as if she’d accepted her fate, or her body just didn’t have the strength to fight back. There were no remnants of Tariq or anyone else, but Bastien moved with fire under his feet as if someone lurked right around the corner.

Within the blink of an eye, they were at the airport, where Bastien unloaded her from the back of the car. The entire ride he heard Riley’s sniffles from the backseat, but he drove faster — to unload this package and hopefully, this would be a straightforward operation. Once she was out of the vehicle his job should be done, unless too many questions arose.

Bastien parked toward the back of the abandoned parking lot so the only thing on security footage would be Riley entering the airport. With his connections, he knew exactly where the cameras were and discreetly slipped into a blind spot. Riley could hardly stand as he pulled her from the vehicle, but that was not his concern.

He did his part — all she had to do was walk inside and leave Cordonia forever.

He shoved a small envelope into her hands and said, “Here is your ID, passport, credit cards, and a ticket to New York. It’s been a pleasure, Lady Riley.” And with that, Bastien turned on his heel and returned to his vehicle, speeding away before he could second guess his decision.

He glanced back in the rearview mirror and saw the silhouette of a woman standing there disoriented, wounded, alone, terrified, and defenseless, but quickly averted his gaze, centering on the road. He nearly pushed his foot through the floorboard to get away faster, but bile rose into the back of his throat as a chilling realization sat in; he didn’t know how, but this was far from over, and the chances of him making it to see his next birthday just substantially dwindled.

“I assumed she boarded the plane, but I later received her identification and credit cards in a sealed envelope from an unidentifiable source. I tried to help her… I really did…” Bastien finished with his head bowed.

“No, you sure as shit did not!” Drake bellowed, a mix of fury and shock written on his features. “I can’t believe you!”

Bastien flinched. “I did what I had to do—”

“Where is she, then? Because she never got on that fucking plane, Bastien!” Olivia hollered.

“I don’t know! I told you everything I know about it! I tried to find out, but I can’t!”

“This is fucking unreal.” Drake shook his head and scoffed. “You expect me to believe you really don’t know? You have her ID! Her goddamn passport!”

Bastien forcefully clenched his jaw. “I received them before the tour in a sealed envelope. I don’t know where it came from and I can't trace its origin.”

Drake scowled. “We’re supposed to believe that?” He looked away and rubbed a hand down his face, his frustration steadily rising. “Let’s say I do — you chose to keep that to yourself? You didn’t think that was worth mentioning when we opened an investigation into her goddamned disappearance?!” He over-enunciated, sarcasm dripping off every syllable.

“What was I supposed to do, Drake?!” Bastien responded, but couldn’t fathom meeting his eyes for even a brief second.

“Not be a spineless piece of shit, for one,” Olivia answered. “For two, you could’ve refused to cooperate from the beginning. Or, told the truth, regardless of what would’ve happened to you then… Or, made sure she got on the plane, at least. You drugged her and left her for dead, Bastien! Who knows where she’s at by now?! Do you realize how much time we’ve wasted because of you?!”

“I did not drug her or leave her for dead—”

“But you didn’t fucking stop it either, and that’s just as damning in my eyes,” Drake spoke in a bland, empty voice as he tried to comprehend this betrayal. “I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re not the man I used to look up to, not anymore… I can’t believe you did this and continuously lied to us about it!”

Bastien slouched. “I never lied—”

“Bullshit! You’ve done nothing but lie! You’ve gotta stop and tell us the truth for once!”

“I told you everything I know, everything I’ve done. I killed the maid and had every intention of Lady Penelope taking the fall — I’ve led you astray and tampered with evidence — I admit it.”

“I don’t care about any of that shit right now!” Drake shouted. “We wanna know what you did with Brooks, Bastien.”

Bastien sighed. “Drake, I told you, I don’t know where she’s at! She was supposed to go inside and board the plane!”

“But you didn’t wait and ensure she did, at least?” Olivia asked with an arched brow.

“I didn’t think I needed to! After what I heard coming out of that room, I assumed she would run inside to get away… If anyone knows, it’s probably that Anton character!”

“Anton…” Olivia repeated, her curiosity peaking. “What do you know about him? And the other guy? Claudius?”

“Absolutely nothing. I’d never seen them before and haven’t since. All I know is they were in charge of relocating Tariq.”

“And you don’t know where that is, either?”

“No, I don’t. I didn’t ask questions, and I wasn’t told. I ran their names in the system to see if I could figure anything out, but they’re ghosts — there aren’t even medical records with either name on it.”

Olivia scoffed. “So, why do it, then?”

“I have my reasons…” He finally gathered the courage to take a peek in Drake's direction, but when he spotted the wild blaze of fire in his eyes, swiftly glanced away.

“Yeah… Okay…” Olivia indignantly laughed. “So was this your idea, or were you working under someone else’s watch?” He didn’t reply, but she and Drake noticed his shoulders tense. “That’s all the answer I need. So who is it? Who’s pulling the strings here?”

Bastien shook his head. “That I can’t tell you.”

“You’re already a dead man no matter which way you look at it, so you may as well just tell us. If you do, there is the tiniest chance that you may receive mercy,” Olivia growled as her hand instinctively reached for the dagger hidden in her waistband.

“I’m aware of that, but I cannot tell you.”

“Bas, you need to fucking—”

“Damn it, Drake, I can’t!” Bastien shouted. He knew the pain Drake felt was nothing compared to what he’d feel if he knew the truth, but he refused to open that can of worms.

Liam remained eerily quiet as he listened to Bastien retell the events of that night. To say he was fuming would be the understatement of the millennium. Bastien’s continuous misleading and knowledge of Riley being drugged, assaulted, and potentially still in Cordonia sent Liam overboard. Not to mention, he basically left her for dead in a parking lot. Bastien did all of that; he may not have physically harmed her himself, but he stood guard, let it happen, and actively worked to cover it up, making Liam physically sick to his stomach.

The all-consuming rage he tried to control reached its boiling point. He was no longer asking nicely — he was demanding.

Liam slowly stood from his chair, the loud screech halting the surrounding bickering. He leaned over the table on his knuckles and positioned himself at eye level with his former guard. “You told her that I did it?”

Bastien’s eyes spread eagle. “I just needed to get her out of the door… I assumed that would get her to leave willingly, but she didn’t believe a word I said.”

Liam indignantly laughed, the sound sending waves of uncertainty through everyone in the room. “So it wasn’t enough to physically break her — you had to pile emotional pain on top, too?”

“Sir, she did not believe me,” Bastien reasoned. “She knew you would never do such a thing. It was only a last-ditch attempt on my part to get her out.”

Liam mindlessly nodded, ignoring the new wave of dread filling his veins. He’d convinced himself even through all this madness, when they reached the bottom of this intricate web, there was still a slight chance Riley could love him back, but that hope burst into flames instantaneously. Regardless of whether she believed the lie, he was more determined than ever to find her, ensure her safety, and make sure she knew he played no part in this. He had no intentions of hiding his prolonged negligence of the situation from her, but wasn’t willing to let her hate him over something he had no part of.

Liam took a deep, steadying breath and spoke in a low, timbre rumble. “I’m ordering you to tell me who orchestrated all this, Bastien — you owe me that much.”

Bastien remained silent for a long moment as he held his monarch’s intent gaze. Eventually, he sat back in his chair and broke eye contact while pursing his lips together. “Damn it, tell me!” Liam shouted, his voice echoing against the concrete walls.

Bastien hesitated, as he quickly planned his path from here. The potential to get caught was always there, and he thought extensively about what he would do and who to say in this situation. His secrets fueled a small portion of his decision, but the majority centered around fear. He wouldn’t be safe either way but would take his punishment from the crown. Aside from keeping his skeletons inside the closet, to defy the — others — would essentially put nails in his coffin, just waiting to be hammered in. He’d seen firsthand the carnage they were capable of; a couple of treason charges were nothing in comparison.

But if he pointed them in the right direction, it wouldn't be him outing the culprit.

The tension lingered but right when Olivia opened her mouth to push, Bastien quietly answered, “It was your father…”

The room went silent; not a single breath to be heard. Olivia took in the steadfast determination in Bastien’s features and knew for once — he wasn’t lying. And it made some sense; Bastien was purely manpower, not an active brain contributing, and Constantine had the power to force him into anything. However, she instantly knew the former monarch was not the person behind that door with Riley.

Constantine was in high demand and there was no way he could’ve slipped away from the jamboree that early unnoticed. Olivia recalled that night, and to her knowledge, Constantine retired at the same time as Liam. Plus, if they believed Liam’s out-of-body experience to be reality, Constantine was right beside him while the attack took place.

She believed him but also realized while he told the truth, he didn’t tell all of it. There was more to the story, and she intended to get any and every ounce of information out of him, no matter what it took.

Olivia opened her mouth to address Bastien, but Liam beat her to it. “My father?” He repeated, confusion showcased brightly on his face.

“Yes, sir,” Bastien softly spoke. “I know that may be hard for you to hear, but—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Liam suddenly bellowed as his shock quickly morphed into dangerous fury. “You’re still trying to lie?!”

Bastien’s eyes widened. “I swear to you — he’s the one who told me to send her back to New York.”

Liam shook his head, his face reddening with every sullen breath. “No… You’re just trying to cover your own ass, that’s it!”

Bastien sighed. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but that is the truth. Your father is the one who—”

Liam paced the small area, his racing thoughts spiraling out of control. “My father would not do this, regardless of how strongly he felt about it. This is fucking evil and deranged — he is a lot of things, but he would never do something like this to me.” He seethed. “So I will ask you one final time — who was it?”

Silence commenced once more, but Bastien eventually answered. “I told you who it was. If you choose not to believe me, that’s your prerogative. I did what he ordered me to do.”

Fast as lightning, Liam brought his fist up and connected with Bastien’s jaw. He went around the table and hit him again, and again, until Bastien was on his knees with his head dangling in between his still cuffed hands. Liam didn’t care if he killed him or not at that moment; all that mattered was exacting revenge on behalf of his beloved, even if she wasn’t there to witness it. The monarch checked out, replaced by a vicious beast — a starved one, at that.

Liam saw nothing except Riley’s face, the sound of her cries from his out-of-body experience echoing in his mind. His hand throbbed as he relentlessly took his frustrations out on Bastien, but he barely felt it because of the pure hatred and adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Olivia and Drake watched, exchanging worried glances as Liam continued his assault. Both felt incredible amounts of anger toward Bastien, but they saw the bits of truth. Liam might not want to believe it, but Constantine made the most sense.

However, Olivia wholeheartedly believed Constantine was not the one in that room. He may have ordered Bastien to engage, but deep down she knew he was not the one calling the shots that night. As Liam continued to pummel him, she had half a mind to stop him, but the person taking out his anger on his crumpled guard was not her childhood friend, and even she was hesitant to interfere.

It was Drake who finally intervened, laying a firm hand on his shoulder. “Li…” When Liam shook him off, he tried again with more force. “Liam!”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” Liam shouted, quickly returning to his mission. Every bone that snapped underneath his fist soothed a portion of his soul, but he wasn’t willing to stop until Bastien felt even a small portion of the pain enveloping his entire being.

The door crept open and Leo went to step inside, Maxwell close behind, but halted when he spotted a bloodied and battered Bastien dangling from the side of the table. Liam continued his attack, completely oblivious to the additional presences in the room. Leo noticed the mixed expressions from Olivia and Drake and quickly pieced a vague conclusion together. Never in his life did he think Bastien could be capable of such atrocities, but clearly they found something to tie him to it.

Leo stepped toward Liam and timidly tapped his shoulder to gather his attention. “Li, we found Penelope. She was headed to the palace with orders for incineration upon arrival, but we stopped it and she should be back soon. I talked with Landon and Emmaline and they’ve agreed to send her wherever you see fit for autopsy. Ray recommended a specialist, but I wanted your input before I started the process.”

Liam finally stopped his assault and stared down at Bastien’s crumpled body with labored breaths. “The amount of which you’re willing to go to bury this is ridiculous! WHO could be that important that you would do all this — risk EVERYTHING for?!” He bellowed, his voice booming against the walls.

Bastien never answered, whether by choice or from his injuries, but a silence took over as Liam really pondered that question for a moment. This wasn’t just some measly scandal anymore; this was an extensive operation concocted to remove the top competitors and ensure he married Madeleine. At first assumption, it would be easy to point a finger at Madeleine herself, but Bastien held no allegiance to her, and the two hardly spoke before the start of the engagement tour. She held no power over him and had no way to get him to bend to her will.

And that was simply too easy — right?

Bastien’s involvement suddenly narrowed down the potential list of suspects, as Liam knew there was a very short number of people he would have no choice but to obey. Despite everything, he didn’t want to believe Bastien willingly did all of this. He expressed feeling some kind of remorse while it was happening, but he still aided and lied about it afterward, making his guilt irrelevant.

He had no reason to trust Bastien, but the more he thought about it, the more his heart accepted the tale.

The betrayal from his former guard was a lot to process, but knowing who could have ultimately constructed the whole thing shredded him into a million tiny pieces. Half of him was ready to unleash a wrath like no other, while the other half wanted to crumple into a ball and cry. His already fragile heart couldn't take the strain; right when he thought this situation couldn't get worse, it did. Someone so close forcefully took something so precious, knowing how much Riley meant to him, and it completely blindsided him.

His back hit the wall and he slid down it, clutching his chest. Leo and Drake quickly moved to catch him, thinking he was having another episode, but Liam shook them off. As everyone took in his dejection, they realized he accepted who their next subject of questioning would be.

“Leo…” Liam swallowed thickly, his breaths rapid and labored. “Tell me — tell me our father wouldn’t do this… He’s not evil, just hard-headed — right?”

Leo winced. “I… I wish I could, Li, but…” He didn’t want to believe it but with Constantine’s infatuation with the throne, he couldn’t put it past him. Their father was never malicious, but he had a control problem regarding the crown; Leo knew firsthand.

But would he go this far?

Liam let out a forceful huff of air and ran his hands down his face, trying and failing to keep his tears at bay. “I — I thought it was bad that Bastien betrayed me, but — him? Why would he do this?”

“I want to answer that, Liam, but I’m not the person to ask… One way or another, you know we have to confront him…”

Liam grimly nodded. “I know… I just — what if he is the one who did all of this? What am I supposed to do then, Leo?”

Leo remained silent for a long moment, gathering his thoughts, but was to no avail, as he genuinely didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know, Liam… I really don’t…”

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 40

In a modern world, Geralt has been chatting online with a man named "Dandelion" for about four weeks now. They finally worked up the mutual courage to go out for a date... I R L... (shocked gasps from the imaginary audience)

Only, Geralt has been sat alone at the restaurant they agreed upon for about an hour and a half now. All his messages to Dandelion have been ignored. He doesn't want to hope something bad happened to him, but he also doesn't want to hope the man is fine and just decided to blow off Geralt and their date. But then he finally gets a call from Dandelion. "Hi! Geralt! Geralt, Right? I hit the right number? Listen- Um- I locked my keys in the car. I know it sounds like an excuse but it isn't! And the car fixer men can't come until tomorrow, so I was just going to hire an uber, but I can't find my wallet, and I doubt I have the money for it, for see, my darling white wolf, I may have splurged all my money on quite a lovely bouquet to bring you- Um- It's on my kitchen table-" (the sounds of a man clambering and stumbling through his own apartment) "-And so i was going to do the very embarrassing act of asking you to pay for my uber, even though you were already generous enough to offer to pay for the entire meal, and so I decided I'd think on it and try and find my wallet again after my shower, but see then I fell in the shower, and I- Well, to be honest, I think I might have broken my arm, um- I think I need a raincheck? And can I borrow money for an uber to the hospital? I'll pay it back, I swear!" Long story short, Geralt's first date with this 'Dandelion' guy he's had a massive crush on for weeks, is driving him to the hospital and checking him in. The worst part of it all is that Jaskier (Dandelion's real name*) is so charming, that Geralt can't even be upset about the whole situation. *Geralt soon learns that "Julian" is Jaskier's 'real' real name, when he ends up helping Jaskier write out his medical forms, but this is all just semantics.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Unavailable

This started as the seed of a different idea, but it fit so well into this beginning that it was like they were made to go together.

Just before the intel starts arriving that would lead to the Rako Hardeen mess, the Force gets a warning to the Jedi. This warning, once translated, is very clear. Obi Wan Kenobi needs to be out of communication for a while (can’t be sent on a mission whose real purpose is to fracture the relationship between Obi Wan and Anakin, if Obi Wan is not there…).

So Obi Wan and Cody get sent undercover to infiltrate some criminal enterprise whose main base is on Endor (while they are undercover the 212th will be on leave-part of an initiative to prove that the clones are not actually being abused).  Their cover is married mandalorian bounty hunters, thus their faces can be covered. The mission is that they will arrive on Endor, find a place to live, and start taking bounties that would make them highly visible to the criminal enterprise. It is anticipated that this mission will be at least 4 weeks, and there cannot be any contact (Because this is not faking Obi Wan’s death, Anakin is warned the Obi Wan will be out of communication for a while, though he is still given no details) throughout this time. 

It all goes well at first, then three days in (due to Force shenanigans, and a Force artifact that was disguised as an antique) both Obi Wan and Cody wake up with no memories. They were just far enough into their mission to have found a place to live and all of their idents and paperwork is in the names of Ben and Kote Beroya, married bounty hunters. Ben (Obi Wan) is just aware enough of the Force to know that they both need to keep their armor on while they are not alone.  Not knowing about their other mission, they find a decent bounty, complete it, and leave the planet. 

Meanwhile on Coruscant Palpatine tries to go forward with the Rako Hardeen plan, in spite of his main goal (which requires Obi Wan Kenobi) being impossible.  Without the additional emotional damage to Anakin Skyalker to distract everyone, Palpatine is found out.  The high council, barring Obi Wan but with Anakin, goes to confront Palpatine. 

It is the middle of an emergency senate session. 

Palpatine activates Order 66(galaxy wide it should be noted) … for about 45 seconds before a Force fueled panic attack from Anakin disables all of the chips at once (also galaxy wide-incidentally giving Kote Beroya a headache from half a galaxy away).  Palpatine was planning on relying on the controlled clones and might have considered going quietly (with an idea to salvage the 1000 year plan) with the realization that the clones were now free. It was all a moot point, since moments after the clones (now very confused and more than a little horrified themselves with their new knowledge) were freed, Palpatine is fatally shot by Bail Organa (Bail has been up for five days working on a draft of the clone rights bills. He is tired, cranky, and pissed that this meeting cut into his scheduled Comm call with Breha). 

In the aftermath it is found that Palpatine used Dark Side Magic to partially (at varying degrees) control a number of people in the Senate. This includes Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala. In this one Palpatine’s control is what caused Anakin to slaughter the Tuskens.  Anakin is not the only one who needed specialized Jedi therapy (meant to deal with the topic of ‘so the Darkside fucked with your head/possessed you’). It very quickly became the most common type of therapy in the Senate

Palpatine also forced the relationship between Padme and Anakin. There was attraction there, and it was possible that the attraction would have grown into something more but their entire relationship was hijacked by Palpatine (Padme alone had been mostly controlled since she was 14 and needed to go through 4 Jedi exorcisms). More horrifyingly Palpatine used more Sith Magic to put Padme’s womb into stasis, which was currently occupied by fraternal twins, held at the three week marker (so that he could make her ‘become pregnant’ when he was ready to start his end game) that were biologically Anakin’s and Padme’s, though after the Sith magic controlling them was removed, neither remember having sex. 

Everyone involved is utterly horrified. It seemed impossible to conceptualize the level of violation on all parties.  The Jedi Order eventually bought an incubation tube from the Kaminoans and, with Padme’s grateful permission (who had been a bit conflicted, she truly did not want to be pregnant- especially in these circumstances- but did not personally feel comfortable with getting an abortion), moved the twins there for the duration.  The Twins would then become part of the Order and both Padme and Anakin would be allowed to decide how much the children would be told.

At this point Anakin requested that his Master be brought back from his mission. Anakin really needed Obi Wan, and a couple of dozen hugs.  The clones are doing their part cuddling their general and Ahsoka is trying too, but sometimes you just need your dad/older brother figure to tell you everything is alright. Especially when everything is fucked up. 

The Jedi Council agree and reach out to the secret Comm to contact Obi Wan and recall them (theoretically the whole operation became moot after the Chancellor's death). There’s no answer (as it was a hidden, secret comm neither Ben nor Kote knew to bring it along). The council looks at each other. They try again. Still no answer.  They manage to get in contact with the landlord of the place that was rented to Ben and Kote, who goes ‘Oh those guys. Good tenets, quiet. They left six weeks ago (two weeks into their mission). Think they said they were heading toward Corellia.’ 

Now the Jedi council are wondering just what happened that sent Obi Wan and his commander to Corellia and why they didn’t get in contact about the change. It is decided that this was a good mission for Anakin to go on, as it would help distract him, leading both the 501st and the 212th. 

So now Anakin is on the galaxy’s biggest scavenger hunt, being evaded by two bounty hunters that do not know they are being hunted. 

Back with Ben and Kote, they have been taking bounties and slowly learning about themselves and each other throughout (and what married means to them). They realized quickly that they had some specific standards (they DO NOT kill kids or innocents, but Kote has found that he takes a particular glee in bringing betrayers in and Ben has a hatred for anyone who would hurt kids). They have also found that Ben had a tendency to draw the attention of slavers, without fail. They had shut down an even dozen slavery rings in the middle rim.   Because they are always wearing a helmet, except for around each other, they have not realized that their faces are really famous.   They have also realized in that time that Kote is a hand to hand fighter and Ben can do some really weird things (lifting things with his mind) when he concentrates.

It takes another few months before they start to hear that Galactic General Anakin Skywalker is apparently asking for them by name. Rather desperately, at times almost violently. Ben’s instincts (supplemented by the Force) says that General Skywalker does not mean any harm. Both of them, in a fit of whimsy, decide to lead the General on a merry chase across the galaxy (incidentally giving Anakin more time to not focus on the body horror of…well everything to do with Palpatine or Padme). 

During this time the Galactic War ends. 

The chase eventually ends because Ben and Kote encounter another member of the Beroya clan (Obi Wan had been legitimately inducted into the clan when he protected Satine as a teen), who they are around long enough to take their helmets off around them.  

This being blinks twice and basically says holy fuck you are a famous republic general and his commander, you have been missing for months. Ben and Kote blink at each other, shrug and go ‘that explains Skywalker stalking us’ and admit their amnesia to the being.  

Anakin is greatly surprised that the next time his fleet comes out of hyperspace he is greeted by his former master, in armor, asking what took him so long. 

For a moment Anakin considered Falling right then and there. 

Then he considered it again when he met up with Ben and Kote and realized they had no memories.  

How the fuck was he going to explain this to anyone…

[ragnarokhound]

Ooh what about...Teacher au, actor au, and pokémon au. Ships open to whatever but jason in them preferred 👀

For the AU ask game!

THESE ARE ALL SO GOOD, YOU ARE CRACKING ME OPEN LIKE AN EGG (like with a previous ask i might answer one and then maybe circle back with a reblog or smth to answer the others fjdlsaja WE'LL SEE IF I HAVE TIME TODAY) and I'm jaytim til i die so that's what i'll be speculating on for the most part lmao

Teacher au... oh the hot gossip that would fly in that staff lounge...

Five fun facts about a teacher au I'd write:

Jason teaches either english or drama. Or maybe he would teach drama IF admin hadn't fucking cut the drama program last year and left them to organize a club instead. "there's no funding" they say, and yet the basketball team is getting all new equipment, all new buses (not even district-assigned! their OWN BUS), a whole new fucking facility--

Tim is the basketball coach. (He teaches math/comp sci/engineering). Drama ensues.

(The basketball team went to state last year Mr. Todd, sorry if success means getting more interest and therefore funding from the community, but maybe there's a lesson to be learned here) (>:0 he did NOT)

Principal Wayne doesn't play favorites (except he totally does, Principal Grayson at their sister school in Blüdhaven applied for that job specifically to get away from the bullshit. He wishes he could have sniped Babs as his office manager, but she's too entrenched. RIP) but Tim is obviously Bruce's newest, shiniest hire and after Jason came back from medical leave (motorcycle accidents suuuuuuck) he's extremely miffed to see what's been changed in his absence

Real conflict would take place when one of Tim's star players tries out for the school play and gets the lead role because Jason can see that this kid has talent AND THEY NEED THAT. (Drake is, unfortunately, correct; if they can take their production of Chicago to the National Drama Festival, then maybe they'll get the support they need to reinstate the drama program. Or whatever. UGH) Tim is pissed because this kid has a shot at playing professionally and this could fuck his chances if he's not giving his A-game during championships this year. Cue no longer passive but rather outright aggressive arguments between Mr. Todd and Mr. Drake BOILING with sexual tension while, idk who, Jon Kent probably Does His Best to be a teenager lmao

(BONUS FUN FACT: they 100% fuck in their hotel at Dramafest, because of course the drama club made it, and of course Mr. Drake came along. To support his student, obviously. And not at all because Tim saw the play that winter to support Jon and saw how good he was and Jason got in his face about it after the show and all the tension from the whole semester boiled over and they made out backstage like they were teens themselves again. Not at all. That would be unprofessional and irresponsible.)

[fishyvamp]

Yes monsters exist in Dead by Daylight, but hear me out. Dragon!Trapper who grew up with a traditional dragon for a father. A man who grew up drawing his strength from hoarding gold with little care to the monsters he employed. Dragon!Trapper didn't find the power draw to gold and treasures like his father, but finds hoarding relationships (platonic/romantic/familial) does. Dragon!Trapper get betrayed by the people he considers his hoard loses his power and essentially relies on his last shred of hoard by clinging to his father. His dad however is a sad source as the strength/value of the mutual bond is what gives it power. Dragon!trapper adores his father and wants to make him happy, but dad is well... He sees Dragon!Trapper as just a tool.

Dragon!Trapper gets picked up by the Entity, over the years he adds more and more to his hoard. Some sexual in nature, but most platonic or just beneficial agreements. It's mostly killers, but there are a few survivors.

Reader joins the realm later, his hoard is a nice size now he gets very picky about who's in it. After all he's done quantity before and a quality hoard grants him more power anyways. He Finds you one match actually enjoying it. Yeah some of the other survivors enjoy it too like Bill, but you... You giggle and laugh as he he chases you.

He sees you sneaking around corners to scare him. He plays along and enjoys it himself. Mentally you're hoard, your one of the only survivors that he seems hoard that he doesn't feel guilty hook or attacking because it's a game to you and he feels at ease when you're in his trials. You bring out things in him he had forgotten.

He doesn't think much about your place in his hoard until one of the mandatory celebrations the Entity drags everyone into he sees you look nice in your Halloween costume killers flirting with you, Succubus!Ghost face maybe getting a bit handsy. Succubus!Ghost Face is technically hoard. Helps Dragon!Trapper with his ruts and Usually Dragon!Trapper has no issue with hoard touching hoard and by all means mentally you should be lower then Succubus!Ghost Face on the hoard hierarchy. It shouldn't matter, but it does. It boils his blood, smoke pouring from his mouth as he bites back his anger.

He can't help storming over tail flicking angrily knocking at others as he goes, grabbing you tight. "You are mine." He growls into your ear. He's never approached you before, but he'll be damned if anyone tries to have you without his permission. You're his prized jewel after all, he just didn't realize it till now.

[angelasscribbles]

Savage Love Chapter 38: Here Comes the Bride?

Series: Savage Love

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: R         

Warnings: Mature themes

Word Count: 2,169

My other stuff: Master List.

The moment we were back on Cordonian soil, and I was free of Madeleine, I texted Liam, asking for an immediate meeting.

He responded instantly. Come to my quarters. Leo is here now.

I made my way to Liam’s private suite. He was alone with his brother. He swept me into his arms, pressing me close to his body as he whispered, “I was worried about you. I’m so glad you’re back.”

I melted into his embrace for a moment before remembering that I was there to give my official report about what I’d learned in Hidar. Noting that no one else was present, I asked, “Should we wait until the entire team is assembled?”

Liam shook his head. “We can brief them later on the parts they need to know. Tell us what happened in Hidar. Was Lena there?”

“No. She wasn’t. Was she in Rivala?”

Leo looked at Liam, who nodded, then turned to me and said, “She wasn’t home, but her mother was. Her mother turns out to be my mother. My biological one, I mean.”

“Oh wow! Oh, Leo.” I crossed the room and sat on the couch next to him so that I could throw my arms around him. “That must have been so hard for you! Are you okay?”

He returned the hug quickly, then released me as he answered. “Yeah…I mean, no, not really, but yes. Liv was with me. I’ll be fine. It’s a lot to process, but the short version is that when Eleanor was alive, she let my mom see me secretly. The plan was for her to take me and Liam with her when she went back to Auvernall for Lena. Obviously, that never happened and Helena ended up adopting an alias and raising the baby herself.”

“That is a lot!” I sympathized.

“That’s not the biggest bombshell,” Liam interjected. “Turns out Constantine wasn’t the baby’s father and that’s why she ran away.”

Oh, boy. The hits just kept coming. I stood and turned to Liam, my eyes tracking across his face, looking for signs of distress. “And how are you handling that news?”

“I’m not judging her if that’s what you mean, and I don’t blame her either. Our father isn’t an easy man to love and I’m sure he wasn’t a great husband. The bigger twist is who she was having an affair with.”

My head swiveled between the two men. “Who was it?”

Leo answered. “Jackson Walker.”

“Drake’s father?”

“Yes.”

My heart dropped. “Does he know?”

Liam gave me an understanding smile as he reached out and took my hand in his. “You’re worried about him.”

“Yes, Liam. I’m worried about all of you! This is a huge shock for everyone, I’m sure, and it’s not even the biggest issue in your life at the moment.”

The biggest issue was the threat to life and limb that the Via Imperii posed. Not to mention Liam having to get up to speed on becoming king since he’d had the crown unexpectedly thrust upon him just days before.

I filled them in on everything that had happened in Hidar.

“Wow.” Leo grasped a handful of his own hair as he took in the information. “First, we find out we have a sister, then I find out she’s not my sister, and now we have a brother.”

“One that’s been weaponized against us,” Liam added.

“We can try to extract him when take them down. Give orders that he isn’t to be killed,” I offered. “Maybe he can be deprogrammed.”

“Maybe,” He replied doubtfully.

“It’s worth a try,” Leo argued. “We don’t know what he’s been told or how he feels about any of it.”

“Great.” I nodded, “I’ll make sure the team that breeches has his photograph and understands he’s to be taken alive.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Are we ready to breech?”

“Hopefully soon.” Getting their brother safely out of Via Imperii control added yet another layer to my resolve to take down the entire thing, not just the local branch.

“Did you learn anything else that we need to know?” Liam asked.

I shook my head.

“Well, I have news. While you were gone, I received the same invitation to join the Via Imperii that Leo received.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be open to playing along by accepting the invitation and pretending to—”

“Absolutely not.”

I suppressed a sigh of frustration. “You are expected to pick a bride at the end of the week!”

My time was running out.

“That seems unreasonable given that I just took over the role of crown prince less than a week ago.”

“About that.” Leo interrupted. “I’ve met with father and we agreed to a course of action. I’ll be officially announcing my pick and my abdication at the same time. So technically, the goal of me finding a wife will be satisfied, so hopefully the suitors won’t feel they have wasted their time.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant!” I nodded my approval. “Announce your choice first, so that the suitors and their families don’t feel tricked, and then announce that you’re stepping down so that the Via Imperii don’t see your choice as a threat.”

“That’s great!” Liam’s face brightened. “Then I can just wait until next year to pick a wife!”

“Yeah…. sorry, but I pitched that idea to dear old Dad, and he insisted that you choose someone now.”

“But—”

Sympathy passed across Leo’s face. “I get it. But I also agree that it needs to happen now.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to be engaged to ascend the throne and let’s face it…. Our father is getting worse by the day. He needs to retire. This morning he was sharp as a tack, but by lunchtime he thought I was Uncle Fabian.”

Liam uttered a string of swear words that I would have sworn he didn’t know.

“I know. And I’m sorry. If I hadn’t dropped this in your lap—”

“What? No!” Liam shook his head adamantly. “Your hand was forced, Leo. It’s fine. I don’t mind picking up the crown. It’s just the marriage part…” he trailed off as his eyes found mine.

The desperation in his eyes killed me a little. He had to marry, there was no choice about that. The only choice was who. He didn’t want to marry someone he wasn’t in love with.

He was in love with me.

That thought sent warmth cascading through me. It wasn’t the time to think about that, though. “What about just pretending to pick Madeleine? You can always break the engagement after we take down the—”

“That won’t work.” Liam shook his head. “A marriage contract must be signed at the conclusion of the selection ceremony. I would need cause to break it.”

“Proof that she’s a member of an organization trying to take over the government ought to do it, right?”

“The wedding is two weeks after the engagement,” Leo broke in. “If you don’t take them down quickly enough, then she will be queen, with access to classified information and places inside the palace. We can’t risk it.”

Liam stepped closer to me and took my hand in his as his eyes searched my face. “Does the idea of me marrying someone else do nothing to you, Riley?”

“I….” I had no easy answer for him, or for myself. I had no issue with him getting fake engaged to Madeleine for the purpose of taking down the bad guys. Hell, I’d accepted a proposal or two in the course of my career. But the idea of him actually marrying someone…. anyone…. bothered me far more than I was willing to admit.

My personal feelings aside, choosing any of the other suitors was going to get him killed. I stared into his eyes as all the available options fell through my mind. The thought of him being hurt…. Or worse... sent all my professionalism flying out the window.

“Of course I don’t want to see you marry someone else,” I said softly before snapping back into work mode and stepping away from him. “And there’s the added wrinkle that if you choose anyone that the Via Imperii doesn’t approve of, her life will be in danger. Not to mention yours.”

“I’m open to ideas.” His voice was suspiciously devoid of emotion.

There was only one answer, and we both knew it.

“Choose me.”

A storm of emotions chased each other across his face. “I want to, Riley but I can’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking. It was my idea.”

“Yes. However, I know that you don’t actually want to get married.”

Leo stood from the couch. “I should go. Let you two sort this out.” He stopped on his way to the door to lean in and whisper to me, “Don’t let your intractable stubbornness get in the way of your happiness, double oh seven. Tell him how you feel.”

Once we were alone, we turned to each other, the air around us laden with emotion. “I can’t choose you, Riley.”

“Yes, Liam, you can!”

A sad smile flittered across his face. “I’ve made no secret of my feelings nor my intentions. I would marry you tomorrow if that’s what you wanted.”

“It is what I want.”

He shook his head. “As I said, you would be expected to sign an iron clad marriage contract upon acceptance of the engagement. One you would not be able to break later. Agreeing to marry to take down the Via Imperii will not constitute adequate cause to terminate the contract, as you will have entered into it knowingly and willingly, no matter your motives.”

I stepped closer to him as my heart began to thud in my chest. My eyes locked on his, drinking in all the longing and desperation that I found there. “I understand that.”

Hope flashed through his eyes. “You’d have to actually marry me.”

“I know.”

He stepped into my personal space, his eyes searching mine. “You’re prepared to spend the rest of your life with me?”

I shrugged, trying for a nonchalance that I did not feel. “Unless we can take them down in the next six days.”

“Is there any chance of that happening?”

“To be honest, we could take down the Cordonian branch right now.”

“But?”

I traced my fingers down his face and across his lips, my eyes taking in his hopeful expression.

His hand reached out to grasp mine. Bringing my fingers to his lips, he kissed each one individually.

My voice was thick as I whispered, “They’ll just come back. New people will take their place and you’ll never be safe.” I cleared my throat and forced a smidge of professionalism into my voice. “We have to cut off the head.”

It was the only way to keep him safe long term. It might take the Via Imperii months to years to regroup and set up a new branch in Cordonia, but regroup they would and Liam would be their first target.

His eyes lit up with delight. “You’re worried about me.”

“Of course I am.” Pulling my hand out of his grasp, I scoffed. “I’d be an idiot not to recognize the danger. Not only will they want to realize their original ends, but they’ll be out for vengeance on the monarch that helped take them down.”

“Do you always worry about the long term repercussions of your missions? Or do you usually just complete the assignment and get out?”

I stared at him in consternation. I didn’t want to answer that because the truth was that I never worried about what happened after I left. I took down my target. Cleaning up the aftermath was someone else’s job. Leo’s words echoed through my head, and I suppressed the smile that fought to bloom across my face. With a shake of my head, I lost the fight. “You’re incorrigible, you know that? I see what you’re doing.”

“What?” He grinned as he reached for me and pulled me back into his embrace. “Tell me you’re not acting illogically because you love me.”

“Shut up,” I breathed as my head fell back, giving him access to my neck and anything else he wanted.

He was right, but I wasn’t ready to say it out loud. I couldn’t.

Maybe it was a toxic trait. Maybe it was a self protection mechanism. Maybe I was just bad at relationships. Or maybe it was my equally strong feelings for his best friend that kept those three little words off the tip of my tongue.

Spoken out loud or not, my feelings…. And yes, it was time to admit that I had them…. My feelings for him were driving my decisions, not my professional ambition or my years of experience as a field agent. Leaving him vulnerable to assassination was simply not an option for me.

I would do whatever I had to do to ensure his safety, and I didn’t care about the cost.

[naminethewriter]

Thank You for Finding Me

Chapter Two: Interesting Choice

Masterpost | Previous | Next | Ao3

@intrulogicalweek

Story Summary: Logan didn’t date or really had any friends but when this strange guy asks him out while complimenting his posterior, he can’t help but be intrigued.

Content Warnings: Rage Room, References to Childhood Emotional Neglect, this one ran away from me guys, I don't know what to say

~~*~~

It took them a week to meet up again. True to his word, Remus’ texting habits were rather unstable. He could be texting with Logan for half an hour straight before suddenly not replying for hours, even in the middle of conversations.

Logan truly didn’t mind. While he didn’t get distracted while in the middle of talking, he did occasionally not answer his phone for a long time if he got absorbed into a book. What mattered to him was that Remus was fun to talk with. They didn’t talk much about personal things – Remus believed that that would be more fun to do in person – but they shared a lot of common interests.

Now Logan was waiting for Remus in front of the library he worked at. It was his day off, but it was a convenient place to meet up since it was apparently not far from where Remus wanted to take him today.

Remus had insisted on planning their first date as he had been the one to ask Logan out but warned him that they weren’t going to ‘do anything of that typical shit’ and that ‘it’s going to be far more interesting.’ Again, Logan couldn’t help but be intrigued by Remus.

“Hey, Logie!” Remus had basically not used Logan’s actual name since their first encounter and while he usually would protest such things, with Remus he didn’t mind as much.

“Hello Remus. I hope you are doing well?”

“I’m fantastic! I get to take a hottie out! What could be better?”

A light flush spread across Logan’s cheeks, he wasn’t used to such overt compliments and as he became closer to Remus, he was more affected by them. He appreciated such words from strangers but those didn’t fluster him nearly in the same way.

“Then please lead the way.”

“Sure thing! I’m excited!” Remus practically skipped back down the street he had just come from, and Logan followed him in measured steps. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“May I now inquire as to what we will be doing?”

“You may.”

Logan waited for him to elaborate for a few seconds before he saw the other’s teasing grin and understood his attempt at a joke.

“…What will we be doing?” he repeated, and Remus cackled for a moment.

“We will do one of my favorite activities. I think it brings out sides of people they don’t really know about or try to hide and I, for one, would like to know those in particular before committing to something. My brother says I’m unhinged for doing that to people only a few dates in.”

“I was unaware that you have a brother.”

“A twin, actually. His name’s Roman. He’s a prick and annoying. Love him to bits.”

“I see.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“No. I am an only child. As are my parents. I have no other immediate family members.”

Remus’ bouncy attitude deflates a bit, and he levels with Logan so that they are now walking side by side.

“That sucks. My family isn’t huge or anything, but I have a few cousins who are around my age. Made family holidays much more bearable.”

“We didn’t celebrate any holidays.”

“Man, you’re family sounds like a buzzkill.”

“I will not argue your point.”

“Makes our destination all the more appealing in my opinion!” Remus grinned, lightly grabbing Logan’s arm as he said so and pulling him to a nearby building. But instead of using the front door that seemed to be leading into an electronics store, Remus led him down a set of stairs. The sign above the door at the end read ‘Wrack and Shout’. Logan still had no idea what they were here for.

“What kind of establishment is this?” he asked, slightly concerned.

“Rage rooms!” Remus said, excitedly and pushed the door open. “’Sup Amanda!” he yelled inside, and Logan looked past him to see a woman with bright pink hair at a counter.

“Remus! Back again with a new face! Sometimes I feel like we should be paying you for all the advertisement you’re basically doing for us.”

“Eh, you can’t tell me that even a third of the people I’ve brought here actually come back.”

“True. Well, your usual room is ready unless you want anything more specific to request?”

“Nah, if anything comes to mind, we’ll let you know.”

“Sure thing. Then I just need your partner to sign the safety wagers.”

“Why do I need to sign a safety wager?” Logan asked as he followed Remus to the counter and eyed the paperwork he’s presented with.

“It’s basically an agreement that you’re going to wear the appropriate gear and are aware that there are some injury risks. I’ll explain it to you in a moment, it’s easier when you see it. Just trust me.”

Logan hesitated for a moment longer but the expression on Remus’ face won him over and he signed his name after skimming over the document.

With that Amanda thanked him and went back to what she was doing before and Remus gently pulled Logan deeper into the establishment.

“I still don’t understand,” Logan admitted.

“You don’t know what a rage room is?”

“No, I do not.”

“That’s fair.” Remus stopped in front of a door and pulled it open, ushering Logan inside. It was a smaller room akin to a changing room. On one wall hang two hardheads with plastic visors attached, thick gloves and an assortment of jackets and other protective gear for arms and legs. Opposite of that was a display of different weaponry. Sledgehammers, saws, bats, clubs and more.

“This is a lot to take in…”

“I know. But to explain: The door over there leads to the actual rage room.” Remus points to a door across from them. “In there are old electronics, some pottery and other things we are free to destroy any way we like. It’s meant as a way to release pent up emotions, especially anger as it says in the name. To be safe we have to wear the helmets and gloves, but the other stuff is optional. I did tell you to wear clothes you don’t mind getting dirty, right?”

“Yes. Both my jeans and shirt are rather old, and I would not mind parting with them.”

“Good! I would advise you to grab a jacket though, some of the stuff splinters and your shirt seems on the thinner side.”

“I still do not understand why we are doing this,” Logan commented as they got dressed, Remus helping him to find something that fit him.

“Well, I think anger is something that tells you a lot about others. How do they express it? What makes them angry? Most people won’t show that side of them easily because they think of it as them being at their worst. And that’s probably a fair judgement. But isn’t that kind of the point of being in a relationship? That you’re willing to be with the other even at their worst? So, I think this is super valuable to see if you mash with someone. Also, it’s a very artificial situation so it probably won’t be your worst worst self. Just a part of it.”

Logan took a moment to digest Remus’ words. Yes, he could see the merit behind his tactics.

“You are quite wise.”

“Thank you! Can I record that and send it to my brother?” They both chuckled and Remus held open the door for Logan to step into the rage room as they were both fully equipped.

The room wasn’t much bigger than the one before it. Left of the door stood a table with some plates and cups and decorations that Logan guessed were easy to shatter. On the ground a little further into the room was an old tv, a wooden shelf that looked like it would fall apart even without their help and some chairs.

“If there’s anything more specific you wanna smash, we can go to Amanda and see what they have in stock,” Remus said as he pulled the door closed behind him. He placed one of the smaller hammers on the table and held out a metal bat for Logan to take. “You didn’t take anything, so I thought this was a good starting one. I call dibs on the shelf!”

“Be my guest.” Logan accepted the bat and watched as Remus hopped over to the shelf and positioned it more to his liking before swinging the sledgehammer he had brought in for himself down on it. The wood groaned as it split in half and Remus cackled in delight.

“Oh, Amanda knows exactly what I like!”

Logan watched as Remus continued to bash into the shelf for a good minute. Then the other let out a satisfied breath and turned back to Logan.

“It feels so good, Log-dog! You should give it a try!”

“I did not like that nickname.”

“Noted! So, gonna try something?”

Logan looked down at the metal bat limply hanging in his grip. He didn’t feel like swinging it all that much. Maybe he should start smaller? He decided to prop it against the table for now and grabbed one of the plates. It was colorful but chipped.

“Do I just… throw it?” he asked, unsure.

“If you want! You could also place it down and take the hammer to it. Or the bat. There’s no wrong way to do it, really. Just think of something that made you mad recently or annoyed you. Channel that and see what feels right,” Remus shrugged.

“Why would I try to recall such a thing?”

“To let out the frustration! Did you never feel like punching someone who got on your nerves?”

“I do not think so. My parents always said that acting on emotions is a foolish thing to do.”

“I mean, yeah, you shouldn’t actually punch people unless they start it, otherwise you’re the one who’s going to get in trouble with the pigs. But it’s not about action, it’s about feeling. That you can now convert into action. Make sense?”

“Not really. I was raised to put logical thinking above emotional response. Instead of getting angry, I was taught to find the root of said feelings and work out a solution.”

“Wow, your parents sound like the worst kind of buzzkills,” Remus frowned. Logan simply shrugged.

“They had a very narrow view of the world.”

“Are they dead? You talk about them as if they were dead.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen them in years. My grandfather convinced my father to give him full guardianship of me when I was around fifteen. I saw them occasionally after that but they both moved for new jobs eventually and I have had no contact with them since.”

“Your choice or theirs?”

“Both, I suppose. It never really occurred to me to reach out to them.”

“What about your grandfather? Is he in contact with them?”

“No. He passed away a few years ago. I inherited all his assets as agreed with my father beforehand. As per my grandfathers wishes, I scattered his ashes so there was no funeral of my parents to attend.”

“My condolences. But, you have such a screwed family history and there’s no anger behind any of it?” Remus tilted his head. It might have riled someone else up, but Logan could see the worry behind his eyes. “No feelings on how they treated you? You said you didn’t celebrate holidays either, right? Did you do anything for fun as a kid?”

“I enjoyed learning to play piano.”

“But you didn’t choose to learn yourself.” It was a statement, not a question and yet, Logan nodded. “Was there anything you chose to do? Hobbies, friends?”

“No. They had a lesson plan for me since I could walk and talk.”

“And that doesn’t make you angry?”

“I guess I never thought about it. That’s just how things were. Until grandfather took me in. He also told me that I didn’t have to choose one of the careers my parents wanted me to pick.”

Remus nodded along to his words seriously. He made his way over to Logan and gently led him to the middle of the room. He stood behind him, placing his arm against Logan’s that was still holding the plate. Again, very gently, he guided it above their heads.

“Okay. Then I want you to think about your parents. I want you to think about every time they told you what you were going to do without letting you tell them what you wanted to do. All the times when you did tell them what you wanted, and they shut you down because it didn’t fit their vision for what you should be. All those shitty feelings you buried in yourself because they told you to do it. And when you think you remember what you felt back then, I want you to put all those emotions into your arm and throw the plate.”

Logan closed his eyes. He didn’t like thinking about his childhood. He didn’t understand the way his stomach twisted when he did. But that was probably what Remus was talking about.

He took a deep breath.

Let it out slowly.

And threw.

The porcelain scattered against the wall. Pieces flying everywhere.

And Logan had never felt so alive.

[zepskies]

The Honorable Choice || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for @jacklesversebingo.

**Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Series Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Racism, angst, violence, protective Dean, eventual smut, perilous situations, fluff and spice, along with other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read: The Spirit Soundtrack

Chapters:

Part 1 - Pride & Prejudice

Part 2 - Death & Sacrifice

Part 3 - Worthy

Series Complete!

Sequel Stories:

Outlander - Series coming soon!

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

🎙️ Podcast Fics:

A “podfic” is where you can listen to the story narrated - in this case by my amazing friend Sandra - @talltalesandbedtimestories.

Listen to Part 1 -

Listen to Part 2 -

Listen to Part 3 -

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Comment below if you'd like to be tagged in this series! 💜

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[mollywog]

Fated

Part 1 | Part 2 - Chosen

The door to the stable thuds against the opposite wall and Peeta looks up from his task wearily, before dropping his head back to his work unphased, “Here to finish me off sweetheart?”

It’s been a turbulent month of searching for him; day after day, trying to hold on to hope, but preparing for the worst. Finally seeing him alive in the flesh, she’s filled with a mixture of relief and joy. Unfortunately his flippant greeting also sparks her anger. She crosses the room in three strides, palms slamming into his chest. Caught off guard, he loses balance and tumbles to the ground.

She immediately regrets it.

“What was that for?” He glowers up at her, before standing. Brushing himself off, he winces at the fresh cuts on his hands. She reaches out to inspect his injury, but he yanks his hands out of her reach, “No thanks, I think you’ve done enough. Why are you even here Katniss?”

“I came to find you.”

His brow darts up momentarily, before furrowing, “why? I came to the Capital specifically because Haymitch always said he wouldn’t be caught dead here.”

“So you can imagine what a delight he’s been,” she snarks.

“Well I didn’t ask either of you to come!”

She throws her hands up, “how would we know that, Peeta? You just left! We didn’t know what had happened to you: if you were murdered or abducted.” None of this is going as she’d imagined. Her daydreams of their reunion consisted mainly of kissing and very little speaking, let alone yelling.

[ineffableigh]

Done! I had to stop fiddling with it or it'd never get posted lol. Not super happy with it but heck, that's the process! Time to do some life drawing classes.

This is a scene from the latest chapter of @phoen1xr0se's fic "There is a Light and it Never Goes Out"! This gosh darn fic has so many incredibly compelling scenes and I just gotta draw 'em lol. SUCH FEELS MUCH WOW.

I wanted to put a snippet from the text but eh, go read it fer yourselves! ;P No spoilies here.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Chapter 1: The Gojo & Geto KFC Break up: A Reenactment (Ao3)

A few hours ago, a classroom at Jujutsu Tech had resembled a warped fever dream more than a place of learning. Sunlight shone ominously over a makeshift KFC setup, complete with a curtain backdrop and a sharpie-painted sign reading "KFC—Sorcerer's Special: Fried Curses" dangling precariously.

The audience? Anyone unfortunate enough to be on campus—essentially everyone, since it was a workday—perched on foldable chairs, waiting. The room buzzed with confused chatter as rows of students and alumni filled the seats, their expressions a mix of bewilderment, annoyance, and existential crisis.

Mei Mei, bribed with a year’s supply of KFC biscuits, strutted forward holding a bedazzled megaphone. “Humans, sorcerers, half-cursed spirits, and freeloaders, welcome to the reenactment of a legend! This evening, you’ll witness heartbreak, betrayal, and fried chicken. Starring Yuki Tsukumo as the undeniably silliest sorcerer Gojo Satoru and Shoko Ieiri as everyone’s favorite broody malewife, Suguru Geto!” She winked, earning groans from the crowd—except for Panda, who whispered to Yuta, “Prepare for war crimes.”

In the background, a fake window opened behind a counter littered with what might have once been chicken or rubber ducks. Sukuna, sporting a crumpled paper hat reading ‘SukuFry King’ and a greasy KFC apron, stuck his head out to advertise. “KFC—get your crispy, juicy pieces right here, while the drama unfolds!”

Hakari leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin on his face, and shouted, “Twenty bucks says this joint goes up in flames before the credits roll! Who’s in?”

Panda nodded.

In the center sat Toji Fushiguro, chained to his chair. His usual mysterious aura seemed muted by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“I don’t even like chicken that much,” he muttered, his voice flat. A sign taped to his chest read ‘DO NOT FEED THE MURDERER’, as if that was the real threat here. Most people didn’t recognize him, so they eyed him with suspicion.

Across the room, Sukuna held out a pink Barbie phone to his ear, pretending to call Toji while looking in another direction. “Shut it, Fushiguro Daddy. No one invited you to the feast; you’re just here for the vibes.” He spoke only loud enough for Toji to hear and scowl.

Suddenly, the Barbie phone blared “tunk tunk tun ta ra ra!” at full volume in his ear, echoing through the room. Sukuna jumped, nearly dropping the phone in the very real fryer, shooting a glare at it.

Just then, Yuki, playing Gojo, stormed onto the stage wearing a baby blue crop top that read "Being an atheist got boring, so I shall now be God" and a dollar-store ‘eyelash game savage’ blindfold beneath dark fake glasses. Her fluffy flip-flops slammed against the floor like she was declaring war and fighting on bad fashion’s side. “Everyone loves me,” she announced, arms outstretched like a runway model, pausing for effect. “But no one loves me like KFC chicken does—crispy, juicy, and always there for me!”

She then turned sharply, accidentally addressing the wrong side of the room, i.e., Sukuna, who turned her the right way with one hand over her head. “Suguru,” she intoned, dragging the name out like an eighties villain. “You promised to share in my eternal quest for... fried enlightenment! And if you don’t, I’ll unleash my secret weapon: the extra crispy dance!”

Todo, who had showed up uninvited (again), let out an enthusiastic whistle as Yuki flipped her hair—only for her white hair wig to fly off, revealing the shiniest bald cap anyone had ever seen. He leaped to his feet, clapping. “YES, QUEEN! SLAY!”

Meanwhile, Sukuna pulled out a megaphone he’d stolen from Inumaki. “KFC: Where chicken meets tragedy. Get your two-piece meals at the concession stand!”

Kusakabe raised a hand. “Uh, I thought this was a strategy meeting?”

Todo turned to him. “Kusakabe, my brother! Witness their youth!”

Kusakabe glared. “I will fail you.” Making Todo slump back into his chair.

Yuji leaned over to Megumi, whispering, “Did Todo hit his head again?”

Yuki, now firmly reattached to her wig, struck another pose. “KFC is my soulmate,” she declared, voice dripping with faux heartbreak. “But Suguru—Suguru thinks it’s Mid-FC! The betrayal!”

Sukuna, leaning forward like the Colonel’s most unhinged employee of the month, sneered. “Are you ordering chicken, or am I committing mass murder in five seconds?”

“No one asked you, Sukuna!” Yuki snapped, flinging a napkin at him. Sukuna caught it mid-air, incinerating it with a clawed hand.

From the side, Shoko shuffled forward, cosplaying Suguru Geto with a fake tattoo sleeve, red sparkly buttons on her earlobs, and a tangled, dusty wig being held together with thoughts and prayers in a hoodie titled ‘Cuntest sorcerer of the modern era’. She was carrying a KFC bucket. “Gojo, we need to talk,” she said, forcing her voice deepen into a raspy purr that sounded more I-smoked-all-week than brooding.

Yuki (Gojo) whirled around, her flair so exaggerated she smacked the bucket out of Shoko’s hands. “But why, Suguru?! Is it because I always steal the best pieces of chicken?”

As Shoko (Geto) began her breakup monologue about emotional neglect and chicken, Higuruma (playing Toji) crawled across the stage, like a centipede, toward the fallen chicken bucket. Toru hung around his neck playing wormie. "So... no one’s gonna eat that? Can I—?”

Shoko (Geto) slapped his hand away with disdain. “No, Toji.” She kicked the bucket out of his reach.

Panda’s laugh sounded suspiciously like a car backfiring.

Shoko (Geto) rubbed her temple, "Gojo, why do you always have to be like this? Why can’t you just order a normal meal like everyone else?" She was trying to keep a straight face but kept glancing at the beer can she’d snuck in.

Yuki (Gojo) looked at her, adjusting her blindfold and fake sunglasses, with betrayal. "Because I’m not like other boys, Suguru."

Junpei staired wide-eyed, muttering, “Is this normal?” Mimiko and Nanako patted his shoulders comfortingly.

“Yes,” Mimiko said, deadpan. “Everyone knows about this except for Gojo and Geto-sensei.”

Shoko (Geto) grabbed the bucket from Higuruma’s hands—he’d managed to pluck it from the floor—and tossed it into the audience, where it hit Ijichi square in the face.

Shoko (Geto) yelled, "Gojo, it was NEVER about the chicken. It was about YOU. Always YOU."

Sukuna (KFC employee) sounded suspiciously like a Keren out on hunt, saying, "Are you two gonna order something, or do I have to call homeless control? We have a literal two-piece deal even your broke sorcerer asses can afford—trust me, it’s more fulfilling than your entire life’s purpose!” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “And it comes with a side of regret!”

Yuki (Gojo) scowled at him, "Oh, this isn’t about chicken, King of Ass-Pull techniques. This is about principle!”

She turned to face Shoko, nearly knocking over the cardboard counter in the process.

Megumi groaned into his hands. “Why?”

Nobara slapped his back. “Shut up. This is the best thing I’ve seen all week.”

Ino (as Shoko), fully committed to his role, burst through the side door, a fake cigarette dangling from his lips, looking incredibly done in Shoko’s high-school uniform that revealed his gorilla-level hairy legs. "I can’t have more of you both not communicating with each other and then coming to me crying about your feelings!" he bellowed, waving the fake cigarette around like a deranged conductor's baton. "I’m moving to med school to fake my studies.”

He propped one foot up on a chair, chest puffed out. "Next time you have a meltdown, try punching a wall or something! Seriously, I didn’t sign up for ‘Days of Our Lives: Extreme Oblivious Edition!"

Miguel (playing Ijichi), lugging an absurdly oversized notebook even for his frame, stumbled in after him. “Sensei! I’m taking attendance—oh no. Not again.”

Then from the other door, Choso (playing Nanami), in an absolutely horrendous business suit from the clearance bin, stormed in. "I’m DONE, Gojo. I quit Jujutsu Tech. I’m joining corporate and selling my soul. I don’t have time for fried chicken skits; I want to wake up eight years later and look at my balding head, then wonder where my youth went."

Yuki (Gojo) pointed at him. "You wouldn’t dare ruin my sunflower garden on your head!"

Maki, unimpressed, sighed, “This is why no one respects them.”

Sukuna (KFC employee) adjusted his crumpled paper hat, radiating despair. "Can someone please exorcise me already? No one appreciates the Colonel."

Yuki (Gojo), now focused again after her moment of ADHD, said, "You betrayed me when you ordered boneless chicken wings, Suguru."

Shoko (Geto) shot back, "They’re practical, Satoru!"

Higuruma (Toji), now sitting on the ground, held a cup out toward the audience. "Spare change? Anyone? Please. I’ll take KFC gift cards at this point." He paused, leaning toward Shoko. "Geto, buddy, a nugget? Anything? I’m starving."

Shoko (Geto) shot him a withering side-eye. "Not now, Toji. I’m having a quarter-life crisis."

Higuruma (Toji) nodded solemnly, then held the cup higher toward the crowd. "No worries. Continue. But seriously, just a bite?"

The real Toji groaned in the background, making Sukuna chuckle.

Panda tried to sneak some popcorn from Kirara’s stash, only to be slapped on the paw. Inumaki and Yuta sighed, sharing some shrimp chips with him.

Shoko (Geto), stormed to the counter and slapped down a crumpled 500-yen bill. "Satoru, for the last time, we are NOT ordering bones-only."

Across from her, Yuki (Gojo) leaned on the counter, radiating the kind of energy that came from seven whiskey shots too many. "It’s about the morals, Suguru,” she declared, wagging her finger. "Bones are the soul of fried chicken! How can you betray me by ordering—” She spat the words like a curse, “boneless chicken wings?”

Sukuna sighed from behind the counter, poking at a rubber chicken on a spatula. "This is KFC, not marriage counseling."

“Why am I here again?” Toji growled, tugging at the chains around his ankles, hoping they’d break and he’d make a run for it.

“Because you lost at Uno! Haha Loser!,” Sukuna mocked, a little too unhinged and happy, tossing a handful of napkins into the deep fryer for fun.

Yuki (Gojo) dropped to her knees, hands clutching at thin air like she was performing in a Shakespearean tragedy. "Suguru, don’t leave me! We’ve been through everything together—Mochi! Nanami’s bangs! Chicken!” Her voice cracked, as if each word was ripping her apart.

Within moments, she was sprawled on the floor, flailing her limbs like a soap opera actor who’d just discovered their long-lost twin was actually a disguised alien. "Think of the Nuggets, Suguru!" she wailed, her melodrama reaching new, uncharted heights.

Shoko (Geto) rolls her eyes, stepping back. “That’s exactly the problem, Gojo! You only think about yourself... and chicken!” She picks up the fallen bones-only KFC bucket, shaking it. “This... this symbolizes everything wrong with us.”

Sukuna (still KFC ambassador), now fully leaning out the KFC window, clicks his tongue. “Should’ve gone with the spicy tenders, Suguru. More flavor. Less heartbreak.”

Yuki (Gojo) stands, dusting herself off, looking stoic now. “Fine, Suguru. If you wanna leave... then go. But don’t come crawling back when you realize that no one, NO ONE, makes better chicken-related decisions than I do!”

Shoko (Geto) flips her dusty fake hair, then coughs as it spins around only to land in her mouth. “It’s over, Gojo. You’ve... changed. And it’s not just about the chicken anymore.” 

Somewhere in the back, Todo yelled, “Even Takada-chan loves bone-in chicken.” Earning side-eyes from everyone.

Then Dhoko (Geto) turned her back and continued, “Are you Gojo Satoru because you like bone-in fried chicken, or are you chicken because you hate boneless?" Weirdly enough, making Mimiko and Nanako shed a tear as the rest of the students eyed them awkwardly while Maki and Junpai rubbed their backs.

Higuruma (Toji), crawled back to his spot and sighed. “Breakups are hard, huh? To gain heavenly restriction against ‘em, spare a wing for a guy in need?” He sounded suspiciously like a sleazy pyramid scheme salesman peddling floor cleaner.

“Honestly,” he continued, with a mock-serious tone, “for just five easy payments of emotional trauma, you too can avoid heartbreak forever! Act now, and I’ll throw in a free set of emotional baggage, making you top tear Red-Flag!”

Kashimo (Haibara) floated aimlessly as a poorly conceived ghost prop, holding up a sign that read "Nanami’s fault."

Beside him, Choso (Nanami) buried his head in his hands. “Haibara, you lucky little shit, must be glad you died before witnessing this.”

The door slammed open again, hinges screeching like they were about to quit, as Yourozu (channeling Sukuna with the energy of a feral cryptid) covered in sharpie tattoos burst in, dual-wielding two buckets of KFC. “Yo, these trash humans should ditch the chicken and sell fried human toes!” She howled, spinning one bucket like a fidget spinner.

Before anyone could process the culinary war crime, Kashimo (Haibara), still in a white bedsheet covered with mysterious stains, phased into existence next to her like a glitch in the Matrix. “Honestly? This is the most alive I’ve felt in decades,” he muttered, chewing one enthusiastically.

Yourozu’s (Sukuna) eyes gleamed. “Picture it! Toes—crispy nails on the outside, chewy fleshy core on the inside—portable protein and calcium for cursed spirits on the go!”

Kashimo (Haibara) nodded, as if possessed by the spirit of a business bro (or just Nanami?). “You’re onto something. Pair it with sauces—spicy teriyaki, miso glaze, a dab of mayo. Go full Michelin.”

“‘Sukuna’s Special Toes’!” Yourozu (Sukuna) roared, arms raised like she’d just invented sliced bread. “Limited edition. Toes freshly cursed, aged for maximum crunch. Hurry up for Sukuna’s Toes Cumming near you.”

Kashimo (Haibara), still glowing and looking like a horror movie side character who’s about to narrate the end of the world, declared, “I’d throw my life savings at that. Beats playing ‘haunted tag’ for eternity.”

The room was silent—in horror—as they stared at Yourozu mimicking Sukuna’s trademark smirk, now directed at a chicken nugget she was calling “toe prototype.”

In the middle of it all, Toji was the only one snickering, making real Sukuna chuck his Barbie phone at him from the KFC booth. The phone broke into a million pieces on impact with Toji’s skull before scattering on the floor.

Higuruma (Toji) slides over to real Toji, holding up his empty cup. “Spare change?”

Real Toji handed him a KFC coupon from his back pocket. “Here, go nuts.”

Higuruma’s eyes light up, holding the coupon like it’s a winning lottery ticket. “Now this is the kind of happy ending I deserve.”

Miguel (Ijichi) muttered to himself like a malfunctioning NPC. “One day... one day I’ll grow up to be big and strong... like my amazing senpais…” His voice wobbled, trembling like he was on the verge of tears—or self-combustion—but the sheer tension radiating off him made him look less like a sad little intern and more like an excavator about to explode in the middle of rush hour. His hands shook as he clutched a clipboard for dear life, but his expression screamed, ‘Please don’t ask me how I’m doing,’ while his aura screamed, ‘Ask and you’ll die.’

Real Ijichi looked at him like he was regretting life decisions. “Was I really this pathetic as a junior?” he whispered to himself, trembling. Akari nodded next to him.

Kusakabe folded his arms. “I was told this was a cursed spirit seminar. Where’s the educational value?”

Todo shouted from the back, "The only education you need is learning what kind of woman orders boneless chicken!”

“That’s it! You will be failed AND SUSPENDED from the Sister School Exchange Event. I’ll also ban your entry here so you can’t see Itadori!” Kusakabe yelled while Ijichi tried to calm him down.

Without another word, Todo sat back down. Yuji breathed a sigh of relief.

Back at the counter, Yuki (Gojo) had fully climbed onto the counter, pointing at Shoko (Geto).

“You call yourself my best friend—my soulmate, Suguru—and you order BON—" she choked on the word, “—LESS?!”

Shoko (Geto), completely unfazed, popped a cigarette into her mouth and lit it with the fire emanating from Sukuna’s deep fryer. “They’re practical, Satoru. You don’t have to deal with bones when you’re hungover or just returned from swallowing balls.”

Yuki (Gojo) bellowed.

Panda leaned over to Hakari and whispered, “This is why mammals don’t need wings.”

Hakari nodded.

Yuta stared blankly at the scene unfolding before him, slumped between Panda and Inumaki. “I thought turning my ex-girlfriend into a curse was the lowest point of my life,” he said.

“Same,” Maki replied from the front, rubbing her temples.

Megumi groaned. “This is an insult to women and fried chicken.”

Yuki (Gojo) turned her attention to Sukuna. “You’re the employee here! Tell him he’s wrong!”

Sukuna, now wearing his KFC hat at a jaunty angle, barked out a laugh. “Listen, ‘Delulu iz D Solulu’ ambassador, I just work here.” He sneered, pointing a rubber chicken drumstick like a scepter. “But let me tell you this—no one who orders boneless chicken respects themselves. Or anyone else. They’re the spiritual equivalent of someone who microwaves ice cream.”

The room gasped in collective horror, except for Yuji, who looked genuinely curious about microwaved ice cream. “Does it melt faster?” he whispered to Hakari, who groaned and rubbed his temples.

Real Toji, visibly done with everyone’s nonsense, muttered, “I’ve killed men for less.”

“Shut up, Toji,” Yuki snapped, chucking a ketchup packet at him. “You’re only here because Sukuna thought it’d be funny.”

“Damn right, it’s funny,” Sukuna quipped, flipping rubber ducks in the fryer.

The crowd noise reached a crescendo when Shoko (Geto) grabbed a tray of fries and shoved them at Yuki. “Fine! If you’re so obsessed with bones, why don’t you eat these? They're BONES of the potato world!”

The insult hit harder than expected. Yuki (Gojo) gasped, clutched her chest like she’d been stabbed, and fell onto the counter.

“I—CAN’T—BELIEVE THIS—” she wailed.

Choso (Nanami) yelled from the audience, “Haibara, take me now!”

Kusakabe muttered, "You idiots called me from Kyoto for this?"

Akari sighed. “It’s a recurring nightmare; just go with it. It’ll be over soon.”

Soon Shoko (Geto) threw her cigarette into the fryer. The grease exploded.

Ino (Shoko) yelled from the door, “The principal’s on the way! Save yourselves, peasants!” He bellowed then, without missing a beat, hitched up his (Shoko’s high school) skirt like a Disney princess mid-escape and yeeted himself out the nearest window, purple boxers on full display like a chaotic pride flag. He landed in a somersault that was either pure James Bond or budget Brokeback Mountain, depending on how you squinted, before taking off with all the grace of a pigeon dodging traffic.

Sukuna burst through his cardboard KFC window in a single fluid motion, like an Olympian who moonlighted as a feral mothman. With zero hesitation, he grabbed Real Toji by the collar and yeeted him like a human projectile. The chair and Toji soared through the air in cursed synchronization before crashing into the nearest bush with a sound so loud it startled three crows into orbit.

Quickly turning around, Sukuna then yelled out. “Alright, that’s it. Everyone get out before I curse this entire campus for being budgetarily impaired. I swear, even the vending machines are in a dollar drought.”

Todo stood up. “You can’t curse me; I’m too strong.”

“Shut up, best friendo,” Nobara snapped, kicking the back of his chair.

Yaga stormed in, looking like he’d aged ten years in ten seconds, forced to babysit an entire fraternity. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL DOING?!” he roared, veins on his forehead threatening mutiny.

Higuruma (Toji but with none of the chill) bolted upright like a startled meerkat, clutching his KFC coupon like it was the last horcrux. “I’m out!” He ran offstage, tripping over Yuki, who was sprawled out on the floor. Making Toru abandon him for Megumi.

Meanwhile, Shoko—now in a baldcap (she had flung her Suguru wig without looking, making it land atop Todo)—was casually guiding Yuki offstage by dragging her flip-flop-clad feet, as Yuki grabbed random stage props since she still couldn’t see through her Hellen Killer blindfold and fake sunglasses combo. “Just... pretend you had cataract surgery,” Shoko whispered. “But don’t quote me; I’m not an ophthalmologist.”

Todo, now crowned by the discarded rag-like wig, was deep in character as Takada-chan’s split personality, striking a pose. “Shake ‘em buns,” he intoned with grave sincerity, the words heavy with meaning only he could comprehend.

Mei Mei, still holding the megaphone, announced smugly, “And that concludes tonight’s performance! Tips are accepted in cash or chicken.”

Sukuna tips his paper KFC hat. “Always a pleasure, Yaga. If you ever need us for another reenactment—”

Yaga cuts him off, pointing to the door. “I’d rather face Mahito.”

As the “actors” leave the stage, Higuruma (Toji) waves his KFC coupon in the air, victorious.

“Take that! Student Debt!” then turns face and runs away when Yaga gives him a death glare.

Yaga sighed as the students scrambled to leave, laughter echoing down the halls.

“Next time,” Yaga growled in the hallway, “I’m calling the Zen’in clan to babysit you all.”

Sukuna shrugged. “Good luck with that; strong ones are already here.”

But before Yaga could question him, the curtains fell—they really fell because Yuji decided to lean on them like they were a support group for his Paranormal Finger Munchies. “...My bad,” he muttered, slowly backing away.

Megumi sighed and turned away in embarrassment, with Toru, who was apparently the real protagonist of this story (in her mind), and began walking off in silent protest. Toru, nestled in his arms, purred loudly while striking poses that screamed, Servant, paint me like your French girls, her little primordial pouch hangin out like it’s own cursed womb.

“HEY! My turn to hold Toru!” Nobara yelled, storming after them with the energy of a rabid raccoon. She grabbed at Toru’s tail, but Megumi expertly pivoted, keeping the cat out of her reach like they were playing keep-away with a sacred relic. Panda tried to go after Nobara to stop her but was tackled by Maki and Kirara for lunch money he promised he’d pay them back.

Toru winked at Nobara. If cats could flip people off, she absolutely would have.

Meanwhile, Inumaki had somehow managed to snatch Toru’s tiny sunglasses and was attempting to wear them over one eye. The result? He looked like a certain one-eyed cryptid who’d stumbled out of the depths of urban legend forums.

“Shake!” Inumaki declared, striking a pose.

“Give those back before you snap them,” Yuta ran after him, diving to wrestle the sunglasses out of Inumaki’s hands. But Inumaki was faster, shimmying his shoulders like a little gremlin, the glasses barely hanging on as he cackled in triumph.

The scene devolved further when Nobara tackled Megumi, sending both of them—and Toru—tumbling to the ground along with Maki, Kirara, and Junpei. Hakari took pictures for blackmail later. Toru leapt out unscathed, jumping into Ijichi’s arms, who held her like a bomb waiting to explode before passing her off to Kusakabe, where she purred like she’d planned it all along.

“Finally, someone in this room with taste,” Sukuna muttered, placing the KFC paper hat on Toru’s head. Akari leaped into action like a caffeinated kangaroo, ready to snap pictures of Toru: the Kaisen to our Jujutsu’s official Instagram page; yes, Toru had an Instagram page now in only 12 hours of arrival.

Yuji whispered to Nanako and Mimiko, “Do you guys think Toru likes boneless chicken?”

Sukuna turned sharply, his glare a thousand curses being unleashed at once. “Don’t you dare, brat.”

Choso and Kashimo sprinted into the practice grounds. “Take me now, best friend!" Choso (Nanami) yelled at Kashimo, who tried to float away only to bump into a pole with a reverberating clang, due to him still being in the white bedsheet.

The chaos reached a fever pitch, props flying and nonsensical shouting echoing across the school grounds. Then, the intercom crackled to life with Gojo’s unmistakably irritated voice.

“Whoever’s using my name for this nonsense,” he drawled, his tone sharp enough to cut glass, “meet me on the roof in five minutes. I’m bringing purple.”

Dead silence fell over the scene, everyone frozen mid-chaos like cursed mannequins.

Then, another voice rang out, smooth and resonant, with a cadence that could only belong to one person. “I’ll bring Ratio.”

Before anyone could process, another voice—Geto’s—purred smoothly through the speakers. “And you know what I’ll bring.”

From the far end of the grounds, Yuki, still being dragged unceremoniously by Shoko, cheered loudly, “Spicy Cunt!” Then proceeded to clap like she had won Family Feud, her whiskey count showing.

Shoko groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she dragged Yuki faster. “Why are you making this harder, woman?!”

Panic erupted. Every actor scrambled like rats off a sinking ship, tossing clothes, props, and fragments of dignity to the wind as they bolted in random directions. Each was determined to pretend they had absolutely nothing to do with whatever Gojo was about to obliterate from existence.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted - Family Ties (Chapter Thirteen)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach, but everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x f!MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N 1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found. Not beta'd.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Tags - @choicesficwriterscreations

It's another long one 😬👉👈🥹. Listen I'm only slightly sorry, lol. A lot is happening here, LOL.

A few evenings later, what would have been a polo match in Portavira was canceled, and instead, a small, intimate memorial took place for Penelope near the water. The forecast for the day perfectly matched the melancholy atmosphere, as storm clouds rolled in and painted the sky in dark hues of blue and gray, the crisp breeze causing the temperatures to drop well below average. 

The nobility mourned alongside the family, but whispers of what happened and why spread like wildfire. An official announcement about her death was released, but the details were incredibly vague; they wanted to withhold that information until they had someone to hold accountable. Emmaline and Landon cooperated with Ray, who worked around the clock to find some kind of suspect or a clue to lead them to one.

Liam was confident Ray would promptly produce an answer. Olivia helped him scour the crime scene from top to bottom, but little clues remained. However, Penelope’s note had fingerprints on it and her body showed prominent signs of a physical altercation, all of which pointed to her trying to fight back. The coroner extracted DNA from underneath her fingernails and found bruising and discoloration on her forearms and shoulders. He concluded this case was a homicide, which didn’t come as a surprise to anyone. 

Every ounce of evidence was sent off for further analysis, and everyone anxiously awaited the results. The cross reference in the national security database would surely produce a name to match those fingerprints, and they hoped it would put them one step closer to unraveling the chaotic web around them. Ray looked at the surveillance system but found someone deleted the footage from the camera positioned outside of Penelope’s room for a certain period — no doubt when whoever took her life was inside. 

They had a time frame, which was at least a start, but that was the only thing they knew.

Ray did as asked and backtracked to look into Rhonda’s demise. Liam was correct in his assumption that most of the damning evidence was long gone, but they confirmed the legitimacy of the second report they found; Bastien’s fingerprints were indeed on the murder weapon. Although they remained unsure of where the brutality initially took place, Bastien would face charges of homicide — and more — as the story unfolded, and Liam intended to serve him multiple platters of cold, hard justice. He was being monitored at a local hospital under a continuous watch from three heavily armed guards and medical professionals. 

Liam told the guards if Bastien miraculously disappeared, they would face charges of aiding a dangerous criminal, even going as far as threatening to make them stand trial for treason. He didn’t use the term hate lightly, but he hated Bastien and was determined to make him stand before God and everyone to take accountability for what he’d done. His doctors had no choice but to put him into a medically induced coma while they tried to stabilize internal bleeding from Liam’s relentless assault, but when he woke, he would get moved to a permanent cell. 

They still knew who held that kind of control over Bastien, and that was Constantine. Liam avoided him at all costs in the short time since that revelation. He wanted to question him and knew he needed to, but he honestly didn’t know how he could remain calm and keep his head level, and this wasn’t something he could send Olivia to do; he needed to hear it, straight from the horse’s mouth. However, he genuinely didn’t want to hurt the man who gave him life, but if it came out that he harmed or acted against Riley, his body might react without a second thought and he knew that would not be pretty. Perhaps he should have kept his cool with Bastien to get more information, but he didn’t regret taking out some of his aggressions; if anything, it was a release he didn’t realize he needed. 

Since Ray was now officially investigating the homicides, Olivia took over the search for Riley and Tariq. She wasn’t as skilled as Ray in tracking missing persons but had some basic knowledge. Her results were the same as his — there were no traces of either. She contacted the airport and requested security footage for the date and time Bastien specified, but unfortunately for them, he told the truth when he said he dropped her off in a blind spot; the SUV wasn’t on camera and Riley was nowhere to be seen.

She watched the footage from every angle until the sun broke out and illuminated a nearly empty parking lot, but never saw a single sign of anyone relevant. 

They dissected the file ‘Operation Ghost’ from top to bottom for every detail. It held no other useful information, but enough to charge Bastien with murder and prove Riley did not disgracefully leave with another suitor. Technically, it was enough to clear her name, but it did nothing to ensure her safety or help them locate her. Her phone also received a thorough examination but uncovered nothing of importance.

Liam knew he could not wait any longer because time was of the essence, and they needed answers; he had to corner Constantine and demand an explanation. It crossed his mind more than once that his father could know something, but he shook it off, concluding there was no way Constantine would do something of that nature. In retrospect, he was the reigning monarch at the time of the incident; something of this magnitude couldn’t have gone completely undetected, especially if Bastien was involved. The thought alone shredded his fragile heart, but he pieced it back together with bandaids and pushed forward. 

Liam’s mental state was fluctuant, at best. He felt unending guilt for allowing all of this madness to happen, and that pit doubled in size with every passing hour. If he had been more attentive and alert from the beginning, none of this would be happening. Innocent lives were taken all too soon from a path of unrestrained fury, and he truly felt like that blood lay on his hands. Not to mention Riley’s heinous assault rested heavily on his conscience, creating wave after wave of remorse mixed in with soul-consuming rage. His out-of-body experience continued to taunt him; her screams and those vile chortles flowed through his mind on an insistent loop, taunting him with shreds of the truth, but he still couldn't put a face to that man's voice. And now, he had the added stress that she suspected he ordered her assault. He hoped she wouldn’t believe the lie, but without seeing her, he automatically jumped to the worst-case scenarios all the way around. 

They decided Liam and Leo would quietly pull Constantine aside and question him after the memorial concluded. There were only a few events left of the engagement tour, and now the wedding had much more at stake than only the future of the monarchy. It wasn’t a hunch they had confirmation for, but they just knew if they didn’t locate Riley before it was time for Liam to say I do, something drastic would happen. 

During the ceremony, Liam’s heart broke for the shattered remnants of a mourning family, but he couldn’t help but feel they were on the verge of a breakthrough. If his father was involved, this couldn’t climb the social ladder any higher, meaning Constantine could hold all the answers he desperately sought. He kept telling himself he would control his emotions regardless of what his father said, but everyone knew that was a lie, especially given his unfiltered and raw reactions as of late. Leo expected a knock-down, drag-out between Liam and their father, but he would stand beside his brother through hell and high water when it came down to it. 

As the service winded down, Liam made a bee-line for Constantine, who was deep in conversation with Godfrey and Adelaide, with Leo hot on his heels. He made it to the group and plastered on the politest smile he could muster, ignoring a glare from the duke. “Excuse me, but I need to speak with my father.” 

Constantine waved him off, barely even glancing in his direction. “Not now, son. I’m in the middle of a discussion.” 

Liam forcefully clenched his jaw and swallowed down the ball of rage forming in his throat. “I insist on speaking with you. It is urgent.” His eyes pleaded, but he didn’t make it too noticeable; just enough for Constantine to read because the last thing he wanted was to alert Godfrey and Adelaide. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to get irate and start screaming right then and there, but he was determined not to lose his head — at least until after his father answered some questions.

Constantine’s irritation rose, but he paused and observed Liam and within a second, his resolve weakened. For the first time in weeks, he truly took in his son and what he saw left him speechless; his sunken and darkened eyes with large bags underneath, his slouched posture, and he spotted Liam fidget with his hands, even though he tried to hide it. He knew Liam spent a few hours at the hospital recently, but since he was released so quickly, he assumed it was a farce, or someone being overprotective of the monarch. However, at that moment, he started to question his well-being.

Leo stood beside him, but wouldn’t look up to meet any of their gazes. Constantine heard he was around somewhere, but hadn’t seen him until the beginning of the ceremony. That wasn’t unusual, as Leo typically avoided his father like the plague, but he consistently interacted with Regina when he visited, and even she hadn’t mentioned him. His body language seemed nervous compared to the usual cocky demeanor Leo always wore, as he continuously bounced in place and mindlessly trapped his fingers against his thigh, raising multiple red flags.

Constantine had never seen his sons in such a way; the tension within them was palpable, making it impossible to ignore. 

He casually finished the rest of his wine, doing his best not to raise suspicion of their distress to the current audience. “Alright, boys, you have my attention.” He politely waved toward the lingering duke and duchess, before following Liam and Leo away from the crowd.

Liam silently led them down the beach, away from the surrounding commotion. While they walked, he racked his brain, trying to figure out the best way to approach this. When he ascended the throne, he never imagined it would lead him here — questioning the man he put on a pedestal his entire life about his one true love's disappearance. 

His heart pounded so hard in his chest that he was sure it would jump out at any moment, and the bites of finger foods he consumed tumbled in his stomach, threatening to reemerge. Every step crunched in the sand, the sounds echoing in the deafening silence. The ocean lapped against nearby rocks, but was the farthest thing from calming, white noise; every violent crash amplified the tension, the air nearly crackling from the combined stress and the distant lightning. 

They reached a small enclosure away from the gathered nobility and sat inside. As they did, Constantine quickly asked, “What’s going on? Are you alright, Liam? Were you in the hospital?” 

“I was, but that’s not important right now… ‘’ Liam trailed off, his voice soft; a stark contrast to the swell of emotions in his head. He remained silent momentarily before murmuring, “I need to ask you about something…”

“Alright, well, what is it?”

“Before I begin, will you promise to be honest with me? I — I’m begging you.” Liam pleaded, but wouldn't meet his father's curious gaze. His hands trembled violently, leaving him with no choice but to clasp them tightly in his lap. 

Constantine furrowed his brow. “I shall do my best, son, but what’s this pertaining? What’s the matter?” 

Liam glanced at Leo, his distress shining brightly, and his brother gave him a reassuring nod in return. He wanted so badly to believe his father was innocent, but deep down, he knew he wasn’t, and the thought alone made him fearful; he wasn’t sure he could stop the wrath that may ensue once the confession left his mouth, but he needed to hear it, regardless. 

With a deep, shaky breath, Liam began. “I think you know something about what happened with Riley. We know she didn’t leave with Tariq and the photos were fake. We found her things in Applewood with evidence to suggest she suffered an attack. Bastien has been working to cover it up and is responsible for that maid’s death — possibly Penelope’s too — to ensure this stays hidden. He confessed and told us you ordered him to engage… I don’t want to believe it, but I think he told the truth…” 

He sat forward but kept his vision cast downward, dread hitting the pit of his stomach like an anvil. “I need to know where she is. I don’t care about everything else, aside from the murders. Just — tell me where Riley is.”  

Constantine’s jaw dropped further and further the longer Liam spoke. Leo observed with a critical eye, but his father’s confusion only intensified throughout the story. Constantine was good at a stoic facade, but he was no actor and Leo knew all his little tells — he was genuinely shocked. However, there was guilt in his eyes; when Liam mentioned the scandal, Leo saw the flash in his gaze, but otherwise, he only showed bewilderment. 

“Liam… I —” Constantine started before he forcefully coughed, but quickly cleared his throat and tried again. “I admit to knowing of the scandal and her relocating back to New York, but I know nothing about the rest.” 

Liam’s vision turned crimson, but he squeezed his hands into fists and used every speck of restraint to deny the urge to act on his intrusive thoughts. “How? Bastien has been working to cover it up this entire time! I didn’t tell him to do that — you did, didn’t you?” 

“I — I did, son.” He stopped to take a steadying breath. “I told Bastien to bury the tracks, but I only approved the scandal and her returning to the States.” 

“You approved the scandal?” He repeated, his brows nearly touching his hairline. “What does that even mean?” 

“That’s correct —” Constantine admitted with his head held high. “But I assure you, I did not partake in any of these other things, nor did I know they were happening.” He sighed heavily when Liam and Leo merely stared at him, disbelief etched on their features. “Son, I knew how you felt about her — it was clear. If given the chance, you would have selected her as your queen, but I couldn’t let that happen…” 

“Why?” Liam demanded, his tone sharp and harsh. 

Constantine’s shoulders slumped, an air of melancholy clouding his expression. “I was afraid, Liam. Look at me — I’m withering faster than an apple rotting in the summer sun. I needed to do everything in my power to ensure you had a stable, capable queen to rule beside you.” 

Liam shook his head, the rosy hues in his complexion brightening with every sullen breath. His willpower teetered, hanging on by less than a thread. “Riley would have made an excellent queen. She thrived during the social season! She may not have been born royal, but she fit right in! Everyone accepted her! The people loved her!” 

“She was inexperienced, Liam.” 

“She could have learned everything she needed to know,” Liam bit out, his patience dwindling rapidly. Leo noticed and shifted in his seat, praying with everything in him that he wasn’t about to go postal.

“Inexperience equals weakness. I was protecting you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Liam scoffed. 

“Liam, believe it or not, I only did it to protect you—” 

“So you made me turn my back on her to protect me? She’s in fucking danger because of you! I ignored her because you shoved this down my goddamn throat!” Liam yelled, not caring who heard.

Constantine winced at his volume but calmly responded, “I didn’t know she was in danger. Bastien told me—” 

“I don’t believe you. I can’t believe you.” Tears blurred his vision as his entire world came crashing down. He felt a fool for giving him the benefit of the doubt, but that was a mistake he wasn’t willing to make more than once. 

“Son—” 

“No, you — you’re not my father, not anymore. You threw my mother in my face so much, but look at you! What you’ve become would disgust her!” Liam seethed. “I should banish you right now for lying and betraying your own flesh and blood. Do I mean anything to you?!”

“You mean everything to me, son.” Constantine held his hands up in surrender but remained calm as a cucumber. “And I understand your anger, but I need you to listen to me for a moment—” 

“Fuck. You.” Liam growled. He got into Constantine’s personal space quick as lightning and grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him to his feet. “I hope you rot in hell, you spineless piece of shit.” 

Liam balled the fabric in his hands and bore his eyes into Constantine, who merely let it happen, but he didn’t recognize his son; Liam was nowhere to be seen, and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what this monster before him was. He’d never seen him so worked up, but knew he needed to calm him down so he could plead his case. 

Leo approached and rubbed Liam’s shoulder, gently pulling him from his enraged trance. “Li, man —” He gave him a sad smile as Liam faced him. He understood his brother’s fury over the situation, but Constantine hadn’t even started talking. Until they got useful information from him, he had to keep his cool — for Riley. His eyes pleaded with him, but he breathed a sigh of relief when Liam’s features softened as if he got the silent message loud and clear. 

Liam turned back to his father and held his intent gaze for a long moment before he pushed him away with a firm shove. The former monarch stumbled, but quickly regained his footing. 

Constantine straightened his jacket and sat back down while avoiding the judgemental glares from his sons. He took a deep, shaky breath before he softly started. “Do you remember what happened to your mother? Did you want something similar to happen to Lady Riley?”

“Look around!” Liam bellowed, his face red as a ruby. “It is happening, and you fucking did it!” 

Constantine sighed. “I told you, I knew of the scandal and her departure — nothing else. I ordered Bastien to send her back to New York so you both could start over.” 

“She never returned to New York!” Liam and Leo yelled in unison. 

Constantine furrowed his brow. “... Pardon?” 

“Bastien told us he left her for dead in a parking lot after Penelope drugged her, with a plane ticket, but she never went inside!” Liam hastily explained. “She didn’t board, and Bastien told us he later received all her forms of identification in a sealed envelope. We have no fucking clue where she’s at!” 

Constantine’s mouth fell ajar. “Bastien told you this?” 

“Yes! Are you really trying to sit there and tell me you didn’t know any of this?!” 

Constantine remained silent for a long moment, gathering his thoughts, but both Liam and Leo noticed his anger escalating; neither was aware his elevating state caused his already labored breaths to shallow themselves further. His chest tightened and a strange discomfort erupted and traveled the length of his spine, but he shook it off as best as he could, and focused on the need to prove his innocence.

But Constantine was having trouble keeping his composure because he realized he'd been played and lied to — that was abundantly clear. Someone took matters into their own hands and ignored a direct order, and he was unwilling to take the blame for that. Bastien was at their disposal but even he disobeyed his wishes. 

They went rogue. 

As he took in the deadly determination staring back at him in Liam’s eyes, he realized it was time to come clean. Whatever happened that night did not go according to plan; not his plan, anyway. 

“Liam — let me tell you what I know because I did not wish for any of those things to happen. As a matter of fact, I strictly forbid them…” 

Lythikos, during the Winter Ball

Constantine retired to the king’s suite much earlier than normal. Usually, he would keep Regina on the dancefloor until both of their feet ached, but he just didn’t have the energy. He insisted she stay at the gathering, as it was still fairly early in the night and one of them needed to be in attendance, but he couldn’t withstand another minute. He was exhausted and found his lung capacity was nowhere near what it should have been; no doubt from his recent cancer diagnosis. 

Since Liam’s social season was in full swing, he knew he needed to step down and let him take the position of reigning monarch. He and Regina made the difficult decision together, after hearing his condition was fatal. However, Constantine realized in doing so, he would dump a world of responsibility on Liam’s shoulders, and he remained uncertain if he could handle the pressure so soon after taking on a role that was never meant for him. 

Regardless, the suitors all proved themselves capable in one form or another; some more than others. He hoped Liam would make the best decision for Cordonia when the time came, but knew his heart already belonged to a specific candidate. He wanted to forbid Liam from picking her but realized he would ultimately follow his heart. And, at one point, Constantine defied his father and married Eleanor; to speak ill of their hypothetical union would make him a hypocrite, and he knew that. He tried to convince his son to be reasonable and view the situation from a governance perspective, but Liam couldn’t see anything past his puppy love.

Just as Constantine was about to begin his nighttime routine, a sharp knock echoed throughout the room. He furrowed his brow, as everyone knew not to bother him after he retired for the night unless it was an emergency. He hastily dashed to the door and swung it open to find a familiar face on the other side. 

“Your Majesty.” 

“Hello…” Constantine answered unsurely. “It’s been a while…” 

“I’ve kept myself rather busy these days.” Constantine’s face contorted, but before he could press, they continued. “Respectfully, I’m in a bit of a pinch for time.” His company heartedly chuckled. “Do you mind if I come in? I have a proposition for you. One where we both get something we want…” 

Constantine eyed his visitor for a moment, but ultimately let them inside as his curiosity got the better of him. He ushered them to the seats situated around the fireplace and took one across from his guest, a thick silence filling the air. “What is this proposition you speak of?” 

His companion took a short moment to collect themself but soon began with utmost certainty. “It’s clear who your son intends to choose at the end of this… Lady Riley.” 

Constantine noticed the hint of distaste in their tone. “Yes, I believe that as well…” 

“And you’ve done nothing to stop it? You and I both know Madeleine is the one who rightfully belongs on the throne.” 

“Really?” Constantine challenged. “I’m not sure I understand why—” 

“She is a commoner, sir — nothing good will come from that for anyone.”

“I agree with you to an extent, but what am I supposed to do?” Constantine shrugged. “I’ve tried speaking with Liam about it, but he’s not listening.” 

“He’s thinking with the wrong head.” 

“I concur, but again, how am I supposed to remedy this situation? It’s not like I can send her home before he has the chance to choose her!” 

“Perhaps you can.” 

His visitor smiled, and Constantine had never seen such a chilling sight. “Pardon?” 

“I have a plan… We set her up.” 

Constantine’s interest rose. “… How so?” 

“We get her alone, send someone to her room, and have a photographer waiting to capture a scandalizing scenario… I’m not sure where just yet, but we can dispose and erase all traces of her after.” 

“Dispose?” Constantine shook his head when his comrade nodded, completely stunned by the suggestion. “No, we will not be doing that.” 

His guest winced. “Perhaps not dispose, but only ensure she leaves and can never return.” 

“And how do you suggest we do that?” 

“We detain her somewhere — perhaps use the tun—” 

“No.” Constantine sternly interrupted. “I will not allow you to do such things to her. Staging a scandal I could agree with, but I will not let you imprison her simply because of her origins.” He scratched his chin, deep in thought. “Perhaps a ticket back to New York would suffice, instead.”

“We can’t just send her back to New York! She will surely find her way back, or Liam will—” 

“If Liam is heartbroken, he will let his duty guide him; that’s the only way he will leave her behind.” Constantine returned but kept his vision locked on the floor. 

“We can’t simply rely on breaking his heart!”

“I know my son — he’s emotionally driven. If he’s devastated, he’ll keep going…” Constantine admitted in a low voice. He felt guilty about even entertaining the idea; to manipulate his son and the situation, knowing how he felt about Riley, but the past would always be there to haunt him and he couldn’t let it go, no matter how hard he tried. 

“... So, you’re agreeing to the scandal?” 

Lady Riley’s presence was pleasantly surprising and she had undeniable chemistry with Liam. In another universe, he would eagerly support their relationship. However, the throne was not to be taken lightly; it was a dangerous position that would put not only her but Liam at risk as well. He’d already lived through one assassination attempt and buried his mother after her demise, yet he still entertained the idea of letting a commoner rule beside him. He didn’t understand this weakness could bring Cordonia crumbling to the ground, taking his heart and man-hood down with it.  

Constantine briefly thought back to the torturous months after Eleanor’s death — how heartbroken and hopeless he felt. Those were the darkest times of his life, and he truly didn’t know how Cordonia wasn't brought to its knees then. He wanted to protect Liam from experiencing that type of pain at all costs. A harmless scandal and sending Riley back to New York was a decent option; he would ensure Liam continued for the greater good of Cordonia and, eventually, she would become a distant memory. 

His country and his son would be safe, and Constantine could rest in peace, knowing he did everything to protect what was important to him. 

However, he didn’t know if he could genuinely trust the person before him. The solutions they suggested were extreme, and he did not wish for those to come to fruition. On the other hand, he recognized his time left dwindled rapidly, and as it was, he physically could not make any plan come to fruition and he couldn’t step away at such a crucial moment either. He needed to ensure the transition from monarch to monarch went smoothly, especially after Leo's sudden abdication.   

There was no other choice than to take a chance and hope for the best. 

“Will you be present during the operation?” Constantine questioned with a curious eye.

“Yes, sir. I will make sure everything goes according to plan and they’re removed from the premises after.” The response came immediately, with not even a single second of hesitation.

“They? Who’s the other?”

“Lord Tariq — he’s the perfect candidate. He’s naïve enough to go along but still noble. The goal is to photograph them in a compromising position.” 

“Compromising how?” 

“That will depend on how the situation flows, I suppose, but something to disgrace her and make your son and the nation believe she left to be with Tariq. We’ll find a media outlet or something to leak the story and soon, her name will leave a bitter taste in everyone’s mouths — including Liam.” 

“And how will we enlist this photographer? We can’t do it ourselves — it’s too risky.”

“I'll request the aid of Lady Penelope.” 

Constantine’s brows rose. “And you expect she will agree? What will you offer in return?”

“Don’t worry about her,” His guest smirked. “I have my ways, sir… She will comply with the request willingly.”

After a moment of deep consideration, Constantine slowly nodded. “I can agree to this, but perhaps we should let her finish out the season to avoid raising suspicion.”

His visitor tensed. “Respectfully, I don’t see that as a viable option. If someone has the chance to get to her, they may convince her to stay. It has to happen before the end of the social season — at a random moment, without notice.”

Constantine stared off into the fireplace as he pondered that statement, but ultimately knew it was true. He could admit Riley was kind, funny, and incredibly smart, but those features couldn’t grant her the specific birthright she needed. He couldn’t let it happen; it wouldn’t end well for anyone involved, especially Liam and Riley. 

This had to happen. 

“I suppose you’re correct.” Constantine finally agreed with a heavy sigh. 

“She has to leave beforehand. It’s the only way we can make it work.”

Constantine bowed his head, overcome with a rush of various emotions, as their plan snapped itself into place. “... Alright, I’ll allow you to oversee the operation.”

“Marvelous!” His company grinned. “Perhaps you have a few guards to spare? Just to ensure everything runs smoothly… Maybe — Bastien?” 

“Alright — you have Bastien at your disposal to assist in whatever you may need and he will report to you, but he is to be in charge of Lady Riley’s departure at the end of the night.”

“As you wish, my liege… Just to clarify, you’re putting me in charge of this operation?” 

“I — am.” Constantine reluctantly agreed, but quickly added, “Do not make me regret it… Now, what of Tariq?” 

“I'll handle him. You and Bastien deal with the commoner.” 

“Okay, but neither of them is to be harmed in any of this, and I shall tell Bastien the same — do you understand?” He eyed his visitor critically, searching for any signs of ill intent, but found none.  

“I do, sir.” His guest snickered, a small notion the monarch didn’t notice. 

Constantine mindlessly nodded, sufficed by the answer. “This needs to happen fast — perhaps in Applewood, as it’s an older estate and it’ll be easier to have all of this go unnoticed.” 

“I agree.” 

Constantine inspected the person across from him once more, causing his cohort to shift in their seat. “Remember what I said — neither of them is to be injured, only removed — that is an order. And you had better make this quick and quiet — nothing that’s going to end up causing more harm than good.” 

“Understood, Sir… Now, what can we do about Duchess Olivia?”

“I ordered Bastien to ensure she went back to New York — safely, and he told me he did. I pushed the scandal on you because I assumed the plan came to pass as instructed. It wasn’t until this conversation that I realized they played me.” 

Liam couldn’t believe what he’d heard. It hurt him in a way he didn’t know was possible, to know his father acted against the woman he loved in such a way, even if he says his intentions were pure. Plus, the manipulation he suffered at the hands of the person who should’ve shielded him from the animosity shredded the frail remnants of their relationship. He felt the tear within his chest, as that father-son bond crumbled into a million pieces. He truly didn’t know who the man sitting across from him was, and couldn’t conclude if he could trust his confession. Constantine looked genuine, almost remorseful, as he spoke, but he knew his father could shift and mold himself to adjust to any situation.

That’s what snakes do best. 

“I don’t believe you,” Liam suddenly declared, breaking the tense stillness. 

Constantine’s shoulders sank. “Liam, I —” 

“No!” Liam shouted as he shot up from his seat to tower over his father. “You’re lying and I demand to know the truth!” 

“Look at me, Liam!” Constantine breathlessly pleaded. “What do I have to gain from lying at this point?! I’m dying! I never wished for harm to come to her — I only wanted to remove her from the situation—” 

Liam sardonically laughed. “Yeah, well they fucking did, alright!” 

“Liam, I apologize. I trusted the wrong person and—” 

“Me too — me too.” Liam shook his head, tears of rage burning his eyes. “How could you?” 

“Son —” 

“YOU LET THEM HURT HER!” Liam wailed, not caring if anyone could hear their altercation. 

“I didn’t! I specifically told them not to!” 

“But yet — you ordered Bastien to go along with it?” 

Constantine winced. “I did, but he never mentioned any of the additional things you speak of. I told him to cover up the scandal — nothing else. His job was simply to escort Riley to the airport and ensure it stayed quiet. Anything additional, he did under the supervision of someone who was not me.” 

“But you told him to clean it up?” Leo questioned. 

“Yes…” Constantine swallowed thickly, followed by a small coughing fit. He recovered quickly and continued, “But I didn’t know—” 

“Yeah, well, for once, Bastien understood the assignment — maybe even a little too well.” Leo retorted, completely blown away by Constantine’s admissions. He regained himself rather quickly, however, and a light bulb suddenly went off inside his head. “Have you ever heard the names Anton and Claudius before?” 

Liam froze, but centered his death glare on his father, watching for any waivers in his facade but  Constantine’s face only contorted, his confusion showcased brightly. “... Who?” 

Liam scoffed. “Keep lying and see what happens.” He laughed indignantly, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “I’m not playing these games. I want to know the truth, and I want to know now.”

“I am being truthful with you. Listen to me, Liam — I never should have gone along with it and I am so incredibly sorry,” Constantine pleaded, but as he finished, his lungs screamed for air. He inhaled deeply, searching for oxygen, and found just enough to continue. “I never should have agreed, but I was afraid, and I let that fear guide my decisions in the matter.” 

“I do not accept your apology! You–you’re a monster!” Liam yelled, his voice cracking on the last syllable as one lone tear traveled down his cheek. 

“I — I know, son…” Constantine hung his head. “I regret the things I’ve done, even more so now that I know Lady Riley is potentially in danger.” He hacked again, but then forcefully clenched his jaw. “I told him not to…” He grumbled to himself, which Liam nor Leo heard. 

His lungs burned with every shallow breath, and his pulse steadily rose, causing his hands to shake and turn clammy. He wanted to blame his sudden change in state on nerves for being caught, but realized it ran deeper than that; something was wrong. A tight sensation in his chest made him feel as if a weight sat on top, growing in pounds by the minute, and every breath seemed to do the opposite of what it should. His windpipe slowly narrowed, and the erratic thump of his heart was so forceful, that he felt it from the tips of his toes to his temples. 

Leo interjected himself. “You don’t know where she is? Or Tariq? Really?” 

Constantine didn’t answer but stared off into space with furrowed brows as he recalled conversations, while simultaneously trying to catch his breath and settle his elevating state. He and his conspirator spoke only a few times regarding the ordeal, but every time, they subtly asked for insignificant details regarding a specific location within a few of the duchies. He never thought much of it because the areas were abandoned, never used, and inaccessible; but it would be possible if someone knew where it was, and he’d practically given them a detailed road map to it. 

His eyes widened as he slowly turned to Liam and spoke just above a whisper. “The tunnels…”

“You mean that old wives’ tale about underground passageways?” Leo returned. 

“It’s not a tale, but very real,” Constantine replied, matter-of-factly. 

“And you think that’s where she is?”

“It's a huge possibility. If you go deep enough, the passageways lead to cells, almost like a hidden dungeon. Our ancestors used them as torture chambers when someone spoke out of line against the monarchy, but those accusations are mostly hearsay. He kept asking about it when we spoke, but I didn’t make the connection.” Constantine coughed again, trying his hardest to hide his rapidly deteriorating state. 

Liam’s heart rate involuntarily quickened, the light at the end closer than ever before. “The tunnels?” 

“Yes… If you believe Lady Riley is still in the country, I would almost guarantee that’s where she is if you haven’t found her by now.” Constantine answered through a wheeze, but neither Liam nor Leo noticed, as they processed this new information. 

“Where? Which estate?” 

“I’m not entirely sure which duchies still have one. A lot of the dukes and duchesses opted to have them filled with cement long ago to erase the remnants of what their ancestors used them for. All I know is they are only accessible through a hidden door, likely on the outside, but it won’t be easy to find without knowing what you’re looking for. It will take you underground, but the chambers will have concealed doors as well. I know for a fact the one at the palace remains open, but Portavira and Ramsford are closed.” 

“Why is the one at the palace still open?” Leo demanded. “And how do you know so much about this if you’re ‘innocent’?” He air quoted.

“My father’s father brought forth plans to fill it, but uprisings started and it got lost in the hands of time. As far as my knowledge of it, I was young and curious once as well. There is a book in the library that has a lot of useful information on it, and I know for a fact that it has not moved from its spot on the shelf.”

“How?”

“Maybe I knew in my subconscious that something wasn’t right, and I wanted to ensure it was there so I knew it wasn’t being used to gain access.” Constantine shrugged. “As long as it was there, I didn’t have to face the possibilities of what I allowed to happen, I suppose.” 

“Yeah? How’d that work out?” Leo rolled his eyes but centered his attention on Liam. “Applewood, maybe?”  

“Yeah… Yeah — that makes the most sense, right?” Liam responded, his mind racing a million miles an hour. Every muscle in his body shook as wave after wave of adrenaline rushed through him. “Perhaps I’ll send teams to all the duchies.” 

“Not a bad idea — knock ‘em all out at once, and we can’t leave any stone unturned. And I think we should check all of them, despite what he claims.” 

“I agree, boys,” Constantine hoarsely interjected. 

“Don’t even act like you helped us at all. You knew about all of this and never said a word to me about it! And you had Bastien fucking me around this entire time!” Liam bellowed. 

Constantine let out a slow breath and spoke in a low, quiet voice. “I understand you’re upset. However, I truly thought she safely returned to New York. Bastien mentioned none of these things to me, nor you. Granted, perhaps I should have stayed more on top of the situation. I was aware of the deaths, but you never told me there was foul play involved or that you suspected Bastien. If you had come to me sooner, I would have told you what I knew.” 

“Yeah, I bet you would have.” Liam huffed.  

“I would have, Liam. I never meant for this to happen — all I wanted was to ensure you and Cordonia would be safe after I’m gone. It was my duty as Cordonia’s king—” 

“No, it wasn’t! And you’re behind Olivia leaving too?” 

“She’s far too irrational to sit on the throne, Liam. I knew if you had her as an option, you would choose her.” Constantine’s face contorted as the knife in his chest suddenly twisted. He somehow pushed through it, but the pain only flourished, alternating between sharp, sudden jabs and a dull, throbbing ache. “You still tried to select her, but I assumed she would speak to you and not leave without saying a word.” He breathed, his face turning a bright shade of pink.

“I don’t understand something—” Leo spoke with furrowed brows. “Why was all Riley’s stuff in Applewood?” 

“I didn’t have any part of that. I was not interested in taking things from her — I only wanted her to leave.” He wheezed. Liam and Leo both continued to glare at him, but their fury and curiosity blinded them from seeing their father’s deteriorating state.

“One more,” Leo went on. “If you were behind the scandal, why’d you drop it during the coronation of all moments?” 

“That was the only hiccup in the ordeal that I knew of; the timing. I realized Liam would have an adverse reaction, but it was supposed to be released early enough to give him some time to let the general shock wear off.” Constantine rasped, and that’s when Leo finally took notice of his father’s struggles. Despite his sideways feelings, a surge of concern bolted through him. 

“Wow…” Liam spoke before Leo could address their father's state. He shook his head, tears of rage and devastation stinging the corners of his eyes. “You played me like a goddamn fiddle and I let it happen. You had everything planned out, down to my emotional needs.” He indignantly laughed, the sound sending waves of uncertainty through everyone. 

“I — I’m sorry, son. I regret what I’ve done, and I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me for getting caught up in this—” 

“Don’t hold your fucking breath.” Liam snapped. 

“I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you find her, Liam.” Constantine held a shaky hand over his chest as the pain intensified, momentarily taking his breath away. Leo rose to his feet, torn between his brother's wrath and his father's struggles, but Liam continued before he concluded what to do.

“How can I trust you? You knew about all of this! I think you know much more than you’re leading on, too!” 

Constantine’s mind raced so fast, but he tried with all his might to fight off whatever was happening within his body. “I’ve told you all I know, son. I will gladly assist you in any way possible from here on out.” 

“You’re going to be lucky if you don’t wind up in the infirmary next to Bastien, or worse,” Liam snarled as he slowly rose from his seat. “Who?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Who was it? Who came to you that night in Lythikos?” Liam stalked toward him with his hands balled into fists at his sides, his steps loud and menacing. He didn’t even notice Constantine’s struggles — all he saw was the monster who destroyed his life and decimated everything he’d ever cared about. “This is your only chance to come clean because if I have to ask again, you won’t like how I get the answer.” He scowled. 

Constantine stumbled upright and took another ragged breath, but realized he was no longer getting any airflow. He coughed, but his hands flew to his neck after, helplessly clawing at his throat. He suddenly gasped for air and grabbed at the front of Liam’s shirt, his knees buckling under his body weight. His eyes were nearly black as the dilation swallowed his iris, but his sclera was tinted with a bright shade of pink.

“What the—” Liam started, but soon recognized the problem. Constantine’s complexion somehow went from a shade of red to white within an instant, his gasps becoming more panic-laced by the second. One moment they were face-to-face, but the fear Liam saw staring back at him momentarily took him aback; it wasn’t a terror rooted around being caught, but something much deeper. His body tensed, the hands securely holding onto his jacket turning white and shaking from the intensity of the seizing. Constantine choked on his saliva, struggling for air, but soon let out an anguished, blood-curdling cry.

The next instant, Constantine crumpled to the floor, his entire body going limp.

Before Liam or Leo could register what happened, the guard stationed close by was already on site. The man spoke into his earpiece and summoned medical professionals to their location, a frenzy of lights approaching in the distance nearly instantly. Constantine’s eyes were open but nobody was home, and before too long, the man had no choice but to start CPR. 

Liam could only stand, frozen in place, unable to focus on anything else. He wanted to look away so badly, but couldn’t gather the strength. He felt every push against his father’s chest as if it were his own, and his pulse soon matched the rhythm of the compressions. An overabundance of emotions filtered through him; betrayal, fear, anger, regret, and guilt. Constantine shredded their bond into a million pieces, and he couldn’t find it within him to be sad; he desperately wanted to feel any inkling of remorse that his father might have just taken his final breath right before him, but he wasn’t, and that made him question if he was a monster in disguise all along, too.

He fixated on the fact that Constantine knew who did this and, right now, he wasn’t sure he would get to hear that tale. His heart yearned for Riley, but every time he got even a drop of information, he only met an abrupt wall. He’d almost grown accustomed to having the tiny shrivels of hope dangled in his face and then yanked away, but this time, he couldn’t simply shake it off and pretend like they had the situation under control, because they didn’t.

The abyss of insanity Liam teetered for so long pulled itself dangerously closer. His father had aggressive, end-stage lung cancer, and something like this should come as no surprise. But — for his clock to stop ticking at that exact moment seemed too convenient and at some point, the term coincidence just couldn’t apply anymore. Any other time, he wouldn’t have questioned it, but he instantly fell into a pit of madness as he internally debated the facts.

He couldn’t decide if this was nature taking its course, or a different force pulling strings.