#family court case stalled out before I got to

[shadowkat2000]

I must add that Anoraen has one sided beef with Mëohen, because I thought it’d be funny she hears about the weird errands he sends her sister on and she thinks most of them are stupid and needs to make sure he knows this. Can go through the Girdle of Melian because she’s only half noldor and we thought it’d be funny. Is a little shit who desires Knowing Things just because and definitely has Secrets™️ but is the most normal of everyone in comparison probably !

I don't think you realize how invested I am in your campaigns. Plz tell me things about the gondolin crew

HIHIHIHI THANK YOU.

oh man HAVE i introduced tumblr, formally, to the gondolin campaign crew? ANYWAY. we have:

my problem of an oathsworn would-be-a-paladin-if-aime-would-let-me, Antar, a fanatically loyal member of turgon's royal guard, who has been serving as idril's personal bodyguard since saving her life in the battle of the lammoth. everyone sure did see them on the ice that day!! pay no mind to why they're having weird tension with maedhros that suggests that they might have been around when he was captured!!! they were definitely on the ice and not in beleriand at the time for sure!!! has been lying through their teeth while also genuinely meaning every word they have said this entire time. this does not negate them lying through their absolute teeth. has a rivalry with a literal teenager (the teenager deserves it (the teenager is mëohen (you understand))). MAY have been overheard shittalking said teenager to maedhros BY said teenager,

@thymo-leonta's terrible spoiled boyprince, Mëohen, ie. the teenager in question, whose stated description and character desire on his official sheet are simply - and i quote - "smug brat" and "get turnt", respectively. technically a lord, but like, a minor unimportant one. mostly can be counted on to cause massive problems for everyone but mostly himself. The Entire Noldorin Royal Family is now aware of the time when he, in order, agreed to a 6am cross country race without stopping to ask what he was even getting himself into out of spite, went to a giant rager the night before and showed up hung over, failed all of his constitution rolls and did really badly, got stranded in the woods outside of barad eithel for most of the day, and then rolled up to court in front of Actual High King Fingolfin still hungover and covered in mud from said woods. (antar might be actively helping this become a topic of gossip for the entire noldorin royal family). there is an ongoing joke about his presence in this campaign rendering maeglin as a character entirely obsolete,

@potatoobsessed999's hypocrite of a kinslayer, APPARENTLY, NOT THAT ANY OF OUR CHARACTERS ACTUALLY KNOW THIS, Niquessë, who very loudly disowned her parents, disowned the entirety of fingon's host, kidnapped her baby sister, ran away to vinyamar, and got hired by mëohen, not necessarily in that order. tried to hide from said parents in a thornbush. failed at hiding anyway. (mëohen didn't help). agreed to take damage if she could look dignified while getting out of the thornbush. failed at looking dignified anyway. clearly has the most wet cat energy of the group. is maybe responsible, just a little bit, for stranding mëohen in the woods. developing a very catlike friendship with antar, who she will definitely absolutely not have any reason to have conflict with in the near future not at all (incorrect (this is going to go so bad for them)),

and @shadowkat2000's Anoraen, ie. THE BABY SISTER IN QUESTION WHO NIQUESSE KIDNAPPED. is baby. is adorable. definitely ALSO has Secrets, which if history is anything to go by WILL be kept from the party for MUCH longer than antar's!! possibly has weird elf magic shit going on?? talked Actual High King Fingolfin into officially, in court, declaring that niquessë kidnapping her was chill actually. did so successfully enough that even mëohen couldn't ruin it, which IS saying SOMETHING!!

because we are all noldor, our beloved gm @jaz-the-bard can make us fail doing anything at any time!!! everything is fine and is going to go great!! if we just gondolin enough the doom of the noldor surely won't get us!! :D

[chvnnie]

Hannie thoughts 🩷

He pursued you so sweetly and now you're expecting a sweet slow courtship. But now that he realizes just how into him you are, he takes full advantage. Rough in the bedroom confident Jisung. 😍 Y/n overwhelmed but secretly loves it.

“courtship” gave me royal vibes. soooOoOOOo

also idk why this is so long!!! im sorry!!! this concept got the best of me!!!

tell me you love royal aus without telling me 🫠

SMUT — MINORS DNI

The kingdom is lucky to have Jisung on their throne. Crowned as a mere teenager, nobody expected the Young King to thrive. What could he possibly know about ruling a kingdom? In three years time, they’ll lose all credibility, and he his head. Just watch; a boy cannot be King.

Within a year, all ill words spoken about the King were silenced. Charismatic, yet shy, he found his footing in royal life with ease. Leading council meetings, carefully listening and fairly judging every case brought to the court. Age is deceiving; the people haven’t had a leader of this quality in many, many years.

It wouldn’t be fair to say Jisung is just a good King. Even though ten years have passed since his coronation, he can still be found dressed in plain clothes without jewels or his crown, riding into town on his precious golden mare. She is cared for by his Hand, and best friend, as he walks the market.

Not a single stall is passed by him, even if the products are the same as the day before. Carefully, he will look over each and every item while making small talk.

“Alright this morning, Sir?”

“Is this a new recipe? The bread is sweeter than usual — it’s wonderful!”

“Oh my, your craft has improved greatly! I am impressed, keep at it!”

And then the King hands them exactly three gold coins even if he has no intention of buying anything. They’ll offer him something; a small item, or a piece of food, but he always denies it. A gift for them. Encouragement. Proof that he sees their skills and what they bring to the kingdom and is appreciative of it. It also reminds them that he truly cares about them as people. Without them, this city wouldn’t flourish the way it does.

Occasionally, he’ll buy something from the baker. He’s particularly fond of the blueberry poppy bread she makes. She’s a good woman; her husband fought hard and loyally for his father, and for that Jisung is eternally grateful for. Some weekends, he’ll visit her in her cottage. Have tea with her, listen to stories of her late beloved and all the great things he did in life.

She always gets five coins. But shush, don’t tell anybody.

At the end of the market is the only stall he’ll buy from everyday. Brown paper, pink twine, white daisies. The same thing, everyday. The florist always gives him a warm smile.

“How is she?”

And it brings a smile to The King’s face. The genuine care in their tones — because he genuinely cares.

“Well.” He digs in his coin purse, always pulling out too many coins. Just speaking about his love tinges his cheeks a dark pink. “As always.”

An exchange — coins, flowers. “When will you wed?”

“Shortly after my celebration day.” He denies the return of extra coins, as usual. “The autumn weather is her favorite.”

“Wish her well for me.”

“Of course.”

Jisung is a man of routine. Personal goodbyes to each and every merchant before he’s back on his horse. The sky is still pink when he’s back at the castle. The Hand takes his horse so the King can walk through the cool halls. Take the winding stairs up to the top level, where the royal family sleeps.

It used to just be him in this hall. Echoey, empty, reminding him of what price has to be paid for him to take the throne.

Not now, though. The room at the opposite end of the hall is now filled, well loved and used.

Taking a right from the staircase brings him to the door. Kindly dismissing the guard, the King knocks three times. A code; announcing himself without having to.

“Come in!”

The curtains are pushed open, fresh sunlight spilling in from the many windows. Yesterday’s daisies are in a crystal vase, sat on the table in the sitting area. Beautifully bloomed, the floral scent filling the golden room.

You’re by the biggest window, sat on the ledge. The glass is pushed open just slightly, letting the spring breeze cool your body. The dress you’re wearing is one of Jisung’s favorites; off the shoulder, a lavender color with little flowers stitched into the neckline with white thread.

The most beautiful soon-to-be Queen the land has ever seen.

“Good morning, petal.” The nickname rolls off his tongue. “Rest well?”

Closing the book, you nod. “And you, my dear?”

“All right.” Only a few steps away, he takes the bouquet out from behind his back and presents it to you. “For you. As always.”

Oh, the bright smile you give him. It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again. Gracefully, you rise from your seat and take the fresh flowers, bringing to your nose to sniff.

“They’re lovely, Jisung. Thank you.”

Everyday, a peck to his cheek. Quick — you’re far too shy to linger. The King has a routine. So he turns his head just slightly, left side of his face presented to you. Ready to receive your gratitude.

The routine breaks. Swiftly, you walk past your fiancé, taking the flowers to the vase. Leaving him stunned.

Strange.

“I was wondering if today we might ride to the sea?” You don’t look to him as you speak — actually, it looks like you’re trying to hide behind the white flowers. “I’ve been a tad homesick.”

The steps he takes are cautious. “Of course.” Hesitance is laced in his tone. This isn’t your ordinary behavior. “What’s on your mind, darling?”

It’s like you’ve seen a ghost, blood running from your face and eyes widen. But in a snap, the expression is gone. “Oh, nothing. I want to write about the sea, you know how my brother loves it.”

Carefully, Jisung takes a seat on your velvet sofa. “Ah, yes. How is Seungmin?”

“His letters say he is well. The ocean is treating him nicely, though I wish he wouldn’t have chosen that path.”

Son and daughter of a prestigious family. One to be Queen, the other a runaway pirate.

“There’s always room for him in our kingdom. He would do well with us.”

You swallow dryly. What is happening? “The gracious and merciful Young King, what would this world be without you?”

Jisung can’t take this anymore. What has gotten into his beloved? Where is your head at? Grabbing your wrist, he pulls you away from the vase. Making you stand in front of him.

“Speak your worries.”

“I have none, Your Grace—“

“Though merciful, you know I hate to be made a fool.” His eyes narrow, but expression stays soft. “Love, let me help.”

You can’t meet his gaze, staring at the slit in your dress as you speak. “I’m afraid my thoughts are…doubtful.”

“Of?”

Finally, your eyes meet.

“Oh.”

What good is a crown? What good is a throne? What good is this kingdom if you are not by his side? Emotions tear at him, making his lip tremble despite his best efforts.

“Not of that kind.” You quickly reassure, catching the hurt on his face. “You are my love, Jisung. I would never want a life without you.”

“Good, good.” He won’t deny his worry. That isn’t fair to you. “Then what is it?”

Jisung thinks you’re precious. You still get so shy around him, even after years together. Especially when you want to express your feelings or ask for something.

Reassuringly, he rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, still caught in his. “You don’t have to—“

“I don’t want to wait any longer.”

The way you said it, so firm and confident. As if you’ve been pondering this, an opinion you’ve held for a while and are now sure of. The King is taken aback briefly, trying to figure out what your words mean.

“For the wedding?” It’s all he can come up with, but even he doesn’t sound too sure in it. “I’m sure we could plan it for the upcoming solstice, my love, if that’s what you desire.”

You shake your head quickly, and he can tell you’re starting to second guess saying it. “No, no. I want to wed in autumn. I don’t want to wait for you.”

What ever could you mean? Wait for him? Why, he’s right here. Touching you, speaking to you. Are you feeling ill? Those words make no—

Oh.

Oh, how he made himself the fool.

Suddenly, he’s in dire need of wine. Mouth dry, tongue heavy. Though he’s had many, many dreams of you in such a way, never would he push it on you. You felt as if your body was sacred, and he respected that. The King wants nothing but for you to feel comfortable and safe around him. If you were waiting for him, he would be waiting for you as well.

Sometimes the dresses you wear do drive him mad. Form fitting and hugging your curves, or with a lower neckline that he can see down at the right angle. Those have made it hard, and only starved him more. Like dangling bread in front of the hungry.

“Are you certain?” Jisung finally speaks, tone dropping several octaves.

You nod, softly wrapping your other hand around the one he has grasped. It’s so delicate, how you drop to your knees in front of him. Starry eyes blinking at him.

“More than, my King.” You bring the hands to your lips, soft kisses across his knuckles. “My patience is dry. I no longer want to wait for your love.”

“Rise.”

“What?”

“Your King gave you a command.” His demeanor changes like a switch, the feral need he’s drowned for so long rising to the surface. “Rise. No Queen of mine will ever kneel, even for me.”

Your eyes never leave his, standing up fully in front of him. He follows, using your hand as a guide up and into your body. A hand on the left side of your neck, fingers creeping into your perfectly combed hair. It’s used to bring your lips to his, properly kissing you.

Many kisses have been shared between you, but none like this. It’s intense, every pent up and buried feeling finding new life with the movement of your lips. It’s more addictive than the blueberry poppy bread from the baker, tongues desperate for the taste to linger. For the feelings to stay.

Loving you is a greater honor than the crown, the King is sure of it.

He curses your corset, making you giggle when he spins you gracefully to get a better look at it. The tugs on it are rough, eager to get the fabric off your body. Heavens, Jisung knows he loves this dress but does it have to be so dreadful to remove?

It’s too much. Your desires tangle with his own, sparking brighter than the jewels on the crown. Than the gold of coins. The energy it deepens the King’s decent — the hole you’re tumbling into doesn’t have a bottom.

Your nails rip his shirt, accidentally tangling the strings of his pants in your rush. There’s no grace in the first moments. Ready to see each other’s bodies, to touch, to taste. To be one.

The King tries his best to be gentle with you. To give you the sweetest kisses, careful touches. He’s heard stories, knows that it can be too much. The last thing he wants is for you to not find pleasure in this.

But, it can only last for so long. The breaking comes with he accidentally takes your breath away — truly, he didn’t mean to place his hand there. Apologies are ready to fumble out when he sees it.

The look you give him. Shocked, a little frightened. But excited.

Jisung never considered his ego very large, but he’s open to self reflection.

“Oh, petal, is this what you like?” He squeezes your throat, tips of his fingers digging into your soft skin. Though you nod, there’s no real need for an answer. He can feel it in the clench around his cock, the legs hooked around his waist pulling him closer. With a dry laugh, he picks up the pace of his hips. Fucking you hard enough the bed is becoming unstable. “I have to admit my surprise. The shy, gentle Queen likes to be fucked like a common whore.”

As soon as the words leave, he feels a tinge of regret. What harsh words to say to someone he loves—

Do his eyes deceive him? You’re whimpering, nodding your head. Unable to speak from the lack of air, but in full agreement.

Heavens. The King is done for.

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have you at the brothel.” Control is lost, the wooden frame starting to crack under the King’s intense movements. “Let the people have a taste of the King’s favorite cunt.”

“N-no.” You seem to speak. “Only y-you—“

“Aw, don’t be selfish, petal.” He pinches your cheek, finding joy in the tears painting your face. “You know I am a generous ruler.”

Jisung enjoys riling you up like this. Enjoys the tears, the cries, the way you’re twitching and squirming underneath him. Not to escape. No, from the force of something world shattering.

“Are you going to cum?” He teases you. “From those awful threats?”

You cannot help yourself, nodding quickly. Little, soft begs falling from your lips.

Maybe Jisung is power hungry. Maybe the crown has gone to his head. Maybe that’s why he laughs, stopping to leave you right on the edge. You’re so distraught, wide eyed and frantically begging for him to finish.

“Oh, but petal. I never said I would be generous to you.”

[tubbypeddle]

Prosciutto x nurse!fem!reader (sfw, nsfw)

headcanons are like,,so fun. I'll actually be at work writing these bc i love doing them 🤧

(also, very loosely based off of the matchup trade i did with endless lady (and by very loosely i mean not that loosely))

(authors note: i have not been to a doctors office in literal years, and the last time i spoke to any sort of nurse was when a hospice nurse came to help my grandmother pass, so i apologize for any inaccuracies)

(sfw)

-you met him when he was admitted to your hospital for a head injury. The grown boy accompanying him (Pesci) was wailing and generally causing a big scene out of worry, and he was just coherent enough to watch with awe as you managed to calm Pesci down enough that he could sit in the waiting room without him

-After that, when you came to his side to tend to his equipment, he mustered up the courage to ask you

-"You helped my overgrown manbaby brother...why?"

-You'd laugh and say "He definitely wasn't the worst patient I've ever had. Besides, he's only worried about you, it must be scary to see your big brother hooked up to all these intimidating machines."

-which, yknow...is understandable

-After he's been released from the hospital, he puts in a request to Risotto to have you as the squad's personal medic

-youd be paid handsomely, of course, with whatever the Boss decided you were worth. But Prosciutto knew your worth.

-if you're accepted to work for La Squadra, congratulations! You've got an arrogant man constantly in your infirmary!

-Even if the Boss denies Prosciutto's request, he'd still find his way to your hospital.

-Prosciutto's not even injured most of the time, he just wants to see you.

-his form of courting you is...weird. He critiques tiny things about you; how you've organized your equipment, how you've organized your files (how did he even get into those? those are confidential-), how you talk to your patients

-Honestly, at first, you actually don't even notice that he's romantically interested in you. he just seems so rude and mean and critical

-really though, he's just tryna keep you "up to his standards"

-he's got a bit of an ego, he believes that when he wants someone by his side, he wants them to be as presentable as he is, or even more than he is. (which is the case with you, he already thinks you're pretty perfect, but it's a habit he can't break)

-it really takes a long time before you notice he wants to date you

-when you finally do notice though, you're a little endeared by his odd habits. you learn to brush off his nitpicking, learn about his friends turned family.

-when he introduces you to them, his family, formaggio in particular is shocked. like, what? Prosciutto?? found this super hot nurse chick?? AND managed to impress her enough that she'd date his hot mess ass? like....why?

(nsfw below the cut)

(nsfw)

-he tends to switch between wanting something slow and sensual, real love-making, or something raw and fast and mean, depending on his mood.

-when he's feeling something slower, he'll bed you right, believe it

-candle lit dinner in his apartment, flowers, rose petals on the bed, the whole fucking show

-when he's feeling rough, though...pray for your legs and yo pussy, gurl, bc he's mean.

-he don't care where you two are, he'll fuck you in a bathroom stall, a greenhouse, his fucking car, even in your own fucking nurse's office. he does not care. he's taking you wherever he can

-BOOBS

-he loves BOOBS

-he's giving you specific outfits with very pretty boob windows just so he can stare at you in them. and then fuck you in the cafe restroom, because he just cannot help himself.

-and oral

-this man has an oral fixation, and he wants his mouth on you ALWAYS. giving you nASTY head, or sucking on your tits, or leaving so many hickeys on you that you need to wear concealer even WITH your scrubs.

-biter

[storiesofsvu]

Fake it til You Make It

Elizabeth Donnelly x reader warnings: language, sass, smut mentioned? covers the 5+1 trope for @prentiss-theorem s bingo!

The Dilemma.

“Heard you took a plea on the Harrison case.” Liz’s sentence was spoken as she sauntered into your office, perching on the side of your desk as you finished scribbling something on the work in front of you.

“Hey now, I drove Buchanan up from the original offer before I accepted.”

“Good girl.” She praised with a wink and you laughed, “Kristen took the other SVU case, correct?”

“Yeah.” You let out a happy sigh, flipping the folder shut and leaning back in your chair.

“Means you’ve got time for an extended lunch then?”

“Only if you’re buying.” You grinned up at her and she scoffed, swatting at your shoulder while she stood from the desk.

“You want your fall bonus or not?” She teased and you rolled your eyes as you grabbed your blazer.

“Fine. I’ll pay. But it’s on you next time.”

“Seems fair.”  Liz shot you a playful smile as you scooped up you bag and followed her out of your office.

Since transferring into SVU you’d had a great relationship with Liz, even if she had been terribly intimidating for the first couple of months. Once you’d proved that you could hold your own against the detectives, that you were a whiz in the courtroom and happened to actually play by the rules, you’d shifted into her good books. Into the books that meant she liked you, that you were someone to be watched because she knew you’d go places. She took you under her wing like she did with a lot of previous A.D.A’s, her office becoming the automatic place that you went when you needed a sounding board, when you got stuck with a case, or couldn’t remember which law journal you saw a specific note in. There were evenings she’d be on her way out of the building only to find you still working away in your office and she’d bribe you out of there with the promise of dinner and drinks, first they were at local lounges, then they upgraded to her Brownstone, where she kept the good scotch.

Nights, lunches and coffee breaks that started out shooting the shit about work, spit balling court strategies based on the defence and presiding judge with Liz as your mentor shifted into ones about office gossip, the little whisperings in the hallways that everyone thought Liz didn’t hear. Then they became a way to escape work for an hour, you learnt about her past, her personal life and she heard stories about your family, friends, days back at law school. You became friends, and you took that with a large badge of honour, Liz was someone you looked up to, someone that you very much valued her opinion of you, having her call you an actual friend was the highlight of your month. She didn’t dole out that label very willingly.

It was on your slow walk back to the office from lunch that day that you paused in your words, stalling in your step as something caught your eye in the window of a shopping mall. Liz barely caught it in time to turn back, grinning at the way you tugged your lip into your mouth as you stared at the dress.

“See something you like?”

“It’s cute…” you muttered, “but I think it’s a little too fancy.”

“Hot date?” She asked and you snorted.

“Liz please, I just spent twenty minutes complaining about Tinder.” You laughed, “my sister’s engagement party is next weekend. I think the vibes are somewhere between brunch with the girlies and garden party, this could work for the wedding though….” Your head tilted for a moment and then you threw you head back and let out a groan, “fuck I hate this.”

“Weddings?”

“More so that it’s my younger sister, my much younger sister. Who has been obsessed with her wedding since she was like, six so you know it’s gonna be a huge, all out affair, no holding back on anything or any expense. I had high hopes for that last Tinder girl so all the invites I replied with a plus one and now I’ll have to suffer through it on my own. Better get ready for a million comments about how it’s lucky I’m a spinster cause there’ll be no money left for my wedding after this.”

“Oh come on.” Liz barked out a laugh, “you know a plus one doesn’t have to be a date, right? You can bring a friend. You said next weekend? Saturday or Sunday?”

“Saturday at four.” You sighed, turning away from the store and falling back into step beside her.

“Well then I guess you’re lucky Lena and I play poker on Sundays.”

“Wait..” Your head shot up to look at her, “you’ll come with me?”

“Sure, why not.” She smiled, linking her elbow with yours, “you said no expense spared and to me that sounds like an open bar and a lot of free food, who am I to say no to that and family drama?”

“Have I told you recently that you’re my favourite boss?”

“You don’t have to.” She grinned, “I already know everything.”

**

The Misunderstanding.

When Saturday rolled around you and Liz were pulling up to the Equinox Hotel at exactly four forty five. Early enough you wouldn’t be scolded for being tardy yet late enough that the rooftop terrace would be swimming with people who could distract your parents now that the party was in full swing. The terrace boasted incredible views of the Hudson River along with the rest of New York, a very well stocked bar, roaming cater waiters with various trays of food and a long table of hot food.

You were able to get to the bar without being noticed, both of you quickly downing a shot of maple whiskey, thanking the bartender for your cocktails before turning to the crowd. Liz’s eyes moved through the crowd, wondering if she was going to run into anyone she knew before she spotted her.

“Incoming.” She nodded over your shoulder, “white sundress, I’m assuming your sister. What was her name again, Jennifer?”

“Jessica.” You muttered and she chuckled at the way you chugged back half your cocktail before Jess was squealing in your ear, wrapping you in half a hug.

“Hiiii! I’m so happy you came!”

“Oh come on, you’re my sister, I wouldn’t miss it.” Smiling, you pressed a kiss to her cheek, “you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She beamed, squeezing at your hand, “love your dress, is it new?”

“Yeah, picked it up last week.”

“Cuuuute.” Grinning she then turned to the woman beside you, “who’d you bring?”

“Jess, this is Liz, Liz, Jess.” You gestured between them, watching as they shook hands and said hello.

“Pleasure.” Liz smiled.

“It’s so nice to meet you, y/n never brings anyone to holidays.” Jess giggled, “and I love those earrings, are they Mejuri?”

Liz’s head tilted, a small grin on her lips, “she know her brands and she’s got taste.” Her eyes flicked down to her wrist, “Chopard can do no wrong when it comes to their bracelets.”

“Isn’t it stunning?” She lifted her arm up, her eyes wide, “it was a gift from Colin for tonight.” She let out another giggle, her smile getting even larger if that was possible.

“There you are!” A voice called out and your head shot up to see your parents and Colin making their way over to the small group, “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” Your mother clicked her tongue and you let your sigh take form into a smile but before you could speak, Jess was turning around with a gasp. There were so many voices jumping back and fourth as they approached you nearly missed what came out of her mouth next, taking a second for your brain to register it.

“Mom! Come meet y/n’s girlfriend!”

Your eyes flashed wide and you barely had time to glance up to Liz before Colin let out a laugh,

“Girlfriend or sugar mommy?”

“Colin!” Jess hissed, slapping him on the arm.

“Don’t be rude.” Your mother scolded.

“She’s not—” You tried to interject but your father’s hand squeezed your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, we don’t care how you live your life as long as your happy and healthy.”

“Dad!” You tried again but suddenly Liz was squeezing at your hand gently, having completely slipped into the role of fake girlfriend as she stepped closer to you, smiling at your parents.

“I assure you; your daughter is very well taken care of with no need for anything like that. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much already.”

“And to think we haven’t.” Your mother nearly frowned in your direction, “girl certainly likes to keep her secrets. Call me Paula.” She extended her hand,

“Elizabeth.”

“Daniel.” Your dad’s turn was next, firmly shaking Liz’s hand, “how long have the two of you been together?”

“Oh, a few months give or take.” She replied with a small laugh, “you know how it is, sometimes these things are hard to put a solid date on, but we’re happy, and that’s all that really matters.” Her hand slid back into yours, giving it a soft squeeze as she grinned over at you.

“Do I dare ask how you met?” Paula asked, wincing, “because if Colin was right, you can just say a dating app or something.”

“Mom!” You nearly choked on your drink, feeling the heat creeping into your cheeks.

“No, not at all.” Elizabeth laughed, “we work together. And your daughter is one of the brightest and best lawyers we have, she’s got an incredible future ahead of her.” This time you were sure your cheeks were tinged pink, hearing Liz tell you how good of a job you did on a case always made you more proud of yourself, like you were impressing your favourite teacher in school, you knew you were on the right track.

“Well after that Ivy league education I sure hope so.” Daniel commented, glancing to you, “would hate for that to go to waste. I was beginning to think you were so married to the job you’d never find anyone.”

“Wow.” You muttered and Liz chuckled.

“Well it certainly helps being in the same field. We both know how many hours you have to clock if you want to be successful. That you’re not always going to get the time for those fancy dinner dates by candlelight, sometimes its takeout surrounded by case files in a dim lit office. Isn’t that right darling?”

“Date night is date night.” You shrugged, leaning into her embrace, “doesn’t matter where it is, we’ve gotten the balance figured out perfectly.”

“I’m so glad you’ve finally found someone.” Paula beamed.

“Mom!” Jess interjected, grabbing her hand, “Auntie Carol just got here!”

“Alright, alright.” She laughed, swatting her away before turning back to Liz, “can’t wait to see you at the wedding, we’ll have so much more time to chat. It was wonderful meeting you.”

“You too.”

Quick waves and smiles were shot through the group before your sister was dragging them off elsewhere. Letting out a quiet groan you turned back to the bar, sucking back the rest of your drink.

“I am so sorry.” You muttered.

“It’s alright.” Liz chuckled, flagging down the bartender to get you a refill before her arm loosely wrapped around your waist and she leant in, her lips nearly brushing against your temple when she spoke, “parents love me. Now relax, drink,” she slid the refilled glass into your hands, “enjoy the party with your so called girlfriend.”

Your head tilted to look up at her as your eyes narrowed, replaying the last few minutes in your brain, “you’ve done this before…”

“I need entertainment in my life somehow.” She shrugged and you laughed.

“Are you serious?”

“Why not?” She smiled back at you, “sometimes someone just wants a plus one, sometimes it’s the whole fake girlfriend thing to piss off the family or get them off your case about being single. As long as they’re a friend I really don’t mind. I enjoy getting out of the house and it’s the closest I’m going to get to a date now, I’m divorced and remarried to my job. The only time I have is for a one night event to play pretend.”

“You really are good with parents.”

“That one can be a little trickier,” she commented, sucking back on her drink, “sometimes they freak out over same sex or the age gap, you’ve got supportive ones.”

“I think it’s just gotten to the point where all they care about is that I don’t get eaten by my plethora of cats when I die alone.”

“Do you even have a cat?”

“No. I don’t even like them.”

“Then they’ve got nothing to worry about.” She smirked, “you’ll just stink up your apartment for a week until your downstairs neighbour makes a complaint.”

“Wow,” you burst out a laugh, “thanks.”

“C’mon.” She pinched at your elbow, nodding toward the buffet, “let’s get some food before all the good stuff is gone.”

**

The One with Tequila.

Night clubs were not your thing.

They hadn’t been your thing fifteen years ago when you were much more in your partying era, so they certainly weren’t your thing now that you’d matured. You preferred nights at quiet pubs or dive bars where it was acceptable to wear leggings and an oversized hoodie, even better, you preferred nights in on your couch where you had absolutely no one to impress and you could control the volume. Squeezing yourself into a tiny dress after spending half an hour on your hair and make up just didn’t seem worth it, even if there was bottle service.

You’d been genuinely surprised when Liz said she would come with you, expecting her to tap out of the more wild nights leading up to the big event, but she was there by your side in the limo, and didn’t shy away from sliding into the booth beside you once you were at the club. The bass of the music thumped through the room, coloured lights flashing on the dance floor, there was no choice but to yell over the music while your sister dolled out tequila shots. Even sitting directly next to each other you struggled to hear the other person, causing you to lean right into Liz, your lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear when you spoke. She braced herself when she leant into you, hand softly squeezing your thigh as she spoke and she didn’t bother to remove it after, her thumb brushing against your bare skin.

She laughed along with the jokes and innuendos thrown around the table, indulged in more than a few shots with the group and even shared a few of her own stories. Some of which left you wondering if they actually happened of if she was just that good at making things up. You were disappointed when she was in full support of Jess dragging you out onto the dance floor, shooting daggers at her as you disappeared into the crowd and she was left laughing at the table. She watched with a grin as you loosened up, letting the liquor flow through your veins, dancing alongside your sister and some of her friends. If she was to be completely honest, she really liked getting to see this other side of you, to know for sure that you let your hair down once in a while and weren’t completely consumed by work.

Neither of you had any concept of how long you were out dancing, but Liz knew she had finished another drink and a half by the time the rest of the group returned to the table. You collapsed down next to her with a laugh, reaching for your drink so you could guzzle it down, trying to combat how out of breath you were. Her hand found yours on the table top, fingers interlacing with yours,

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” She teased, pressing a feather light kiss to your heated cheek and you giggled softly.

“Okay maybe it was kinda fun.”

“See?” With a grin she slid a shot glass toward you and you laughed once more, clinking the glass with her own before you threw back the shots.

“Okay!” Jess’s arm flailed over the table top, smacking at your hand, “now that mom and dad aren’t here, can you fucking tell us the truth?”

“About what?” You asked with a laugh.

“Is she—” she glanced from Liz to you and then turned fully to Liz, “are you her sugar mommy?”

“Jess!” You shrieked, “no!”

“No.” Liz chuckled, sipping at her own drink.

“I so don’t fucking believe you.”

“Why not?!” You asked with a bark of a laugh.

“Uh… she’s older than you, she’s clearly got money and taste, she’s paying your tab tonight, there’s a vibe that she’s the dominant one.”

“Jessica!” Your eyes widened in shock, “she’s my boss! That’s where that ‘vibe’ is coming from.”

“Darling I don’t think you’re helping the matter.” Liz squeezed at your hand with a chuckle before turning to her, “I can choose to spoil my girlfriend where and whenever, tonight seemed like a good opportunity.”

“Lies.” Jess’s eyes narrowed as she stared across at the two of you, “you have way too many sugar mommy vibes.”

Liz laughed, playfully shaking her head, “believe what you want, I guess.”

Luckily for you, a new song came on that made Jess let out a shriek and completely forget about the topic at hand, racing back out onto the dance floor with her friends. Liz squeezed at your wrist, sliding another shot toward you that you thanked her for, swiftly taking it before swallowing and pulling a face.

“I’m drunk.” You stated and she laughed.

“Yes you most certainly are.”

“Sorry.” You grimaced, suddenly realizing you were more intoxicated than you’d meant to get, especially being around your boss.

“No need.” She laughed, “this is the drunkest I’ve been in ages.” She reassured you with a squeeze to your hand and your moment of worry was completely gone from your brain.

“I want pizza.”

“There’s a place around the corner, c’mon.” She tugged you from the booth, the idea of hot greasy food now the only one on her mind, “let’s get out of here before they notice.”

You were incredibly thankful fifteen minutes later when you were leaving the pizza shop with fresh slices, a bottle of water tucked away in your purse, Liz’s arm slipped through yours as the two of you laughed your way through the New York streets. Truly, both of you had a pretty good time tonight, it was something neither of you would have done voluntarily, so drastically different from how you’d spend a Saturday night and that was always a nice break from life.

“I cannot believe Jess is convinced you’re a sugar mommy.” You mumbled over a bite of pizza.

“I’m just shocked your dad was so quick to accept it, he didn’t even seem surprised. Most parents get even the inkling of that type of dynamic and they lose it, thinking there’s some kind of taking advantage going on. Or their upset because they equate it to some form of prostitution, that their kid should be working for money in a real career path.”

You slowed in your steps as your head turned up to look at Liz, your brow furrowing as you took another bite of pizza.

“What?” She asked with a laugh.

“Have… you actually done that before?” You asked and Liz smirked, the lowered inhibitions thanks to the tequila letting her reveal more than she would have on another day.

“Oh come on.” She chuckled, “Casey’s wardrobe was in desperate need of an overhaul and she was raised so strictly catholic she barely understood sexuality, much less her own. I figured why not help her out with both?”

“I knew it!!” You shrieked, fully stopping in your tracks as you turned to face her on the sidewalk, “oh I absolutely knew it! But I was so fucking confused! I thought I was going crazy cause you’d only ever mentioned your ex husband.”

“Just because I married a man once doesn’t mean I’ll do it again.” She grinned, “I didn’t think I was that secretive about it, you should have caught onto at least some hints.”

“I mean I kinda did.” You laughed, “especially when it came to Casey…”

“Oh come on, we weren’t that obvious.”

“Oh, no, of course not.” You smirked, “aside from the constant eye fucking in the courthouse halls.”

“We were not that bad!” She objected, smacking your arm with a playful frown.

“Sure.” You laughed, slipping your arm back into hers as you fell into step beside her again, “just keep telling yourself that.”

Liz walked you home that night, making sure you were safely behind locked doors and promising to drink some water before bed before she flagged down a cab. Upstairs you found yourself replaying moments from the night, interactions between the two of you, stories she’d told you that all were shone in a different light now that your speculations were confirmed true. Maybe there really was a lot you didn’t actually know about when it came to Elizabeth Donnelly.

**

Caught up in the Clouds.

Weddings had never been events that caught your eye. You thought they were overpriced, overhyped, heteronormative celebrations filled with too many relatives and old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. Emotions were high, stress levels to make sure everything was perfect were through the roof and alcohol only exaggerated every single little issue.

Yet somehow you’d forgotten all of those issues as you sat in a church pew beside Liz, her fingers tangled with yours while her thumb soothed over the back of your hand. There was nothing but love and adoration flowing through the air, winding its way through the crowd of guests before wrapping the happy couple up in a perfect little bow. You had no idea that Jess and Colin were such hopeless romantics, their personally written vows bringing a misting into your eyes. And when a tear finally managed to escape the corner of your eye before you could even think about it, Liz caught it, gently wiping it away with a warm smile. You let out a breath of a laugh, your cheeks heating as you felt a little silly for tearing up at a wedding, a warmth blooming in your chest as Liz returned the small laugh, squeezing at your hand before both of you returned your gazes to the alter.

Cocktail hour got everything moving, people up out of their chairs, flitting around the room as they reconnected with friends they hadn’t seen in ages or got introduced to new ones. Liz never once left your side, her arm securely wrapped around your waist, making sure your champagne flute was never once empty and you always had her backup when trapped with relatives. She was introduced to multiple family members and friends and you swore each time she had some new, horribly romantic story about how the two of you had started dating, who asked who out, your first date, a very over the top story about a candlelit trail in Central Park, surrounded by roses the first time you exchanged I love you’s. With each anecdote (and each glass of bubbly) you could have sworn she was looking at you with more adoration than the last, and that you were returning it, happily nuzzling into her shoulder, feeling her lips press to the top of your head.

You were thankful when dinner was finally announced and you were guided to your seats, food taking focus before all attention was back on the newlyweds. The two of you had been playing into things so well, surrounded by the looming feeling of love, happiness and forever that things simply felt natural, they felt right. Everyone in the room thought you were a couple, there was no reason to not play into that. Liz’s hand gently playing with the baby hairs at the back of your neck while you listened to speeches, your hand resting on her thigh as you leant in to whisper a joke, the shared quiet laughter as your eyes sparkled.

Wrapped up in your own little bubble you even managed to get out on the dance floor, first it was bopping along to top forties, scream singing along to favourites from your younger years, indulging both the kids and the grandparents with things like the chicken dance. Then the lights dimmed, the playlist shifting to something slower and instead of stepping off the dance floor, Liz grabbed your hand, twirling you under her arm before wrapping it around your waist and pulling you close. She murmured something about it not being that easy to get away from her, that she deserved at least once dance tonight and you laughed softly,

“Never would have pegged you for the dancing type.”

“There’s plenty you don’t know about me yet” She muttered back with a grin and you playfully shook your head at her, relaxing into her embrace as you glided around the dance floor.

It was during one of those dances, held close enough to her to feel her heartbeat, where she could feel your breath on her skin when you spoke, that it felt like you were in an alternate universe. That this weird fake dating thing was actually real, that you were happily in love with the other person and looking forward to spending your future together. It was on pure instinct that you turned to kiss her cheek, only, she’d had the same instinct in the same moment, her lips landing on yours and your body tensed for the briefest second before you relaxed against her. You felt the warmth of her hand coming to cup your cheek and you let out a soft sigh into the kiss, your lips curving into a small smile as you pulled away.

Before either of you could even think about saying anything the DJ blasted an air horn, the lights flashing while they turned up brighter and he announced the bouquet toss. You got whisked away an instant later on sister duty, your task making sure the maid of honour got safely into a cab without Jess noticing, knowing she’d be pissed her MOH was belligerently drunk halfway through the night. You thought you’d be free, but then discovered Jess had spilt a few drops of red wine on her dress and they still had a handful of professional photos to get through. By the time you returned to the table where Liz was now deep in a conversation with your mother, you were carrying your shoes, the buzzed feeling from the bubbly very worn off.

“You look exhausted.” Liz greeted with a small laugh.

“I feel exhausted.” You replied.

“Well, let’s get you home.” She stood from the table, her arm winding around your waist, “I’ll call a car.”

You briefly heard something from your mother about seeing Liz again before the three of you managed to say goodnight and you finally escaped the reception. You were half asleep on Liz’s shoulder by the time the car pulled up in front of your building and she was gently nudging you awake, watching until you were safely inside before she pulled away from the curb.

**

Playing it Cool.

After the wedding it was as if everything had been some kind of fever dream, that the weird little bubble of your fake dating had been simply that. Your parents were ridiculously distracted by Jess and Colin, squealing over honeymoon photos, eager to hear any and all stories from their lavish vacation that you were finally left in silence and at peace. Your new so called girlfriend practically forgotten from their minds.

The first Monday at the office after the wedding you’d been a little apprehensive about how to act but both of you seamlessly slipped back into your appropriate roles and nothing else was said on the matter. You picked up cases, brought the perps to justice and did your job. Liz would pop up in your office just as often as before, commending you on your work, bribing you to take a break with lunch and you went about life just as it had been before, even if you now did know a little more about the other person. Months went by while things returned to normal, your usual bantering, late night gossip fests and the like.

“What?” She asked you one day, watching the way you were stabbing at your plate of pasta and you let out a huff, leaning back in your seat.

“I know I said you were free of this whole fake dating thing after the wedding but apparently Jess is the honeymoon baby type.” You risked a glance up to her, “I figured I had until Christmas and could bullshit my way around an amicable break up by then but she’s nearly seven months next week and is insisting that you come with me to the baby shower.”

“Is this one of those absolutely ridiculous garden parties covered in half pink and half blue decorations until they pop a balloon and everyone screams and cries over the reveal?” She deadpanned and you laughed.

“No. They’re not finding out the gender, this is just your run of the mill mocktails for her, cocktails for everyone else, finger foods and sandwiches and gifts while everyone weirdly demands to touch her belly.”

“Yeah, I was never one for things like that either.” She took a sip of her wine and you nearly frowned, “but I’d hate for you to have to suffer through it alone, so of course I’ll come.”

“You are a literal life saver.”

“I know.” She grinned across at you, causing you to playfully roll your eyes before she flagged down a server to settle the bill.

Four days later the two of you found yourselves in your parents back yard, a gift bag with a handful of onesies, a cute card and a wad of cash being passed off to Jess and Colin. Liz’s hand slipped into yours with ease as she chatted with your family, accepting a drink from your mother before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You were able to avoid some of the silly games Jess had planned, escaping off to a small table in the corner with your mother as she watched your father play photographer for the day.

“Oh sweetheart I can’t wait to see you all excited when it’s your turn for this.” Paula smiled and you practically choked on your drink, barking out a laugh.

“Mom, please. Kids are on my absolute do not want list.”

“You say that now.” She chided, “I mean have you even asked Elizabeth about it?”

“Oh I do think I’m rather passed that point.” Liz replied with a chuckle, “and even if I wasn’t, I agree with her. Kids aren’t something I see in my future, I’ve got enough of a maternal role at work, wrangling all those baby prosecutors, I don’t need to come home at the end of the day to keep doing the same thing.”

“Yeah.” You sighed, swigging at your drink, “and they’re messy, and loud… and always sticky and covered in snot. Why would I want that anywhere near me? I’d much rather be able to travel, be the rich mysterious fun Aunt. Like, do I want to have to shell out millions for a chance at a good preschool, or do I want to be able to buy a yacht?” Liz laughed, squeezing at your hand.

“You’ve been hanging out with Calhoun too much.” She teased and you swatted at her arm, shaking your head.

“Well if there aren’t any grandbabies coming my way, can I at least expect a wedding?”

“Mom…” you groaned, earning a chuckle from Liz, who picked up your left hand in hers.

“You know, I have been telling her that it looks a little bland without a diamond.” She kissed the back of your hand and your mother practically burst with glee, “we should take you to get your nails done next week.”

“Liz…” You warned with a glare and she laughed softly, her gaze drifting over to the rest of the party as your mother let out a happy sigh.

It wasn’t until you were getting into the car at the end of the afternoon that it finally came up again.

“I can’t believe you.” You laughed, “here I am, trying to figure out how to fake a break up by Christmas and you go bragging to my mom about rings!”

“What can I say, I get bored, I like to meddle.”

“Clearly.” You shoved at her shoulder, “fucking shit disturber. They’re gonna be expecting a wedding next year now.”

“Oh they’ll be distracted by that thought for all of two months until that baby’s born and then the crotch goblin will be the only thing they think of for another three years, you’re fine.” She waved you off and your eyes narrowed in her direction, glaring at her.

“You owe me a new set of nails.”

**

The Italicized ‘Oh’.

Exhausted was an understatement.

After working your ass off to try and get justice for a victim who could no longer speak up for themselves you’d been torn apart, chewed up and spat out in the courtroom. You were left embarrassed, mad at yourself and the system and incredibly disappointed, all you wanted was to curl up into a ball and disappear. The only saving grace right now was that it happened to be Friday, so at least that was possible for a couple of days, hopefully everyone would forget by the time Monday rolled around.

You’d been home long enough to wipe off your make up, tug your hair up off your neck and change into sweats, flicking the tv on for some background noise while you wandered into the kitchen to see what you had in the liquor cabinet when there was a knock on the door. Your shoulders drooped as you let out a huff, padding over to the door, not totally surprised when you discovered Liz on the other side.

“Hey.” You greeted with a sigh, stepping back from the door so she could step into your apartment, following you back into the kitchen.

“It’s not like you to take off early.” She commented.

“Hmm?” You barely glanced over your shoulder, attention refocussed on deciding between wine or whiskey.

“Swung by your office, thought I’d find you there. I wanted to chat.”

“Liz, please, spare me the lecture.” You grumbled, opting for the whiskey, grabbing a glass from the cupboard.

“You had a rough go; I wasn’t going to.” She chuckled, “it’s not about work.”

“Okay.” You poured out a glass of liquor, gesturing to see if she wanted one as well before pouring out a second when she nodded slightly. “What then?”

“Well,” Liz huffed softly, feeling her heart thump in her chest, “for the better part of a year we’ve been pretending to date and I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

“Great.” You let out a sad laugh, “a terrible week, garbage day, I lose a case and now my fake girlfriend’s dumping me. You really know how to kick a girl when she’s down.” You took a swig of your drink, doing your best to keep your emotions at bay.

“Sweetheart…” She plucked the drink from your hand, “you’re not hearing me.” The glass came to rest on the counter before her finger curled under your chin, frowning at the misting in your eyes. “The part I don’t want to do anymore is the fake part.”

“What?” Your breath caught in your throat as your brow furrowed, still not totally understanding where she was going with this.

“I didn’t really realize how much I was enjoying it until there were no more excuses to get to hold your hand, somewhere along the way of pretending to be in love with you I actually started to fall.” Her thumb gently stroked across your cheek and you instinctively leant into the touch, “I went by your office to ask if I could take you to dinner, on an actual date this time. When you weren’t there I realized you were probably sulking and I didn’t like the idea of you having to do that on your own, so…” She gestured to the counter behind her and that was when you finally realized she hadn’t shown up empty handed. A take out bag with a bottle of nice wine sticking out the top sat beside a bouquet of lilies.

“Liz…” Your eyes moved between the counter and her, shaking your head in near disbelief, “I…”

“If we’re not on the same page, I’ll go.” She shrugged, “leave you to wallow in peace. I just couldn’t stay silent any longer.”

“No!” You gasped, grabbing her arm, “I… god.” You laughed, “I’ve been thinking of, and trying not to keep thinking about that fucking kiss since the wedding. I’ve been waiting for my sister to send out some stupid invitation to another ridiculous and annoying event that I’d be forced into to have some sort of excuse to play pretend again.”

“Well…” smiling she took your hands in hers, squeezing softly, “then how about we don’t pretend any longer?

“I think I’d really like that.” You murmured back, closing the gap between you as one of her hands cupped your cheek before her lips met yours in a tender kiss. You couldn’t help the grin your lips curved up into, warmth blooming through your chest at the feeling her smiling against your lips.

Breaking the kiss she smiled softly at you, her thumb stroking at your cheek before she left a feather light kiss on the tip of your nose, “now, I know you had a bad day but you need something beyond liquor for dinner. How do you feel about Thai?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Liz wrapped an arm around your waist, picking up the take out bag while you grabbed the glasses off the counter and the two of you made your way into the living room to settle on the couch. It was there that you finally let your guard down, all the walls you’d kept up to maintain the professional relationship being torn down piece by piece as you relaxed into each other. Your mood lifted as Liz recounted stupid stories to make you laugh, watching you with an adoring smile as you began to come out of your pit of disappointment, only interrupting to steal kisses or brush a piece of mussed up hair off your face.

By the end of the evening, limbs were tangled together, a blanket half tossed over the both of you while a movie played on the television. Liz’s fingers gently combed through your hair and you let out a happy hum, grabbing her free hand to leave a kiss on the back of it. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little bit silly at the entire thing, sometimes what you needed the most really was what was sitting right in front of you the entire time.

___________________

@svulife-rl l @anya-casablanca @mickey-gomez @naturalxselection @yesterdaysgone @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @alexxavicry @rainbowelshrhian @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @alcabots @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @kdaghay @svushots @onmykneesformarvel @kalixxh @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @louderfortheback @swimmingstudentchaos891 @baubeautyandthegeek

[offender42085]

Post 1356

Philip Carl Pomper, Florida inmate J48575, born 1977, incarceration intake August 2013 at age 35, sentenced to life

Murder, Sexual Battery

Pomper, who killed a man in 2007 and was finally identified in 2012, five years after the murder, and in July 2013 was sentence to life in prison.

Assistant State Attorney Jacquelyn Roys, who argued forcefully for the maximum sentence. Pomper had accepted a plea agreement on June 20, 2013.. He entered a no-contest plea to one count of second-degree murder, and the state agreed to a sentencing range of 35 years to life in prison.

He offered no testimony or statements to the court in his defense.

Through witness statements and a recorded interview of Pomper by St. Johns County Sheriff's Office detective Robert Dean, the details of the murder came out.

Pomper and his girlfriend at the time, Paige Bush, were driving around - for no reason either of them could remember - in the early morning hours of Jan. 28, 2007.

With Pomper at the wheel, armed with a handgun he said he had recently purchased, the couple happened upon the victim, Clark McWhorter. He was walking alone on a deserted stretch of State Road A1A in northern St. Johns County. It was raining and he apparently thought Pomper, who made a U-turn so that his vehicle was on the same side of the street, was going to offer him a ride.

But when McWhorter leaned in the passenger side window to speak to the driver, Pomper stretched his arm across the car in front of Bush and pointed the gun at McWhorter. Before the man could get away from the car, Pomper fired a bullet into McWhorter's face and then drove off.

Although he didn't speak at the hearing, Pomper's recollection of the events as told to Dean in the June 20, 2012, interview was quite similar to that of Bush.

The main difference was that Pomper said Bush urged him on when he asked her if they should go scare McWhorter, a man neither of them knew.

In her testimony at the sentencing hearing, Bush said she was in an abusive relationship with Pomper and was afraid that if anyone was going to be shot, it would be her.

"That night, he said, 'Someone's going to die,'" Bush said. "I knew a year before a girl had been killed near Guana River. I was thinking that would be me."

Bush said she tried to get the authorities onto Pomper without him realizing she had tipped them off. She was the only witness to the crime, and she was afraid Pomper would hurt her or a member of her family if she told the police. She even called Crimestoppers to report that he had weapons illegally. She said her hope was that investigators would seize the murder weapon from him and realize it was used in McWhorter's killing.

Pomper was arrested but not for a murder and was soon out of jail. Some time later - Bush and Pomper gave different time frames - the relationship between Pomper and Bush ended.

Later in 2007, Pomper got back together with ex-girlfriend Jennifer Pomper, with whom he had a daughter. They were married in 2009.

However, there was trouble, and Pomper was accused of child molestation.

Pomper was only linked to the murder after his wife, recalling a claim that he had once killed a man, decided to contact Bush. They eventually told investigators everything they knew about the murder of McWhorter, a case that had stalled for more than five years without a suspect.

When Dean finally arrested and interviewed Pomper, he was able to establish the details of the crime because Pomper quickly waived his Miranda rights and confessed.

What no one really discerned was a reason for the crime.

"I don't know why," Pomper said in his interview with Dean. "I was trying to show off. I was trying to scare the guy."

Although he showed little emotion during the sentencing hearing, Pomper clearly struggled while trying to explain his actions to Dean, often burying his face in his folded arms.

"I'm not that kind of person," Pomper said in the interview. "I tried to kill myself afterwards with the gun.

"I don't know what kind of person he (McWhorter) was. He could have been a good man for all I know."

The state had plenty of testimony that McWhorter was a good man and that he should not have died the way he did.

"You're sentencing a dangerous man," Roys said in closing. "The state's position is Mr. Pomper deserves nothing less than life (in prison)."

Defense attorney Raymond Warren agreed that Pomper's crime was senseless, but he said the defendant's cooperation should be taken into account.

"He never backed down and tried to be evasive with the detective," Warren said. "He did come clean and we're asking you to sentence him to 35 years concurrent (with the sentence from Duval County)."

The Judge asked Pomper one last time if he wanted to address the court before issuing the sentence. Pomper again declined and the Judge sentenced him to life in prison.

4v

[nikkeisimmer]

How to Drive Oneself Nuts Writing a Sims 3 Legacy

Writing a storyline before you actually sit down to play the game to capture screencaps can be mindnumbingly difficult. In part because of the brain thinking up of scenarios that cannot be duplicated in the Sims 3.

For example:

Anticipation to see Victoria’s sights got the pair up early in the morning. Breakfast was a continental breakfast downstairs in the hotel restaurant. Then it was off to see the Bay Centre with a little more relaxing pace than the hurried pace they had sustained yesterday night.

River’s glance towards him was coy and flirtatious; “I wanna go see La Senza…” she said in a low voice.

“OK…” Haruo said. He knew there were other shops that he wanted to frequent too, but he would head for La Senza with River because it was what she wanted and well…there were benefits for him too…although those would be reaped in private.

River spent at least half an hour to an hour in La Senza browsing through the various intimate apparel that was available. This was a side of her that Haruo was not acquainted with; the passionate River, the tantalizing glimpses of her as they made love in the bedroom or hotel rooms were a delight to his own libido, but the one that was just out of his reach right now was the one that wanted to start a family with him. But he had a plan. That he was about to execute.

When River had finished up and Haruo had provided his credit card to pay for said items, he suggested that they go to Ann-Louise jewelers. River raised an eyebrow in question. Haruo just grinned enigmatically. They both walked hand in hand into the jewelry store.

By this time, I know I have to have a jewelry store in the story and an attendant as well as some display cases. The question is though can I find jewelry, rings and other things that are sold at a jewelry store so that I can create this so that I can screencap a few shots in here to go along with the storyline. This is one of the reasons why this story is stalled at the moment. I just don't have the patience to deal with this at this time.

Because later on in the story just a few paragraphs down:

Not everyone could drop §98,500 simoleons on an engagement ring, but Haruo could… and River was worth it. She was going to get surprised. Because there was also something else Haruo had planned this afternoon. It was attending the Fairmont Empress’s afternoon tea. The Fairmont Empress like the Grand Pacific, that Haruo and River were staying at, overlooked the Harbour and it was a quick walk over to the Fairmont from their hotel.

But currently, they were at the Bay Centre and they wanted something to eat. “Hey, can you go find us both something to eat?” Haruo asked River. “I gotta make a run to the washroom, I think I remember seeing one…just before La Senza.”

“Don’t they have one in the food-court?” River thought Haruo was acting kind of strange.

“Yeah…but the food-court one always ends up busy as heck and I don’t want to wait for a stall to open up.” OK…that sounded logical.

“You OK with A&W?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with A&W…” Haruo said. River gave him a kiss and he wandered off to go find a washroom…or more accurately nail down that ring and the other one in the display case.

It was about twenty minutes later that he came back. River eyed him with a disbelieving stare “Twenty minutes?”

“Yeah…somehow that one got just as full.” Haruo prevaricated looking as innocent as ever, “…had to wait for three guys…only three stalls in that bathroom and evidently everyone just had to come in right at that time, y’know.” He was lucky. She had bought him an A&W Mozza Combo and herself a Mama Burger combo; she got onion rings, she got him a large fries with the bank card he’d passed to her from his operating account which had roughly about §558.00 in it at the time. The two rings were tucked deep within his pockets, the keys to his Mercedes resting on top of them. He plunked himself down in the chair and grinned at her. River shook her head at him indulgently. Whew…she didn’t guess. Haruo thought as he sat down to munch on his Mozza burger.

I have to build an entire FOOD COURT from scratch? Why the hell does my brain do this?!

Oh…and did anyone miss the It was attending the Fairmont Empress’s afternoon tea.

In just ONE paragraph my brain has decided that it is going to make me build TWO F***ING VENUES!!!

Again, I ask myself. WHY does my brain decide that it's going to do this to me?

[h1myname1sv]

FIC UPDATE: we're inches apart (and even closer at heart) 4/7

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: mentions of blood and death Fandoms: MCU, Avengers, Black Widow, Daredevil, Hawkeye Relationships: Matt Murdock/Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanoff & Alexei Shostakov & Melina Vostokoff, Natasha Romanoff & Tony Stark, Avengers Team & Natasha Romanoff Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Matt Murdock, Yelena Belova, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Wanda Maximoff, Bucky Barnes, Foggy Nelson, Karen Page, Melina Vostokoff, Alexei Shostakov, Other Marvel Characters Additional Tags: Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov-centric, Natasha Romanov Feels, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Angst and Humor, Fluff and Humor, Banter, Dialogue Heavy, Weddings, Secret Relationship, Sappy Ending, Tony Stark Lives, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Family Shenanigans, Mild Hurt/Comfort Wordcount: 26k Summary:

"This seems awfully fast, Natasha," Melina says with genuine concern. "You are still so young." Nat blinks. "We've been dating for six years," she says flatly. "Oh, I thought you just found a random guy on the street, thought he was cute, followed him home and decided to marry him," Yelena says. "Do you think I'm that shallow?" Nat asks, and she's about to laugh before she realizes that what Yelena said isn't entirely inaccurate. (Or: Turns out planning your wedding is pretty damn hard when most of your family doesn't know your husband to be even exists.)

Excerpt:

It's the second day of Bucky's trial, and things are mostly going well for them. Nat doesn't want to say things are going completely well because that would be tempting fate.

They are in the same courtroom spots as yesterday, except Wanda's joined them today, sitting to Nat's right between her and Steve. Bucky is somehow less tense, which Nat would like to give Matt credit for with pride, though the pride would be very suspicious to anyone who doesn't know their relation.

Nat doesn't know why it feels like they are all battling for themselves when it's only Bucky on trial, but then she realizes that if Bucky is indicted, the rest of them aren't safe. Precedence is important, apparently, in the court of law and otherwise.

Their first obstacle occurs when Tony Stark is called up to the stand by the prosecution AKA Ross's lawyers. One of the lawyers walks up to Tony slowly. His smile is disingenuous. "I am going to show you some footage, Mr. Stark," he says. And then he plays footage of the night Tony's parents died, the night the Winter Soldier killed them. They really shouldn't have this footage, but Nat sees Ross's smirk out of the corner of her eye and knows how they got it. Tony looks stricken, not able to hide it behind his masks.

Karen gasps, and Foggy stands up immediately once he realizes what's going to happen, shouting, "Objection! This evidence is unfairly prejudicial. Might I remind you that we aren't claiming that Barnes didn't commit crimes, but that he was unaware and had no other choice."

"Is there a point to showing this, Mr. McKinley," the judge says, narrowing his eyes. He's a good judge; Nat did her research. If Ross did try to bribe him, she doubts he would've caved. (She's asked some former SHIELD colleagues to watch over his family, just in case Ross tries to coerce him via other means.)

"I'm getting to it, if you would give me the chance," McKinley says.

The judge sighs. "I'll allow it," he says reluctantly.

"Damn it," Foggy mutters, sitting back down, only for Matt to stand up, as if they had planned it.

"May I receive a visual description of the evidence?" Matt asks with an apologetic smile, but what he's really trying to do is stall for time. For them to think. For Tony to get himself together.

The other lawyer, Morrison, scowls in Matt's direction. He nods at his partner, who proceeds to give the worse description possible.

[bluedalahorse]

Oh hey, as someone who was initially drawn to Young Royals for Wilhelm and Simon, but ultimately got utterly hooked on the canon by Sara, August, and Felice and their character arcs, these discussions bring me great joy. Thank you thank you thank you.

@missbolt, I’m so on board with the idea that Sara and August’s needs seem to line up with one another so completely. They’re both very isolated from others, and both of them are the members of their family with emotions that don’t always manifest in pretty ways. Yet they can be versions of themself with one another that they can’t always be with other people. I think that’s something we see come to the surface in a big way in season 2, but the groundwork for that is laid so expertly in season 1, even in the earliest episodes.

Young Royals makes the case for authenticity, but it does it in a way that’s so much smarter than a corporate “be yourself!” platitude. Wilhelm and Simon, as a pairing, often showcase the beautiful side of authenticity—the silly in-jokes that couples make, the sweet awkwardness, etc. And it’s one of the things I think many people in fandom love most about them. Sara and August, however, as Wilhelm and Simon’s shadow pairing, often show how authenticity isn’t always pleasant or easy to express. That doesn’t make it less authentic, however. I think we’ve all had days where we wake up feeling authentically jealous or angry or lonely or sad or judgmental or vengeful, and in those moments it can really benefit us to have someone who will hold space for us to process those unpleasant emotions before we make choices that backfire on us. Sara and August’s narrative tragedy is that they don’t figure out how to hold that space for one another until after they’ve made their fatal mistakes, and it means they end up harming their families by keeping their relationship a secret and stalling a bit on the “hold August accountable” front. Moreover, in August’s case, he strives so hard to keep this relationship with Sara in his life, and to keep the power he’s regained as a result of the royal court taking an interest in him—and yes the idea of royal power and of keeping Sara with him become incredibly intertwined for him by the second half of season 2, but anyway! Once those motives are in place for him and he goes all loose canon, Sara starts to see how August won’t hesitate to go after Simon, who she still loves and still wants to be okay. And that’s the nudge for her to reach out to law enforcement and hold August accountable for what he does.

I am not sure where August and Sara’s relationship is going to go in season 3. It could be over completely, but there could be another chapter in store, and I kind of hope there is—the interaction does not even have to be romantic—because they’re the most interesting characters in the show to me. (Which is honestly not a referendum on anyone else’s interestingness—saying any character in Young Royals is the one you find the most interesting is like saying which course was your favorite at a multi-course meal in a five-star restaurant that makes your favorite type of cuisine. So many Young Royals characters are amazing.) To me, I agree that there’s not time in six episodes for Sara and August to formally get back together in a way that feels healthy or satisfying, but I can see either a breakup-with-more-closure or an open ending for the two of them. Sara, to August, represents a deviation from what he believed to be his strict life’s path, and overall the idea of possibility and openness. An open ending with Sara could fit with this theme of possibility and August walking away from the structures that harmed him and set him up to harm others. I do agree that a crucial element there is August agreeing to be held accountable for all his shit, though, and being willing to take consequences and do the work he needs to do so that he doesn’t lash out at others when he feels threatened. He would also have to stop trying to assimilate Sara into his upper class bullshit, which is part of what he does to try and keep her with him in season 2, and also a big reason why he loses her. Once again, the genre of tragedy is in full swing here.

(Also, part of the reason I don’t think we’re done with Sara and August yet is that I think we have a non-zero but also not 100% definite possibility for Sara having a pregnancy scare next season. I know a lot of people are very against that idea of that happening, and I understand why. On my end I actually can see a lot of thematic potential in a plot like that, in a way that would—to me—engagingly parallel Wilhelm’s arc as he contemplates his future and whether he wants to inherit the throne or not. I will not say more, because pregnancy scare plots feel like a can of worms to talk about, and I haven’t finished the meta I am writing about it yet. I am kind of afraid to say this at all because I feel like I’m going to come back to my notifications like Troy from Community when he comes back with the pizza and the room is on fire. But I’ve said it, in the interest of being authentic and accountable for my opinions and actions, just as Young Royals would want me to be.)

As for Felice… who I really wanna discuss in more depth! I am dying to see Felice get a new hobby in season 3, and I am dying to see Wilhelm support her through something now that she’s played that role for him in season 2. One of the few flaws in season 2 for me was that we didn’t get to see Felice pursue an interest of her own. We know horses aren’t really her jam, and we know she’s in choir, but what’s her thing? In Heart and Homeland, I gave Felice an interest in intelligence work and espionage, which has been kind of fun to play with. I’d love to see a modern version of that, just because, hey, I’ve got my biases.

I also am curious about Felice’s experiences with racism and would like to see her gain the language to talk about that. I’m curious about how that would go over with her current friends group… I’m not sure if I can see Stella and Fredrika (or even Maddie, given the way witchcraft and new age stuff can easily become cultural appropriation) easily picking up on those nuances, as much as they have her back in other ways. I could see that being a source of conflict or at least tension between the Manor House Girls. I also think it would be a chance for Simon and Felice to talk through some things? I could always use more development of a Simon-Felice friendship. Maybe that’s a way to explore that plot without it involving the Manor House Girls taking up too much time and space in an episode.

Wow. Season 3 has so much we want for it, and we’re not going to get everything we want. Can we make a fandom promise that we’ll explore some of these ideas in fic, if nothing else? I would happily read, reblog, and comment on some of these intricate ideas that we are discussing in meta. I think that’s the best way to deal with the fact that six episodes just doesn’t feel like enough!

August and Sara seemed to fulfil a deep need in each other

August and Sara was an unexpected pairing, but once they got together, it made a lot of sense to me.

So many good points have been made about their relationship by for instance @hillerska-official, @darktwistedgenderplural, @emberc, @heartbreakprincewille, @daylightsimon and @joviefandom. I probably don't have anything all that new to add, but I wanted to put all my thoughts about their relationship in one place. In no way do I support August and Sara's actions, but I think their developing relationship was consistent with their character arcs and added depth to their characters and contributed to the story. Buckle up, this will be long!

Starting to hang out

Why did August and Sara even start hanging out in the first place? Of course, it all started with Sara agreeing to keep it a secret that August leaked the video, in return for August helping her get a scholarship and a spot at Manor House. The general consensus in the fandom seems to be that Sara made this deal as she is a social climber and wanted to be more like these upper class kids. This was likely part of the reason, but I think it ran deeper than that. Her mother had just stated her intention to take Sara and Simon out of Hillerska and reenrol them at the local school. While Sara had made friends at Hillerska, she was bullied so badly at the local school that she ended up having to redo a year there, as she missed too many classes because she was so afraid to go to school. She must have been terrified of going back to that school. Making the deal with August, who had so much power at the school, probably seemed to Sara to be her one shot at staying at Hillerska - her one shot at keeping her friends there and avoiding her bullies.

As for August, a main reason for hanging out with her was of course that Sara was the only one apart from Wille that definitely knew he leaked the video, thereby being the only person he could confide in regarding his fears about what would happen to him.

Growing closer

But even so, how could August get past the status difference between them and start hanging out with her more and even hooking up with her? August, who seems to despise the working class and put down Sara and Simon every chance he gets? Who is so preoccupied with his façade, a façade Sara certainly doesn't fit with? However, by the time they started hooking up more properly early in season 2, August was at rock bottom. He was sure that the court knew his secret and would punish him, Wille humiliated him every chance he got, and he had lost his status and power at school. At this point, August's façade was already shattering, and keeping up appearances might have started to seem impossible. In the grand scheme of things, would it really make any difference anymore if he hooked up with a working class girl? We see another indication that things he would usually be very preoccupied with didn't seem to matter to him anymore, when he after the rowing competition chastised Vincent for blaming Simon and stated that the competition wasn't important. August seemed to have given up his bid for power at school - he was past the point of caring about keeping up appearances (of course this changed right after this scene when he was informed he is next in line to the throne and thus felt like he had some power back, but by then he had already fallen for Sara).

It was probably also a relief for August that he didn't really have to keep up appearances around Sara the same way he had to around his upper class peers. We saw how extremely insecure and jealous he was when dating Felice, the most popular girl at Hillerska who he had decided would be the perfect match for him. As she fit perfectly with the successful façade he wanted to show the world, the stakes were very high for him, which brought out all his insecurities. Sara, on the other hand, was not someone the other boys showed interest in, and as she didn't matter in his world, the stakes were much lower. If he fucked it up with Sara, no one would care. Thus, he didn't feel the same need to play power games and keep up appearances around her. Since she wasn't really a part of his social circle and upper class world, he could let down his guard around her in a way he couldn't with anyone else.

As for Sara, it was clear that she was quite physically attracted to August. She was also very inexperienced with boys, and when he kissed her out of the blue in episode 3 of season 1 (which of course had everything to do with Felice and nothing to do with Sara), it seemed to make quite an impression on her - in the next episode, she caressed the picture Felice had of him in her room. It seems likely that he was her first kiss, and for Sara who wasn't used to guys liking her, it must have been very tempting to hook up with him more.

Furthermore, the fact that August started confiding in her likely had a profound effect on Sara. She, who was used to being an outsider and who stated herself that she was better with horses than with people, suddenly found herself to be be the confidante of someone who was skilled socially (just look at how he greeted the guests in the last episode of season 2), who was of high social status, and who had previously scoffed at her. Sara also seems to be used to people (especially Simon) having to take care of her, but with August, she was the one comforting him and giving him advice. By hooking up with August and becoming his confidante, she broke out of the roles she was usually confined to and took on a role she probably would have thought impossible previously. This must have felt quite liberating for her.

Falling in love

August is obsessed with keeping up appearances to the point that he has developed an eating disorder and a reliance on performance-enhancing drugs. We know that his father took his own life, and losing a parent to suicide often leaves a child with a feeling of not being loved and good enough to stick around for. August's whole life seems to be a fight to prove - to others and, most importantly, to himself - that he is good enough. He does this by grabbing all the power he can get, trying to curate a "perfect" façade, putting down people he deems to be beneath him, and lashing out at anyone threatening his status. However, none of this seems to quell his fear of not being good enough and being unlovable, as shown by the fact that he seemed to be at his most insecure when dating the "perfect girl" and having all the positions of power he possibly could at school. However, Sara knew about the worst thing he had ever done, and still seemed to love him. He also perceived her as a social climber who understood his desire for power and status. She made him feel loved and understood and seen when he was at his worst, giving him a glimmer of hope that he might be lovable and good enough even when abandoning his carefully crafted façade. How could August not fall for Sara?

The years of bullying and the difficulties with navigating social interactions seem to have left Sara starved for human connection outside of her family. Her friendship with Felice and inclusion in Felice's friend group probably satisfied some of that need, but she was still felt a bit like an outsider - due to being poorer and from a different social class than her friends, not knowing the codes and frequently being in need of an explanation of how things worked. As discussed in the last section, her usual role in social interactions of being the one others had to take care of, was reversed with August. In addition, having someone who puts up such a façade being so vulnerable with you is one helluva drug in general. For Sara, who seemed to fear not being able to forge real human connection with people outside of her family, her burgeoning relationship with August showed her that she could have a deep connection with someone, that she could be different from what she had imagined herself to be. When he gave her the validation she so sorely needed, it is no wonder that she wanted to believe that he was a good person deep down and that she could change him. And when she had managed to convince herself of this, how could Sara not fall for August?

What their relationship adds to their characters and the show

Of course, August and Sara's relationship didn't last and could never last. They were both projecting on each other - August projecting his ambitions on Sara making him believe that she understood him far better than she actually did, and Sara projecting the role of redeemed sinner which she really needed August to be onto him. This led to a disconnect between them that became very apparent in their last two conversations together in season 2. Even if it wasn't for this, August would probably start feeling like Sara was a liability to him when climbing higher socially and eventually break things off with her in favour of someone who would better fit his "perfect" façade. And August would never be accepted in Sara's family and social circle due to leaking the video and harming Simon and Wille. So what was the point of spending so much time on their relationship in this second season?

In his relationship with Sara, we got to see a different, softer side of August. We got a glimpse of how different he potentially could have been if he wasn't so deeply insecure and preoccupied with keeping up appearances. One could almost begin to hope that the relationship led to growth in August...which made it all the more heart-breaking when he reverted to his self-serving, scheming ways as soon as he had a sliver of power. Getting a peek behind August's façade made it easier to understand what is driving his actions, making him a much more three-dimensional character than in the first season, which greatly added to the tension in the story.

We also got to see a softer side of Sara. In the first season and parts of the second season, her morals appeared to be very black-and-white. She was complaining that Simon was giving people too many chances, blamed their mother for not leaving their father earlier even though it would have made them homeless, seemed to expect Simon to have the same (non-)relationship to their father as her (though her feeling of betrayal when it was revealed that he had been visiting their father probably of course also had to do with Simon not having been honest with her). After confessing to kissing Wille at the ball, Simon expected her to tell him that he is a bad person for cheating on Marcus and that Marcus is much better for him than Wille. However, as several people have noted, Sara was at that point able to empathise more with Simon and give him better advice and support by saying that he can't control his feelings and that doing bad things at times doesn't necessarily make you a bad person. Through her relationship with August, Sara seemed to start understanding that people have different sides and that things aren't always as black-and-white as they may seem. Almost up to the very end, she did not seem able to apply this new understanding to see Felice's side of the issue when her horse was sold, but Sara may still seem to have undergone some personal growth this second season. I am excited to see whether she will be able to continue this growth next season now that she has realised how severely she misjudged August, hopefully coupled with slightly less naivety (and hopefully she will learn to stop replicating the relationship her parents had, which I haven't touched on here as the post is already so long, but which @daylightsimon, @darktwistedgenderplural, and @malinthebodyguard have written so insightfully about). Her relationship with August showed us new sides of Sara's character, and might also lead Sara to understand herself better. This makes her a more interesting and three-dimensional character in my eyes, and creates a new dynamic in her sibling relationship with Simon, again increasing the tension in the story.

Thus, August and Sara's relationship adds depth to both of their characters, and contributes to the story by raising the stakes and creating new dynamics. And Malte Gårdinger and Frida Argento play these characters perfectly!

For these reasons, I think it was justified to devote as much time to their relationship as was done in season 2. In season 3, I really hope we will get to know the last secondary character - Felice - better. The fact that Young Royals shows us different sides of both the primary and secondary characters makes them seem much more real and consequently renders the story more impactful.

Aaaanyway, these were my two (or two hundred) cents on August and Sara's relationship. Let me round off with one gripe, though: how the hell has the fandom settled on Sargust as their couple's name, when Aura is right there for the taking?!?

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x reader)

Words: 4381 (chapter 1)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case.

Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that?

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad under the same name <3  

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

1. CLASH IN THE COURT

"Your Honor, objection." You shoot up from your seat, the heavy wooden chair painfully creaks against the floorboards of the courtroom. "Relevance. That has nothing to do with my client," you finish the sentence, holding your breath until the judge slowly nods once. 

Matthew Murdock, your rival of today and the two previous cases, blows an audible raspberry, which you would consider to be very unprofessional in the current situation.

"The judge just nodded. Ask about his relationship with his family better." You hear Foggy Nelson, Murdock's friend and courtroom partner, whispering to a quite pissed-off looking Murdock. You sit down and shuffle through papers for anything that might save your client's ass. And yours too. 

"May I continue my questioning, your Honor?" Murdock asks, fixing his red-tinted glasses. You eye him a little before rolling your eyes. All things that you managed to pull out about the case and your client point towards his innocence, you just can't lose this case. Murdock has beat you twice before, your pride won't simply allow the third time to happen.

"Yes, continue." The judge answers, looking quite bored about this whole thing. If it were not for the jury, you're sure he would've already made a decision. 

"Thank you, your Honor." Murdock stands up again, head tilted to your side a little. Weird, but what do you even know about blind people? Maybe that was his way of focusing on his environment or something.

"C'mon, focus," you mutter to yourself, and impatiently tap your pen on the papers, feeling how your heart beats in your chest.

"Mr Donovan, what was your relationship with your father after your parents divorced?" Murdock asks, walking away from his table, hand grasping his white cane so strong that his knuckles turn white as well. Although in a short moment you manage to see that his knuckles are clearly badly bruised. Blind lawyer got into a fist fight? Interesting. Maybe even more interesting than your own case.

"I saw him only a couple of times since then," your client began but didn't get a chance to finish as Matt interrupted -

"Interestingly enough, they divorced when you were in your 30s already, am I right? The average age of people who decide to get divorced is approximately 30, but your parents were already in their 50s. What actions might have influenced their decision?" 

"Objection hearsay, your Honor!" You shoot up from your chair again, looking at the three men in front of you with a somewhat wild expression. "That has nothing to do with the previously asked question."

"Overruled. Continue Mr Murdock."

You plop down on the chair again, tapping your pen even more aggressively than before. That bastard Murdock is just stalling. He didn't need to state this information about the age of people who divorce, and you were damn sure he just thought of the numbers. Besides, what does the fact that Donovan's parents got divorced when they were fifty-two has anything to do with what he's being accused of? You could feel how another hair on your head turned from brown to gray. It was probably a good idea to start dyeing your hair.

"Thank you, your Honor. Mr Donovan?" Murdock asks again, hinting at the fact that he is not going to repeat his question again. He moves a step closer toward stand where Donovan was sitting, desperately trying to make eye contact with his wife, who was sitting right behind you.

"I never really wanted to know the real reason behind their split, but I guess it was always clear to me that a day like this would come." Donovan answers, eyes following your opponent who was slowly pacing around the little space, sometimes coming closer to you, sometimes closer to him.

In the corner of your eye, you notice Foggy Nelson lean back in his chair and making himself comfortable. Are these two men really that confident in winning the case?

"Why? Or should I ask how? How was it visible that your parents were going to get divorced?" Matt asks, stopping for a mere second before continuing his little walk.

"Well, since I was a kid, I never saw them doing any parent activities together like other parents did. When the circumstances forced them to act like happy spouses, they did it. But I saw - there was no love between them, and it was just a matter of time until the papers were signed." Donovan answers and you clap to him. Internally, obviously.

"And it was no surprise to you when they, people at this solid age of fifty-two, announced their divorce?"

"No. " Donovan answers, not giving an explanation. Smart move. If Murdock wants an explanation, he'll have to ask for it. 

"Mr Donovan, your lawyer has stated that you were visiting the nursing home quite often in the past three months. I have information that after your parents divorced those ten years ago, you continued to be in contact with both of them for a while, until the contact with your father suddenly stopped only months before he was put in the nursing home. Your mother, however, you were visiting regularly. Is that all right?" Matt spills so quickly that your client has to take a moment to fully understand what he just said.

"Uh... Yes." Donovan answers, slightly doubting.

"Isn't that a little weird that after not seeing or speaking to your father for years, you suddenly remembered his existence three months ago, right before he died?"

"Uh..." Donovan was still thinking of an answer, when you stood up again. 

"Objection, your Honor. This is an accusation." You let out a desperate breath, unprofessionally leaning on your table.

"Overruled. Continue." Judge says with the calmest expression, the one that you would be more than glad to use right now. You sit down again. That is already a humiliation. Glancing at your opponent's table, you see a woman wiping her eyes with a little handkerchief. Most likely pretending to cry. If you had a case like this for the huge sum of money, you'd be fake-crying too. Nelson turns to look at you as well, shooting a polite smile. You do the same. Although this is a war zone, you were always polite, especially with Mr Nelson. Murdock, on the other hand, decided to choose you as his next target.

"Miss y/l/n, might I ask whether you knew anything about Mr Donovan's illegitimate child, Miss Darcy Donovan, who now might be considered as your client's step-sister?" Matt steps closer to your table, not looking at you, or the judge, but straight to the right side wall of the room.

"No, Mr Murdock, I didn't know anything about your client, who claims to be Mr Donovan's relative. As I was studying the family tree of my client, Miss Darcy has never appeared there." You answer, calmly, raising one eyebrow at the man in front of you. A shy grin appears on his lips for a moment before he puts on a serious expression again.

"So you're claiming, that your client had no idea that he had a sister somewhere out there, and that her existence was not a reason for the divorce of Mr Donovan's parents?" He asks, stilling for a moment, head tilted towards the judge.

"Yes, that is precisely what I am claiming, Mr Murdock. My client never knew the reason of his parent's divorce, let alone the existence of Miss Darcy."

"Miss, y/l/n, I'm sure there were records in hospitals and other resources that your firm uses, that Miss Darcy did exist, and in fact, shares the last name with your client." Murdock grins momentarily again, already pissing you off.

"Mr Murdock, in case you don't know, many people are sharing the same last names and in fact, are not even a bit related." You say, tightly grasping the pen in your hand, fake smile planted on your face. He's obviously playing around, repeating statements, trying to make you stumble. It worked once before.

"Objection, relevance, your Honor." Nelson stands up, looking a bit lost. You look at him surprised, usually partners were not the ones who dared to object their own case.

"Mr Murdock, get to the point." Judge answers, Nelson nods a couple of times and sits down. You steal a look at Donovan, who's intently watching Darcy. The latter pretends to flip through the pages of the case.

"Yes, your Honor. Miss y/l/n, I know that you spoke with your client's mother, did she say what was the reason of her divorce?" Matt asks, standing right in front of you, conveniently blocking your view of the judge. 

"No, Mr Murdock, she never revealed what you're calling "the real reason" of her split. She said that it was a mutual agreement - or to put it simply, the divorce was friendly. My client never questioned his parent's decision, as he respected it."

He says nothing for a moment. A moment too long. You look at Nelson, but he just shrugs at his partner's behavior.

"Mr Murdock, any more questions?" Judge asks loud enough for Murdock to snap out of whatever trance he was in.

"No, your Honor." He nods to the judge, turning to you upon the departure to his table, "Thank you, Miss y/l/n," and shoots a smile. Weird. But he didn't seem like a normal guy anyway.

"Miss y/l/n, any questions to Miss Donovan?" Judge asks. You quickly stand up, grabbing the pen for moral support, you must not fail.

"Yes, your Honor."

"Miss Donovan, please take the stand." 

A moment of shuffling and loud nose sniffling goes by as your client sits down at your table, and Darcy takes his place on judge's left. She briefly gives an oath on the Bible and gets comfortable. 

"Miss Donovan, might I ask, why did your mother give you this last name? Hers was Jones, if I'm not mistaken." You begin, watching the brown-haired woman intently. Even from the looks, the two Donovan 'siblings' couldn't be more different. 

"My mother, God rest her soul, told me that she wanted a better life for me... The one I couldn't possibly get under Jones name. When I reached adulthood, she told me that one day I'm going to meet my father, who was a good man. Good, but troubled." She sniffs quite loud again, and in the corner of your eye you notice how Murdock furrows his eyebrows.

"So from what I've heard, your mother simply gave you the last name of one of her latest flings?" You say, not wasting any time with politeness.

"Objection, your Honor, hearsay," Murdock stands up, leaning on the table.

"Overruled, continue, Miss y/l/n." Judge says, and you try to hide your grin as best as your can.

"Let me paraphrase that for you." You begin, "did your mother know for sure who was your biological father?"

"Um, no. I don't think so."

"And in the past she has had various, uh let me call them, relationships, right? Couple of them at the same time even?" You ask as politely as possible, this is your chance to catch her in a lie.

Matt stands up, but Foggy quickly brings him back to his seat by the sleeve of his jacket.

"Probably. I think so, yes." Darcy answers, looking for help at her lawyers.

"And she wasn't sure who was the father when she began to feel pregnant with you? Or was she absolutely certain that it was the late Mr Donovan?" You fix your loose tie with one hand, Matt audibly takes a deep breath.

"I'm... Not sure..."

"Miss, let me remind you that you swore an oath to tell the truth, so I think that's exactly what we all want to hear right now." You say, focused on the woman. Clearly the pressure of your words and the surprising silence from her own lawyers was doing its job, as she began playing with the hem of her dress.

"My mother told me that of all men she met throughout her life, Danny was the best one. But he was unfortunately married..." Darcy begins and you see an opportunity to strike again.

"But that didn't seem to stop her?"

Darcy furrows her eyebrows and thinks over your words for a moment. "My mother was a nice woman, and she...She made mistakes! Just like everybody else!" Darcy's face morphs into a crying grimmace and honestly, it was  a pity to watch her desperately trying to win the money.

"Objection, your Honor..." Murdock stands up again, visibly affected by the burst of emotions here, you're so close, you can practically touch the today's victory.

"Objection denied, continue Miss y/l/n." Judge calmly says, not wanting the breaking point of the case to be dropped now.

"Miss Darcy, now please answer to following statement, just by simply saying either "yes" or "no", okay?" You ask, slowly walking in front of Nelson and Murdock's table, already planning your journey in front of Darcy. Intimacy always seemed to work with opponent's clients. "Was your mother involved in a multiple relationships at the same time that were heavily based on sexual intimacy?"

Heartbeat. Another, after another, after another. Matt tilts his head to the side. Everything tunes out for a moment - Darcy's heartbeat picked up, she's either nervous, or is creating a lie.

"Yes. I believe so..." She begins, but you're quick to carry on with your next sentence.

"And when she had you, she had no idea who was the real father, yes?"

"Yes... But-"

"So she simply gave you the name of the last man who was involved in a close encounter with her before she noticed that she was expecting? And that happened to be Mr Donovan's father, right?" You ask, tightly holding the pen in your hand.

"Well...Yes." Darcy sighs, slightly lowering her head. 

"So you, not even sure that Mr Donovan is.. I'm sorry, was your father, hired a private investigator to find your father? All these years later?" You say, glancing at the stressed men on your right.

"Yes. But as you can see-" Darcy hopelessly begins.

"And when you got all the information about Mr Donovan, you found out that he was just buried, and his son, Mr Donovan, here, inherited a large sum of money and some property outside the city?"

"Yes, but I-"

"And then you decided that you want that money, that Mr Donovan rightfully inherited at any cost? Following my client to work and back to his house, creeping in the shadows but never brave enough to actually talk face to face?" You ask, feeling as if you're going to burst into million pieces at any moment. The courtroom is silent for a good moment, not even a fly dares to buzz around. The tension is thick, you glace back at your client and on your way to turning back your head to Darcy, your eyes fall upon Murdock, who seems to be deep in thought, perhaps ready to object your question at any given moment. It's a wonder that he wasn't doing that yet. "Yes or no, Miss Darcy?" you repeat your question again, hoping to get an answer now.

"Yes." She says just above the whisper and if any decibel lower, you wouldn't have heard it. Matt heard it loud and clear.

"Why?" you ask, now relaxed, the case was obviously an easy win, but you still had to work on it.

"I guess I was just nervous to approach him..."

"Well, I think couple of weeks are more than enough to collect the strength to approach your step-brother, Miss Darcy."

She says nothing, just silently cries into her handkerchief. You take a look at your client, he has an apologetic look on his face, but it's clear - he's not giving up the money.

"Your Honor, might I intervene?" Murdock asks, slowly standing up, Nelson fails to stop him this time.

"Go on, Mr Murdock." Judge says with a rather bored expression. You stay standing in front of Murdock's table.

"My client, Miss y/l/n, was, and still is in shock after she learned of her father's death. I do agree that stalking Mr Donovan was not the best idea but I think she went with the heart and-"

"Went with the heart to demand half of the inheritance?" You ask, taking a step closer to Murdock.

"I-" he begins.

"If I'm not mistaken, there's only one and only name written in Mr Donovan's will - and it's my client's, so Miss Darcy legaly has no rights for it. I'm sure you know it, Mr Murdock."

"What you don't know is that Mr Donovan had another will left, and it says that if no other heir is to appear until his death, all the money go to his son. But Miss Darcy did appear-" Murdock argues, nervously fixing his tie.

"Right after his death. Mr Donovan has spent the last moments with his father and surely, if he saw this woman in the hospital, he would've recognized her when she began stalking him."

"What exactly was your client doing there those last moments? If I'm not mistaken, after his parents split, he was close only with his mother." Matt says, taking a deep breath again.

"Mr Donovan?" You simply ask, feeling how your mouth became too dry to talk.

"I-um... My mamma called to say that paps was in hospital, something serious and he wanted to see me. I came there, we talk, a pretty heart to heart conversation actually, but he never even mentioned that he cheated on my mamma, or that he had a child somewhere. He just said that he regretted the time that he didn't spend with me. So in the last weeks, we were both fixing that mistake, I guess." Donovan says, and you notice how he tears up a little.

"Thank you" you say and turn to the judge, "That will be all."

"Thank you, Miss y/l/n, Mr Murdock." Judge says, Matt takes a seat. "I think we all should take a break, and the jury will be ready to make their decision, right?" he looks at the jury expectantly, and majority of them nod energetically. "Good. Let's return in 30 minutes."

You make your way towards the bathroom, which happens to be unisex one. Just as you step in front of a mirror to fix your hair, the door opens rather loudly, and no one other than Matt Murdock appears.

You stand up, dropping the pen on your table. "Go grab a coffee, I'm positive that everything is going to be okay for us, yeah?"

Donovan nods, getting up as well.

"Sorry, is this the bathroom?" He asks, smiling briefly.

"I'm sure you wouldn't be stepping in so confidently if it wasn't." You answer, following Murdock's path, which unfortunately leads to the neighboring sink.

"Ah, Miss y/l/n, pleasure to meet you somewhere outside the courtroom." he taps around the sink to find the source of water.

"You know, I honestly thought that I was going to run into you near the coffee machine but I guess life's a bitch." You turn on the water and wet your hands, the slowly tap the loose hair strands and for a while, they stick.

"What, not happy to see me?"

"I'd be more happy to see you lose today. We both know you have no chance of winning."

"Ah, never lost your confidence, Miss y/l/n, even after I beat you twice?" he smirks, and you feel the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

"Not exactly my style, I'm sure you should know that after two times. How's the business going? I overheard in the office that clients are paying you with food packets and uh, fruit bowls?" You ask, leaning on the sink with one hand.

Matt laughs, "I might share one if I win today."

"Oh, no, I would never use your kindness for selvish purposes, although I would gladly eat a donut right now. Any chance you carry one in your pocket?" You laugh as well, Matt grins.

"I don't think my pockets are big enough for that, but if I ever place one there, I'll be sure to give it to you, y/n." Matt dries his hands, leaning on the sink too.

"Oh, first name basis? Didn't think we were that far, Mr Murdock." You grin, shamelessly checking him out, it didn't hurt to know your opponent better, in and out.

"Never thought we were anything less." He smirks, offering you his elbow, clearly a sign for you to lead him out.

"So, you're so desperate for a case that you took this one? Is this how your business is going?" You ask nonchalantly, Matt furrows his eyebrows.

"Our business is going perfectly, thank you asking, y/l/N. How's -"

"You'd get much more if you worked at Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz." You simply say. "Good lawyers like you and Mr Nelson should not go to waste with cases like this.

"Is this a job offer or a piece of advice?" Murdock turns to the side, looking in your direction.

"Little bit of both, perhaps. Well," you tap his arm once, "we've reached the coffee machine. My treat? I believe you need to save money, considering today's loss."

"Miss y/l/n, aren't you too confident today? It's up to jury to decide, or have you already charmed one of them?" he leans on his cane, you put the money in machine and push the coffee button, discreetly taking a look at his knuckles, that are definitely bruised.

"The only charmer in the courtroom is you, Mr Murdock, I believe chances that you have already charmed that lady on the left are way higher." You smile, watching how the cup is filling up with hot drink.

"You think of me as a charmer?" Matt smirks.

"I think of you as a worthy opponent. Nothing more." You take the cup and hand it to Matt.

He takes the cup and smells it. "I'm forever in your debt now, y/l/n."

"Yeah, you and your partner." You click the button again, buying coffee for Nelson.

"My partner? Wait, so you, are buying drinks for me and Foggy?" Matt's smile is as big as his courtroom ego today.

"Well, I'm not a monster, you know." You roll your eyes.

"Didn't think of you as one." He says mysteriously and you feel the blush creeping on your cheeks. Not everyday you receive a compliment, especially with that attitude of yours.

"Here, I hope it's no trouble to hold another cup, or is Mr Nelson somewhere out there?" You crane your neck and look around the crowd of people, but Matt shakes his head.

"He's not here, I'll hold it." You put the cup in his hand, which is surprisingly warm.

"Friendship sixth sense?" You ask, but he just laughs the sentence away. "Well," you finally say after a moment, watching the coffee pour into the cup, "I'm good. Where to, Mr Murdock?"

"A place that is crowded? I assume you don't want anyone to see us together, as you know, as opponents, we're supposed to despise each other." He whispers devilishly.

"I like your thinking. Surely it would raise suspicions to anyone who knows us, they would probably think of us as best friends." You fake shudder and cross your hand with Matt's, taking Foggy's cup from him. His palm, that is touching your bare arm feels incredibly warm and heavy, and at this moment, you're just glad that the walk to the bench is not a long one.

"Coffee's nice." Matt finally says after a minute.

"Coffee's shit. Plus, we don't really need to talk, I don't want to lose the mood." You take another sip of the drink and lean on the bench.

Matt crosses his legs and turns to you, "What mood?"

"The mood of beating you." You simply say, downing the drink and tapping your pocket impatiently. You really needed a smoke but that would create even more distractions.

"We shall see about that beating. Maybe you were wrong all along."

"Listen, there's no way for Darcy to win. The will clearly states that Donovan gets everything-"

"If Darcy doesn't show up before his death." Matt argues, putting the cup on the bench, ready to wave his hands.

"But she showed up the day after he died." You press.

"Yes, after her father mysteriously died, and I believe that your client has something to do with it."

"What are you saying? Are you accusing Donovan of his father's death?" You say a little too loud. Couple of nearest people turn to look at the two of you, and Matt puts his hand on your arm again, leaning closer to you.

"Will you just keep your voice down? What I'm saying is that Donovan didn't even visit his father in years but suddenly shows up couple of weeks before his death? Right around the time when Darcy hired a PI? I know he's your client but doesn't that raise any suspicions?" Matt says lowly, almost whispering, his coffee breath hits your face.

"Murdock, I don't even know how to call what you're doing right now." You blow a raspberry but he squeezes your wrist a little.

"I'm not here to play sides, or to do you dirty, although I would really love it the other day, but I'm here to bring justice, and this whole thing smells shady as hell." He says and you lean forward, elbows on your knees, deep in thought.

"So if Donovan really had something to do with his father's death, although it's not possible. He died of a heart attack. Then what you're saying is that he did it on purpose when he found out of Darcy's existence?" You ask, raking your brain for any missing points, needing a smoke now more than ever.

"Yes, listen, I know it sounds crazy but it could be possible." Matt leans closer to you again.

"How would we know it? How did Donovan find out about Darcy if his mother didn't even know about the affair? And he claims to have never seen the will before his father's death. Also, that second will you brought up, doesn't make any sense. I've asked for the documents in the archive and never received it." You glance at the clock and stand up. "Whatever. It's up to jury now. They're gonna say their decision soon."

Matt stays silent, visibly lost in thought.

"You need help or can you manage through the crowd alone, Murdock?" You ask and he stands up, taking Foggy's cup and placing his palm on your elbow.

"Help would be nice, Miss y/l/n."

[luimagines]

Not sure how familiar you are with Four Swords but would you be interested in writing separate Red, Blue, Green and Vio X reader? Obviously can be in an LU setting but doesn’t have to be! My girlfriend is a massive Four simp I know she’d swoon at this.

As always love your work! ❤️❤️

- Gaylactic-Fire

Masterlist

You've got it!

Color centric scenarios are a go!

Content under the cut!

Green

Your laughter bounced off of the forest canopy as you ran though the foliage.

Green held onto your hand tightly as he led the way, dodging in and out of bushes and the underbrush so frequently that you were sure you were thoroughly lost.

“Green!” You shout after a short twig scratches your ankle. “Where are we even going?”

“Somewhere special!” He replies with a wink over his shoulder.

That’s the only answer you get before he has you climbing over a particularly impressive rock, passing you the basket that he’s brought along and climbing right after you.

You shake your head and try your hardest not to look into the goods that he’s brought. He made you promise before you started out here to not peak and you don’t want to break it simply because you’re curios.

Granted, it a basket and he’s taking you somewhere special away from the people and his especially his brother- you think you can guess what’s inside and what you’re doing.

Green reaches up to where you are and takes the basket but a cheeky finger wave. “You promised~!”

“I know.” You snort. “I wasn’t looking.”

“Mm-hm...” He takes your hand again and begins to pull you along gentler along the rock and moves aside a curtain of vines before ushering you forward.

It’s a hidden tunnel and with wide and delighted eyes you venture forward, your boyfriend at your back before you come to a crystal cave, a blanket set on the dry rock below with multiple candles not only holding the blankets down but decorating the atmosphere with their flickering light, sending a filter of rainbow light across the cave.

A gasp leaves your mouth and you dash in front of the little display. “When did you do this? How did you find this place? I knew you taking me a for picnic but I didn’t think-”

“Happy anniversary.” Green holds out a single red rose in front of him a happy and bashful smile on his face.

Your heart drops to your feet when you accept the flower. “Green... oh, I’m sorry... I completely forgot. I didn’t get you anything.”

“I thought so.” Green admits. “You’ve been so nervous about acing your exams that you weren’t thinking much about anything else. But it gave me all the opportunity I needed to plan this, find this place and set everything up!”

“This is incredible Green, thank you.” You lean forward and kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry I’ve been so stuck in my head recently.”

“Don’t be.” Green takes your hands and kisses your knuckles. “If you pass the test you get to work in the castle as a royal court herbalist. It’s a big deal. They only accept the best of the best.”

 “I’m so nervous.” You say confidently.

“That’s ok.” Green chuckles. “But take a break for a little, yeah? I brought your favorites.”

Blue

You had left him the forge to work on the latest commission but you were beginning to suspect that he hadn’t once paused or taken a break.

And that just won’t stand.

So you walk right on in and wave to Green who’s working the front of the shop.

Green brightens at seeing your face and throws a thumb back toward the entrance to the forge. “Blue’s back there.”

“Has he left at all?’ You ask with a small smile on your lips.

Green shakes his head.

You sigh and shake your head.” That’s what I thought.”

“Gonna get him out?”

“I’m gonna try.” You admit with a shrug and walk toward the door.

“If anyone can, it’s you.” Green calls as you leave and you take a breath to brace yourself for the smell and the heat of the place.

You walk on it and look around, trying to get past the always dim light and spot him in the back by the anvil, the glowing amber light of the metal lighting up his face.

You step as close as you while still being safe of the sparks. 

“Blue!” You call out. 

He stops and looks up from the project before dunking it in the bucket of water nearby.

He leaves it there and begins to make his way over to you with a smile on his face. “Hey. I’m still working.”

“I can see that.” You say with a smile. “I was wondering if you would like to go get something to eat with me.”

Blue stalls for a moment, the idea waging a war in his mind. “...I’m still working.”

“It’s just a break, Blue. It’ll still be there when you get back.” You try to persuade him. “Please.”

You put on your cutest puppy eyes and lean closer, even going as far as to put hand in front of you as you plead your case. 

Blue bites his lip and worries the leather of his gloves but he doesn’t say anything.

You wait for a moment and drop your hands. “Is that a no?”

It’s hard to hide the disappointment in your voice and facial expression and you know that Blue sees it.

But you smile a little and nod. “That’s fine. We still have that date planned this weekend, right? I’ll.... I’ll see you then.”

“No.” Blue takes of his gloves. “I’m coming. Let’s go get lunch.”

“I- Really?” You blinked and don’t bother hiding your grin. “And you’re commission?”

“It’ll be there when I get back.” Blue takes the apron off and puts it on a nearby hook, taking your hand as he begins to leave the forge.

You’re sure that there’s a lot of safety hazards that he’s currently throwing out the window but Green is good at this too so hopefully he’ll cover for Blue.

You both exit and Blue is barely holding himself together. He’s just short of sprinting away from the shop entirely, waving to his brother on the way out while you giggle and give Green a wink.

It’s lunch time!

Red

“RED!” You cried out into the open. “RED!”

No one answers.

“Oh man, why me?” You whine and begin jogging down the road. “Of all days! ...RED! RED!”

Still nothing.

You at least take a moment to thank your lucky stars that there’s no one else on the road beside you or else they’d think you’re crazy for simply yelling out a color and expecting something to happen.

“I’m here!” You hear him call out at last.

Relief covers your entire body in a single wave and you pick up your pace. “Red, where have you been? Vio is going to have an aneurism about being on time with the dinner with your dad and grandpa and ....oh dear...”

You look up and see a very familiar red tunic... hanging upside down- hat on the ground and boots in the air, a single foot stretched out and held by a rope trap connected to a very tall tree.

You blink and sit yourself on the forest floor under you. “How is it that only you get into these kind of things?”

Red sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t know this was even here.”

“Clearly.” You run your hand through your hair and take a deep breath. You look around him and take in the tree. It looks like it can be climbed easily enough and if you can get up, you can undo the rope at the top, get your boyfriend out and then still have enough time to go doll yourself up for the first family dinner you’ve been invited to.

No pressure.

“You’re so lucky I love you.” You get up and pat Red out of the way to get a good grip on the tree bark in front of you.

“What are you doing?” 

“Getting you out Sweetheart, what does it look like I’m doing?” You reply and begin the climb.

“Please be careful.” Red gulps a bit and tried to ignore the amount of blood that’s been rushing to his head.

Finding the rope that holding your lover hostage is a bit more challenging than getting into the tree to begin with but you find it well enough.

You don’t have anything sharp to simply cut him free but you do have two hands- determination, spite and a whole lot of gumption at your disposal to try to undo the knot in the tree.

It’s takes an age.

But when you see that you’re making progress you get excited and tell Red to get ready to fall.

He doesn’t respond but you can somewhat see him nod and try to figure out how on earth he was going to land without hurting himself.

You feel like you should be helping him in that regard but you’re not on the ground anymore and someone still has to get the knot out.

It slips and Red falls right into a practiced roll like the professional that he is and you cheer on his behalf. “YAY! Red, you’re free!”

He laughs and goes to stand, wobbling immediately at the rush of blood but manages to stand on his feet.

You drop down from the tree after him and rush to give him a hug. “Hey there handsome!”

“Hello beautiful!” Red hugs you back. 

“Come on now! Or we’re going to be late!” You jump and begin to pull back through the forest. 

You do not want to give his family a bad impression of you after all.

Vio

“My love, you have to get up now.” Soft lips brush against your cheek with a sweet peck before a hand shakes your shoulder somewhat.

You blink your eyes open with a smile and roll over to the other side, completely ignoring the man in front of you.

“I saw that.” Vio chuckles and continues to shake your shoulder. “You said you’d help out in the shop today. you have to get up if you want to be there on time.”

“Nu-uh.” You hum and try to burrow deeper into the warm blankets.

Vio shakes you a little harder.

“Five more minutes.”

“No.” Vio says your name with the same exasperation as he would when dealing with Red. He hates that you two have this in common.

You’re content to stay in bed and fall back asleep until the blankets are unceremoniously ripped away from you.

The cold air had you curling in on yourself in an instant and you whined as loud as you could without opening your mouth to show your annoyance toward your boyfriend.

“Time to be awake now.”

“I don’t wanna~” You groan and roll around again, looking for a familiar mop of blond hair. “Why must you do this to me? I thought you loved me.”

That actually manages to get Vio to laugh before he crawls into bed next to you and lays down close enough where his nose just barely brushes yours. “I do love you. It’s why I’m making sure my lover can keep their promises and not become a hypocrite. It won’t look good on me if the love of my life begins slacking.”

You hum and close your eyes, reaching out for his hand and taking it into your own. You pull it up and give him a small kiss on his knuckles and sigh. “I suppose it really wouldn’t do you any good if your lover was a scoundrel.”

Vio snorts. “That and Red was excited about you joining in him in the front today so he’s been talking non stop about it.”

You groan louder and roll away from him, going so far as to roll off of the bed and hit the floor with your full weight.

Vio winces by the sounds and pushes himself upright. “You ok?”

“I really hate it when Red get disappointed.” You groan as loud as you can before getting up and stretching your arms over your head. “He always looks like he’s about to cry and then I want to cry with him and it’s a whole mess. I swear sometimes he does it on purpose.”

“Sounds about right.” Vio smiles and begins to put the bed together. “Go get ready. I’ll clean up.”

You yawn and nod. “Good morning by the way.”

“Good morning.” Vio says through his giggles. “Blue is making breakfast.”

“He’s gonna burn the toast again.”

“When does he not?”

“I can hear you!” Blue shouts from the stairs just beyond your bedroom door.

You snort and pop your head out. “Sorry Blue!”

Vio smirks and adjusts the corner until they’re flat and decent again. He’d be lying if he said that these weren’t some of his favorite mornings.

Bonus Shadow!

“I know you’re there~” You grin, not looking behind you as you attempt to finish the dishes for the night.

The flickering candle light made the shadows appear longer than they would usually and they sifted with the wave of the fire as the candle burned into the night.

No one answered your little tease but you knew you were right.

There a thickness in the air when you took a breath. It was your only clue that you weren’t alone. Others might have been frightened or confused by your relaxed nature when something was going on but you knew you just had to wait a minute and the problem would solve itself.

You were being watched but you wanted to coax him out.

“I’m almost done here.” You smile and let the water rinse off the plate you were holding before putting in the rack. “Then we can head upstairs a little while. Not much we can do in the dark.”

“I beg to differ.” The voice replies. “There’s plenty to do in the dark.”

You smirk. “Then beg.”

“Well that’s not very nice.” Arms come to wrap around your waist as a chin hooks onto your shoulder.

You giggle as a strand of hair tickles your cheek and you try to blow it aside with a small gust of air but it doesn’t work.

You sigh and let it happen, taking care to not get the person next to you wet. You take the next plate and rinse it under the water, trying to get the soap off of it and put it away to be dried later.

“Are you done?” The voice whines.

“If I say yes, will that you make you happy Shadow?” You smirk and turn your head to look at him. 

Truthfully, he looks exhausted as it is. He has dark circles under his eyes and paler complexion than usual. He takes a minute to respond as he looks at the dishes in the sink and back to you. He takes a breath and nods.

You snort and dry your hands, turning around to hug him back properly and rest your head in the crook of his neck as well.

“Do you want to go to bed?” You ask him. “You look tired.”

“I am tired.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

You both stand there in the middle of your kitchen and sway a little, taking in each other warmth and comfort.

Shadow takes another breath and straightens up from curling around you. “Yes, please.”

[otvlanga]

Hc: Miraak has a huge crush on the LDB but doesn’t know how to convey his feelings and is just super awkward with romance in general

okay LOOOONG post time because I love last the dragonborn/first dragonborn shit OKAY. Very long post because god dammit, I ramble too much. This might sound like a toddler wrote it.

Miraak literally hasn’t seen another human being in 4,000 years, he probably loses his shit when the feeling of just being attracted to someone punches him in the face. 

He’s just chilling on a giant book in Apocrypha, dipping his toes in the ink water or something and planing how exactly he’s going to kill the Dragonborn to the very detail. Then they actually arrive in Apocrypha, and the very fibers of their souls are screaming out to each-other like “same hat!”, and it feels like every inch of himself is burning on the inside, while the outside remains blandly mild in the stale humid air of Apocrypha.

But he’s a strong minded man, so he swallows it down and continues on with his edgy monologue. He tells the Dragonborn he must kill them, but he can hardly bare hearing the words come from his own mouth as they’re paralyzed on the ground right in front of him. He can practically taste the power radiating off them, layers and layers of dragon souls woven together and wrapped around their own soul, the very soul he knew the in’s and out’s of despite not knowing a thing about the person that it belonged to. 

And THEN the poor man’s brain is like “oh no they’re hot” and he's dealing with emotions and thoughts that he hasn’t had since before the first era. He can’t even remember the faces of anyone he used to know, or whether or not he liked looking at them. All he knows is that he’s seeing a face that looks so foreign but feels so familiar, and he does like looking at it, and he doesn’t know why he does. All he knows is that the dragon soul inside of him is thrashing within it’s flesh prison, desperate to be as close as possible to it’s only match. 

Dragons by nature, are not empathetic or familial creatures. They can be, as such is the case with Paarthurnax, but it is not an instinct they have embedded in them like mortals do. Miraak is a human, cursed to the same raw feelings as any other would be. Dragon souls vibrate with each other on a level that human souls do not. A dragon can always feel another dragon. 

That sense of automatic familiarity paired with the inherent human desire for love and belonging? Paired together they do not bode well for a man trying to kill the only other living being in the universe who understands him. The only one. Every dov is a piece of Akatosh, all siblings in a special way, but no dragon will ever think, feel, and care the same way humans do. He could never find solace in the company of a dragon. 

Now that their souls have had a glimpse of each other, every moment he spends thinking of killing them sends the dragon inside of him wreathing in agony and distress, something dovah are not accustomed to feeling. Before he realizes it, he’s going out of his way to appear in spectral form in front of them to absorb the souls of their kills. He finds himself speaking to them, lingering for a few moments longer than necessary, invigorated just by the feeling of being near  them in an intangible spectral form.

He tries to convince himself that all these odd things he’s feeling are just his inner dovah aching for the power of absorbing their soul. He tells himself that after he kills them, it will all go away, and he’ll be able to finally tear free from Apocrypha. (hes dumb forgive him its been a while)

He has no need to show off, all he needs is to get the job done and over with as quickly as possible. And yet, he casts Dragon Aspect on himself without even realizing it, dancing around them in combat and stalling, using the Thu’um when he doesn’t even need to. He doesn’t realize that his actions mimic a dragon’s, bringing as much focus on themselves when they want to appear boastful and magnificent, rare moments of civility and friendly indulgence where they bask in each other’s vanity and challenge each other in friendly competition. 

The dragon companions he keeps with him in Apocrypha are very confused as to why he’s technically doing the dragon equivalent of flirting when he’s supposed to be killing them and reaping their power. Humans are so weird amirite?

If the Dragonborn spares him and finds a way to free him from Apocrypha and team up with him, he would not be able to properly address or recognize his feelings for a long time. It’s not until he’s grown accustomed to seeing couples hold each other close in the cold and whisper sweet things to each other, or heard a few sappy love songs/poems from bards that it starts to dawn on him. And when it does, he’s distressed because he remembers next to nothing about what it means to care for someone. Even in his time as a Dragon Priest under Alduin’s rule, he didn’t get to indulge in petty things like love and affection. His role was a full time commitment. Of course he had seen people courting each other outside of just having children, but he had never experienced that himself. 

He’d show his affections in very strange ways, because he isn’t quite sure how to say it, and he’s still in partial denial of it all. It would be borderline annoying and obsessive things, like insisting on healing all of the LDB’s wounds even when they’re perfectly capable of doing it themselves, or needlessly jumping in front of them during battles with dragons because he gets over-protective without realizing it. It gets to the point where the LDB has to pull him aside like ”bro what the fuck is your problem it’s getting exhausting” and then cue the cheesy awkward and dramatic fanfiction love admission trope. 

also do u like, know how INSANE it would be to the rest of Tamriel if TWO Dragonborns of legend teamed up, let alone got married or something? They would probably be two of the most important and powerful people alive. Especially with all the forbidden knowledge Miraak had obtained over the few millennia he spent in Apocrypha. Like, I’m serious. If they defeated Alduin together and saved the world? They would probably be worshiped. They would almost be Talos level of worshiped, eventually. 

also just like imagine if they took power over the Empire. Like, a Dragonborn emperor and Dragonborn (whatever your ldb idenitifes as, empress/emperor/sovereign/etc) and maybe secured a new ‘Dragonborn’ bloodline/heired family. And the LDB would have Odahviing and Parrturnax on their side. Just imagine the power they’d have. 

I’ve been meaning to write a fic about that for a long time actually. I’ll get to it soon I swear.

[animatorweirdo]

A long way back

Fallen for a golden flower

(Well, I got stuck with this for a while. There was a missing scene and it almost messed up everything)

Chapter 4

Warnings; None really.

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

You and Glorfindel galloped through the woods, then through the front gate. You both laughed and smiled while pulling your horses into a walk. Rex whined, trotting toward the stable.

"Goodness. After all, I might have been the rotten egg," You said, turning toward Glorfindel. "It was a good race, but if I knew better, I think you might have let me win o purpose," He said with an amused smile. You chuckled and couldn't stop smiling.

"Well, if that's the case, I apologize. It might be an old habit. I often let the boys win when we played games or raced," You explained. "It's quite a pity that they're all grown up now. They were so adorable back then," You said, then got off from Rex, Glorfindel following in suit.

"Oh, yes. I'm curious," You said as you walked toward the stable. "How did you end up meeting Elured and Elurin?" You asked, looking at Glorfindel. "Well, that is an interesting story," He started while you started unsaddling your horses.

"I met the twin lords when there was a meeting between the courts of king Gil-galad and king Oropher. They haven't appeared outside of their court, so we were quite eager to meet them," Glorfindel explained while you both started brushing your horses. "But let me tell you. The first impression was quite something," He chuckled. "They were like prince Thranduil, full of pride and looked down upon us. They also looked like they were ready to attack if needed, so they didn't like me," He said with a smile upon his face. "It kinda sounds like them," You said. "They may appear a bit cold and defensive when meeting new people. I believe it might be related to the childhood trauma they suffered. They didn't even trust their kin," You explained. "Elurin once tried to bite an old friend of mine," You chuckled. "That was their way of greeting back then," You added.

"Well, thank Eru, it was back then because they looked like they wanted to rip me in pieces," Glorfindel said, which made you chuckle. "How did you manage to soften them up for you?" You asked as you both walked out of the stable after putting your horses in the stalls.

"Well, we got put together to deal with affairs, and over time I managed to sway them with my charms," Glorfindel said with a proud smile. You giggled at his antics. "They're still pretty strict and cold, but they became more relaxed and open when you arrived. It was almost shocking to us," He said. "That's why I believe your story because they act a lot different than before," He said.

"Well, I guess you would be more comfortable with family around," You said as you two walked to the top of the stairs. "Glorfindel," Elured called as both of the twins approached you.

You were unnerved when you saw the expression on their faces. Something serious was going on.

"By the way, Glorfindel. Unfortunately, you have to return to your duties early. Orcs and other beats have been acting in the north," Elured explained. "Is that so? Well. North has been quite active lately," Glorfindel said, then turned toward you. "I shall see it done. My lady, unfortunately, we have to part ways from here," He gave you a little bow. "I'm sure my lords here can help you, but I'm also available if you need something," He said. Your face started to fluster a little. "I wish you a good day, my lady," He said. "You too, and be careful," You said as he left.

You then turned toward the twins, who had strange looks. "What?" You questioned. "Nothing! I trust you had fun on your ride with Lord Glorfindel," Elured smiled. "It was lovely. I had a lot of fun," You smiled. Elured smiled while Elurin just scoffed. "Don't get too comfortable around him. He can be loud and obnoxious sometimes," Elurin said, almost muttering. Elured elbowed his brother in the ribs.

"Is everything alright? You looked troubled?" You asked, remembering their serious faces from before. "It's nothing you have to worry about. A mere trifle with the creatures of darkness," Elured explained, patting his brother on the back. You couldn't help but stare at Elurin's almost disheveled hair. "Well, do not overwork yourself," You tiptoed, pushing his hair out of his face. "We can't have you look tired and unwell," You added. Then checked Elurin's eyes. Mild bags and shadows were under there. "Goodness, you haven't been sleeping well, haven't you?" You asked, looking at him in the eyes. "It's nothing. I rest when we manage to settle this one thing," Elurin grabbed your hands, settling them down.

"Sorry, I can't help it when I see you troubled," You said. "No, there's no need to apologize," Elurin said.

"We're sorry that we haven't got much time for you. Troubles seem to grow when we least want them," Elured explained. "How about tomorrow we stay up late and spend some time?" He asked. "You don't have to force yourself to spend time with me. I'm fine with any time," You said. "Of course you are," Elured shook his head with a smile. "Well, unfortunately, we have to make you entertain yourself for a while until we get this matter settled," He said. "Of course, I already got a tour, so I should be fine finding something to do," You said. "That's good. We shall leave you up to it then, but don't be afraid to ask if you need anything," Elured said. "Of course, see you around," You said, bidding them goodbye and returning to your room. You took a bath because you stunk after riding all day.

In the afternoon, you wandered into the library, fresh and clean. You were in a good mood to read a book to pass some time. You were always curious what elven libraries had in store.

Walking between the shelves, you looked at the lines of books, trying to find something interesting. Your eyes saw interest in a book labeled The age of the two trees. You have infinite amount of years in your expanded life, so learning about history became a pleasing pastime.

You stood up on your toes, trying to reach the book with your fingers. They merely glazed the book. You stood down with a quick breath. You have stopped aging, but you were still too short for high shelves, or maybe these elves were unnecessarily tall.

Something moved in the corner of your eye then an elf appeared out of nowhere, making you shriek out of fright.

"Oh, apologies, I didn't see you there before," You said after recognizing the elf. It was the dark-haired elf from before with a grumpy-looking face. If you remember correctly, Elured called him Erestor. Glorfindel also described him as an elf who's always in a foul mood. Like a cat.

"I hope I'm not disturbing. I'm simply looking for a good book to read," You explained, then looked at the book you tried to reach. "Could you possibly reach that one book? I'm too short to get it for myself?" You asked with an awkward laugh.

Erestor sighed, closing his book. "Which is it?" He asked, looking at the shelf. "The green one with a golden text," You explained. "Are you sure you wish to read this? We have a book in a common tongue?" He questioned. "It's fine. I'm quite familiar with the elven tongue," You said, grabbing the book from his hand. "Thank you," You smiled in politeness.

"And I'm quite curious about the age of the trees, and it's sometimes good to recite my elvish once in a while," You explained. The elf kept looking at you. "Well, since you knew what the title meant? I'm curious who taught you sindaring?" He asked. "Was it the twin lords who taught you?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Oh no, an old friend of one taught me your language, and It was also beneficial to help encourage Elured and Elurin to reconnect with their kin. They had some trust issues back then," You explained. Erestor hummed, still looking at you with suspicion. You expected some of these elves not to believe your whole immortality thing, so you had no problem with his staring.

"Well, I shall go read over there. I promise I won't disturb you, my lord," You bowed respectfully. "Hmm," He only hummed, watching you leave.

You took a seat near the window and opened your book. Your eyes gazed over the elvish letters and lines. It took a moment to understand, but you soon started reading like a child's book.

You glanced outside, looking at the sun in the distance. When you mentioned your friend, you couldn't help but start thinking about her. It's been quite a while since the last time you met. You two went a long way back.

It happened on a day when you were doing some chores, and the boys were helping and playing around like kids.

You poured the food into the bowl, letting the chickens eat their stomachs full. The boys were running and shouting with laughter.

"Tag! You're it!"Elured yelled after touching his brother. "No way! I've tagged five times already!" Elurin said. "Can we play something else? this is getting boring?" He asked. "What? Are you now being a sore loser because you're slow?" Elured said with a grin.

You shook your head with amusement. They reminded you of your younger siblings when they were still young and kicking.

"Boys?" You called out. they snapped their heads toward you, giving you their full attention. "Could you help me with the bags so we can feed the cows? You asked. "I help!" Elurin ran up to you. "Hey! Wait for me!" Elured followed right behind.

"Our game is not over," Elured said as they entered the shed. "Screw you! I'm going to be useful, unlike you!" Elurin said back, then grabbed a sack of cow food. "That's so mean! How about this? Whoever feeds the cows first is a winner," Elured said and grabbed a sack of cow food. "You're on!" The brothers said, then started running toward the cow den, competing again.

You giggled in amusement. The twins sure had energy and wanted to help around, especially Elurin. He wished to repay you when he recovered from his fewer. He was determined to repay your kindness after saving his and Elured's life. Even though; there was no need for it. You have grown fond of them and took them in out of free will, so there was no need for repayment of any kind.

"Excuse me," Someone said, gaining your attention. You turned around and then saw a very peculiar-looking stranger.

They wore green, but the clothes didn't look like it was made by a human hand. They wore a cloak, and under it, they wore an armor plate, a very light one.

The stranger was a tall woman. Her eyes were sharp and green, and her red hair was long and put in a tight-looking braid.

Her ears then caught your attention. They were pointy, like with the twins. It turned your suspicion higher. An elf?

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, But I wish to have a talk with you," The she-elf said, bringing her hand across her chest into a respectful bow.

"Uhm, sure. How can I help you?" You asked, confused and a bit intimidated by her.

"I was simply traveling through the village, but I couldn't help but notice the children with you. They're elves, right?" She asked. "They are? What about them? I know that might seem unusual, so is there a problem with it?" You asked. "I seek no trouble. It's just the color of their hair that gained my attention. May I possibly know their names?" She asked. "They call themselves Elured and Elurin," You answered hesitantly. "I found them alone and injured in the woods, so I took them in, " You explained.

"Is there a problem?" You asked, becoming suspicious of the questions.

She elf's eyes widened, and she muttered something in elven language. Silence conquered the moment, and you became uncomfortable.

"You know, I'm not feeling comfortable right now. What do you want with the boys?" You asked, almost with a demanding tone. You have grown fond of the twins, and they suffered something traumatic, so you're ready to defend them from whatever this elf lady wanted.

"Oh, I mean no harm," She said. " I apologize if my approach made you uncomfortable. That was not my intention," She explained. "I was just surprised for a moment," She added. You frowned in suspicion. "Surprised by what?" You asked.

"(Name)," Elured called your name. The boys stared at the stranger. "Who is that?" Elurin demanded.

You took a moment to think about what to do.

"Boys, how about you go inside and let me speak with the elf lady?" You explained. "No way!" Elurin said and ran beside you. They both came beside you and hold on to you while staring at the elf lady.

"She has red hair! What if she's evil?" Elurin asked. You got confused and silently panicked. "Evil? What do you mean?" You asked, looking for an explanation. "The red-haired elves were the ones who brought us into those woods," Elured explained, almost whispering. "Yeah, so whoever you are, piss off!" Elurin said with a snappy tone. "Elurin!" You said, shocked to hear such language from him.  

You looked back at the she-elf, who was equally surprised. The moment was intense, and the boys looked like they're going to attack her at any given moment. You chuckled, breaking the silence, and then she elf smiled along.

"Thank you, my little heroes, but there will be no need for that," You said, putting your hand on their shoulders. "I was just going to talk with, lady..?" You looked at her with a questioning look. "Rossenthell," She answered, finally introducing herself.

"So, how about you two go inside and make some tea?" You asked, gently pushing them toward the door. "But!" Elurin started. "It's okay. She's a ..." You hesitated. " An old friend," You said, pushing them inside the doors. "Elured, I trust you can handle the pot. Call out to me if you need something," You said, then closed the door behind them before they could answer.

You turned toward your sudden visitor with a deep puff. "I apologize for that," You said. "It was Rossenthell, right?" You asked. She nodded. "I'm not sure what you want, but would you be kind enough to explain yourself with a cup of tea?" You asked. "Sure, and I apologize for this inconvenience, and I seemed to cause more fright than intended," She explained. "Well, mistakes happen," You said.

"My name is (Name), by the way," You said "It's a pleasure of meeting you, lady (Name)," Rossenthell said with a polite nod. "Drop the formalities. You can call me by my name," You said, then waved her over. She walked closer.

"Just to prepare me. Why are you interested in the boys. You looked surprised when I told them their names," You asked. "Well, this might sound unbelievable, and I could be wrong," Rossenthell said. "About what?" You asked. "They might be the lost sons of the passed away elven king Dior," She said. You froze, progressing the information.

"Say what now?" You asked.

You smiled at the memory. It was a strange encounter, but you soon made friends with Rossenthell. It took quite a long time to get the boys used to her. They were defensive and tried to bite her more than once. It was a day you learned they were princes, and your life hasn't been the same ever since.

You smiled, then began reading the book in your hands. The silence of the library and the warmth brought by the sun allowed you to read in peace. It was pleasant.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 27

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 27 - This Venerable One Will Cook You A Bowl of Noodles

Chu Wanning felt completely faint.

He blamed himself for being so distracted and unsuspecting on Life-Death Peak. He didn't even notice someone come over.

What was going on? Where did this child come from? His last name was Mo, but Mo. . . what was is again. . . ? Mo Shao? Mo Zhu? Mo. . . Yu?

He composed himself and put on an expression that screamed: "get away". The surprise and panic in his phoenix eyes were quickly masked by his usual harsh and threatening demeanour.

"You—"

He raised his hand out of habit to discipline him, but something suddenly caught his wrist.

Chu Wanning was stunned.

He had been around for a while yet no one had ever dared grab his wrist so casually. For a while, he was frozen in place, not knowing what he should do.

Pull it away and give him a backhanded slap?

. . . It felt like a good word to describe that would be "indecent," like he was no different from a woman in this situation.

Then pull his hand away and not slap him?

. . . Wouldn't that seem like he was being too nice?

Chu Wanning hesitated for a long time and didn't move but the young man laughed: "What's this on your hand? It's pretty good-looking, do you teach how to make stuff like this? Everyone else has introduced themselves already but you haven't spoken yet. Which elder are you? Hey, do you have a headache?"

With so many questions thrown at him, while Chu Wanning's mind hadn't hurt before, now it did.

His mind felt like it was about to split in half. . .

As he got irritated, a golden light in his hand started to glow. When they saw that Tianwen was about to be summoned, the other elders were horrified and moved - Chu Wanning was crazy, right? He would even dare to whip Young Master Mo?

Then, Mo Ran was suddenly holding his hand.

Now Mo Ran had trapped both of his hands. Mo Ran didn't up on the danger of his situation. He pulled him closer and stood in front of him. He tilted his head and said with a smile: "My name is Mo Ran. I don't know anyone here, but just from looking at you, I like you the most. How about I worship you as my shizun, okay?"

This was completely unexpected. The people around them were even more horrified. Several elders gaped with mouths ajar.

Elder Xuanji: "Huh?"

Elder Pojun: "What!"

Elder Qisha: "Oh?"

Elder Jielu: "Uh. . ."

Elder Tanlang: "Hah, ridiculous."

Elder Lucun was the most feminine of the bunch with wavy hair and eyes flooded with peach blossoms: "Ah, this little boy is so bold. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's ass."

". . . I beg you, can you not say something so repulsive?" Qisha said with disgust.

Lucun rolled his eyes gracefully and hummed: "Fine, let me put it more eloquently. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's buttocks."

Qisha: ". . ." Just kill him and forget this ever happened.

The most popular of all the elders was the gentle and jade-like elder Xuanji. His techniques were easy to learn, and he was a modest gentleman. Most of the disciples on Life-Death Peak worshipped underneath him.

Chu Wanning originally thought that this Mo Ran would've been just like all the others. If not Elder Xuanji, then it should be the energetic Elder Pojun. It never should have been his turn

But Mo Ran was standing so close to him. His face showed a kind of intimacy and affection that was unfamiliar to him. He was like some clown that was just chosen. It was all so distressing for no reason.

Chu Wanning only knew how to deal with "awe", "fear" and "disgust". Something like "affection" was too complicated.

He didn't even have to think about it. He immediately rejected Mo Ran.

The young man froze. Hidden under his slender eyelashes, there was a sense of loneliness and unwillingness in his eyes. He lowered his head, thought for a second, and unreasonably muttered: "Anyways, I still choose you."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

The Lord was watching with great interest. He piped in with a smile:, "A-Ran, do you know who he is?"

"He didn't tell me, how would I?"

"Haha, since you don't know who he is, why would you pick him?"

Mo Ran was still tugging on Chu Wanning's hands. He turned his head, smiling and said to the Lord: "Because he looks the most gentle and easiest to talk to."

In the darkness, Chu Wanning's eyes snapped open, everything appearing fuzzy.

. . . That was one hell of a scene to see.

He didn't know what the hell was wrong with Mo Ran's eyes back then to actually think that he was gentle. Not to mention that all of Life-Death Peak heard about it. They all sent affectionate greetings to Young Master Mo Ran with looks that said "look at this foolish kid".

Chu Wanning lifted his hand to the corner of his faintly throbbing forehead.

His shoulder hurt, his mind was in turmoil, his stomach was hungry, and his head was spinning.

It seemed like he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

He fumed on the bed for a while. He sat up and was about to light a stick of incense to calm his mind when suddenly there was another knock on the door.

Mo Ran was outside.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

He didn't answer. He didn't say whether to stay or leave.

But this time, the door opened by itself.

Chu Wanning looked up gloomily. The lit match in his hand hovered in mid-air but never reached the stick of incense. After a while, it went out.

Chu Wanning said: "Get out."

Mo Ran strolled in.

He was holding a steaming bowl of noodles, fresh from the pot.

This time it was a bit simpler. The noodles weren't as fancy. The rich white noodle soup was garnished with chopped green onion and white sesame seeds, small spare ribs, bok choy, and a slightly browned poached egg.

Chu Wanning was incredibly hungry but he didn't let it show on his face. He glanced at the noodles, then at Mo Ran. He turned his face away and didn't say anything.

Mo Ran put the noodles on the table, and gently said: "I asked the inn's chef to make another bowl."

Chu Wanning lowered his eyes.

Sure enough, Mo Ran didn't make this dish himself.

"Eat some." Mo Ran said. "This bowl isn't spicy, has no beef, and no bean sprouts."

After speaking, he left and closed the door for Chu Wanning on his way out.

He apologized for Chu Wanning's injury.

But he could only do so much.

In the room, Chu Wanning leaned against the window, not knowing what to think. He crossed his arms and stared at the bowl of spare rib noodles from a distance until the heat of the noodles dissipated and they grew cold.

He finally walked over and sat down. He picked up the chopsticks, stirred up the cold and soggy noodles, and slowly ate them.

The case of the Chen family's haunting had been closed.

The next day, they picked up the black horses they had boarded from inside the stables and returned to the sect the same way they had arrived.

In the streets and alleys, tea stalls and rice shops, the people of Caidie Town were all talking about the Chen family's affairs.

The not-so-small town had broken out in scandal, one large enough for the townspeople to talk about it for a whole year.

"I didn't expect that Young Master Chen had been secretly married to Miss Luo for so long. Miss Luo is so pitiful."

"If you ask me, if the Chen family hadn't gotten rich, they wouldn't be able to survive this affair. Sure enough, men can't handle their money. Once they have money, only misfortune will await them."

One man was unhappy and said: "This wasn't Young Master Chen's fault. It's his parents' fault. Mr. Chen, that son of a bitch. His children and grandchildren should only give birth to children without assholes in the future."

Another said: "The dead are pitiful but what about the living? Look at Chen Yao, Yao Qianjin. She's the one who's truly been wronged. That black-hearted mother of the Chen family deceived her. Tell me, what should she do now?"

"Just get remarried."

The man rolled his eyes and sneered: "Remarried? Are you here to get married?"

The mud-coated man who was teased bared his teeth and picked at them, grinning: "If that woman at home agrees, I'd marry her. Ms. Yao looks so beautiful, I don't mind her being a widow."

"Bah, the toad wants to eat swan meat*."

(T/N: 癩蛤蟆想吃天鵝肉 - means having unrealistic wishes or expectations)

Mo Ran sat on the back of the horse, ears perked up, listening to all the conversations in high spirits. If it weren't for Chu Wanning's closed eyes, frown, and the words "extremely noisy" essentially spelled out on his forehead, Mo Ran might have wanted to go join the villagers.

They walked together and finally left the main city, arriving at the outskirts.

Shi Mei suddenly gasped and pointed to the distance: "Shizun, look over there."

In front of the ruined Master of Ceremonies Ghost's earthen temple, there was a large group of peasants in brown clothes and shorts. They were busy moving the bricks and stones. It seemed that they were planning to repair the damaged earthen temple and remould the golden body of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost.

Shi Mei said anxiously: "Shizun, the old Master of Ceremonies Ghost is gone but they've made a new one. Will this be cultivated into an immortal body again and do evil?"

Chu Wanning: "I don't know."

"Should we go and persuade them not to?"

Chu Wanning: "The custom of ghost marriages in Caidie Town has been around for several generations. How would you or I be able to persuade them in just a few words? Let's go."

As he spoke, dust flew up from the horse's hoof and he walked away.

It was already dusk when they returned to Life-Death Peak.

Chu Wanning said to the two disciples in front of the mountain gate: "You go to Danxin Hall and explain what happened. I'll go to the Court of Discipline."

Mo Ran looked puzzled: "Why would you go to the Court of Discipline?"

Shi Mei, on the other hand, looked worried: ". . ."

Chu Wanning nonchalantly said: "To receive my punishment."

Although it's said that an emperor commits the same crime as the common people, what emperor would actually have to go to jail for killing someone? The same goes for the cultivation world.

The elders who break the sect rules are as equally guilty as the disciples - in most sects, it's just empty talk.

In fact, if an elder breaks a rule, it was good enough just to write an apology letter. What fool would actually go to be punished with a willow vine or dozens of sticks?

So, after listening to Chu Wanning's explanation, Elder Jielu's complexion turned green.

"No, Elder Yuheng, did you really. . . did you really beat your client?"

Chu Wanning was indifferent: "Yes."

"You're so. . ."

Chu Wanning raised his stare and gave him a sullen look. Elder Jielu shut up.

"According to the law, for breaking this rule, the punishment is two hundred cane strikes, kneeling in Wushan Temple for seven days, and being forbidden from leaving the grounds for three months." Chu Wanning said. "I have no defence, and I voluntarily accept the punishment."

Elder Jielu: ". . ."

He looked around and hooked his fingers, and the door to the Court of Discipline closed with a clang. The surroundings fell silent, and it was only the two of them that stood opposite each other.

Chu Wanning: "What's the meaning of this?"

"Well, Elder Yuheng, it’s not that you don't understand the rules and their consequences, it's just that it shouldn't be something that you should be overly concerned with. This matter is finished. Let's forget it. If I beat you, won't the Lord be angry with me when he finds out?"

Chu Wanning didn't bother to talk such nonsense with him and simply said: "I hold people accountable according to the law, and I should also be held accountable myself according to the law."

Kneeling down in front of the hall, facing the plaque of sect rules, he said:

"Punish me."

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something” 

Word Count: 3,887 

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen​ mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao. 

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law. 

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.” 

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?” 

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,” 

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?” 

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head. 

“Alex isn’t available?” 

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?” 

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.” 

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit. 

“You have no evidenc—” 

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit,  “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.” 

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you. 

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford,  I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?” 

 Bradford lunges,  but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—” 

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.” 

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.” 

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says. 

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?” 

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.” 

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?” 

“To go home? Yes,” 

“I just wanted—” 

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?” 

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him. 

But surprisingly his voice was soft,  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—” 

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?” 

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head. 

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.” 

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.” 

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.” 

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—” 

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.” 

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes. 

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—” 

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,” 

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—” 

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—” 

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—” 

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?” 

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—” 

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?” 

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom,  “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,” 

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers. 

It would be fine. 

You would be fine. 

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you. 

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—” 

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face. 

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—” 

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder,  “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.” 

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?” 

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.” 

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—” 

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.” 

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself. 

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.” 

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—” 

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him. 

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?” 

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,” 

“Do I ever?” 

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?” 

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—” 

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—” 

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.” 

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,” 

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?” 

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.” 

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head. 

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?” 

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?” 

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.” 

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—” 

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—” 

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.” 

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?” 

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over? 

No, wait he was that stupid. 

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks. 

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine,  “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table. 

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning. 

What if they found your body? 

What if Munch found your body? 

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid. 

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture. 

And you didn’t know what was worse. 

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free,  “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists,  “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help. 

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle. 

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet. 

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose. 

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—” 

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.” 

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—” 

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.” 

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,” 

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently. 

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.” 

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least. 

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder. 

It was over. 

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.” 

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,” 

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened— 

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. 

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you. 

But you were also a victim now. 

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?” 

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.” 

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in. 

“—been asleep?” 

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.” 

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking. 

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,” 

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?” 

“Well—” 

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms. 

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,” 

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’” 

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,” 

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.  

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought. 

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.” 

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—” 

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—” 

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” 

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?” 

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,” 

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name. 

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips. 

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing. 

“Why...?” 

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?” 

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.” 

“I could say the same to you, counselor,” 

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense. 

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush. 

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir. 

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips,  “I’m gonna suck something.” 

[storiesofsvu]

Her Everything Ch 8

Warnings: Language, character death. Deals with 16/16 December Solstice 

**

“Raf!” You voice echoed through the halls of the court house, slightly surprised when three faces shooting up to yours. Rafael was standing with your Sergeant and his mother, a sight you hadn’t expected within those walls. You handed him the case file he’d left at the apartment that morning, needing it for the trial picking up right after the lunch recess.

“Y/N, thank goodness.” Lucia began, “Please tell him he needs to rethink the right thing to do.” Your face scrunched as Oliva hastily made her goodbye.

“Right thing?” You previous attention to Rafael immediately turned to his mother, confusion written across your face.

“Rafi wants to put Catalina in a home,” Lucia let out a hefty sigh, “Thinks it’s the best thing for her.”

“What does Catalina think?” You shot back, knowing that weighing the options was always the best part of figuring out these sort of things. You missed Rafael’s glare in your direction as your eyes stayed trained on Lucia.

“She wants to stay in her apartment, and she had very good arguments as to how it was just fine.” The woman replied.

“Well..” you thought over it quickly, “She’s got a support system, and if she’s got good reasons as to stay… she’s definitely mentally capable of making her own decision. I’m more than willing to help out when you can’t.”

“Carino!” Rafael countered, “Aren’t you supposed to support me for things like this?” You practically snorted, turning your attention to your boyfriend.

“What, just because we’re dating I’m suddenly just some arm candy who’ll smile and nod at everything you say? I’m entitled to having my own opinions.”

“Not if they’re wrong! You’ve never been through something like this.”  You stalled, a ball of anger rising through your throat,

“You’re right. I haven’t. The opportunity was taken from me when someone decided to murder my mother. My opinion was asked for, and I gave it. It’s not my fault you don’t like it.” Rafael’s phone pinged before he could reply,

“Fine.” He gritted, hastily pecking your cheek first before his mother’s, “I’m needed in court.” Rafael was quick to disappear down the hallway, leaving you and Lucia letting out a deep breath.

“What do you think?” You asked, turning to Lucia,

“That you really are a good match for him, most people back down when he picks a fight.” You laughed,

“You know that’s not what I meant…” Linking your elbow in hers, you directed her in the way of the exit.

“I offered to retire, move her in with me.” You nearly laughed at the response, knowing the Barba family as well as you did by now.

“Really? You’d retire? Why do I seriously doubt that?.” Lucia swatted at your arm, “All you Barba’s, so stubborn over everything.”

“Just wait until you pop out a few of your own, then you’ll really learn.”

“Ohoho…” You couldn’t help the laugh as you pushed open the door, “We’re a ways off from that Lucia.”

“But you are going to give me some grand babies, right?”

“Pretty sure the ring’s supposed to come first.” She shot you a side eye, “Hey, just because we’re ‘living in sin’ doesn’t mean we’re not being safe.”

“Well an oopsie will get one hell of a lecture from my Mother, so keep your word on that.” You laughed at that, reaching the bottom of the stairs of the courthouse.

“I will.” Turning to her you smiled, “What’d’ya say to lunch? I’m off today.”

“Sounds great.” She gave you a soft smile as the two of you made you way down the street.

You were incredibly thankful towards the relationship you had with Lucia, the closest thing you’d had to a mother in fifteen years. She had welcomed you into her family with ease, watching the way you interacted with her son, incredibly happy that the both of you were happy with each other. She knew Rafael had finally met someone who was deserving enough to be with him, and that you deserved every inch of his love that he showered you with. The two of you talked over things over lunch, delving into the topic of Catalina moving to a home, the different views that the other members of the Barba clan held. Eventually, you settled the bill, and bid a farewell to Lucia, heading back to your apartment for the rest of the day.

*

You weren’t surprised that evening when Rafael shut the door a little to hard behind him, your eyes barely glancing up from the laptop and folder in front of you.

“I take it the Briggs’ case isn’t going too well?”

“The Briggs’ case is the last of my worries right now.” He kicked off his shoes, his coat finding a home on the rack while he loosened his tie and sleeves.

“Abuelita okay?” You felt your heart pick up, worried that something had happened that you hadn’t been updated on.

“She’s fine.” He snipped, quickly pulling down the bottle of scotch and a glass, dumping a savoury amount into it.

“Okay, so what are you so pissed about right now?” Rafael took a large swig of the amber liquid, letting out a hefty sigh after he swallowed.

“I thought you would have my back today and instead you went against me, in front of my Mother.”

“Are we seriously having this argument for the second time in one day?” He shot you a glare, gulping back another mouthful of scotch, his annoyance growing at the way you seemed more invested in whatever you were working on that talking to him. “Raf, listen, I get it, okay. You want your Abuelita to be safe and in a place where she can get the care you think she needs, but she’s fine. She’s got support, she’s completely capable of making her own life choices, you can’t just force her into a home because you think that’s what’s right. You need to think of this from her perspective, how you’d feel at her age, balance both sides, it isn’t black and white.”

“But you DON’T get it!” He snapped back, “She needs to be taken care of! She can’t keep living in a six floor walk up by herself, she needs proper care, and a home would give her that. Believe me, I’m not trying to shove her into some assisted living place where seniors go to die! I just want to give her the best life she deserves!”

“You need to weigh the options Rafa…and remember that this isn’t your choice to make.” As you’d expected, he’d rounded on you, the glare in his eye fierce as it was in the courtroom taking down a perp.

“She doesn’t understand what’s best for her anymore! She can’t stay there anymore..”

It only took him a matter of seconds to launch into an angry rant against you. His words spewing out about how Catalina deserved more, deserved something better. He threw some harsh words your way about how you should have agreed with him, that you were his partner, the one he loved, and he deserved your support in matters like this. His rant went on for longer than you’d expected, you simply closed your laptop, cocking a brow as you took a sip of wine and listened. He’d began pacing as he voiced his opinion, half in Spanish, you were ever thankful you were fluent so you could understand all of his ramblings. Eventually, he stopped, placing his hands on the kitchen island, leaning towards you across the space,

“Entiendes?” You let out a soft sigh,

“Yes.” You slid the folder across the island to him, “For your information, I spent my afternoon off going through homes in the city. They’re organized from best to least, in my opinion, based on cost, extra curriculars, reviews, dining options and more. You’ll find the extra info on the post it notes, as usual.” Your phone took that moment to ping, interrupting your train of thought as you checked it, “That’s Liv. I’ve gotta run.” You hopped off the stool, giving Rafael a soft kiss on the cheek as you grabbed what you needed for work. “I love you.” You spoke softly into the kitchen as you tugged the door open. Rafael, feeling like a complete idiot, didn’t reply right away, causing you to repeat it with more vigour, “I said, I love you.” He moved quickly to you, kissing your lips softly.

“I love you too.” His thumb stroked softly agaisnt your cheek, “Thank you.” You pecked his lips quickly before darting off down the hallway.

*

It was a few days later, as the Briggs trial was finally wrapping up, though, not as any of you had hoped it would. You were settled in your desk looking through some possible witnesses for a new case when your phone rang, you answered without looking.

“Wilkes, Sex Crimes.” Your attention was still mainly on the screen in front of you,

“Y/N? It’s me?” The grief and worry in the familiar voice had your attention shooting to the call rather than the computer.

“Lucia? What’s wrong? Where are you?” You flew into police mode instantly, your heart nearly racing in your chest.

“It’s..not me.” The other woman replied, “I…I came to help Mami pack up some things…she had a heart attack. She’s…she’s gone.” Your hand clasped over your mouth, a brim of tears in your eyes.

“Oh my God…I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

“Find Rafael.”

“He’s probably in court, he doesn’t know yet?”

“No.” She sniffled, “He knows, it happened this morning. But now I can’t get a hold of him, he’s not answering his phone. The office says he hasn’t been in all day, I figured you might have an idea. I just need to know he’s okay.”

“Of course.” You instantly pulled your Ipad out of your bag, tapping on a few apps, “I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey..please, please let me know if you need anything. I know how tough this can be.”

“Of course.” Lucia let out a shaky sigh, “You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a daughter y/n, I hope you know that. Rafi will listen to you, he really loves you.”

“I know.” You gave her a quick good bye as you hung up the phone, attention diverted to the Ipad as you tracked through a few things before ducked into Olivia’s office. Thankfully she was okay with you darting away for personal business, somewhat aware of what Barba was going through.

As much as you hadn’t wanted to invade his privacy, you swung by the DA’s office first, having a brief chat with Carmen over whether he’d been in all day (and making sure to drop off a coffee for her). You checked a couple of bars near Hogan Place before you pulled out all the legal stops, knowing you’d be able to find him.

You entered St Augestine’s quietly, not quite sure where in the church you would find your boyfriend, yourself not being any amount of religious you weren’t sure where one would go in a situation like this. You stepped into the entrance way to the chapel, spotting a solo figure hollowed over in the row of pews, quiet murmuring coming from his lips. You gave a soft sigh, making your way to him as quietly as you could as to not interrupt. You waited until he was done speaking, a shaky few breaths escaping his lips as he silenced himself before your hand laid itself on his shoulder.

His face glanced up at you, eyes red rimmed with tears, a heartbroken look on his normally stoic features. He was not only surprised to see you there, but to see the pain etched across your face, the set of tears in your eyes. Before either of you could speak his hand encased yours, pulling you down to sitting beside him in the pew. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, your lips meeting his head gently, encouraging him to let it all out. It had been a rough time, both inside and outside of work, not to mention what would be considered your first real fight. Not that that mattered at all right now, you weren’t even mad about it the day it happened, knowing just how passionate Rafael got about things. He was the love of your life, and you would do anything to protect that, making sure he knew how much you cared. As his breathing finally slowed, your hand stroked at his cheek softly, the other one gently moving through his hair as his head slowly moved up to finally look at you.

“How’d you find me?” You gave him a sympathetic glance, hand stroking his face,

“Your Mom called me.” He nearly cringed at that, “She wanted to make sure you were okay Rafa..I used the ‘find my Iphone’ app. I know your apple password.” You knew the situation was important, but you played by the rules, you weren’t about to go all NYPD and track your boyfriend’s cell phone through their database with no reason, you knew that violated a lot of protocols.

“I…just wanted to help her..” He buried himself against your shoulder, you felt a new shudder of emotion shaking through his body.

“I know.” You kissed his head softly, “You did everything you could Raf. You can’t blame yourself for this, believe me.” Your arm tightened around him, “You were the perfect Grandson, and she loved you more than anything.”

“I don’t think I was exactly perfect.” He muttered ,

“Well I spent a lot of time talking with her without you,” you rebutted, “And she loved you more than anything Raf, she believed in you, she knew you’d make her proud no matter what.”

“You know…one of the last things she ever said to me was that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

“Raf…” Your hand gave his thigh a squeeze,

“Carino..she’s right.” You felt a fresh set of tears break into your eyes for a complete different reason, “Life is incredibly hard, but the moment you came into mine, it became a million times easier. There are moments that go by that I still can’t believe you’re with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You leaned in to gently kiss him, a smile evident on your lips, “What’d’ya say to going home Mi Amour?” Rafael let out a heavy sigh, his hand linking with yours as the two of you stood, he tugged you to him for a moment, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug that you greatly accepted. A few long moments of the embrace continued before he softly pulled away.

“Thank you.” He met your lips with a light kiss, “I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

“Right back at’cha.” You quickly kissed him, your hand remaining linked with his as you made your way from the church, flagging down a cab when you made it to the street.

[cloudywriter]

the lost princess of terrasen

rowaelin month - september 7th 

prompt: fairytale au - (an anastasia au in this case)

important: okay y’all so i went way overboard with this entire au and it got out of hand so now this might just be a full-blown thing. however, with that whole releation and me going crazy with outlining and writing i could really only have this much of the story out and ready for today but i plan on continuing it!! hopefully after rowaelin month. enjoy this little introduction :)

(cw: brief descriptions of violence) 

masterlist, AO3

~~~

At freshly 18, Celaena Sardothien was free. She’d aged out of the orphanage and was finally released to go live her own life, no longer held down in the outskirts of Rifthold. Celaena didn’t want to wait a second longer, the need to leave the horrid place she’d lived the last ten years was ingrained in her bones. 

The woman who ran the orphanage, Clarisse, was cruel. From a young age, she poked at Celaena, commenting constantly on her weight or how she didn’t act like a proper young lady. Her entire life up until this point was spent at the mercy of Clarisse and her stern ways. All the girls in the orphanage were treated as maids and dolls for Clarisse to manipulate. But, Celaena made it, counting down the days until her birthday. 

Now, here she was, stuck out in the cold. She’d imagined her freedom to be more alluring than this instead she was shaking as she wandered through side streets that led to the heart of Rifthold. She carried with her a backpack barely full of her meager belongings and the too-thin coat on her back. Clarisse didn’t even spare her a hat to keep out the cold so she moved her hair to shield her freezing ears the best she could and waddled along the snowy pavement. 

She still had her kingsflame necklace around her neck, though, and that’s all that mattered. Where she had gotten it from she hadn’t a clue. The first memory she possessed was waking up in the very orphanage that would become her prison. Clarisse explained to her that she’d hit her head and a nice man named Arobynn had brought Celaena to Clarisse to be cared for. Clarisse questioned her about her family and upbringing relentlessly but Celaena could not recall a thing. Her mind was blank. For many nights as a young girl, she’d sit upright in the creaky, lumpy bed she occupied and willed herself to remember. She’d cry and scream, banging her fists into her head in frustration when nothing ever surfaced. 

The only connection she had to whatever life she lived before was her kingsflame necklace. And she’d follow that kingsflame to the ends of the continent if it meant she’d one day solve the mystery of her existence. 

Which led her to the first stop on her journey of discovery, Terrasen. Once Celaena had accepted that her memories weren’t coming back and this was the life she’d have to lead she adjusted. She served Clarisse and went to the small, dilapidated school down the street with the other orphans. There she discovered her love of books and the meager library the school offered became her sanctuary. It was there while she read a book on the kingdoms on Erilea, hoping something would strike her familiar she learned that kingsflame flowers only bloomed in one place, the capital of Terrasen, Orynth. 

As a child that discovery was a revelation. Terrasen. Maybe she was from Terrasen. 

As Celaena walked she felt her toes growing increasingly numb, Adarlan’s winters were bitter and she was not equipped with the proper wear. Her teeth chattered but she pushed forward, she needed to get passage to Terrasen. 

She drew the map out of the pocket of her coat once again and checked the status of her journey. Only a little longer until she was at Rifthold’s main dock station. 

The city of Rifthold was big and Celaena felt out of her depth as groups of people swarmed the streets walking to and from their different destinations. It was overwhelming, the smells, the tall buildings, the weather, the noise, the sheer number of people, everything. 

Eventually, she saw the lights of the station and she blew a sigh of relief, she hadn’t been very confident in her ability to read a map. She approached a man sitting in a booth behind a sheet of glass, smoking a cigarette. 

Celaena stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, sir, I’d like to buy a ticket to Orynth,” she gave him a smirk, leaning casually on the box. She’d learned from many years of coexisting with Clarisse and a revolving door of people that to make it through life you needed a mask. Celaena had crafted her mask carefully and had perfected her act after so many years. She exuded arrogance and confidence so that another soul would never see the scared, lost little girl she truly was. 

The man grunted, blowing a puff of smoke from between his cracked lips. “Do you have your papers, girl?”

Her brain stalled. Papers? She cleared her throat, “papers?”

“Yes,” his scratchy voice replied, “you need papers to cross the border.” 

Celaena’s heart sank but she kept her expression neutral. “Well, I-”

“Listen, girl, I’m not going to sit here and waste your time so don’t sit here and waste mine. If you don’t have the right documents then I can’t sell you a ticket, simple as that,” he held the cigarette between his teeth. 

She searched for some way to turn this situation around, chewing on her bottom lip. 

From the shadows a little ways into the dark alley adjacent to the docks, she heard a hissed whisper. “You, blondie,” an old woman emerged slightly from the shadows, beckoning Celaena forward with her index finger.  

Celaena looked around, the man in the booth was already back to ignoring her, his nose stuck in a newspaper so she decided to approach the woman. She didn’t have much to lose and Celaena thought if it went south she could take her. 

Celaena crept closer, tightening her grip on the strap of her backpack. 

“You need papers?” Her voice was hoarse as if her throat was made of sandpaper. Celaena nodded her head keeping her guard up, watching her surroundings out of her peripheral. 

“I know who can get you some,” her face morphed into a slight smile that unsettled Celaena more than anything. Celaena furrowed her brows, “who?” The woman tsked at her, her hot breath forming a cloud in front of her face. 

“That kind of information isn’t free, my dear.” Celaena had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, everything came with a price in this world. 

Celaena reached around to the side pocket of her backpack, fishing out a few coins she had to spare. She’d saved just enough from doing odd jobs to pay her fare to Terrasen. She deposited the coins into the palm of the old woman’s hand, her knobby fingers running along their smooth edges. 

“Go a few streets north and into the red brick warehouse with the large windows, you can’t miss it. Ask for a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn, he’ll get you the papers,” she instructed, hoarding the scant sum of money she was given as though they were priceless heirlooms. Celaena turned her head in the direction the woman directed as if she could spot the warehouse from here and by the time she rounded back the woman had disappeared once again. 

Celaena huffed and shot another glance at the ticket man, he was still paying no attention, tapping his cigarette out with his finger. She didn’t necessarily want to go on a wild goose chase to obtain these papers but she had no other way of getting them so she breathed deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets and twisted north. 

The woman was right about not being able to miss the warehouse. It was a large, old, imposing structure, clearly, it had not been in use for some time now. Celaena crept closer peering into the foggy windows as she passed the front of the building. She couldn’t see anything and was unconvinced she’d find the elusive ‘Rowan Whitethorn’ inside. 

Nonetheless, she approached a rusting metal door on the side and pushed it open with her gloved hand. The door protested but it miraculously opened revealing a wide area stacked high with boxes along the walls and corners.

She ventured further into the space, dust and broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t see any signs of life besides maybe some rats. As she neared the opposite corner what could’ve been a makeshift sitting area came into view, blocked from view initially by a stack of boxes. She approached noting the circle of crates, a dusty blanket, and a few books piled on the side. 

She peered at the title of the book on the top of the stack. 

The Royal Family of Terrasen. Mixed emotions surged through her body. 

“Who’s in here?” A male voice boomed nearly rattling the windows. Celaena shuttered, letting her bravo fill her bones as she heard a set of footsteps enter the space. 

+++ 

Rowan Whitethorn’s life since the fall of Terrasen and the reign of the Valg had been a hell-hole, to put it bluntly. His family fell out of status, his parents were slain in the ambush on Orynth’s castle, and Rowan was left in an unfamiliar land at twelve years old. 

A sect of the Whitethorn house had been visiting Terrasen’s court for the holidays when Maeve made her move against the continent. Doranelle crumpled first to her rule and Terrasen followed, the army of Valg she’d amassed was too large to stand against. Adarlan only survived because King Dorian bowed down to Maeve. 

Even now at twenty-two, he has nightmares about that evening. The terror he felt as Valg poured into the ballroom and slaughtered the royals. The terror he saw in the princess of Terrasen’s eyes as she was shoved into the kitchens by her nursemaid where Rowan had happened to take shelter as well. He was scared too, running as soon as his father screamed at him to as the Valg slit his throat. He regretted it deeply, leaving like a coward when the palace was invaded. He regretted the cowering he did in the kitchens as well but when the young princess had burst in the doors, tears flowing freely down her cheeks something had come over him. He had pushed her out into the snow yelling at her to run and she did, scrambling to find her footing.

The rest was a blur, the Vlag hurried into the kitchens soon after but somehow Rowan made it out with his life. The same could not be said for many people in the castle that night. 

Now, Rowan lived in Rifthold as a thief and doer of other’s dirty work. He longed for the day he could get out of this city of nightmares crawling with Valg. One day, he promised himself, one day he’d have to funds to make it back to Wendlyn and witness what had become of his home. 

There was an opportunity, though, that’d heard about from whispers on the streets. Aedion Ashryver. One of the few survivors from Terrasen’s downfall. He chosen to stay in Terrasen’s territory afterward, the country had no real structured ruling now. The old King-Consort Darrow was the closest thing there was to a king but from what he’d gathered the man is old and weak, not the same after the death of his husband, King Orlon. Terrasen had virtually crumbled. 

Somehow, Aedion had built up the Bane and gained standing for himself. A standing he was using to campaign to find his long-lost cousin. How Maeve hadn’t gotten wind of Aedion and his plotting and squashed him, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, Aedion was offering a hefty reward for the return of his dear Aelin, the nation’s true queen, convinced she was still alive.

Rowan thought the operation was useless. Her body was never found, that was true, but he imagined she’d likely fled into the Oakwald forest and perished from hypothermia not long after. If he could make a pretty penny from returning the ‘princess’ to Aedion, though, he wasn’t above doing so. 

All Rowan needed was a young, blonde, and blue-eyed woman he could convince to join his cause and he could coach her to be the perfect replacement for Aelin. Truthfully, he wasn’t convinced this could ever be achieved but it was something he’d contemplated. 

Rowan was making his way back to the warehouse he liked to operate his more shady business out of, the biting cold seeping into his clothes. The looming, muddy red-brick building came into view and he pushed the frosted metal door open. Immediately, he was aware that someone had invaded his space. 

Small footsteps had disrupted the layer of dusk along the floor. His hand flew to the dagger strapped to his chest as he prowled further inside. 

“Who’s in here?” he called out, gripping the dagger tightly by its handle. Once he got far enough into the space he could see a young woman was standing near his makeshift seats.

The first thing he noticed was she was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her skin was pale and her lips had a blue tint to them. Rowan pushed aside all those unsavory thoughts, she was an intruder after all. However, he couldn’t help but study her, she was dressed far too light for the dead of winter, not even a hat on her head. 

She looked right back at him, accessing him as he was her. She didn’t look scared to have been caught trespassing, no, honestly, she looked annoyed as if he was interrupting her. 

“Who the hell are you?”

~~~

let me know if y’all like it so far and would like to see more, xoxo