#i never mattered to anyone i met in this life and ill be forgotten soon after my death because nothing about me matters

[wierdoe]

.

[metamorphosingbrick]

Hi,

Since quite few months I have tried to argue with myself about this. It is almost 03:00 am here. Let me start off by saying -Belated Happy Birthday!

I hope you are doing well. I know I pray for your wellness wherever you are. I did not have the courage to call you. I cannot, after the conversation we have had. I honestly do not want to create any issues in your life. I don't know if you think of me as your friend or ex-something. I always thought of you as a friend and of course with the history we have...

I did not email or message you to topple your life or take your peace of mind. I promise, I never intended to. If you are dating someone - please explain to her/him that I bare no ill regards. Though I would really appreciate it if you could keep this conversation between us. I am confident that you are on your path of success and that you will always be successful in everything you aim for.

Kashish, I don't know if you remember what I said back then but i told you that i will explain to you once the time is right. To begin, do you remember those days? There were days when Chinmay (who still hasn't forgotten stuff about you) used to taunt me because of something you did but i never paid heed to him. Well, I also made a few mistakes in dublin. Something which i never wanted you to be touched or embarrassed by. I met Indians who traumatised me for life. I wish I could explain what happened that on my birthday some delhi guy hugged me to the point that I fear humans coming close to me. Dublin forced me to become a different person. Maa and Baba spent hours crying as I could barely breathe at night due to the fear of going back to Dublin. I ran away because I was not prepared.

When you asked me of what you should do about masters and postponed it because of the pandemic - I was not in a state of advicing as i was crying 48 hours before that call. What should a girl advise who could barely pass her masters? Who was diagnosed with severe anxiety disorder? Whose parents were crying beside her? I did not want you to identify with me because I did not want anyone to judge you because of me. The Indian community abroad is very small and not everyone has good intentions. I did not want you to be embarrassed because of me. I called in november - I was sick due to Covid and you were the only person I wanted to talk to. Call me very selfish but I just wanted to talk normally. And you yelled at me without explaining, so I don't even know if you will ever read this. And you were right that you have done far more things for me than I have done for you. We are not up for competition. It is not even worth arguing about. Every time I walk, I praise your support and I wish I could turn back time and make things different that year.

I have lost enough friends in my life for my behaviour. I completely take the blame but of all the people I have lost, I regret behaving the way I behaved with you. You have every right to yell at me and not talk. I completely get it. But i do not want to regret that I did not try to make things better between us.

Being your girlfriend was the honour I wish I cherished. I could have behaved so much differently but I was young and utterly stupid.

I don't want anything in return except your understanding of how I have behaved and for all the things I made you go through. I was a very weird and stupid human to not understand how amazing you are. I am really sorry for every hurt I have caused to any stupid situation I made you go through or all the pain you endured because of me. You never deserved my naive behaviour and I did not deserve your incredible attitude.

Anyone in this world is lucky to be with you. I was lucky to have been associated with you no matter how things turned out.

I would write more but honestly I hope you delete this email as soon as you see it in your inbox considering our last conversation. With thirst quenching my throat, I am struggling to decide if i could ever be your friend again, but I think the life we have built for ourselves is sustainable. So maybe in another life we shall meet again and I hope that I don't have to go through this heart-wrenching moment again.

[elowenp]

“What do you want?” Barbara asks, voice crackling with static.

It’s a silly question. Tim wants crime rates to go down. Tim wants Gotham to be a safer city. Tim wants to be a part of making that happen.

“A code name that isn’t stupid.” he says instead.

Barbara sighs. It doesn’t sound like a sigh though. It just sounds like the static’s getting louder.

~

“Bernard Dowd, scholar of the ages.” Tim laughs, arm slung round Bernard's shoulder. “I thought you were meant to be the fun one?”

“I am.” Bernard groans, “as soon as these exams are done I’ll be back to the usual student life. Getting drunk, going on dates, Gotham won’t know what’s hit it.”

“Going on dates?” Tim asks jokingly, even as a well hidden part of him turns slightly panicked. “Any successes an old friend should be hearing about?”

“Not really.” Bernard shrugs, jostling Tim’s arm. “Just a couple of girls I was better off friends with.” He pauses, thinking, before continuing with his voice involuntarily going a little higher. “Couple of guys too.”

“Huh.” Tim suddenly becomes very aware of all the places where his arm is touching Bernard. He doesn’t move it. “Better luck next time.”

Huh.

~

Tim’s been avoiding Dick. He’s been awkward around him lately, Tim thinks that Barbara must have said something. He’s not stupid enough to have done something to send Dick spiralling without noticing it.

“What do you want?” Dick asks, curious, without warning.

Tim wants to ask if Barbara put him up to this but he knows it’s a genuine question. Dick isn’t manipulative like that, not with family.

What does Tim want? Isn’t it a little late for Dick go be asking that question? All the things that happened after Bruce’s death put a canyon of distance between them. It’s slowly been growing smaller but it hasn’t disappeared. Neither of them have had time enough to spend together for that to happen.

An awful, bitter part of Tim that hasn’t stopped screaming since Robin wasn’t his any more wonders if Dick would even be asking if Damian wasn’t out of town right now.

“For us to go train surfing.” Tim says. Petty. Just so Dick will say no and his anger can feel righteous instead of ill-deserved.

“Okay.” Dick says instead. Easy and confident. Himself.

“Oh.” Tim’s anger fizzles into non-existence. “Okay.”

The canyon grows a little smaller.

~

“We should go to a skatepark.” Bernard says, a little giggly from the beer in his hand.

There’s a matching beer in Tim’s hand although it’s still practically full. If there’s an emergency he’ll be of no use drunk. “What? Why?”

“Why not? You were so good in high school! And you had fun doing it.” Bernard’s tone turns a little less giggly. “You should do more things you find fun.”

Tim is surprised enough that the “Okay.” slips out of his lips unbidden.

So maybe the beer bottle is a little less full than he’d like to admit.

They borrow a board from one of Bernard's flatmates and catch a bus to a skate park Tim remembers using when he was younger. As they go Tim tries to remember why he stopped. He tries to remember when he stopped. He can’t recall the answer to either question and annoyance rises in his chest over it.

Then Bernard is saying something and it has Tim snorting with laughter and he forgets his irritation.

Once they arrive Bernard settles himself at the top of one of the ramps like it’s a throne. “Entertain me!” he calls, “Impress me with your wheel-board magic.

Tim manages a kick-flip on his first attempt and Bernard makes a loud noise of approval.

A lot of stuff comes back to Tim fairly quickly. Most of skateboarding had been muscle memory for him and that’s something that being a vigilante hadn’t exactly hindered. As things return to him he regains some faint memories of why he’d stopped. Nothing specific, just that feeling of not having enough time. Of thinking that going to the skatepark wasn’t a particularly useful way to spend his hours while there was still real work to be done.

Tim’s always been a vigilante first, but he thinks there must have been a point when that wasn’t the only thing he was. Well, when it wasn’t the only thing he was that mattered.

“Come on!” Bernard shouts, teeth flashing white against Gotham’s grey-black sky. “I was promised entertainment!”

Tim laughs. He seems to do that a lot around Bernard these days.

He starts moving on the skateboard, deciding to leave the existentialism for another day.

~

First Dick and now Bruce. Tim’s family has really been making a habit of being weird around him lately.

He would normally think that the Bruce was worried about him, that Dick had passed along some bullshit about his mental health and Bruce was practicing some silent vigil. The problem with that theory is that Tim’s been getting better recently, so there wouldn’t be much point. At least he thinks he’s been getting better. It’s difficult to tell sometimes.

Bruce has definitely been acting weird around him though, so maybe he isn’t getting better. Maybe Bruce spotted something Tim didn’t and he’s on the road to insanity.

“What do you want?” Bruce asks one day as they’re both working in the cave. Not Batman. Bruce.

It’s a far stupider question than it was when Barbara or Dick asked it. Bruce is the person who made Tim’s desires what they are. He’s the one who took Tim’s obsession and carved it into a goal.

“What?” Tim asks, loud and confused and maybe a little angry. “What do you mean ‘what do I want’? I want the mission! What else am I supposed to want?”

Bruce stays silent for a moment and Tim imagines him turning the words over in his head. “Nothing else?” Bruce asks. He sounds sad and it makes the anger drain from Tim’s body. “Just the mission?”

“I don’t need anything else.” Tim says hollowly.

Bruce just nods, thinking. It makes Tim want to scream even as satisfaction rises in his chest.

It’s always been a point of pride that he can to lie to Batman. He’s hardly going to change his mind about that now.

~

“People keep asking me what I want.” Tim says, sat on Bernard's bed. “I don’t like it.”

Bernard's turns away from the laptop on his desk so he can look at Tim. “You ever tell them the truth?”

Tim shrugs. He isn’t sure what else to do. “Ish?”

Bernard smiles. “Anyone ever tell you you’re impossible, Tim Drake?”

“Only everyone I’ve ever met.”

Bernard barks out a laugh before sobering up and looking at Tim with ill-disguised curiosity. “Do you want to tell me the truth about it? Or did you just want to say the thing out loud?”

“I’m not sure.” Tim admits, and he has to stop himself from acting taken aback by the fact he actually said that. Tim never says when he’s uncertain. There isn’t room for it. Bernard must know that too because he looks at Tim in surprise, then scoots his chair closer to the bed so that he and Tim are almost touching.

Bernard looks very cautious. “You know that’s okay, right?”

“I-“ Tim starts, because is it? Is uncertainty the kind of luxury he can afford? “I want to want things. But it feels like I’ve forgotten how.”

“You’ve had a rough couple of years.”

“How do you-“

Bernard smiles knowingly. “You’re not as hard to read as you think, Tim. Well you are. But it’s not difficult to tell that some bad things must have happened since I last saw you.”

“Yeah.” Tim says hoarsely, thinking back to the burn of his muscles as he dug up Kon’s grave, the stinging of desert sand in his eyes, the moment of confusion when he woke up in a league of assassins base unsure if he’d had to die to get there. “Yeah. Bad things happened.” He shakes himself a little, because those aren’t the thoughts he wants lingering. He focuses back on Bernard who’s closer than Tim had realised, worry creased between his eyes. “What about you?” Tim asks, trying to exert some measure of control over the conversation. “What do you want?”

“Thought we were talking about you?” Tim might have let it go with that if not for the note of nervousness in Bernard's voice and the red creeping up the back of his neck.

“We can talk about both of us.”

“It’s not important right now.”

Tim reaches out then. He takes Bernard's hand in his because Bernard makes him laugh and he looks so nervous and Tim wants to. Bernard looks down at their hands in surprise and Tim doesn’t actually feel worried. Just expectant that Bernard is going to squeeze their fingers together more securely. He does. “You sure?” Tim asks.

Bernard just looks at him. Mouth parted with shock. He seems to come back to himself though and his expression of surprise turns into something more confident. More familiar. “What if I wanted you?” he asks, hesitancy and confidence rolled into one voice.

“Give me some time to remember how to want things, and I think I’ll want that too.” Tim replies, just as unsure and utterly certain.

Bernard tangles their fingers together a little more firmly in response and Tim feels more hopeful than he has in a long time.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else?  You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity- 

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

[disasterlesbiansunite]

Just Two Things: A Young Royals Fix-It Fic

His mama had stood over him as she began talking. Wilhelm could hardly focus; the vision of the video (his video, his and Simon’s video, the video of Simon) burned into his brain on a constant loop. She hadn't asked him if he was alright, not yet, but he had stopped expecting her to early on in life. Duty first, he guessed, as usual. She pulled away and off the bed, rattled off the words about the interview he’ll do to protect the royal family et cetera, et cetera.

“I don’t want you to see Simon for the time being,” she said, and he glanced up, suddenly feeling like his world is fell away underneath him. He wished Erik were here, that Erik was still alive. If he were, then maybe this would all go away. He doubted any of it could now.

--

August brought him dinner that night when he’s too exhausted to even leave his bed. He said that Erik would want Wille to be himself - but how is August so sure of what Erik would want him to do to fix this, to just get this whole shitshow over with, when the only person who knows that is six feet under.

“Follow your heart, really.” August said. “Follow your heart.”

If anything his heart only thought of two things at the moment. One is the crumpled up rage he feels that’s been broiling under his skin since he saw the video; the screaming, panicked wild thing that wants to shout at the world and watch it shouts back until no part of him remains, no crown prince, nothing.

The other part of his brain thought of Simon. Holding him, soft and warm until his skin, kissing his neck and inhaling as much of him as possible. Kissing him, kissing Simon, an exhilarating feeling he can’t describe, he won’t ever be able to describe. Almost all of the girls he had kissed had kissed gently and slowly, like they were afraid he would disappear right next to them. It always felt like he was being kissed by air, a ghostly possession that was over in a second and just as uncomfortable.

He would have thought that Simon would kiss like that, he had thought Simon would kiss like that, Simon had kissed like that, before they really truly got to know one another. Now, Simon kissed hard and rough, like he knew Wilhelm wouldn’t disappear but just as quick, aware he couldn’t have him by himself ever. Simon’s kiss had the edge of sandpaper, tough grit and fine smoothness rolled into one. Simon kissed for the sake of it, like there was so much he wanted to do to Wille, do with Wille, that he simply couldn’t function enough to do anything but kiss him. Wille fell asleep soon after that, dinner discarded. He wondered if the last time they would ever kiss would be the time that caused both of him to want to recoil from society and away from the world. A part of him hoped so.

The nail on his thumb was raw and bleeding.

--

As he walked through Hillerska, everyone stared at him in pity. He was used to the stares, used to the way his simple presence shut up people around until all they could do was give him a dumb look. It was pity that was new to him, but he tried not to focus on that as Malin rushed with him to his first class of the day. He knew the things they were saying, drove himself insane as he googled himself over and over again, watching Sweden’s trending page unravel until it felt like it was all over. He watched as Simon walked into their classroom, turning heads for once in his life. Once except for the amount of times he had his, of course. He mindlessly made small talk with his classmate, but all he could think of were two things.

After class he rushed into the locker room to talk to Simon. He looked sullen, his features that were generally framed in a light source of their own were moody and dark, an awkward, ill fitting portrait. He wanted to kiss it all away. Instead, kicked at Simon’s foot, hooking the two into a game of footsie.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Simon asked, wrapping his hands around Wilhelm’s, as if he had any of the answers. Breaking news, he didn’t. All he could do was sit in silence and hold Simon, it felt like the only thing he could do. Unless…

“They’ve asked me to deny it was me in that video.” He could barely get the words out.

“Serious?”

Wille hummed, unable to interpret that reaction. “They want me to make a statement at the castle on Saturday.”

Simon turned, his head moving off of Wille's shoulder in a way that feels entirely unwelcome. Put that back please. Wille had realized that he could only really function anymore in Simon’s arms. As if he wasn’t touch starved enough, but Simon was hot and didn’t mind so it didn’t really matter. “But you’re not going to do it, right?”

“I don’t want to say anything.” Simon doesn’t get it, but Wilhelm doesn’t expect him too; too impossible to explain.

“But, Wille, everyone can see that it’s me in that video,” Wille groaned. He had forgotten that slightly important detail. Simon continued, “What am I supposed to do? But no matter what, they can’t dictate what you say,” Yes, they absolutely can, they’ve done it before.

We haven’t done anything wrong.” He had forgotten that too, spending so much time yesterday going over consequences and contingencies ranging from plan A to Z it made his head bled. But no one had actually told him that they hadn’t done anything wrong. Not even August, with his love is love attitude that came out of nowhere. Not even fucking him.

--

Mama had been waiting for him. Mama had met Simon. She never looked twice at Wilhelm, veiled disdain souring her mouth as she stared out the window.

“What? Why can’t I just have a relationship with him? And not say anything. Just live a normal life.” He knows why. He just wants to hear her say it.

“You’re the crown prince.” And there’s the world crashing back down onto him. “And that’s a privilege, not a punishment.” It’s both actually, but whatever, mama.

“Yes, but I didn’t ask for this!” Erik should be here. Erik would know what to do.

“Well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this,” his mama shot back. He feels like a little kid again, feels like biting his thumb raw. “You’re the only one who can take over the throne after Erik. Don’t you understand that?” He wished she would just look at him.

“You’re so young. When you’re young love feels like the most important thing in the world. When I was your age, I too had an unfortunate romance.” He wants to laugh or cry or release that panicked, clawed, anxious feeling that’s always been trapped underneath his chest, beating his heart faster and faster and faster. Unfortunate romance, she said, like Simon isn’t the best thing to happen to him, like Simon wasn’t the only one holding him together, like Simon wasn’t the only real thing in his world.

He snapped back into the conversation.“Is it worth it,” she continued. “If you feel that the attention you’ve been getting so far is unacceptable, it’s nothing compared to what you will endure for the rest of your life. We have a chance to cover this up. I urge you to take this chance. You may not get another.”

With Simon on one shoulder, and his mama and the world on the other, it turns out he was going to make the statement after all. Fucking great.

--

He felt like throwing up, but, to be fair, when hasn’t he.

“Are you ready?” His mama asked, like he could ever be ready to announce to the world, no that definitely was not me in that tape and that boy is definitely not the love of my life, thank you very much.

He dragged his feet, as he went into the room where Rosenqvists sits. Like Mama said, they only have one chance to not fuck this up.

Rosenqvist smiles at Wilhelm, her eyes hawkish. He musters as much of a smile as he can, playing with the buttons on his suit as the photographer directs the two around.

“It’s good to see you again, your highness.”

His eyes darted around the room. He could hear his mama and papa argue in the room they were in

“You too.”

The interview began then, menial questions about his existence that made him want to bite at his thumb. He resisted, knew that if Rosenqvist saw how his anxiety was surging through him like a freight train and mentioned it in her interview, his mama would be more angry then she already was. The questions are simple really, he barely thought about the answers and more about how Erik would have phrased them. Not like Erik would have been in this situation.

“So, Wilhelm, we both know why we’re here.” She smiled apologetically at him. Here we go. “As you are, no doubt, aware of by now there was a video from Hillerska that is going viral of what is rumored to be yourself and another male student,” she paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the what she’s about to say to a boy she’d been interviewing for most of his life, “being intimate. What do you have to say about these rumors, Crown Prince Wilhelm?” She’s less probing, then. He can tell his mom already prepped her on how exactly this interview needed to go. Fuck.

“That’s not-” his words got stuck in his throat.

“That’s not you in the video?” She filled, looking more and more saddened with each word, more maternal that he thinks he’s seen anyone in his entire life. He wanted to nod, wanted to do what his mama wanted for him, wanted to listen to what she feels is best for their country, because it is theirs now, isn’t it? Erik is dead and gone and never coming back no matter how much Wilhelm wishes he had been able to keep him alive. Wilhelm doesn’t exactly know much about what it takes to be king, not like Erik did, but he’s pretty sure a leaked tape is one thing a king is not supposed to have on his record. Wilhelm should want to deny the rumors, so why does it feel like every time he tries to open his mouth that it’s filled with cotton, that panicked wild thing grabbing hold of his brain and shaking it like his snowglobe. It’s begging him to choose the path of least resistance. And then there was Simon. Simon with his pretty soft voice and his even softer lips. Simon with his kind eyes and hands and just Simon, Simon, Simon. Simon, who has already been broken by the video and if Wilhelm denies their relationship then he’ll only break more. The only things he can think about. Just two things. Two things he can’t seem to choose between.

He took a deep breath. Erik would have wanted him to follow his heart, would have said that that would be how he becomes a great king. By being kind and good, and wholly himself.

He chose.

--

Simon’s mama shouts for a rematch as he laughed into his snack.

Ayub tensed next to him, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s up?” Simon asked, confused. Did his dad ask him to go home or something?

Instead, Ayub read from his phone: an online copy of this week’s Göteborgs-Posten screenshotted and reposted to Twitter. “The Crown Prince addresses rumors of Viral Video.”

“What?” He could have sworn Willie had said he wouldn’t do the interview. His mom and Sara exchange glances.

Ayub read on, “While the Royal Court denies rumors that the Crown Prince appears in the video that has gone viral this past week, his royal highness Prince Wilhelm goes more in depth on his time at Hillerska and the events surrounding the video. He says, ‘I started at Hillerska to focus on my studies and have kept to that.’ At this moment, the prince pauses and grows quiet.

‘That’s not the entire truth. The truth is that that is me in the video. I do not know who took it or why but the facts remain the same. There are many people who would want me to not address the rumors surrounding me at this time, and some even would want me to outright deny them, but I disagree. If I am to be king, and no matter what happens from this I will be king, I want to be the kind of king the people can be proud of, the kind of king my brother would have been, and the kind of king that if he saw me he’d be proud of. And that starts by being genuine and being myself to the citizens of Sweden and to the world.’ ‘Everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want,’ says the Crown Prince. ‘And I suppose the former includes me, but I would still like this time to decide further who I am and what kind of king I will be.’”

Simon is stunned. Of all things, he didn’t think of this as even an option. He fishes his phone out of his pocket.

To Wille: just read the interview, what. the. fuck.

From Wille: Is that a good “what. the. fuck!!!” or a “bad what. the. fuck?!?”

To Wille: you’re so brave, wille, thank you

To Wille: also according to ayub youre trending as “gay king wilhelm” on twitter rn

From Wille: Fuck yeah, bow down to your king. Meet me before school starts tomorrow, courtyard?

To Wille: see you then, gay king willie

As Simon approached the school - having already been stopped by four journalists, three photographers, two nosy neighbors and one blogger - he could see as Wille nervously paced at the edge of the courtyard, his hand rubbed deep into his chest, shirt creasing around it. Simon couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened in the palace after Wille’s interview. From what he saw the queen didn’t really strike him as the accepting type, but that was one of those things he’d let Wille discuss on his own time. He snuck up behind Wille instead, held his arms and kissed his neck.

“Hello, my prince,” he said and twirled Wille around and into his arms. Wille let out a little sigh of relief and if he could have held Willie there for forever he would. Wille smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek.

“Can we just go one day Simon without having your weird relationship issues making a scene,” Sara huffed past and quickened her pace to the school. Simon hadn’t noticed the stares, it felt like everyone in the courtyard had been watching them from Felice to August to other boarders Simon couldn’t name, but that had definitely called him names. Simon can’t bring himself to care anymore.

“I’m so proud of you, Wille.” Wilhelm let out a little noise, the only amount of negative emotion that being schooled on refinement since before he could talk would allow. He grabbed at Simon’s coat and drew him in for a hug.

“I love you,” Wille said and suddenly Simon’s whole world had shrunk down to three words.

Wille quickly ended the hug and walked towards the school, his bodyguards following quick after. Simon speed walked up to him and grabbed his hand, “I love you too.” Wille broke out into that tiny golden smile Simon loved to tease out and grabbed Simon’s hand.

The stares followed but Simon didn’t care. “Just two things left,” he said, “Get through this last day before break and then find whoever took that video.”

“And then?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,”

Wille hummed and played with Simon’s as they settled at the doorway of their first class of the day, “You might want to work on your plans.”

“No, my plan only needs those two things.” Simon messied with Wilhelm’s hair and strolled into the classroom.

Wille followed after one hand fixing his hair, the other clutching at Simon’s hand, muttering, “Just two things?”

Just two things.

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 7-35 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 7 – Rains of Monte Cristo: 7-1 / 7-3 / 7-5 / 7-7 / 7-9 / 7-11 / 7-13 / 7-15 / 7-17 / 7-19  ♦️ ♦️  7-20 / 7-22 / 7-24 / 7-26 / 7-28 / 7-30 / 7-32 / 7-34 / 7-35

Content Warning: This section contains topics that may be uncomfortable to some readers (mentions of abuse). Please proceed with discretion.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

Court Hallway

After the trial ended, I did not leave immediately. Rather, I waited in the hallway for Hang Jiahe. 

Soon, she walked over, guarded by two bailiffs.

MC: Miss Hang.

Hang Jiahe: What are you doing here? Are you going to laugh at me?

Hang Jiahe: Are you happy to have beat me?

MC: You’ve misunderstood. I came to tell you something.

Hang Jiahe: What?

MC: Actually… this examination report…

I took out that last examination report again.

MC: Due to time and technical limits, we currently do not have the identification results.

MC: When I showed it in court, I just wanted to add psychological pressure onto you.

Hang Jiahe: …

Hang Jiahe froze for a few seconds, but she then responded quickly.

Hang Jiahe: You tricked me… you tricked me… hahahahahahaha!

She suddenly burst into sharp laughter.

Hang Jiahe: I didn’t lose… I didn’t lose…

Hang Jiahe: I still got my revenge!

MC: …

MC: Miss Hang, can I ask you something?

Hang Jiahe: What do you want to say?

MC: You said in court that Qi Yu tried to hold Hang Fei back “that night”.

MC: But you still murdered her out of hate for her bystander position, correct?

Hang Jiahe: Yes, I hated her for being a coward, hated her for being too scared to resist Hang Fei, hated her for looking on for so many years without lifting a finger!

Hang Jiahe: She knew during those years what Hang Fei was doing to me, so why didn’t she save me?

MC: …

Hang Jiahe: Then… did you know that Hang Fei had also been abusing Qi Yu during those years?

Hang Jiahe: I did. How could she not have been beaten, with how cowardly she was?

MC: Then do you know why she was beaten?

Hang Jiahe: Why?

MC: …

I took out my phone and opened a video featuring Qi Yu’s abuse. That small woman was lying weakly on the floor, passively enduring the man’s punches and kicks. But she kept mumbling something –

“Don’t hurt Jiahe… and those children… stop it…”

Hang Jiahe: What…

MC: Miss Hang, did Qi Yu never do anything during all those times you were abused?

MC: Are you sure that every time, she chose to be a bystander, rather than being forced into her position?

MC: Did you know that Qi Yu said those words in each of the videos she was beaten in?

Hang Jiahe: I…

Hang Jiahe froze for a second, but then she immediately reacted.

Hang Jiahe: So what, then? What do you want to say?

Hang Jiahe: That I misunderstood her? That I shouldn’t have killed her? Then does all the pain I suffered for so many years even matter?

Hang Jiahe: You want me to absolve her? To forgive her?

MC: You’ve misunderstood. That’s not what I mean.

MC: I am not you. I have not endured your suffering, so I cannot request for you to forgive anyone.

MC: I haven’t seen what happened during those years, so I cannot judge whether Qi Yu was actively or passively making her decisions.

MC: And I definitely can’t carelessly determine whether she sinned or not.

I stopped for a moment and looked at Hang Jiahe’s gloves. 

In her mind, she probably was the Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond Dantès – someone who had been wronged and could only get revenge for herself. She believed herself as intelligent and as lucky as Edmond, that she would ultimately be the winner. But…

MC: But even Edmond would figure out the situation before his revenge and repay his benefactors.

MC: I’m telling you this, only because I hope you’ll understand what sorts of people you sent away.

MC: I hope you understand that there have been people who intended to treat you kindly.

Hang Jiahe: …

MC: Also, Miss Hang, I can guess why you were not willing to ask for help from the police.

MC: In that sort of situation, you may have thought that you couldn’t rely on the outside world to go against them.

MC: But even so, me, Captain Morgan, and many, many people still have to do something.

I flipped further into the examination report.

MC: Even if Hang Fei is gone, the things he’s done will not disappear with him.

MC: This is the report we’ve created. Captain Morgan’s already sent it to upper management and applied for international cooperation.

MC: Miss Hang, we will bring you the justice you deserve for the pain you’ve experienced.

MC: As for the last few people, I promise that they will receive the punishment they deserve.

MC: So, for the rest of your life, please don’t live in hate.

MC: You’ve already stayed in the darkness for long enough. Please try to take a step forward.

MC: Doesn’t it say that in your beloved “The Count of Monte Cristo”?

MC: “He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness.”

MC: Miss Hang, if possible, please try it.

MC: Perhaps the light you’ve always been searching for isn’t too far away.

Hang Jiahe: …

Hang Jiahe: Ha… ha… hahahahaha!

Hang Jiahe broke into sudden, sharp laughter. It sounded like a heartrending sob was woven in it, as it resounded in the empty hallway, melting into the rain.

Amid the grey deluge of rain, specks of light leaked through. Maybe the downpour would finally end this time.

Not long after, Simon’s homicide case opened trial, and Wang Chunchong was deemed the murderer. Xingrui Estates declared that they would be depriving Xu Yin of her position and removing her from the family. Only Tyson received the weakest blow, as the evidence for instigation of murder was insufficient. However, lots of people online were saying that they hoped he would “succumb to the demon of illness as soon as possible”.  

Thus, the homicide case of the couple in Yaofu Community came to an end.

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

NXX Base

After the Hang Jiahe case concluded, the NXX investigation team met up at the base again for discussion.

MC: That’s how the Hang Jiahe case went.

Marius: Thanks for your hard work!

Artem: Thanks for your hard work. You did excellently.

Luke and Vyn nodded at me.

MC: Thanks, everyone.

MC: Enough about me – how’s everyone else’s investigation?

Artem: I’ve already updated Tyson’s case file. I haven’t found any new clues for now.

Marius: I followed what Wang Chunchong said and investigated that guy named Xiao Ren, but…

Marius: I haven’t found anything for now.

Luke: You also found out about Xiao Ren?

Marius: Huh?

Vyn: What a coincidence. I, too, found out about him.

MC: !!!

Luke: Marius, what information do you have on Xiao Ren right now?

Marius: Mainly what Wang Chunchong told me before.

Marius sighed.

Marius: According to Wang Chunchong, Xiao Ren is linked to Heirson’s raw materials purchases.

Marius: Tyson held Xiao Ren to very high regard, and keeps his occupational information on severe confidential status.

Marius: All in all, this person seems pretty mysterious.

Marius: What about you, Luke? What did you find?

Luke: The aunties in the group told me that Zhao Fei kept looking for someone called “Xiao Ren”.

Luke: I suspect that Tyson brought up this person in the recording that he sent him.

Marius: That’s possible. Wang Chunchong also heard Tyson bring up Xiao Ren, so there should be some sort of link between them.

Artem: Luke, that’s not all the information that the assistive team provided you, is it?

Luke: Yep, that’s not all.

Luke: First, the workers in Heirson where the abnormalities appeared were mostly on the production front lines, so what they touch the most are the products.

Vyn: They probably mixed in their developed illegal drugs into the products, resulting in infection.

Luke: That’s right.

Luke: Secondly, about Zhao Fei…

Luke ripped out a page from his notebook and placed it on the table.

Artem: These names are…

Luke: When I was questioning these ten people about Zhao Fei, their reactions were a bit abnormal. I suspect that…

Luke: They’re the ones hiding Zhao Fei.

MC: What about you, then, Dr. Richter? You just said that you also found out about Xiao Ren.

Vyn: I spoke with half of the 20 special respondents and noticed that it was the same doctor in charge of their examinations.

Vyn: And that person is named “Xiao Ren”.

Vyn: So I suspect that this person knows many secrets regarding Heirson’s experimental data.

MC: If so, this Xiao Ren person knows about where raw materials come from and can deal with the experimental data…

MC: If we can find him, we might be able to patch up the missing part in our evidence chain against Heirson.

Marius: So this Xiao Ren is going to be our investigative focal point from now on?

Luke: Leave it to me, then. I’m the best when it comes to finding people.

Artem: Then leave Zhao Fei to me. I just happen to have something I want to confirm with him.

Vyn: I have only met with the special patients. I will continue to meet with the remaining bunch.

Vyn: Marius, what are your plans?

Marius: Me? I plan to go see Hang Jiahe.

Marius: She wanted to find reporters in the past to drop major news about Heirson, and she’s now in jail…

Marius: We should find out what this news is.

MC: Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that!

Marius: So, jiejie, want to come with me to see Hang Jiahe? After all, only the two of us know her the best.

MC: Uh…

I suddenly had a bad feeling.

Luke: Marius, do you really need someone to accompany you just to go see someone?

Marius: I’m not going to see a typical person, am I? I’m going to see someone who might give us an important clue.

Marius: It makes sense to be a little more cautious and bring someone else.

Luke: Then just bring your assistant. If anything else, then bring some recording equipment.

Luke: Convenient, and it can record in real time.

MC: …

Right after, Artem spoke.

Artem: Zhao Fei’s case was ours to begin with, and now that we have clues…

Artem: MC, let’s finish it off, alright?

MC: Lawyer Wing…

Vyn: I may be overstepping, but…

Vyn stepped in just before Artem could speak again.

Vyn: May I trouble you to go with me next?

Vyn: There’s a special patient that I need your assistance with.

Faced with their “eager” eyes, I was very sure that –

The investigation team seriously needs to recruit a new member!

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼ CHAPTER 7 END  ✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

[mandos-lightningbeforethunder]

Start Again - Chapter Nine (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: On their trek through the canyon to find their bounty, Din learns more about the girl than he had previously known and contemplates how she managed to survive everything she's been through. Of course, as he's learned from his time with her, they can never have peace in their search for the truth. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Discussion of sterilization, a brief discussion of forced pregnancy, discussion of childbirth, and blood loss mention. 

Author’s Note: Wow, long time no see. Life's been busy so I apologize for the severe lack of updates, I've been focusing on getting back into the workforce as well as the school semester starting up. I've also hit a major roadblock with writing and in the meantime, I've taken a step back so I'm not forcing myself or producing lackluster content. However, I'm excited to give you all this chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! 

CHAPTER NINE - A STRANGER ARRIVES

Ka’rta. Mando’a for heart. The girl had a lot of heart.

Din hadn’t let it show, but the news of her diagnosis had hit him hard. The Empire had tortured her beyond belief, if her nightmares weren’t evidence enough, the scars he saw when she was sedated had told him enough. They took her son away, wiped her mind in the process, and then left her for dead. If that wasn’t enough, they forcibly sterilized her.

“They sterilized her not long after they discovered she wasn’t the one with force-sensitive capabilities.” Dr. Orn informed him. Underneath his helmet, Din frowned at the doctor’s words. A part of him grew angry, angry at the idea that since the girl was no longer of use to them, they’d toss her away. Din was disgusted.

“What you’re saying is…is that they removed her ability to have any future children because she couldn’t produce a child with abilities?” Din’s mouth tasted like bile.

“It was their belief that the child’s father was the one who passed the traits onto his son, not her.” Dr. Orn frowned at him, possibly having the same thoughts of how vile the Empire was. “Although, had they decided to—” Din held up his hand and stopped Dr. Orn’s words.

It was enough. Basic genetics explained that even if the mother didn’t carry the trait, as long as the father did, there was a chance a child with the Force would be born. Din couldn’t even comprehend the idea of the Empire forcibly impregnating her like some breeding farm.

Instead, they remained ignorant of actual genetics and because they couldn’t breed her like a kriffing animal, they removed any ability to ever have her own children. If she couldn’t produce more force-sensitives, then why let her have any more children at all.

Deep down, Din knew of the atrocities committed by the Empire but what they did to her, made him feel physically ill.

He had felt numb hearing the news. How she managed to carry herself afterward Din didn’t know. How she even managed to put up a fight in their training session he didn’t know. It made him question everything he had known about the universe. To endure that pain and continue on, Din had hardly met anyone stronger than that.

The strength she had displayed, wielding the sticks as if they were true weapons, coming at him with all her might, even if it meant she’d meet the ground again. Briefly, he had taken pleasure in sweeping her off her feet, just to see her get annoyed. He wanted to see what her reactions would be. He hadn’t expected much out of her, especially considering the news she had received earlier. After the second time, he could tell she was vibrating with anger, ready to come at him. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Followed by a few successful hits and a near kick and Din found himself almost proud of her. With time, she’d come into fighting naturally.

“I know the view is pretty, Mando, but I think we have a bounty we need to find,” Her voice makes the memories of last night fade and he chuckles.

“Patience,” He murmurs, putting the last of the supplies together in his pack. He knew she was eager to get moving, the motivation to find a possible clue in her past driving her.

An ex-Imperial, trying to lay low in a post-Empire universe. The New Republic had been searching for him but after months with no news or record of him being alive, they presumed he must’ve been killed at the end of the war. The New Republic had bigger things to worry about. Orus, still running off its own government, didn’t believe any Imperial to be dead. The droid had made it clear that no Imperial was believed to be dead unless you killed them yourself.  

Opseg law enforcement pushed out the supposed ‘dead’ bounties like clockwork, and apparently, it wasn’t too hard to find them. Din had seen the holoprojectors displaying successful hunts, it was safe to say that the Opseg agency expected the same from him and the girl. It seemed clear from the data that plenty of ex-Imperials or sympathizers found themselves on Orus, hoping that the planets bustling city life would offer a decent cover to start a new life.  

Din pulled a vibroblade out of his boot, testing the weight in his fingers before he hands it to the girl. Her eyes widen in shock but she carefully takes it into her hands. The blade was one of Din’s firsts when he had first started with the Guild. Before he had found himself more comfortable with blasters and pulse rifles, Din had been more into close combat and the use of knives. After their brief training session last night, it was clearer that while he was a long-distance fighter, the girl was suited for close combat.

“You trust me?” She asks, glancing at it as she studies the hilt and the blade itself. Din had managed to keep it in decent condition even throughout these years, maintaining it despite its lack of use.

“I do,” Din says, watching as her eyes light up. “I think you’ll be able to handle yourself out there and if not, I’ll be there to catch you.”

“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, admiring the build of the vibroblade. Holding the hilt in the palm of her hand, she takes a few practice swings with it, moving with precision. The rays from the suns beam onto the blade, glittering off her face.  

“It’s also dangerous, so be careful.” Din reminds her and she nods, tucking the blade away.

“So,” she sighs, “What’s so special about this bounty other than being an ex-Imp? Seems to me that everyone was working for the Empire at some point in their life.”

“He’s an ex-Imperial officer. Higher up, not indoctrinated like Stormtroopers, so he was well aware of what the Empire was doing.” Din responds, tossing his bag over his shoulder.

“And you said he might know about what happened to me?” She asks, her voice tilting towards a hopeful tone. He doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but the research he had done on the bounty told him enough.

No identifying information on the ship he worked on, but with the blanks in his information, it was safe to say that whatever he did work on, the Empire didn’t want it getting out. After the war, most of it had been erased and all that was left was bits and pieces. An officer, overseeing prisoners of the war. Din had concluded that he had to at least know about what happened to the girl. She wasn’t just someone captured to rot in a cell for the rest of her life. She had some importance to them; they stole her son from her and wiped her memories. All the more reasons to find out the truth from this bounty.

“It’s a possibility. He oversaw a lot of the prisoners. There’s a chance he knew about you. Or your case, at the very least.” He replies, watching as she takes in the information.

“How soon do we have to bring him in once we find him?” She says. She’s quiet now, looking to the horizon of Opseg.

“A day or so, maybe. They incentivize you to bring the bounty in early for more credits.” He answers and she merely hums. A conflict of emotions washes over her face. There’s a question she’s too afraid to ask, unsure if she would receive the answer she was seeking.

“Will he give us information?” Right on target. Din’s not sure what to give her. Could they torture him for information? Sure, maybe the Opseg law enforcement wouldn’t question it. Would he even have any information? Again, Din did not know for sure. He wouldn’t mind getting his hands a little dirtier for the sake of information the bounty may have on the girl.

“I don’t know,” he answers instead, watching as she frowns. Not exactly the answer she was looking for then.

Displaying the map of the canyons on Orus, Din pinpoints the bounty’s last known location. He had hidden in the deepest parts of the canyon. It was likely that he had a camp set up and an array of weapons to protect himself. Din wouldn’t be surprised if he and the girl came across a couple of dead bounty hunters in various stages of decay. An Imperial was already a formidable opponent, but an Imperial officer who held a lot of information on the Empire was not a force to reckon with.

Veteran bounty hunters knew better and had expectations. If a bounty were on edge, they’d do anything to protect themselves and their assets. An amateur hunter gets too cocky and the bounty quickly puts them down and moves elsewhere, losing the trail. It was all a matter of survival.

“It’s a bit of a hike,” Din informs the girl, watching her eyes as she scans the projected image. “The droid says he’s been hiding out here for the past few weeks. He moves around after a new set of hunters come after him.”

A blinking dot displays the bounty’s last known position. The girl hums, her mouth set in a hard line as she scans the map once more, seeming to put it to memory.

“He’s getting comfortable. No new bounty hunters in a good month, maybe he thinks they’ve forgotten him,” The girl says, looking to him for confirmation.

“That, or he’s expecting a full force, so we need to be prepared for both. He’s already managed to figure out the schedule of bounty hunter arrivals. Supposedly barricades himself by the time they arrive at his camp. Takes them out and moves locations before a new round of hunters come along.” Din states, clicking through the projector to detail the number of hunters this bounty has killed off.

It’s numbers he hasn’t seen since he had taken the bounty of Fennec Shand with that hotshot bounty hunter, Toro Calican. With Shand “dead” and Calican kidnapping Grogu in the hopes of making a name for himself, Din never wanted to experience anything similar again. This bounty he and the girl had taken up would not come easily.

“He would be smarter if he moved during the downtime of hunters. That way we wouldn’t know his last whereabouts.” The girl says. The light of the holoprojector flickers off her face as Din shuts it off.

“His ignorance will play to our advantage,” Din says, placing the holoprojector in his bag, “it wouldn’t be any easier if he did decide to move during the downtime.”

Din’s not expecting much, the ex-Imperial has most likely grown comfortable living out in the canyon. Their arrival might come as a surprise, but deep down, Din knows that the bounty will be prepared for a fight. Even if it means toeing with a Mandalorian.

Beginning their trek through the canyon, Din takes the lead for the first hour into the journey. The canyons on Orus are difficult terrain. The course he had set for them was not smooth at all, it was rocky and there were several instances of Din having to pull himself up over a ledge, then pulling the girl up as well.

The faint cry of animals keeps them close to one another, not trusting that the creatures will be welcoming of their presence. Din had already learned the hard way of a welcoming presence. He should’ve expected as much, given that the planet shared a system with Nevarro. The girl, however, keeps the mood light by humming songs native to Puvo. The soft thrum of her voice keeps the hike from being filled with a painful silence, which Din is grateful for.

The hike is peaceful and with the soft hum of the girl, Din relaxes through their trek, allowing himself to admire the planet and the way the vegetation grows despite the lack of sunlight. He still scans his surroundings, keeping an eye out for any potential danger. He studies the shade of the canyon walls that cut off the sunlight even as the planets still grow, fruits hanging off the branches of trees and the leaves of planets greener than he had ever seen before.

The sounds of a running creek pause them in their journey, the girl’s humming coming to a stop as they gather at the edge of the bank. This time the girl’s singing doesn’t fill the silence, just them filling their canteens with the water. Din even watches as the girl leans over and washes the sweat from her face, running her hands down her neck in order to cool herself.  

“I think it’s deep enough to swim.” The girl says, leaning back into the sand after her last drink of the water.

“You think?” Din asks her, watching her as she nods.

“Maybe,” she says, “The creeks on Puvo were shallow, meant for work. Finding an actual source of water that wasn’t meant for work or consumption was difficult, but when I did find one, I managed to get Valara to go with me.” She smiles as she seems to look back on the memories.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been swimming,” Din tells her and she chuckles.

“Not even when you were a boy?” She turns, looking at him. In truth, he can’t remember a time when he was that young, not since before he swore the Creed. When he finds himself trying to look back, the only thing he finds himself remembering is the destruction of his home and the death of his parents.

“No,” he finally says, pulling himself out of his head.

“Castin loved to swim. He wanted to swim before he could even walk. The village thought I was crazy to give him that chance, but he proved them wrong.” She smiles, but he can see the pain in her eyes as she struggles to look back at that particular memory. He knows it’s a painful reminder of what was stolen from her.

“Do you remember them? Your village,” Din supplies. The girl blinks, slowly nodding.

“Parts of them. Faces are a blur but their voices are clear to me. We were a small but tight-knit community. Everyone helped everyone.” The girl glances up at him and smiles. “I can’t remember exact details like friends or family, just Castin and maybe the midwife who helped deliver him.”

“But you don’t remember if you ever had a husband?”

“All children were loved regardless of if their parents were married or not. But, no, I don’t remember him if he were to exist at all.”

Din feels peace when she answers that she doesn’t remember. A part of him hopes that there wasn’t any partner involved, that way she could only focus her attention on Castin. She didn’t need another heartbreak if she were to ever find out the truth of what may have happened to her village. If there had been a husband, would he have been killed off by the Empire? Was he still alive?

“I do remember the pain of bringing him into the world. It was a difficult birth.” The girl interrupts his thoughts. “The healer had monitored me throughout the entire pregnancy, I knew going in it was high-risk.”

“High-risk…” Din pauses, “Like, dying?”

“Yes,” she sounds calm when she answers. He supposes that the discussion is no longer painful since she survived the ordeal and is here now. “I was in labor for several hours. I nearly died. The midwife said there had been a lot of blood…they couldn’t stop it. I remember telling her his name, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure if he had died. It was chaos.”

Din watches her as she examines the flow of the water, tracing her fingertips above the surface. In the time they had spent together, he found himself learning more about the number of times she had faced death even before the Empire had its grasp on her. Even before her son had been born, it seemed fated that one of them would die.

“State your business.”

Dank farrik. Din was tired of being snuck upon.

He and the girl turn, facing the source of the voice. A masked man with a rifle stands in front of them. The upper half of his face remains covered, only the lower half displaying his displeasure with seeing them here. He’s also wearing armor, but it’s not like beskar. The barrel of the man’s weapon points at the girl and at this close of range, she would not survive the shot.

“The public is not barred from traveling within the canyons.” Din responds, watching as the man shifts his stance, the barrel of the rifle moving to point at his chest plate.

“The public population knows not to travel these canyons. Only outsiders take that chance, so I’ll say again, state your business.” The man snarls, the barrel of his rifle swiveling to focus on him. The blast wouldn’t pierce the beskar, but Din wasn’t about to take that chance.

It’s not a blaster rifle, the closer Din studies it. It’s a stun gun, meant to temporarily incapacitate rather than go for the kill. Why this rifleman, clearly upset, didn’t have his rifle set to kill, Din didn’t know.

“Bounty work. Sent by the Opseg law enforcement.” Din states, his hand settling on his hip just above the blaster in his hip holster.

The sky is a soft shade of blue with light cloud coverage. Din doesn’t remember looking up at the sky but as he struggles to move his limbs, he understands why. The rifleman had shot him. Someone’s screaming. It’s the girl.

“Relax, sweetheart. He’s not dead.” He can hear voices, muffled as his vision blurs.

[ichayalovesyou]

~Act One: In Denial of Pon Farr~

Blood Moon~by Saint Sister, Madrid (Album)

“To return home, and take a wife… or die.”

Spock is feeling anxious and unusually lonely, more resentful of his complex heritage than usual. Feeling rejected, but not by Jim, he finds his thoughts wandering to T’Pring. Who he feels deep resentment toward, she hasn’t contacted once him in the two decades he’s been gone from Vulcan. He has yet to realize it is the beginnings of Pon Farr.

“I am sure, you craved me once before. When I think of all the fruit I’ve found, and how easily you left it on the ground.”

Evening On The Ground (Lilith’s Song)~by Iron & Wine, Woman King (album)

“I hoped that I would be spared this.”

Spock’s yearning and loneliness transforms into anger and frustration. He knows Pon Farr has begun, and he hates it. He has no desire to return to Vulcan, worse still, he loathes that he yearns for someone who he does not know. Worse still, she’s not the only one he’s longing for…

“We were born to fuck each other one way or another but I’ll, only lie, down by the water side at night”

I Want You (She’s So Heavy)~(Originally) by the Beatles, performed by the Cast of Across the Universe, Across the Universe (Album)

“How do Vulcans choose their mates… Haven’t you wondered?”

Spock cannot bear the tearing between Human & Vulcan halves that has come ferociously to light under the stress of Pon Farr. His duty is to that man on the bridge, but the call of Koonut Kalifee is only getting louder. He has no desire to burden Jim with horrible display of emotion. Yet desire is quickly becoming all that he can think about.

“I want you, I want you so bad, it’s driving me mad, it’s driving me mad.”

~Act Two: Blood Fever, The Nightmares of Plok’tow~

Howl~by Florence + The Machine, Lungs (Album)

“To have their logic ripped from them, as this time does to us.”

The first, foreboding rumblings of Plok’tow have begun. He dreams of a hunt, he’s chasing someone, he does not know who. Each time the blood of this faceless, slaughtered, ravaged victim is a different color, every time he turns around, green, red, green, red, green, red, green, red…

“Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins, I want to find you, tear out all your tenderness.”

The Horror of Our Love~by Ludo, You’re Awful, I Love You (Album)

“It strips away our veneer of civilization.”

The dreams are getting worse, more violent, detailed, intense. He knows his quarry-

Jim.

He tears his captain apart in a thousand visceral, grotesque ways, physically, mentally, no love, no hate, no want, just blinding hunger. And the most frightening part, he enjoys it. He begins withdrawing from Kirk, for fear of what may happen should dreams threaten to become reality.

“Carnivorous and lusting, I’ll track you down among the pines.”

Become the Beast~by Karliene, Become the Beast (Album)

“It is the Pon Farr, the time of mating.”

The last of his Blood Fever dreams occurs after Kirk confronts him about his behavior. This one is, much to Spock’s relief, not violent. The lyrics are spoken through the faces of fellow Vulcans- T’pring… childhood tormentors… Sybok… his cold and disapproving father… T’pau… Surak… himself.

The rage and hunger has cooled into ice rather than fire, for now.

“Do I terrify you? Do you feel alive? Do you feel the hunger? The desert howl inside?”

The Woods~by San Flemin, Jackrabbit (Album)

“You humans have no conception.”

When James Kirk grabbed the shiv from Spock’s hand in their confrontation, a shard of Spock’s Blood Fever came with it. Spock was spared a nightmare this final night, but not Jim. The dream even dared to be pleasant initially, alone together in the woods. Before the arena of Koonut Kalifee erupted violently around them, as did Spock. Yet, before Spock could deal the final killing blow, Kirk found himself sinking into the sparkling sands below. He startles from his slumber, feeling suffocated.

But he does not remember how, or why.

“The nights are lovely dark and deep, but I’ll appear when you’re asleep. You’ll wake up with a sudden hurt, your mouth and nose all full of dirt”

~Act Three: Kalifee, the Death of A Friend~

Take Me Down~by Brother, Pax Romana MMV (Album)

“I’ll get you to Vulcan somehow…”

All Jim knows is that Spock is getting worse, and that he needs him. Not knowing, and not daring ask whether the shiv was meant for himself or Spock haunts Kirk, as does the ghost of his forgotten dream. He does not know what will come of this wedding. Only that he will do whatever it takes to make certain Spock lives. No matter what, it’s a race against time.

“The powers that be, the powers that run you through, I’m taking a stand I know what it comes down to, God knows I do.”

Hunting Grounds (feat Joe Cotela of Ded)~by In This Moment, Mother (Album)

“He is deep in the Blood Fever, he will not speak with thee again.”

Kalifee has begun, Spock has completely lost himself to the Blood Fever, and Kirk must fight for his life. He finds himself outmatched by the environment, and by Spock’s rage. He knows two things, he has no desire to die, but he cannot, under any circumstances, kill Spock. (I imagine this duet could be as seen as Maria Brink=Kirk, Joe Cotela=Spock)

“Like a predator sink my teeth into your neck.”

Die Today~by The Txlips Band & Guitar Gabby, Queens of The New Age (Album)

“Kill Spock? That’s not what we came to Vulcan for is it?”

The Kalifee has been an intense drain, Kirk knows, deep down, that not even the “Triox Compound” could save him in this fight. He feels his life flash before his eyes, he bears no ill will toward Spock, he’s not in control of himself. He reflects on their relationship, and how much it has meant to him, and accepts, that for Spock to live, he has to die.

It was worth having known him, saving a friend isn’t the worst way to go out…

“If you die today, if we die today, at least I’d be in your arms.”

Pearl Diver~by Mitski, Lush (Album)

“You may find, that having, is not so pleasing a thing as wanting.”

Spock is absolutely distraught, he’s disgusted with himself, he loathes every single Vulcan he’s ever known, but most of all he is angry with Kirk. That he had to be the moth to his flame. How dare he want to get close to him! How dare James Kirk ever have the stupidity, the courage to love him?! The wanting had driven Jim to his death, and himself to murder. It was illogical, and he will never, forgive either of them for it. Curse having, curse wanting, and curse himself too.

“But hunter you were human don’t forget it and go safely. And I? I’ll live without you, though the struggle will be daily.”

Sweet Dreams~by JOSEPH, I’m Alone, No You’re Not (Album)

“I shall do neither, for I have killed my Captain, and my friend.”

Spock languishes in the agonizing hours between the Kalifee and confronting Bones about what must be done. He prays for a short and cruel life… and dares ponder the question, do Humans have Katras?

“I’ll return to my sleepless night, dreaming with my eyes open, watch the shadows play on the ceiling.”

[The final act is a little on the smutty side, here’s a read more just to be safe.]

~Act Four: The Need is Met~

To Be Alone~by Hozier, From Eden EP (Album)

“I shall offer no defense, their is no excuse for the crime of which I’m guilty.”

Though overjoyed and relieved that Kirk is alive, Spock continues to anguish over the reality that had Bones not intervened, he would have killed him. Jim knows better this time, he will not let Spock continue down this path. A tender and honest conversation puts salve to Spock’s fears. In any event, while the Kalifee burned away the Blood Fever, it becomes clear the needs of Pon Farr still remain. Kirk suggests, delicately, to put a new Bond in place of the old.

Spock accepts.

“You don’t know the hell you put me through, to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you, to feel your weight in arms I’d never use.”

Mermaid’s Calling #2~by the Cast of The Lure, The Lure (Album)

“The ancient drives are too strong, eventually they catch up with us.”

The thrum of Bonding needs no words, it is not just a joining of minds, but of bodies as well. They complete one another, no thoughts, no voices are required. They soon find that the physiological differences between them can be more than a little… fascinating.

“…”

The Deep~by PHILDEL, Wave Your Flags (Album)

“One touches the other, in order to feel each other’s thoughts.”

The tangible, physical world of course has it’s pains and pleasures, to be joined physically is one thing, to be joined in soul and mind alongside those sensations is a different ordeal entirely. If this, completeness, is what it means to be Bonded, Kirk now understands why Vulcans go mad over it.

“Give me a sign ‘cause it runs through my mind like your heat, caught in the web you’re so easily lead to the deep.”

The Mermaid~by Kate Rusby, Life in A Paper Boat (Album)

“In this way, our minds are locked together...”

Unbeknownst to anyone else in the universe, James Kirk & S’chn T’gai Spock are now Bonded, and neither has ever felt less alone. For once, it does not matter to Spock that he is of two worlds, here, he is home. For once, Kirk does not feel as though he is forced to live the Enterprise’s life, this time, she helped him live his. A shining, blissful moment in the vast, expansive sea of stars that they have devoted their lives to exploring.

For them, the journey itself, is home.

“In peace now, the sea it comes, and peace now, in her arms where I’ll be love, sleeping in the sea.”

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Time got away

And Rafi is back. This was inspired by the little clip of Raul walking out on his phone for the best writing buddy a gal could ask for @detective-giggles​ xx

WC: 2307

Warnings: Smut, not my gif and sorry for any mistakes.

 You sat in the car looking at the arrest warrant torn at what to do, 

"We should just do it, Carisi-" 

"Kat, Sonny isn't our boss, if we have this wrong and we make the arrest Liv is going to be pissed. Fin's not answering we need to call her" 

"But she said she didn't want to be-" 

"Unless it was an emergency and I think this is an emergency"  you cut Kat off.

 You picked up your phone and dialled Liv's number and to your surprise she picked up in a couple of rings and she didn't sound angry, 

 "Y/N what's up?" 

 "Liv we really need you to run over this paper work, Sonny wants us to make the arrest, but my gut-and the results aren't back yet" 

 "Ok, well I won't be back for a while, I’ll send you the address that I ‘am at, come there" 

You and Kat pulled up around the corner of the address Liv sent you. You both jumped out and all but ran to door walking into the small restaurant. Kat had walked in before you when your phone pinged with a new message from the lab with the results. You were walking slowly looking at your phone following Kat's voice as you walked, 

 "Fin we have been trying to call you- Sorry to distrub your lunch Liv" you heard Kat say. 

 "Ok- wished we had got this sooner because we wouldn't have had to call you, results are back" 

 You looked up and what was in front of you was a surprise of the best kind. Your eyes were wide and your mouth open, 

 "Barba?" 

 "Detective Y/L/N" Rafael smiled and slid out from the booth walking up to you and giving you a hug "It's so good to see you" Rafael said in your ear pulling back and giving your shoulder a squeeze "how are you?"  

 It was like the whole room melted away and it was just you and him. You scanned his beard covered face before meeting his beautiful green eyes and you both smiled at each other, 

 "I ‘am good, how are you?  Your back?" 

"Good" Rafael nodded and smiled "Yes I’ am" 

 "Well welcome back, Manhattan missed you" He chuckled at you and gave you a wink. 

 "Sorry to break up the reunion but what's the results?" Fin was leaning over the back of the booth seat. 

 Yours and Rafael's eyes lingered a little longer on each other before you were pulled back down by your phone ringing, 

 "Sonny I’ll call you back- no we are with Liv now- you’re not my boss so don't start- yes I got them too, ill ring you when it's done"  

 You cleared your throat opening your lock screen back up to the lab results, Rafael didn't miss the photo on your screen of Sonny, Amanda, him and you from his very last night out with the squad before everything spiralled, you all had your arms around each other but your cheek was on his smiling big. His heart swelled reaching into his pocket pulling out his wallet pulling out a card with his new number on it.  

 "Ok go- Fin go with them they are going to need back up"  

 Fin slid out of his seat, Kat and him rushing off,  

 "Good work Y/N" Liv smiled up at you,  

 "Thanks Liv, Rafael hope to see you again soon" you smiled and went to turn away. 

 As you turned away you felt Rafael's hand on your shoulder stopping you, "I know you have to go but here" he handed you his card "Call me when you finish work, we can get a drink" 

 You nodded, your cheeks slightly pink, "I would love that" you kissed him on the cheek before rushing out. Rafael sat back down and looked out the window as you rushed by, his tummy did a flip, 

 "She was a nightmare after you left" Liv took a sip of her coffee “I thought I was going to have another Amaro on my hands” Liv smirked

 "What?" Rafael looked at Liv. 

 “She took it really hard. She hasn't changed that picture on her phone since you left." 

 It was around 10 by the time you got back to your place after the arrest, interviews and processing. You were standing at your kitchen bench and you pulled the card out of your back pocket and stared at it for a long while. You picked up your phone opening it to dial the number,  

 "Hello" 

 "Hey Rafael its Y/N, sorry did I wake you?" 

 "No of course not, did you just get home?" 

 "Yeah it was a long day, I'm sure you remember how it is" 

 Rafael laughed "Do you have to go in tomorrow?" 

 "No, Kat and I have the day off- but I'm on call just in case" 

 "Well then, how about that drink?" 

 The cab pulled up in front of the hotel and you took in a deep breath before you walked in. You had 15 minutes from the time you got off the phone till you needed to leave. You showered putting on long tights and knee high boots, with a long lose mustard wool jumper. Your hair was wavy from being in a bun all day so you ran with lose waves and light make-up. 

 As you walked into the lobby you saw Rafael leaning against the wall looking down at his phone looking just as handsome as you seen him earlier in his jeans and a jacket. Where he was staying wasn't far from your place so you messaged when you were leaving. 

 Rafael must have heard your foot steps on the tiles and looked up, your eyes meeting and a big smile pulling to both your faces. Rafael started to walk towards you wrapping his arms around you pulling you in for a big hug and kissing your cheek and then the top of your head. 

“Ready for that drink?" Rafael smirked at you. 

 The hotel bar had closed not long after you got there, so you and Rafael decided to go halves in a bottle of wine and head back up to his room. The room was nice but plain. It only had a bed and TV cabinet with a small fridge.  

 "Get comfortable Y/N" Rafael nodded towards the bed as he poured 2 glasses of wine.  

 You placed your bag down on the floor and then sat on the bed to pull your boots off, moving yourself to sit with your back resting on the head board your legs stretched out in front of you. You watched as Rafael's placed down the bottle, shrugged off his jacket and toed off his shoes. He picked up the two glasses walking over handing them to you while he got on the bed next to you and got comfortable. He reached for his glass, your hair stood on end as goose bumps covered your body when his finger tips brushed your hand, 

 "Thanks for coming tonight" Rafael smiled at you. 

 "I'm glad you asked me, it was nice to catch up" The room fell silent for a long moment "Are you glad your back?" You adjusted yourself so you could face him more. 

 "For the most part" he took a sip of wine. 

 "I' am glad your back" you bowed your head so he couldn't see your red cheeks and Rafael patted your knee. 

 "What's been happening?" Rafael smiled at you. 

 "I mean not much with me. Between helping Amanda with Jesse now she has Billie, getting to know Kat and catching up with Sonny when he isn't snowed under and work, doesn't leave room for much else. What about you?" You sipped a mouth full of wine. 

 "Work, moving back, seeing my Mother and trying to find a place" 

 It wasn't long after that another bottle of wine arrived that Rafael had ordered and you were on the last glass of that bottle, drinking water between each glass not wanting to get too carried away and embarrass yourself, 

 "What's it like Carisi being ADA?" Rafael sat his empty glass on the bedside table turning back to face you on his side. 

 "He's good. He doesn't handle the stress as well as you did, but he is doing an amazing job. I miss him as my partner though, but I wouldn’t trade Kat she has been amazing" 

 "So seems like life went on after I left" Rafael frowned. 

 "What else were we meant to do Rafael, no one wanted you to go- but it doesn't matter now your back" you drunk down the rest of your wine and turned to sit that on the bedside table next to you. 

 "No one wanted me to go or you didn't want me to go" Rafael said with a husky voice before clearing this throat. 

 "Well both, I mean you were important to me- to us. We were like a family and then you disappeared, it was hard adjusting to the loss of you."  

 Rafael didn't say anything, he moved to lay down with his fingers intertwined resting on his stomach looking up at the roof, you didn't feel shy after the drinks you had, and so you laid down next to him on your side looking at his frowning face. Your eyes scanned down his salt and pepper hair and you had to fight yourself not to reach over and run your fingers through it, 

 "Did I say something wrong?" You whispered.  

 Rafael didn't answer straight away "No-Come here" Rafael moved his arm inviting you to lay on his chest, your arm laying across his middle. His bearded chin resting on your forehead, 

 "Do you understand why I left"  

 "Yes and no-But yes" Rafael chuckled at you. 

Rafael's hand moved to your chin titling your head back to look up into his eyes, 

 "I missed you Y/N" his stare was intense,  

 "I missed you too" you squeaked out. 

 "Have you been with anyone else since I left?" 

 Your cheeks went bright red not just from the question, but from his stare and how he was rubbing your jaw with his thumb. Rafael rolled over onto his side, his nose almost touching on yours. You gasped when you felt how hard Rafael was poking into your thigh, 

 "Have you been with anyone else since I left" Rafael repeated his question, hand now pushing up your jumper running it up and down your back. 

 "N-no, not since that night with you" you whimpered feeling his breath and beard so close to your face. 

 "Why?" 

 "I told you I've been busy, time got away" 

 "That's a lie" Rafael's lips were almost on yours. 

 "Have you?" You challenged him. 

 "No, time got away" he rolled his hips into your thigh "I have never forgotten the feeling of your hand around my cock" 

 Your hand moved down between your bodies reaching Rafael's bulge in his pants and you started to rub it. Rafael's lips met yours for a slow soft kiss that soon became deep and rough. Rafael ran the hand that was running down your back into the waist of your tights and panties, squeezing your ass with his big hand. Moaning into his mouth.  

You made quick work of undoing his belt buckle, button and zipper, reaching into his boxers pulling out his hard length. Rafael pulled back from your mouth grunting thrusting his hips into your hand. Rafael moved his hand form your ass around to your core cupping it, the palm of his hand pressing into your pearl your wetness coating his hand. You ran your hand up and down up and down Rafael, his pre-cum spreading over your hand, twisting your wrist every so often,

 “It’s better than I remember” Rafael’s lips crashing on yours his tongue darting into your mouth, his hips rolling into your hand.

 “Is it just like you remembered?” you purred, as Rafael pushed a finger into you, then another his thumb rolling your clit. You bit your lip.

 Rafael’s fingers were prodding into you fast, his thumb rolling your swollen pearl feverishly, and your pace on Rafael speed up. You groaned into his mouth, tightening around his fingers while your climax peaked and rushed through you. Your grip on Rafael tightened as you twisted your wrist and he pulled away from your lips, a load grunt along with your name leaving his mouth as he came on your hand and tights.

 You both laid there, hearts pumping hard in your chests breathing rapidly staring into each other eyes. Rafael peaked you on the lips pulling his hand out of your tights moving from the bed to go and clean himself up. You fixed yourself up and stood up off the bed looking to see that your jumper covered where Rafael had come on your tights. Rafael walked out of the bathroom fixed up, his face and beard wet from where he splashed water on it,

“You can use the bathroom now” Rafael walked over to you putting his hands on your hips pecking your lips you nodded and walked in to wash up.

 When you came out Rafael was sitting on the bed leaning his elbows on his thighs,

 “You ok? I can leave if you want me too”

 Rafael looked up at you extending his hand grabbing yours, pulling you to sit down on his lap. One arm wrapping around your waist the other hand resting on your upper thigh holding you close.

 “Why would you think I wanted you to leave?” Rafael lent forward kissing your neck, his beard running over your neck and you shrugged your shoulders,

“I- just saying” you bit you bottom lip.

 “Y/N I just got you back. And besides, next time I won’t be coming in your hand, me entiendes?”

 Tags: @beccabarba​ @thatesqcrush​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @dianilaws​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @lv7867​ @permanentlydizzy​ @averyhotchner​

[clockworkgraystairs]

HERE FOR YOU || Jurdan College AU Pt. 2

Warnings: None. Swearing maybe?

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @aesthetics-11​ @hizqueen4life​ @duarteegreenbriar​ @mysweetvilllain​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @althekingshorses​ @thewickedkings​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @thesirenwashere​ @b00kworm​ @acourtofmoonlight​ @queen-of-glass​ @random-llama-socks​ @jurdanhell​ @cardan-greenbriar-tcp​ 

[if I forgot to tag anyone or if you want to be tagged let me know!]

Summary: After finding a very ill and feverish Jude, Cardan takes her to the doctor. And deals with her usual stubbornness.

HFY Masterlist      Pt 1   Pt 2   Pt 3   Pt 4 [coming soon] 

AO3 link

My masterlist

Cardan had never liked doctors. When he was a little kid, his mother had to apologize several times because he kept glaring and calling them creepy warlocks, claiming they cured people using potions that stunk and had a sour flavor. And even though he’d got over that phase of his life, the scent of medicine still gave him a slight skittish sensation. 

Now, after nearly an hour of waiting he was definitely not enjoying himself, except that this time he couldn’t quite tell if the feeling was because of the smell or not knowing what the doctor was telling Jude, making his muscles tense more with every minute that passed.

One part of him wished nothing more than yell at her for being so reckless and not seeking for help earlier. 

The other part though, kept thinking about that morning.  

He and Jude had agreed to meet every monday and  friday at 9:00 am to work on their final project. At the beginning their meetings had place at the school’s library, since they didn’t talk much. Not because he didn’t want to, of course. But after years of confronting Jude at class, he’d learn to give her space when she focused on something. And maybe because she was a little scary too. 

Within time, her frowning glares became curious eyes and her monosyllabic answers, full conversations.

By the third month, they had to look for a new place to meet. The library’s manager, tired of scolding them at least six times a day for talking and laughing too loud, had forbid them to enter the building together. Or being together in there at all.  

That’s how they ended up in a coffee shop near the campus. The place was small and cozy. The owner, an old sweet lady called Joanne, prepared the best cappuccinos Cardan had ever tasted. 

That morning though, he hadn’t been able to take a sip of his beverage. The two cups of coffee steaming on the table seem to mock him as he alternated his gaze between them and the door, waiting for her to arrive. His leg bounced uneasily and he felt his hands sweatier than usual.

 He glanced at the clock. 9:20 am. She was already twenty minutes late. Jude was never late. 

From the kitchen, Joanne whistled cheerfully the song that came out from the speakers. An italian song he couldn’t identify. When her eyes crossed Cardan’s she smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. He shifted on his seat, looking down at the small bunch of flowers he’d bought. The white peonies and daisies rested smoothly on the wooden table.  

Damn her. Of all days, she’d chose this one to be late.

When he woke up that morning, he was thoroughly decided to finally come clean. To finally tell Jude he was in love with her.

He sent her another message. Nothing. 

He called her. No answer. Again. 

Had she forgotten? 

Impossible, they met there twice a week. 

The only possible option left in his mind was that she’d remembered. And didn’t care.  

Anger pooled on his stomach. What an idiot he felt now. They had an agreement, imposed by her by the way, of letting the other one know about any inconvenience. Was he really that insignificant for her he didn’t deserve a simple notice? 

Bottle it up, he said to himself.

That’s when he remembered she’d been absent from class those last two days too. Even professor Noggle asked about her, a thing he didn’t do with most of the students. 

Cardan frowned. In a swift move he stood and walked out. 

He left the money for the coffee on the table, and the flowers next to it. 

The door opened, bringing him back to the present. As Jude walked out of the consulting room, he noticed her pallor had decreased. Not enough to relax him, but it was something. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, raising to stand next to her. 

She shrugged. “Better, I told you it was nothing. Let’s go.”

“Ah ah,” The doctor started, closing the door behind him. “That’s not exactly what I said young lady.”

Cardan frowned at her. Seriously? Her only answer was a deep sigh and rolling eyes. 

“My exact words were that it didn’t seem like something too serious or life-threatening. Not that it was nothing.” He took a prescriptions block out of his coat and scrawled something in the front page. Jude groaned.  “It’s most likely a severe stomach flu, aggravated by the days it was left untreated. But since the fever was strong, I’d like to wait and see if it settles now.”

“Most likely?” Cardan repeated, his brows pulled together in a frown. What had he paid this clown for, then? 

“Well it’s always good to scrap any other possibility, I took a blood sample from miss Duarte so I can send it to the lab. But I don’t believe it will show any other result.”

He nodded. “So what now? We just wait?”

“Cardan.” Jude mumbled. He didn’t move his eyes from the doctor.

“Pretty much.” He handed him the prescription. “She got an injection for the temperature already. Here are scripted some pills she’ll need to take for the next three to five days, to help with the nausea. And of course, lots of water and electrolytes.”

“Thank you, I’ll get those right away.” She said as she snatched the paper from Cardan’s hand and put it away. 

“Miss Duarte, I’ll recommend you to stay under observation the next two days. Just in case the fever returns and you need immediate assistance.” 

“Of course.” Jude answered nonchalantly, already reaching for the exit. “I’ll let my sister know so she can come over. Thanks.”

Back on his car he drove in silence. ‘Never let me go’ by Florence + The Machine sounded low on the radio. With closed eyes, Jude leaned towards the open window, her brunette locks flying wildly around her head. 

Cardan glanced sidewards at her, forcing himself not to linger too much on her slightly parted lips. His mind went back to the moment she’d collapsed in his arms. Cheeks flushed and burning up in heat. Even if he never admitted it out loud, she’d scared the hell out of him. 

He pulled his attention back to the road and cleared his throat. “I thought both of your sisters were out of town. Is any of them back? I can call them if you like.”

Jude ignored his question. After a moment of silence she whispered. “Why are you doing this?” 

Cardan shrugged.  “It’s a little bit obvious isn’t it?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have our full project on your laptop, Duarte. And it has a password. If you die, then how on earth am I supposed to recover it?”

A punch landed on his arm, followed by a soft chuckle. “Ass. And you don’t need to call anyone. It’s not necessary.”

“Meaning?” Now it was his turn to scowl.

“Meaning,” She sighed. “That I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you already did more than enough. Besides you’re right, my sisters are far far away from here, right where they should.” 

He couldn’t believe his ears. Earning a honk from the car behind them, Cardan pushed the brake, leading the car aside so it could fully stop on the sideway. 

“Hey, calm down Toretto!” She shouted raggedly, grabbing the door handle for support. “What the fuck!?”

“What the fuck? That’s exactly what I’m asking you, Duarte!” Now he could fully turn to face her incredulous stare. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You passed out a couple of hours ago, you were burning up in fever. Do you realize that? Apparently not, because despite the recommendations, you still insist on not listening!” 

An exasperated sigh left his lungs. He grabbed the wheel tighter, trying to ease the growing pool of rage inside him. Calm down. He’d spent his life telling himself to calm down. Being terrible at expressing his feelings, he was used to get irritated every time he faced pain, or fear. Or pretty much anything, actually. But gods, how could she be so stubborn? 

Jude pressed her mouth into a thin line and looked down, her hands twisting faintly on her lap. She was indeed nervous about whatever illness loomed in her body, he noticed, trying to ignore the lips he so badly wanted to tug between his. 

“I’ll stay with you.” The words left his lips before he fully realized it. 

“You what? Don’t be rid-”

“The doctor said you needed to be under supervision.” He answered turning back to the road, and put his car on march again. She was probably giving him some murdering glare that he prefered to elude. “So you have two options sweetheart, either you let me stay at your place or you come back to mine, but a frat house it’s not exactly a place to rest. You are, by no means, staying alone.”

Half a second later, even the radio was muffled by her incessant ranting. Hardly determined to convince him of doing otherwise. 

Cardan just drove.

~

When he parked next to her building the sun was already setting. 

With her arms firmly folded across her chest Jude hadn’t stopped gritting her teeth all the way back. This was madness, she repeated to herself over and over. 

The man showed up out of nowhere, took her to the doctor, paid for her medicine and now wanted to stay in her apartment? No fucking way. 

The problem now, was that if there was anyone on earth even more stubborn than her, it was Cardan. A man that no matter how many times she asked him to just leave her on the sidewalk and leave, was now walking up the stairs next to her. A satisfied grin on his perfect charming face. If she didn’t feel as weak at the moment she’d slapped his way out of the place. 

Once inside she left the medicines and the gatorades on the table and turned to him. 

“For the hundredth time, Cardan. You don’t have to stay, everything is under control and I’m not feveri- what’s that?” She asked, noticing the hanging object on his shoulder.

“A backpack?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I‘m not blind, you ass. What are you doing with that backpack?”

“I always keep some extra clothes in my trunk. You know, in case I find myself in any unexpected situation.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her in a way that twisted her guts. Ugh, disgusting.

The repulse must’ve been written on her face too because he snickered for a second before throwing it next to the couch. “Becoming your hot nurse certainly fits in the category dear, you can’t deny that.” 

She blinked and pushed back the intrusive thoughts that emerged from his statement. Why was her mind against her today? Maybe the fever had burned her coherency brain cells, if she’d ever had any to begin with.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.” Cardan dropped himself on the couch, opening a book he’d taken from his pack. “Now take those pills, put on your weird pijama and go rest.” 

Maybe she could still gather the strength to slap him after all.

Trying to ignore the sour flavor that shitty pills left on her mouth, Jude stood in front of the mirror. Wearing the shorts and the t-shirt she’d put on before they went to the doctor, she found herself suddenly worried by her clothing and messy hair. 

Which was utterly absurd. It wasn’t as if he cared at all about her wardrobe choices.

Still, the idea of them sleeping under the same roof unnerved her. It had been a long time since she’d had someone from the opposite sex staying the night. Either way, her exasperating classmate certainly hadn’t crossed her mind.

She bit her lip.

Ok that was a lie. Being honest she might have thought about it a couple of times. Mostly drunk. She always felt guilty the day after. And pissed. It left her wishing she could hate him again, like she did on sophomore year when he was truly a rude idiot. But no matter how hard she’d tried, his wits and dumb jokes had slowly changed her perspective of him. Not to mention those deep dark eyes and wicked smile of his. It only took a pair of tequila shots to start fantasizing about running her lips along that jaw. FINE, it didn’t take any tequilas to do that. But sober she had a tiny bit of control over her too-creative mind. Drunk Jude had already undressed him in her dreams once. Twice?

And now Cardan was outside, lying down on her comfy couch. Staying the night.

Jude chewed her inner cheek. This was a nightmare. 

As quiet as possible, she opened the door and peered outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Maybe some ancient deity took mercy on her and vanished him to oblivion. That or he was probably in the bathroom, so she tiptoed her way to the modest kitchen. 

She’d just finished preparing her chai tea when the bathroom’s door opened. Decided to ignore him, she kept her gaze down. 

At least until she caught a glimpse of him with the corner of her eyes. That, snapped her attention back. Oh no, no no no no.

“CARDAN GREENBRIAR WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I...what?” 

“Could you please… I don’t know, maybe put a fucking shirt on?!” She could already feel her blood gathering on her cheeks. 

He paused and quirked an eyebrow. “For your information, Duarte, I tend to sleep naked. These pants are a sign of my consideration to you, since we’re at your place.” 

The goddamn idiot was made of marble. Jude knew he wasn’t precisely one of those big muscular men, not that it meant he didn’t have everything in place. His well formed shoulders and arms were visible even with clothes, and now she could admire the slightly marked muscles of his torso all the way down to the V that disappeared under his pine-green pants. His shoes were off too. 

“Are you blush-” He started, only to be cut by her murderous voice.

“Good night, Cardan.” Taking her cup, she crossed the place with big steps, slamming the bedroom’s door behind her. 

Leaning against the wood, she heard the couch creak as he laid down. Her breathing evened a little a few minutes after. 

Shit, that had been rude. Even if he’d imposed his presence there he was still a guest, her mind scolded her. A really hot guest. No no, don’t think of that now.

As silently as she could she opened the door again. And pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laugh at what she saw.  

Cardan’s legs hung over the couch’s arm. Which made sense, considering how tall he was, but right now it only looked bloody ridiculous, and kind of adorable. She tried to ignore the guilt that pierced her heart again. He seemed stiff. An idea shone on her mind. A terrible terrible idea.

“Cardan?” She whispered.

He hummed in response.

She swallowed and walked towards him. “You can’t sleep in there.”

He scoffed and looked at her through hooded eyes, dark and deep made her heart skip a beat. “If you’re trying again to convince me to leave…”

“I’m not.” Jude blurted, passing a hand over her curls. Somehow words seemed to stuck in her throat. “I mean- even when you are completely ignoring me about you not needing to be here… I guess I… What I try to say is-”

“Jude Duarte is babbling. Gods, now I’m intrigued.” He breathed, propping himself on his elbows.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head elusively. It was humiliating how easy it was for him to put her on edge. “Shut up will you? You can’t stay on the couch, it’s small and uncomfortable… And I, well, I happen to own a double bed.” 

Smooth, girl, smooth.

“Trying to lure me into your bed? So soon?” He teased, flashing her a smile, yet his joke didn’t reach his eyes. Something in them was different, they were wider, intense.

“You’re intentionally being an asshole.” She said, gritting her teeth. This time his tricky words and good looks wouldn’t affect her. She couldn’t allow it. “I just meant that we can both sleep there. Like, as far away as the bed allows but at least you could rest.”

For a second he just looked at her. Not mocking or rude, she couldn’t place the expression in his face. His jaw set, chest raising and falling slowly. “You don’t have to, Jude. I’m ok in here.”

“Don’t lie. Besides I’d feel better too. Not because- Ugh, I’d feel better knowing that I could at least make your staying more bearable, I guess.” That wasn’t so bad. Yet. And honestly she couldn’t tell if it was worse if he accepted, or refused. 

Back in her room an awkward silence filled the atmosphere as both laid side to side. Somehow, even if they were not touching, Jude could feel the heat of his skin. Her heart hammered so fast she swore he could listen to it.

“So…” He started.

Panic filled her senses, she needed to cut any conversation before saying or doing something she’d regret later. “There’s no need to mention it, just go to sleep… please.” She rolled onto her side, facing away from Cardan. “Good night.”

Jude barely heard him sigh. “Sweet dreams, Jude.”

~

It was hot. Really really hot. Fuck he couldn’t move. How much had he drank last night?

Wait. No, last night he didn’t go out with Locke. He’d said he would spend the weekend with his girlfriend, at least this month’s. Cardan had stopped mocking him for it long ago. 

Eyes still closed, he grimaced and tried to stretch but something held down his arm. As Cardan became more and more aware of his body, the memories of the day before flashed in his mind. The failed meeting with Jude, the flowers he’d spend almost an hour choosing, her body going limp against him, the useless doctor… Jude offering him her bed to sleep.  

That’s when something tickled his neck, startling him. 

No, not something.

Cardan’s eyes snapped open, he looked down and froze when he realized Jude’s body was pressed flush against him, one of her hands resting on his chest. Somehow their legs impossibly tangled. Terrified, he found his own arm encircling her waist, bare skin touching his fingers since her too big shirt had rolled up in her sleep.  

She shifted a little and her nose brushed his neck again, letting out a small breath that sent hot shivers down his body.

Any knowledge of how to move or think completely forgotten. He stared blankly at the ceiling. 

Fuck fuck fuck shit what the fucking fucks. 

[drawlfoy]

Mirror, Mirror P.5

masterlist (<- to read parts 1-4) request guidelines want to be tagged? 

pairing: draco x ravenclaw!reader

request: nope!

summary: y/n has admired draco from afar for a hot minute. what will happen when they’re finally paired up to do rounds together and run into the mirror of erised?

warnings: language, mentions of being very very ill, my terrible editing skills, way too much dialogue

a/n: here it is :) it’s been a bit. the finale will hopefully be posted this tues! i hope all of you guys have been continuing to social distance and i hope everyone reading this is healthy! also, important update: the first part of just a call away has been postponed until this monday (i originally expected it to be posted tomorrow but i’ve hardly been able to work on it at all). enjoy!

word count: 2.3k ;)

music recs:

permanent tags:  @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn

tags for mirror, mirror:  @theres-a-dog-outside-omg​ @mey-rapp @kaibie @blackpinkdolan @sugarbby99

“Rena, I am going to kill you!” 

Y/N’s roommate looked up, the fear of Merlin struck into her eyes. The Transfiguration study guide in front of her lay entirely forgotten as she watched her friend slam the door and flop on the bed. “Oh?”

Y/N flung off her robe and tossed it on the floor. “When were you gonna tell me that you talked to Malfoy about me?” 

Her roommate narrowed her eyes, leaning forward in her chair and propping her chin up on her hand. “What are you talking about? He approached me and asked if you knew what the mirror was. I said you did. That was it.”

The venom seeped out of Y/N’s expression as the realization crept in.

“Oh. Oh, Rena, I’m sorry. I had no idea. He told me that you told him ‘everything’.”

“And you took a Slytherin’s word? Malfoy’s word? Honestly, Y/N, you give me a headache.” Rena sent a gentle smile her way. “What happened? Did you tell him?”

A sour feeling crept into Y/N’s chest as the memory she had suppressed on the walk to her dorm surfaced like bile in her throat. The rest of their shift was tense at best and downright agonizing at worst. Malfoy was uncharacteristically quiet, wringing his hands over and over again and scratching the back of his neck when he exhausted his wrists. Y/N knew that she was bright red by the time that they said their goodbyes--which really wasn’t much of a goodbye, just an uncomfortable nod before they parted ways to their respective dormitories--and cursed the fact that their ending spot was right under a torch. 

She would much rather prefer him to just straight up tell her he wasn’t into her; however, she supposed he technically did, that week or so ago in the Great Hall when he had told her he wasn’t into Ravenclaws.

Maybe I’m the one that needs to pull back. Maybe I’m actually the git in this situation and I’m making Malfoy feel uncomfortable.

“Yeah. I did.”

“And?”

“That’s it. He doesn’t feel the same way.” The words left her mouth feeling like heavy lead, weighing her breath down.

Rena stood up from her chair, her face softening. “He said that?”

“He didn’t say anything, really.”

“Well that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the same way,” said her roommate. Her voice was painfully cheerful for Y/N. “Maybe he’s just nervous.”

Y/N offered a weak smile as she pulled her hair out of her ponytail and got up to rifle through her drawers to find something to sleep in. “It’s over, Rena. I don’t know why I’ve entertained this for so long. It wasn’t even a thing to begin with. I just want to go to bed.”

“All I’m saying is that he’s Malfoy, Y/N. I’ve literally never seen him flirt before in his life. I don’t think he knows how. Maybe he’s just being mean because he doesn’t know any other way?”

“I think I just want to stop thinking about it.” Y/N began changing into her nightclothes quickly with her back to Rena. “I want to go to bed and forgot about it and get my O on the Transfiguration exam tomorrow and just never think about rich daddy’s boys again. No matter how cute they look!”

Y/N tossed her old robes in her hamper, turning to Rena one more time with a blazing expression on her face that said I dare you to disagree.

“All I’m saying,” Rena said slowly, “Is that Malfoy didn’t seem like a total rat when he came up and asked me about you. It just seems strange that he would do that if he had no interest in you.”

“The only interest he has is in antagonizing me,” Y/N snapped. “He’s a class A git and I hate him.”

Rena raised an eyebrow, her expression slightly amused. “Whatever you say, Y/N. We can talk tomorrow morning. I think you need some sleep.”

oOo

Y/N’s dreams were torturous--just a loop, replaying over and over again, of her interactions with a certain Slytherin. She was dragged through her memories against her will, feeling the initial admiration of seeing him read in the courtyard for the first time, crumbling under the anxiety of their shift assignments, suffocating through the tension of their final meeting, reeling at the way his hair looked under the torch lights…

It was too much. She awoke with a pounding headache and a throat so sore that she may as well have swallowed a healthy spoonful of fire over the night. Her eyes hurt to open, like the edges of her eyelids had been lined with Dittany. 

“Merlin, Y/N, you look like shit.” A voice that sounded suspiciously like her roommate wafted from her right side, but she couldn’t be sure. “I’ve gotta get you to Madame Pomfrey.”

“Rena?” 

“Y/N?” 

If she hadn’t felt like she was toeing the line between the dead and the living she would’ve been sure that the tone in her roommate’s voice was tinged with amusement. She tried to croak something more out.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Rena cut in before she could try any harder. “I’ll be back in just a minute. Don’t try and get up, alright? You need your strength.”

Y/N nodded--or at least, she tried--and turned back into her pillow to sleep. A part of her mind registered that she had a Transfiguration exam today and then rounds that night with Malfoy, but as a cold bead of sweat ran down her spine, the thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind. He could wait. He’d already taken up her entire night by filling her dreams and she was not eager to see him again any time soon.

“Y/N?” The door creaked open and her roommate’s voice dragged her back to lucidity. “Hi girly. Can you walk?”

Y/N forced her eyes open and winced at the light filtering through the curtains. It was hardly light out, but the weak morning light sent pangs through her head. The heavy quilt that she had been burrowed under was lifted up off of her...and the shivers started.

Her entire body began shaking, her teeth clattering together so hard that she was afraid she would break them. She wondered if anyone had ever chipped their teeth from fever chills.

“Just swing your legs around the edge...yes, just like that…”

Rena’s hands held her shoulders with a firm grip as she shakily made her way to her feet, swaying slightly. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re absolutely shaking…”

“Mmmhmmm” was all Y/N had the sense to use as a reply.

“All you need to do is make it down the stairs. I can put you in a wheelchair and push you the rest of the way.”

“Love you,” Y/N mumbled as her friend guided her down the stairs. Even though she’d been walking up the stairs to her dorm for years, everything felt oddly foreign to her through her feverish haze.

“Love you t--whoa! Easy.” Rena caught Y/N from near demise as she almost missed a stair. “You’re almost there, doll. Just hold on a bit more.”

“I need you to....” find someone to cover my rounds tonight she tried to say, but the words caught on what felt like daggers in her throat as she felt the wall. 

“Focus on getting down the stairs,” Rena interrupted. “You can tell me once we’re on the way to Pomfrey’s.”

Finally, she made it down onto the last step and allowed herself to be guided into a seat. Exhausted from her trip, she slumped back in the chair and forgot about her request as she drifted back off into her feverish dreams.

This time, they were different. Instead of interactions that had actually happened, her brain took her through a different whirlwind of events. A flurry of sensations met her--a thumb dragging across her slightly parted lips, a chaste kiss placed on her neck, a hand softly squeezing hers, a warm breath fanning across her cheek, a pair of just barely blue eyes staring down at her with so much affection that her heart skipped, a rough hand shaking her shoulder, the sting of something pressing into her wrist (a wand, she thought absently), voices around her calling her name…

Her eyes shot open as she recoiled from a burst of unbearable cold across her chest. The ceiling of the infirmary wing greeted her. Her torso was wet, and once she cast her eyes down to the end of her bed, she could see why.

Madame Pomfrey stood next to Professor Trelawny and Headmaster Dumbledore, brandishing an empty bucket in her hand. 

“Thank goodness! She’s awake!”

Pomfrey sent Trelawny an irritated look as she rushed forth, muttering incantations and running diagnostic tests on Y/N’s body. 

“What...what happened?” she managed, trying to sit up.

“Stay down,” Pomfry commanded, turning to her nightstand to mix a concoction of various potion ingredients. 

“I just had the flu.”

Trelawny moved to the side of the bed to clasp her hand firmly in hers, a kind look in her loony eyes. “Miss Y/L/N, I’m afraid that wasn’t the case. You had an acute case of Dream Sickness. We’re lucky that you were able to wake up when you did. You’re even luckier that your roommate noticed and brought you down here.”

Y/N knitted her eyebrows together. “I’m sorry. Dream...what?”

“Dream Sickness,” the headmaster finished. “A very rare affliction that primarily affects the overthinkers in the wizarding community. Naturally, you Ravenclaws are at a higher risk than other students.”

“So who gave it to me?”

“No, dear,” said Trelawny. “It’s not contagious. It can happen to anyone, but it’s more common if you spent time around powerful magical artifacts. Have you?”

Y/N cringed at the thought. 

“Er...yes, I guess I have. I ran into the Mirror of Erised on one of my prefect rounds. I never lingered, though.”

“That would do it,” Dumbledore mused. “The mirror has a tendency of...inflaming emotions. I ought to locate it and put it in a safer place.”

“So I’m okay? I can go back to classes? I have a Transfiguration exam today, and I’d really like it if I could make it.”

“McGonagall’s Transfiguration exam, I presume?” he asked. 

“Yes. It’s later in the afternoon. I promise I’ll be careful!”

The adults beside her shared uncomfortable glances.

“Dear,” Trelawny began, “You’ve been here for two days.” 

The air was sucked out of her lungs as the realization kicked in. “But that’s impossible! I was only sleeping for a little bit. And I had rounds! How did I miss my rounds?”

Pomfrey seemed mildly sympathetic as she emptied the mixture she had been stirring into a crystal goblet and offered it to her. “It’s normal to be disoriented after a bout of Dream Sickness. Professor Flitwick is sure to understand the situation, and if he does not, I am willing to vouch for you. Now drink. You have some recovering to do.”

oOo

Rena Severjyn was always the confrontational type. It had been a shock to her as well as her family when she’d been sorted into Ravenclaw (with all the bookworms and the teachers’ pets, as her older brothers said to her) instead of Gryffindor, but she’d grown to love her house. Studying came more naturally than cliff-jumping, or whatever it was that Gryffindors did, but when it came down to it, she had no problem with telling someone off.

So when she ran across a deliciously alone Draco Malfoy reading in the courtyard, she had no trouble walking right up to him.

“Hey, arsehat.” She plopped down next to him as he started, nearly dropping the book on the gravel walkway. “We need to talk.”

“Severjyn,” he greeted, his tone even but his eyes flickering nervously. “Do you know where your roommate is? I had to do my rounds alone last night.”

“She’s in the hospital wing. But no matter. I want to know why you’re being such an intolerable prat to her.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly trying to cope with the fact that he was at a loss for words.

“Spit it out, Malfoy. I don’t have all day.”

“Is she okay? Did something happen to her?”

Rena rolled her eyes. “No, she just decided to spend more of her time around Pomfrey. Yes, something happened to her. She’ll be fine. You’re not answering my question.”

“I don’t understand.” The crease between his brow deepened with worry.

“She said she told you how she felt and you didn’t say anything about it!”

“I’m sorry. I just got nervous.”

“Are you dense?” Rena’s voice became shriller. “You told me yourself you fancied her, and you can’t even manage a measly ‘me too’? Even though you had the whole of fucking two hours to do it?”

A blush spread across his fair cheeks as he slammed his book closed and stood up. “It’s not that easy. You know it isn’t.”

“It’s never that easy. But she was able to do it, and you even told her that you weren’t into her! Honestly, I cannot believe you.”

“Please just…” Draco evaded eye contact, dropping his eyes to the floor and grinding his toes into the gravel. “Just leave me be. I promise I’ll talk to her once she’s better. Just don’t tell her, okay? I want to do this myself.”

Rena rolled her eyes. “You better.”

final a/n: finale is coming out soon! let me know what you thought :)

[yeet-me-dad-dy]

Dark Dealings

Warnings: Brief suicidal thoughts.

Summary: Arthur time is nearing its end, but perhaps he can buy himself some more time by making a deal.

Characters: Arthur Morgan

Words: 2,108

Arthur’s campfire glowed brightly in the darkness, illuminating his small camp nestled deep in the woods. He coughed and pulled his thin, ratty blanket tighter around his shoulders in an attempt to keep the cold off of his back. The night was warm and the fire was warmer, but Arthur was sick, and a chill had settled itself deep in the cowboy’s bones. 

The wind shifted and he was left sitting in the midst of a smoke cloud from the fire for only a brief moment. The cough that followed was ragged and harsh and left Arthur gasping for breath. He tried to ignore the splatters of crimson that soaked into the wool of his blanket. As he sat huddled on the cold ground, Arthur thought back on the past few months and how he ended up in this situation. He supposed he deserved it. He got sick from beating up an innocent man, after all.

When he first found out he was sick and had started to feel the effects of Tuberculosis, he had gone to the doctor to try and get help. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. Time went on and his illness progressed, and he found himself sharing words with a nun in Saint Denis. She offered a moment of peace and comfort, and Arthur left her presence feeling more at peace with his fate. He was going to die soon, and that was okay. He was ready for it. And then he met someone else, and it seemed that perhaps life wasn’t done with him just yet.

He was enjoying fishing a river north of Saint Denis, past the swamp, when a man about Dutch’s age wandered over. He himself had a fishing pole and asked Arthur if they could fish together. The cowboy agreed and the man cast his line. It wasn’t long before Arthur began to cough and the man turned to him, clearly concerned. He tried to play it down, but it was more than obvious that he was sick and not doing too well. Bloodshot eyes, a pallid complexion, and thin frame were all evidence enough.

“It’s just a little cold,” he tried to assure the man. “I’ll be right as rain in-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as another fit took over and he doubled over, hacking and coughing up blood. 

“You’re badly ill…” the man observed. 

Arthur couldn’t respond, he was too busy gasping for air. 

“You know…” the man continued, kneeling down next to Arthur, who had given up trying to stand and now sat, defeated, on the riverbank, his fishing pole forgotten. 

“There’s a man. A sort of… miracle worker,” the stranger told Arthur. “You know, I used to be paralyzed from the waist down. Had no feeling or movement in my legs, and look at me now. Riding, fishing, hunting. This man is a gift from god, I tell you. He healed me with a snap of his fingers.”

“Really…” Arthur regarded the man, incredulous.

“Yes, really,” the stranger confirmed. “Look, I have, uh…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black card. “This!” He handed the card to Arthur. “He told me to give it to anyone who looked in need of his services.” 

Arthur studied the card. It was made of sturdy black paper and written in shimmering crimson ink was an intricate rune of curved lines and strange symbols. 

After considering for a moment, he asked his new friend, “Where exactly can I find this miracle worker?”

The man nodded. “He’s all over the place, really. Saint Denis one day, Strawberry the next. I found him in a saloon in Valentine. Or… he found me. His schedule seems to take him everywhere, so… you might have to ask around a bit to try and see where you can catch him.”

Arthur chuckled dryly. “I aint sure I’ve got the time or the energy to be running around trying to find some mystery miracle worker.”

The cowboy’s reverie broke and he found himself back in front of his fire, shivering, a black card clutched tightly between his cold fingers. He regarded it once more, disappointment at the forefront of his mind. He wasn’t long for this world now… and he hadn’t been able to locate the man. He supposed this was how it was supposed to go. At least he would die in peace.

“You can be a very difficult man to find, Mister Morgan.”

Arthur turned as best he could to locate the owner of the deep voice that had sounded behind him. A man in a black shirt with sleeves rolled up and a rich-looking crimson vest stepped out of the darkness and strode up to Arthur, then settled himself on the ground to the cowboy’s left, in front of the fire. He outstretched his hands to warm them, not looking Arthur’s way.

“Can I help you?” Arthur asked hoarsely, though he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he already knew who this man was. 

“I hear you’ve been looking for me.”

Finally, he turned to regard Arthur. Whether it was the fever coursing through his veins, or a trick of the night shadows coupled with the roaring fire, Arthur didn’t know, but the man’s eyes were… strange. It was like blood swirling around in black ink, or perhaps red smoke in a dark void.

The man studied him with these otherworldly eyes and the chill that was already present in Arthur’s bones intensified tenfold. He shivered violently and turned his attention to the fire. He couldn’t stare into those eyes… he couldn’t hold that gaze that peered into his very soul.

“You, uh…” Arthur cleared his throat and tried to steady his nerves. “I was told that you could help me.”

From out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man nod.

“You have Tuberculosis,” the man stated plainly. “And you want me to heal you.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. “I was under the impression that you were a… a doctor… or somethin’.”

The stranger warmed his hands again. “Not a doctor no, but I can heal you. For a price.”

Of course there was a price. Arthur knew there would be.

“I have money,” he offered.

The man chuckled dryly. There was no humor behind that sound. No friendliness. It was cold.

“Your money means nothing to me. Normally, I would take your soul, but yours isn’t worth much to me.”

“My soul?” Arthur asked, taken aback.

“Yes, your soul.”

“What on earth would you want with my soul?”

“I don’t want your soul,” the man scoffed, and ran a hand through his black hair. “You see, I’m only interested in souls that can offer me something. Souls that have some benefit. Artists paint for me, musicians sing, chefs make me food, etcetera. You’re not particularly talented. All you’re good at is killing people and I can do that just fine on my own.”

Arthur gazed into the dancing orange flames, a heavy weight on his heart and disappointment more prominent in the forefront of his mind than before. He should have accepted by now that he was going to die, and perhaps to an extent he had, but there was still a pesky little flicker of hope urging him to hold on, begging him to keep trying. That flicker died as he sat here, talking to this “miracle worker”. He had nothing to offer this stranger, nothing to trade for his life.

“Perhaps…” the man’s voice brought him out of his jumbled thoughts, and Arthur spared a glance over to see him gazing into the same flames that he had found himself lost in.

“Would you consider yourself a good talker, Mister Morgan?” he asked, and Arthur found himself being drawn into the depths of those blood red eyes when the man’s gaze met his again.

He forced himself to look away, which was easy enough as a coughing fit hit and he curled in on himself, hacking up blood onto the dirt at his feet.

“Yes, you are a good talker, aren’t you?” the man continued. “You’re charming. People like you.”

There was a beat of silence where all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and Arthur’s ragged breathing. He was tired… so tired. If he closed his eyes for just a moment…

“No drifting off just yet.”

It was as if the man’s voice was in both ears and the back of his mind. His eyes flew open and he blinked a few times, then cleared his throat and dared to speak. His voice was quiet and hoarse, but he managed.

“I suppose I’m good at gettin’ people to trust me.”

“You are,” the man confirmed. Arthur didn’t know how he knew, but at this point he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask. Everything about this strange man screamed danger.

“I think perhaps you do have something to offer me after all.”

That annoying little flicker of hope rekindled then, but Arthur didn’t have the energy to pay it much mind. He chuckled dryly, which led to another coughing fit that left him clutching his ribs and gasping for even the tiniest shred of air that his ruined lungs could manage. He wasn't able to answer this time. He couldn’t. The stranger pushed himself to his feet and brushed his expensive-looking black jeans off, then turned to Arthur. The cowboy managed a glance up, and the angle with which the man was standing over him, uplit by the flickering fire, screamed PREDATOR. RUN. Arthur’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest, afraid that perhaps this man had decided to be “merciful” and tear him apart piece by piece instead of letting the sickness take him slowly. Instead, he crossed his arms.

“This is the deal, Mister Morgan, so pay attention. I heal you from any and all ailments, you’ll feel better than you ever have before, you’ll never get sick again, and all your wounds will heal, no matter how fatal. In return, anyone you find in your travels that looks like they could use my help, you send my way, just like that man sent you to me. You will do this until you eventually die. Understood?”

Arthur nodded. 

“Do we have a deal?”

The cowboy sighed, as deeply as he could without causing himself too much pain. This man was after souls. Arthur didn’t know if he even believed in souls, but sending innocent people to this stranger to have god-knows-what happen to them wasn’t exactly his idea of a fun time. He wasn’t a good man, sure, but he did his best not to be too horrible. He helped where he could and didn’t steal or murder unless he absolutely had to. Was damning people really worth his life? Did he want that on his conscience? 

Still, despite all this doubt and the tightness around his heart, Arthur found himself nodding. The stranger offered his hand, and the cowboy managed to reach over to shake it, albeit slowly. A stinging pain in the back of his hand made Arthur jerk away with a hiss. 

“It’s been a pleasure, Mister Morgan. We’ll meet again.”

Before Arthur could ask how exactly he was going to be healed, the man vanished. The ground was undisturbed where he sat, the chill that came with him had gone, and the sounds of the night animals returned. It was as if he had never been there in the first place, and Arthur may have thought that his illness-addled mind had just played a cruel trick on him if not for the burning on the back of his right hand and the black card still grasped in the other. 

Another coughing attack doubled him over and his world spun, black around the edges, as he nearly hacked up both of his lungs. He found himself lying on the hard dirt ground, in pain and unable to breathe, and he tossed the black card into the fire. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t even have the energy for that. At this point, he wished he was already dead. How much longer would he have to wait to finally be able to rest? How much longer would this misery drag out. He was of half a mind to end it right now, but his gun was just ever so slightly out of reach and he couldn’t bring himself to crawl over to grab it. Instead, he pulled his ratty blanket more tightly around him, closed his eyes, and fell into the black nothingness that was sleep.

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 9

Sweat covered her skin as the top of her head rocked against the trunk of Wesker's car. Every bump on the road jolted her body, rattling her clenched teeth. Cara felt suffocated in the plastic bag sticking to her skin with sweat. Wesker had insisted on no clothes, but at least he had the decency to turn around as she stripped fully before placing herself in this predicament. Not every girl who finds herself naked in the trunk of a car necessarily wished for it. Yes, she had begged Wesker for help, but that did not mean she will raise the negative star rating for this shady transportation trip where she was cargo.

Wesker told her very little about where they were going. In fact, he did not speak the whole way. She really hoped he hadn't forgotten about her. Her eyes kept drifting closed only to blink wide as the dispatcher spoke over the police radio. "Calling all available units. Hostage situation at Bernard 667. Back-up needed."

"Looks like I'll have to leave you with my contact. I am needed back at work," Wesker said, keeping his eyes on the dark road. It was bad timing, but he was forced to keep up pretenses. He will simply have to trust his contact to take care of things.

Cara recognized it as a street on the less fortunate side of town, a bank not two blocks from her apartment building. Something like this should not be unusual on that side of town, but there had been a massive decline in criminal activity in the city for years.... until now. Cara hoped this was a one-time thing and did not mean something larger. She asked nothing about who the contact was, knowing questions are often useless with Wesker.

The drive felt like an eternity, a suffocating one. Her motion sickness came in waves, crashing into her with powerful currents before receding. She dry heaved several times, but her stomach was emptied long before she entered the car. She was exhausted and dehydrated. Her muscles moved weakly, barely holding her up as she lay on her side.

Soon the gravel road became smoother and less bumpy as Wesker pulled into the garage of a house on the outskirts of Raccoon City. The doors slid shut after them, keeping out the only light in the space. Wesker did not exit the car nor turned off the car's ignition. Two men marched straight for the trunk and dragged a bewildered Cara out. To Wesker, she resembled a cat who was about to be thrown into a bath. It was a delicious sight he enjoyed behind his shades.

Cara pushed and shoved, feeling unfamiliar hands lifting her body as soon as the trunk opened. The darkened garage made it hard to discern the tools pinned to the walls or much of the men's faces. Her muscles tightened as she struggled to plant her feet on the ground. But no matter how hard her aching muscles fought, more hands griped her, restraining her movement. Catching Wesker's glare in the rear-view mirror, she froze. His eyes weren't reassuring nor held a touch of warmth. They threatened her, arresting her screams into muffled whines that barely left her lips. She looked away immediately, reminded by the amount of power he had over her life...and when it was time to die. The struggle left her, and she allowed the men to take her inside the home. No sooner did the door shut behind them did the car drive off. Swallowing the thickness in her throat, Cara's only wished to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Cara was led into the center of a pale white room with no furniture or windows. Before she could ask about where she was, a high-pressured hose blasted her with ice-cold water with a bruising force. She was left coughing, lips trembling as she weakly cried, "p-please s-stop."

No matter where she cowered in the small room, the water would still blast her. There was nothing to hid behind. She had only her hands to shield herself, but that could only do so much.

They didn't stop, only switching to blasting her with a strong-smelling chemical that had her eyes burn before it even made contact with them. Someone came in and scrubbed her nails, cutting them so close to the nail beds that they bled. Chemicals were forced into her mouth, and she was ordered to gargle but instead choked, burning her lungs. She soon realized she was being disinfected from all evidence of the day that lingered on her body. By the end of the ordeal, she felt as if she had lost layers of skin, standing naked, huddled, and shivering. By the time they were satisfied, her hair was rough and brittle, reddened skin scrubbed raw, not having enjoyed such a rough spa day.

Only at the end did they bandage her up, using the least noticeable means. A powerful ointment was evenly spread on the bump on her temple, already bringing the swelling down within hours. The bandages were very close to her skin tone. Strangers and possibly friends may not give it a second glance.

They coached her on what to say and do as a cover-up, a very aggressive acting lesson she would never forget. They created a story for her, drilling it into her mind. she felt like she was being forced to sign a false statement during an intensive interrogation. They didn't hurt her physically, but their words shattered the edges of her sanity.

The cover story was that Cara and Rick went for a hike in the Arkley forest. They had a good time and split ways just before evening. Cara had to go babysitting while Rick got a call from his dad, asking him to drive to the next town for a meet-up. His parents lived apart, divorced for several years. This was nothing new. Rick met his dad all the time behind his mom's back. He took the car and drove off, and that was the last time she saw him. Cara's alibi was that she was watching over Sherry for the Birkin’s. This was the story she was told to feed her friends and anyone who cared to ask. They assured her that the likelihood of any police officers approaching her with questions was low. They had people on all levels of the police force.

Given an ill-fitting pair of jeans and a dark sweater, she was again in the trunk of another car with no clue of the destination. She didn't realize she dozed off until the trunk popped open, and she was roughly shaken awake. Unfocused eyes blinked against the bright light before focusing on her surroundings. She recognized Wesker's garage, feeling a ting of relief at the familiar surroundings before more uncertainty filled her.

Stepping out of the car on shaky legs, Cara almost fell but held onto the car for dear life. As soon as she was no longer behind the car, it pulled out of the garage, silently driving off. She stood frozen, numbly staring even after the car was gone and the garage doors slid shut.

In a trance, her feet carried her inside, roaming through the home only to find it empty. Despite knowing Wesker had to go back to work, she half expected him to be home waiting for her. she felt as if she had been with those people for years, but it likely had been only a couple of hours. The only sound was the pitter-patter of her feet and her occasional sighs.

She sat on the living room couch, her back straight and her hands folded on her lap. Blankly she stared at the TV's pitch blackness, and what began as a tiny giggle became full-blown hysterical laughter and sobbing. Her reflection on the TV was the funniest joke she had ever seen.

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By the time Wesker had arrived, STARS had already infiltrated the bank neutralizing all but one robber. Wesker tsked, leaning against his car with a frown. Behind his shades, his eyes burned into the vehicles used by the STARS members.

They should have had everything under control hours ago. Wesker admits he may have been too lax on them the past few days due to a... particular distraction. Hating the inferior desire to justify failure with excuses for the incapability of his squad to take care of such a minor incident, he promised himself to go harsher on them.

While he usually had his emotions under control, he couldn't help but tap his foot, arms crossed. He wanted to check on Cara. The Robins were affiliated with Umbrella, and they weren't known for being tender with kids. Umbrella rathered, silencing than keeping silent. It was much easier to kill the loose ends. Still, Umbrella did employ the Robins' cleaning services from time to time.

If Cara wanted to survive in this world, she would have to endure and continue to endure. It would be a fun game to see whether she would leave his house and try to run. He loved cornering her, watching as she helplessly looked for an escape.

Forcing his thoughts to the present situation, Wesker gave an unkind smile. Several fools made the mistake of thinking that such a peaceful town had no way of protecting itself. All they likely saw was a city belonging to no other criminal organization, a free turf for them to set up shop for their business. With the misconception of an underfunded police department, they were too blind to see the monsters lurking in the deep waters they jumped into. No lifeguard could save them now. They were already dead. Wesker smirked, already knowing which potential project he will 'volunteer' them for.

His smirk disappeared as he glanced down at his watch, realizing his team took yet another ten minutes to do the job. This incompetent behavior was wearing him thin. Tomorrow they will pay for this, first thing in the morning.

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Wesker didn't have to look very hard to find Cara. His eyes were drawn to her as soon as he stepped into the living room. Plopping down beside her on the couch, Wesker placed an arm on the back of the couch behind her. He regarded her with a knowing look, "Rough night?"

"Sherry was wild today. Running after her was exhausting." without looking his way, she answered in a practiced voice, already using what she was forced to learn. she could almost feel them breathing down her neck, waiting for a single slip of the tongue to put a bullet between her eyes. "Some boy tried to kiss her at the school playground, and she didn't like it. she was very upset took it out on me."

"Someone most definitely taught that boy a lesson, didn't they, dearheart?" he glanced at her with a knowing look.

"He definitely won't ever try that again. His lesson was too real." her voice grim, eyes cast on the ground. She brought her knees to her chest and hugged them, resting her chin on top. She couldn't help but shiver, feeling the room lose a few degrees.

"Kids these days need better parenting, thinking they are entitled to everything only because their parents made them believe they are special. Every year, I am forced to entertain pathetic, talentless children at the annual school field trip to the police station. It's ridiculous how many of them simply believe they are cut out to be police officers simply by wanting it."

"That’s a dark outlook, especially from a dirty cop. You're not exactly a model officer." she couldn't help but smile. Oh the irony.

"Contrary to what you believe, I do my job too well. Except for tonight, offenders have either been dealt with or they up and left the city to work elsewhere. We don't leave a single crack for them to even dream of continuing operations. I created and trained a team of the best there is, and if it wasn't for them, the hostage situation would have ended very differently tonight."

"Did anyone get hurt?" she whispered, dreading the answer despite how everything that happened today. She still felt worried for Chris. He was all Claire had.

"Only those who deserved to," with a gloved finger under her chin, Wesker lifted her head to meet his eyes. His words struck Cara deeply, stealing her breath. She knew he wasn't talking about STARS. He meant Rick.

"But that's-" a gloved finger pressed against her lips.

"If it still bothers you, I can hug it all better." flames lit Cara's cheeks that even the faint glow of the living room couldn't hope to shield it from Wesker. He never misses any details, no matter how minute.

"N-no! That's not necessary." she stuttered, jumping to her feet.

"You're a mess. Come here." a firm tug on Cara's wrist pulled her against him. She pushed against his chest, trying to get off as his arms encircled her. She tried her best not to get distracted by the feeling of Wesker's muscles against her hands. His body wrapped her in warmth.

"Let go. I don't need a hug," Cara snapped, her voice embarrassingly weak and breathless.

"Did you say something, dearheart? I cannot hear anything over the pounding of your heart. It's almost going 90 a minute. tell me, what's the matter."

"Why do you have to be like this?"

"You mean supportive? Attentive? comforting?"

"How is this supportive? You're just messing with me." having been freezing cold for most of the night, this tiny bit of warmth allowed her endless comfort. After everything that happened today, she could use something as simple as a hug- even if it was from a well-dressed serial killer. It's not like she was innocent anymore. Her right to judge him is long gone. She sighed, releasing all the tension from her muscles as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Just don't complain that I'm too heavy. remember, you offered me."

With his hand tracing strokes over her back, several minutes of silence passed, neither of them changing positions. Cara's heart left the race, taking a rest from the overdrive. As much as she wanted to deny it, she liked how Wesker held her, touched her. No one had ever treated her like this before. She insisted these strange feelings and ideas were due to being in a state of vulnerability thanks to tonight's events. Wesker came to her in her moment of weakness. That had to be it. With that as an excuse, she snuggled even closer, savoring the scent of his cologne.

"I thought you were above skipping school to hook up with boys." he just had to ruin the moment. Cara did not miss the way his arms tightened around her, fully noting how his muscles shifted. What was his problem, she wondered? Was Wesker worried she would spill everything to some guy?

"I... I thought he was my friend.”

"Do not repeat this mistake. Everyone has their secrets. You can't ever know someone well enough to fully predict their every move."

"Ok, ok. I learned my lesson. No going to the woods alone with boys. I'll keep to the public spaces." Cara rolled her eyes, the last thing she needed tonight was a lecture on what she already knew.

"That won't do either."

"What? Am I supposed to quit dating just because of one super horrible date?" Cara pouted, crossing her arms as she glared at him.

"You forget your life is in my hands." Cara found his excuse ridiculous. He had no good reason to control her social life. She didn't go and run her mouth to anyone about what she saw, so why did he think he had the right to meddle in her affairs?

"Yeah, you like to remind me very often."

"Only because you seem to forget,"

"I think it's time I went home," she said, untangling herself with surprisingly no resistance from him. he let her slide off his lap, following her as she not so subtly rushed to the door. She was half expecting him to wrap a hand around her throat and end it all.

Before Cara could open the door, she was pressed against it. His arms caged her as she felt every contour of his body against hers. Her heart thundered in her ears, heat rising to color her cheeks before taking a detour to pool between her legs. Her body betrayed her, responding to the touch of a serial killer.

"You'll likely be needing a new place to live soon," he whispered in her ear, lips brushing her skin like velvet.

"What?" she asked dumbly, unable to entirely focus on his words with the way he leaned into her.

"How are your parents doing?" it was like an bucket of ice was poured over her head. She furrowed her brows, not knowing where he was taking the conversation.

"They're...fine. Keeping busy...somewhere," Cara lied, biting her tongue. But was it a lie? There wasn't all that much reason for them to be hurt. Wherever they went its was probably safer than here.

"If you see them, tell them I said hello," he said, stepping back.

Cara had to lean against the door to stop herself from sliding down, her knees shaky, her mind troubled by all these cues.

Why would he say 'if' rather than 'when' she would see them? Did he know something he wasn't letting on?

Why was he being so confusing? One minute he was cold, threatening, abandoning her with those horrible people and the next he was trying to hug her, stealing touches at every chance.

She just needed to get back home, there she could think more clearly.

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That night, Cara slept in her parent's bedroom, surrounded by their fading scent. Despite everything her parents did to her, she felt comforted on their bed, like a kid again on an overly large bed. A kid who knew nothing of the world's cruelty. A kid who did not have to kill for survival.

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M

Read on AO3 and FFN

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay, guy, life has been busy. School has started back up so between work, my grandfather's death on October 1st, and just writer's block in general, I haven't been myself. Due to this absence, I'm not sure if things have been forgotten so a quick recap if you will:

Dracula finds a gravely sick Agatha, kidnaps her and takes her to his castle, he cares for her but there is a lot of fighting, eventually sex ensues and with that comes feelings. Eventually, Agatha admits her feelings to the Count but when he doesn't immediately reciprocate, she decides to kill him. Things don't go as planned and Agatha makes the "wise" decision to leave the castle. This decision causes her to become mortally wounded in an accident. Dracula realizes the error in his ways and goes out searching and finds her near death. Admits his love for her and she, now satisfied, gives him permission to turn her. That's where we left off! Enjoy! Feedback/reblogs/comments what not greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

                                             Chapter Eleven

The dead don't dream. At least, that was what she decided to call this current state she was in. A dream. An unconscious state of sorts where reality was all but a hallucination. Agatha found herself standing, not even remembering getting up from where she lay dying on the rocks below. She might as well have materialized into that position. Gone was her blood and with it the snow and ice. All that remained was a foggy wall that surrounded her. Seemed to hold her caged as she tried to find her bearings.

For the briefest of moments, the former nun thought she was alone. Left only to her thoughts and silence. Her mouth opened to call out to someone, anyone, but not a word escaped. Instead, something began to form in her peripheral vision. Dark masses growing into familiar silhouettes. And soon Agatha found herself staring back at the literal ghosts of her past.

Mother Superior and her fellow sisters faced her from afar, their looks still and unreadable. Like her, no longer did they represent their final moments. The signs of their massacre gone. They merely stared, habits dancing by an unseen wind. Though it was not vocalized, she knew their judgement. What they surely thought of her. But as Agatha attempted to address them, the women faded away and a new form began.

He stood there a few meters away from her in the cover of the mist. His ancient face twisted into a look of pure hatred. Disgust. A knowing expression of disappointment that held the very meaning of the betrayal. This phantom image of Abraham her mind had created. A final vision as she cut the ties to her Van Helsing name. To mortality. As the apparition of her late grandfather began to disappear, so too the last thrums of her beating heart.

Agatha remained there in the darkness, in the threat of the void that seemed to want to swallow her whole. But just as the shadows reached out towards her, readying to drag her down, a familiar figure appeared. Their eyes met and shared a knowing glance. No longer was there distrust or ill-intent. No. There was kindness. Tenderness. And as Dracula moved closer, the blackness seemed to fade.

Agatha.

It was his voice calling to her, but his lips weren't moving. Agatha watched him perplexed, almost amused. The words echoed around her as if they were in a cave. She couldn't quite explain it, but it was him. Not some mere trick of her imagination.

Agatha. Wake up.

He was so close now. So close that if he wanted to, he could touch her. But the noise was growing louder and the former nun felt oddly light. When she tried to open her mouth to reply, no words escaped. The vampire smiled as the world around them began to slowly crumble away, disintegrating the plane between life and death.

Agatha, it's time to wake up.

Earth. Some sort of wood, perhaps cherry or magnolia. The more exclusive of materials. It was odd how she could identify that. It was certainly not pine. Her eyes flickered open and though it was dark, she could still clearly see the figure looming over her. The distinct features of his face. He was smiling down at her, but it was far from malicious. Warm, Relief. And she found herself returning the expression, feeling as if she had just woken up from a really long nap.

"Welcome back, Agatha Van Helsing." Dracula greeted, a hand reaching down to touch one of hers. "To the world of the undead."

"So it worked then?" His lover replied. "I'm not dead?"

"The formalities of what one would consider as deceased are rather...skewed, but yes, you are as much as a vampire as I am." The former nun's eyes narrowed, but the somewhat tired smile still etched itself across her pale features. "What?"

"I'm in a coffin aren't I?" She stated, turning her head to either side to inspect her surroundings. "Yours, if I'm not mistaken."

"Ours," he corrected. "With a few modifications, it will suit us better that way."

"I think I prefer my bed upstairs." The former nun smirked as she slowly sat up, gripping onto the Count's hands as she did. Dirty fell from the locks of her hair, and the few clumps of something that clung still she assumed were due to dried blood. But no longer was she in any sort of pain. "I'm rather dirty."

"Physically or mentally?" His joke got him a disapproving look. "Yes, I realize you didn't exactly wake up to being perfectly clean. After we were out there and I...well, you needed your rest. And I didn't want to risk altering things by dolling you up during the transformation."

She nodded as she gave herself a look over. Tattered clothes from torn branches. Though, all of her wounds had healed. Just the mess of old blood and dirt remained, a reminder of sorts of what occurred. Slowly, she brought her fingers to her neck and touched the telling indents. Dracula's eyes followed her as Agatha gently massaged the spot.

"Does it bother you?" There was genuine concern in his tone. "

"No." She shook her head. "It's just...funny."

He cocked a brow in confusion. "Funny? How so?"

Agatha thought for a moment, a thoughtful smile still playing on her face. "Never mind." She assured him. "If you don't mind, I'd rather like to clean up now." The woman paused, seeming to consider her next words carefully. "You are welcome to join me. I might require some assistance."

The concern left the vampire's face as his clawed fingers interlocked with her own. "It would be a pleasure." He assured her. "Shall we?"

                                                           XXX

The cool water ran a rusty brown as it trailed down her bare skin in rivulets. Despite the barely tepid temperature, she was not bothered by it. A perk of being a vampire she supposed. Though she had no need to, she still closed her eyes and inhaled as Dracula fingers ran through her hair, unknotting her messy locks until they were free once more. She smelled something sweet. Floral. Lavender perhaps? He must've infused the water with something-a gesture she did appreciate.

"You're quiet." She commented as his hands traveled to the small of her back. "That's rather unusual for you."

"It's been a rather unusual day." He replied, working the cloth against her skin. "You almost died. Permanently."

"And you said you loved me." The former nun countered. "Just as permanently, I hope."

His strong arms wrapped around her waist and Agatha's unneeded breath hitched in her throat. "Forgive me." The vampire murmured, words tickling her ear. "I suppose I wasn't as blunt in the beginning as I should've been."

"...I suppose I too should somewhat be apologetic." She smiled softly, turning so that they were face to face. "Maybe my actions were a bit...overdramatic." Agatha's fingers traced against his chest. "No matter. We have all the time in the world to figure things out, don't we?"

"Yes." Her lover agreed. "That we very much do." Reaching over, the vampire retrieved a clean towel from a bronze hook. "Come, let's get you dressed. As much as I love you like this, there is much to discuss." Dracula pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "We'll return to this later."

                                                       XXX

Her tongue ran against the bottom of her teeth, feeling the smooth, porcelain enamel that had yet to present itself as fangs. Even though she was a newborn, Agatha hadn't felt that overpowering urge to feed. She couldn't help but wonder if that was normal. This delay in blood thirst. And to think she had so many questions about vampiric nature while was still human. It was almost laughable.

"You look positively radiant by the fire light."

Dracula eyed her from the entrance way, a small plastered across his face. In just a few strides, the man stood before her. Tenderly, he tilted her chin up as if to study her features like a jeweler examining a rare gem.

"Seeing as my heart is no longer pumping blood and causing natural circulation, I suppose I need some source to brighten my features." The former nun smirked, eyes locking on his. "Thank you for the compliment."

"I have far, far more where that came from..." Her mate promised, touching his forehead to hers. "How are you feeling?" The warmth in his expression seemed to change to one of concern as he spoke. "Are you...adjusting fine?"

"I suppose as much as one can." She replied with a small smile. "Though, I really don't have much to go on seeing as I've never experienced a transformation first hand myself…Rather, being the one who is changed." Agatha clarified quickly.

"You'll need to eat soon." Dracula commented, gazing into the fire's light. "First hunt's the most important."

"I do not plan to kill the innocent." Her words caused the other vampire to turn and face her. "There must be other ways to exist or extract blood without harming the lives of humans."

"It doesn't work like that, Agatha." Her lover replied with a small frown. "Our species is different. We don't have the choice of eating just meat or vegetables or substitutions of any sort. We require blood. Human blood at that. And as distasteful as it may sound to you now, you haven't really the choice."

"There is always a choice." The woman countered, arms folded across her chest. "And if I must muster up the will-power and strength to find it, I shall. But I simply won't conform to your standards and murder because I need to. A cow is different from a human. They aren't as complex. They don't think. Don't have complicated lives, loved ones like people do."

"I almost lost you, must we seriously get into a disagreement now?" The vampire sighed, massaging his temples. "Blood is lives, Agatha. And now, it will become your life just as much as it has become part of mine." He went to rest his hands on her shoulders, but she stepped back. "Give it a chance, Agatha. I promise, you'll adjust far easier than you think."

"If you truly love me, you'll help me come up with a better solution." Agatha replied firmly, still hellbent on her good ways. "There must be another way." She ignored the expression of irritation that sat fixed across his features. "You've proven yourself to me before, Count Dracula. I have faith, though it may be perhaps little now, you can do so again."

"Your stubbornness has followed you into this new life, I see." Dracula grumbled, clearly perturbed that the former nun was still set on her ways. After everything they'd gone through together. "Why must you make things so difficult?"

"There will be no killing on my end." Agatha repeated, standing her ground. Once more she ran her tongue across her smooth teeth, her fangs yet to show despite the small growl that emanated from the pit of her stomach. "Those are my terms."

Dracula was silent for a moment. "You are making things quite difficult. None of my brides were ever this...picky…"

"Do you consider me to be one of your brides then?" Agatha inquired with a cocked brow.

"...No." Came his response after a long pause. "...I consider you to be quite, quite more."

Neither spoke after he uttered those words, a pregnant pause left between them. Then Agatha stepped forward and touched his cool cheek with her equally cool hand. His gazed back into the blues of her eyes with his dark ones. Love was merely a construct, he had convinced himself long ago. And yet, now where he stood, it seemed quite the opposite.

"I can make no promises nor can I say I can do much more than try." He replied quietly. "But for you, I will look into more humane ways. But if I cannot find such things, you must swear to me that you will feed from whomever no matter the costs."

Agatha pursed her lips but said nothing. Dracula nodded his head knowing full well this was going to be a mere impossible task. After centuries of feeding on only humans, how was he to know of any sort of substitutes? But he just got Agatha back. Just confessed his feelings. And for her, if he could, he'd offer her the world and whatever with it.

"I believe in you." Agatha stated, pulling the man from his thoughts. "Find it in yourself to do the same."

A statement, he would not admit allowed, that was easier said than done.

[wordsablaze]

Unspoken

If there's one thing Jaskier truly has in life, it's his ability to use words. And although he knows there are a lot of things that can comfortably go unspoken, he himself is not one of them; without his words, Jaskier would be all but unborn.

A/N: this is my 100th fanfic, which is just crazy, and i think jaskier deserves to be the focus of this milestone as he's inspired so much of my writing lately, so here's a whole lotta lowercase angst <3

-

jaskier is unborn

and he is unspoken

because his parents had never considered having a child, never considered even being capable of having a child

but none of them have a choice in the matter because he is destined to be brought into the world and it is finally his time.

.

jaskier is born

and he is quiet murmurs

because that’s all his mother and father can afford in fear of being discovered or captured or imprisoned

and because they know that they will never be able to give their child a life worthy of how precious he is to them.

.

jaskier is one

and he is intermittent wails

because babies need endless love but his parents are far too busy trying not to be caught to give enough of it to him,

because all he wants is to be heard and held and helped but more often than not, he is simply hushed in fear of being hunted.

.

jaskier is two

and he is monosyllabic mumbles

because he knows that the women around him aren’t his parents but he doesn’t know who exactly they are

and he wants to ask them but they don’t understand and they keep distracting him with food and music and he so easily forgets his questions.

.

jaskier is three

and he is hushed mutterings

because he is trying so hard to talk just like everyone around him

but all they do is tell him to be quiet, to make sure nobody is disturbed by him, to act as if he is a grown up and not an annoying child.

.

jaskier is four

and he is excited shouts

because he is young and wild and he is learning so much about the world and its beauty

even if people are constantly telling him not to make a mess or cause a fuss or generally remind anyone of the wilderness steadily growing inside him.

.

jaskier is five

and he is bold questions

because he runs off and finds a man who holds wood but makes sound and he is so, so excited to learn how to do the same

but then someone else finds him and all he is left asking is why his mother and father won’t let him go outside.

.

jaskier is six

and he is hidden cries

because no, he can’t have an extra bread roll for after dinner and no, he can’t take another slice of cake for the new friend he’s not supposed to have,

and he is so sad about it but he knows that being heard is only going to make things worse.

.

jaskier is seven

and he is confused moans

because his head aches and his stomach burns and his eyes hurt and he doesn’t know what’s happening

but nobody tells him that he was ill until after he’s recovered because they’d all thought he was dying and hadn’t seen the point in wasting their time on him.

.

jaskier is eight

and he is angry yells

because he wants to go and see the girl with the instruments but his teachers keep telling him he needs to learn about his history instead

and he really doesn’t see the point in learning about dead people when the ones he can see from the window make him feel so alive.

.

jaskier is nine

and he is wistful demands

because he really does want to play with his siblings like everyone keeps telling him to

but none of them want to play with him in return and he doesn’t know what he’s meant to do about that.

.

jaskier is ten

and he is unapologetic arguments

because all he wants to do is play his lute but his mother keeps telling him he shouldn’t

and his father looks at him as if he’s become a monster when he says he doesn’t want to be like everyone else in their boring house.

.

jaskier is eleven

and he is desperate pleas

because he has heard about the harsh ways of temple schools and he doesn’t want to go

even though a small part of him thinks it might be better than being forced to act like some kind of decoration in order to always please their guests.

.

jaskier is twelve

and he is hesitant singing

because he loves figuring out how to match his music to the words in his head that beg to be written out on paper

but it seems that other boys just want to learn about the deadliest weapons and he’s not very good at those if his numerous trips to healers have anything to say about it.

.

jaskier is thirteen

and he is stifled sobs

because sometimes learning is painful and not learning fast enough is even more painful

and being quiet when getting punished is apparently just another thing that he has to learn if he wants to do well in life.

.

jaskier is fourteen

and he is snide remarks

because his words are the only defence he has and he’s not about to back down from any kind of fight

even if that means the tears his opponents may shed are met with blood on his end, even if that means he also has to get used to running and hiding.

.

jaskier is fifteen

and he is careless laughter

because his musical skills give him freedom, the only kind of freedom he truly has and can ever have,

and he no longer wants to waste his time competing with his classmates when there’s a world of adventure out there, waiting to be claimed.

.

jaskier is sixteen

and he is anguished sighs

because the boy he so foolishly gave his heart to has left him behind for someone who was less of a nuisance

but he doesn’t understand what he’d done wrong and he can’t share his sadness with anyone lest they make fun of him.

.

jaskier is seventeen

and he is poetic lies

because he needs to leave and he needs to leave as soon as possible and he has learned the hard way that truth gets him nowhere

so he builds himself a falsehood and he abandons nobility without a second thought, without even once looking back.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is optimistic narrations

because the world can be rather plain and it takes time to convince people that there’s more to life than simply getting by

but it’s not an easy task and being pessimistic would essentially be the equivalent of giving up before truly beginning.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is flirtatious compliments

because more often than not, his audiences find his performance appealing for more than one reason

and if it puts a roof over his head or gives him ideas for new ballads, then he really doesn’t mind the different kinds of attention he receives.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is awkward observations

because there is a beautiful witcher in his tavern and he wants nothing more than to get to know him

even if that means embarrassing himself in the process of gaining both bruises and a consistent friend.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is ambitious vows

because he has learnt that the tales of witchers from his teachers were all wrong and he can’t stop himself from needing to fix that,

no matter how many times they have to be thrown out of taverns and towns in the process.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is relentless ramblings

because geralt has something of an allergy to words and rarely replies with more than half a sentence

but he doesn’t mind because he finally has the chance to talk and talk and talk without being locked away inside a room too small to contain all of his thoughts.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is muffled screams

because gods does it hurt to be hit or stung or bitten or scratched by their latest contracts, but he doesn’t want to alarm geralt or slow him down

and he’s well-versed in how to treat his own wounds thanks to everyone who tried to stop him from being himself in the past.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is midnight whispers

because witchers don’t think they’re loveable and he so dearly wants to change that

even if it means repeating himself over and over under the moonlight until he’s met with a small smile and given something like trust.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is isolated comments

because he knows he should no longer still be eighteen

but he is afraid that saying so to anyone else will result in him being at the wrong end of a witcher’s silver sword.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is exasperated groans

because yennefer might be beautiful but she is a beautiful sort of poison and he really wants nothing to do with her

but it’s just his luck that the man he loves wants everything to do with her, so much so that he all but ruins their lives because of it.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is mirthful jokes

because there is a powerful young princess who needs to be entertained and he is good at making bargains with even the sharpest of rulers

but even he is not brave enough to tell her what her grandmother wishes never to speak of so he sticks to just making sure she’s okay.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is pained curses

because it turns out dragons are so much more of a mess than he’d signed up for

and actually, he’d never signed up for them in the first place so losing his muse is one thing he shouldn’t actually blame on himself.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is hollow bargains

because he truly no longer cares what he has to trade in order to ensure he survives to see another day

and it really doesn’t matter to him what happens as long as he can carry on performing.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is unstoppable shrieks

because there is a merciless army out hunting for the people he spent so long loving

but they have little patience for his honesty and they have even less patience for the fabricated nonsense that spills from him when the agony becomes too loud.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is broken howls

because it hurts to inhale and it hurts to exhale and it hurts to even exist at all

and the worst part is that he knows he will be forgotten and he will never have been important and he will have failed.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is desperate babbling

because mages are far worse than he’d ever thought they could be and they have so many different  ways to break people

and in the end, the easiest way to break him is to take away the one thing he has left to lose, the one thing that makes him who he is.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is soft whimpers

because the information he would never reveal truly has no way of being made available anymore

and there is nothing left for him to do but wait for everyone to get bored of how useless he is to them.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is surprised breaths

because he had assumed he would die before seeing daylight again but he wakes up to three sets of very concerned eyes,

all of which never stop staring at him as if he is weak and fragile and nothing like the versions of him they didn’t want to keep.

.

jaskier is eighteen

and he is internal confessions

because he’s more than glad to know that the people he cares for are still alive

but his language of love has always been verbal and it turns out he can no longer speak it, or anything else for that matter.

.

jaskier is

and jaskier is not

for jaskier lost himself somewhere amidst being eighteen,

and jaskier has no words

so he has circled all the way back to being unborn

and he is forever

unspoken.

-

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier 

[judgmentofcorruption]

Episode 4–Farewell My Friend; Scene 3

Judgment of Corruption, pages 115-124

Gallerian’s injuries hadn’t completely healed up.

Rather than the wound from the bullet Shiro had fired at him, the frostbite had been more severe. It seemed he still couldn’t really move the pinky on his right hand.    

Gallerian was resting in ‘Lunaca Labora’ again today for the purpose of recovery.

Though, he wasn’t doing anything special in particular. He had just swallowed a medicine capsule that Ma had prepared for him and rubbed some clear gel on his finger. But according to Ma, these medicines were of a sort that couldn’t be refined at this facility. And Ma was the only one who could make them.

“I’m not a doctor, so I don’t understand all of it. –However, you’ll probably never be able to use that finger again,” Ma had told him, yet even so she continued to apply the medicine to give Gallerian at least a sliver of hope.

Though he couldn’t move his pinkie, he could at least hold a pen.

That night, he was reading over something on a sheet of paper at the desk that had been set aside for him.

“—Don’t work too hard.”

Before he knew it, another man was in the room.

“Bruno. You came.”

“Yeah. I wanted to see how you were doing. How has it been living here?”

“Outside of it being inconvenient to head to other towns, it’s been alright.”

“You’re not in any position to be going outside much anyway. You need to be patient a little while longer—How are you for food? Have you been eating well?” Bruno said, bringing out a largish package. “I might not look it, but I’m quite skilled at cooking. I don’t know if it’ll suit your tastes, but I’ll make something for you now.”

“Ah…That’s very kind of you. But—"

Before Gallerian could finish speaking, a girl appeared from the opening in the space carrying a tray lined with food.

“Sorry to keep you waiting~ I’ve finished your supper.”

Bruno looked surprised at seeing her face. “Lady…Mira! What are you doing here—”

“Oh, Bruno. So you’re here. Good evening!”

“…You as well. –Hey, Gallerian.” Bruno walked up to Gallerian and whispered in his ear, “Why is she here in Lunaca Labora? Isn’t she Loki’s girlfriend!?”

“Yeah…She insisted on taking care of me. I figured I might as well let her.”

“Are you a fool?! If Loki gets wind of this, the plan will be ruined!”

“Mira won’t betray me. And her brother has promised to help us. –Mira’s already our ally.”

“…It’s not wise to be so trusting. Have you forgotten so soon that you were betrayed by your best friend?”

Dumbfounded, Bruno tossed the package he’d been carrying aside and sat down in a nearby chair.

Mira casually set some food down on the desk and turned to Bruno. “I made quite a bit—will you be having some, Bruno?”

“No, I—”

“You’re already here, join in. The herring quiche she makes is delicious.”

Thus urged by Gallerian, Bruno reluctantly nodded.

“Wait right there. I’ll go get some now.”

Mira happily passed through the opening and out the room.

“—How often does she come here?”

At Bruno’s question Gallerian replied, while continuing to write, “On days when she doesn’t meet Loki after work. Probably about two or three times a week.”

“Does she stay here?”

“Mira drives here by automobile, but even so it’s dangerous for a woman to be on the road at night alone.”

“A woman driving a car. I’m surprised.”

“You didn’t know?”

“She’s Loki’s girlfriend. Naturally I’ve seen her many times before, but I’ve never had an actual conversation with her.”

“Well, Mira is a daughter of the Yarera Zusco Conglomerate. She should at least be able to rate driving as one of her accomplishments, wouldn’t you think?”

“—You’ve been writing something for some time now…”

When Bruno asked his question, Gallerian stopped writing and turned to him.

“I’m preparing my bill of indictment. I have most of the information assembled here so I’m putting it all together. –I’ve also properly put in the details you wanted me to add, so relax.”

“Thank you. If you hadn’t I don’t think there would have been much point in having you work with us.”

“—I think now that I’ve heard all that, I have the gist of why you bear a grudge against the Freezises, Bruno.”

“…I don’t bear a grudge against them. I just want to stop their evil deeds.”

“To keep there from being any more victims like you, you mean?”

Bruno’s expression grew more severe. “…Who did you hear this from? Ma?”

“I didn’t hear anything from anyone. I was just able to put together a guess based on the contents of your complaint and your current circumstances.”

“You shouldn’t be drawing conclusions on someone like me based solely on a guess.”

“Then tell me the true version yourself.”

On seeing Gallerian’s gravely serious gaze as he pushed, Bruno made a resigned sigh.

“—I was born a slave. From a young age I worked for my master, a farmer, in the United States of Maistia alongside my parents, my older brothers, and my little sister. I can’t say we were happy, but we weren’t necessarily unhappy either. The work was hard, but at least our family was together, and we never had to worry about our next meal. But when I was twelve years old, our master fell on hard times and sold my family to the Freezis Conglomerate. …Our hell began from that point on.”

There was bitterness in Bruno’s eyes as he spoke.

“The Freezises are the largest trade organization in the United States of Maistia. So naturally my parents and siblings had hoped for better treatment. But the reality was the exact opposite. They thought of the Black Valkyrians who are native to Maista as little more than chattel. They furnished us with filthy shacks as small as animal pens, and worked us twenty-four hours a day—The fact of the matter is that the Freezises’ lofty achievements are comprised of the sacrifices of us Black Valkyrians. …And then, one day, I and my entire family were made to play in a ‘game’ with one of the Freezis Family’s sons.”

“…Loki?”

“That’s right. At the time he was a very young brat. About the same age as my sister, but he wore much nicer clothes and had a healthier complexion, probably because he was always eating good food. –We were set loose to run in a forest, and then made into prey for Loki’s ‘human hunt’. My little sister was the first one he shot. She was his first kill in his life. So, ghastly enough, my sister’s body was stuffed and put up in Loki’s room, where it remains to this day.”

“—This story makes me ill.”

“My parents and my older brothers were all killed as well. A child though he might have been, unarmed we had no hope of fighting back against someone with a gun. …I survived to the end, and as a “reward” I was elevated in status to being a butler of the Freezis Family. Despite that though, nothing really changed in how I was treated. On the contrary, you could say it got worse. There were several other Black Valkyria stewards like myself. But all of them had died off by the time I became an adult. Sometimes they would break down and die from overwork, and sometimes they would despair of their circumstances and kill themselves.”

“But…you managed to survive.”

“I just couldn’t let myself die. I knew that I had to find some way to live until the day when I could settle the score for my friends and family. During that time, little by little I made my preparations, and gained new friends. …The first one I met was Shiro Netsuma.”

“The woman who shot me.”

“Would you just forget that already? Ordinarily she’s a very kind girl. Even her shooting you was solely to save your life. –Shiro is a Netsuma. And you may know this already, but Netsuma are a race that’s always been discriminated against here in the Evillious region. Just as the Black Valkyrians are in Maistia.”

“So you two were able to sympathize with each other over your similar circumstances.”

Bruno faintly smiled at Gallerian’s words.

“Though, the way she was treated by the Freezis Conglomerate is far superior to how I’m treated. Surprisingly enough they’re quite hospitable to the Netsuma clan.”

“That’s because the Freezis Conglomerate has deep ties to the Sisters of Clarith. The founder of that organization was also a Netsuma, if memory serves.”

“Shiro was hired on as the bodyguard for Commander Freezis. Banking on her skill with a gun, you see. That she would promise to aid me despite being in such a position—they truly offended her sense of justice. After that, I quietly added Hel Jaakko and Feng Li to my group of allies.”

“Hel is a clerk for the conglomerate, and Feng is…a pet, wasn’t he?”

“Feng’s origins are fairly interesting. He was born in ‘Mukoku’ to the east.”

“’Mukoku’…Is that that legendary ‘nothing country’?”

“I think if you have a spare moment you should ask him about it next time you see him.”

“—There is one other, that fellow called Postman. The delivery person who doesn’t speak.”

“Ma brought them along. As for what kind of person Postman is…Frankly, I don’t know myself. They never say anything, so we can’t exactly talk about it. Well—I’m certain of their job at least.”

“How did you and Ma meet? I wouldn’t think there’s much that the Freezises’ butler and a screenwriter would have in common.”

Bruno had been quite loquacious up to this point, but when Gallerian said that his expression immediately grew conflicted.

“Well…That’s not really worth going over.”

“Whether you or Ma, you both clam up on the issue of your relationship. –You two wouldn’t happen to be dating, would you?”

“Absolutely not,” Bruno firmly denied.

“…Ah, whatever. Doesn’t look like I’ll get an answer out of you no matter how much questioning I do. Let’s change the subject. About this indictment here—” Gallerian showed the paper he was writing to Bruno. “Even if, for the sake of argument, I send this to the World Police, I don’t know if they’ll do anything. There is a very strong connection between the World Police and the Freezises. In the worst case scenario they may just crumple it up.”

“I know. That’s why—we’ll use the media. When you hand in your bill of indictment to the World Police, at the same time we’ll send a letter with the same contents to the newspapers and radio stations. The media may not lend an ear to a mere Maistians’ grievances, albeit… But the indictments of a man who’s an elite as a judge of the Dark Star Bureau, and was publicly thought dead to boot—the response would be different.”

“So if it’s reported on a broad scale, you’re saying that the World Police will have no choice but to take action.”

“Our biggest concern is whether or not Hanma Baldured will act according to our expectations. Hel has met with him several times already, but apparently he’s a hard man to read. Honestly the fastest method would be to have you act as the head judge, but—”

“The one making the lawsuit can’t work as the head judge for the trial.”

“That’s true. So ultimately the deciding factor is going to be how much money the Yarera Zusco Conglomerate is able to set forward. And how Hanma will act in response to it…”

“’Money is the best lawyer in hell’…so it goes.”

Mira returned with the food in her hand.

“Sorry for the wait! It took a little time to heat it back up. I don’t really know how to use the kitchen here…Alright, help yourself.”

“…Thank you very much.” After being handed the herring quiche, Bruno gave his thanks and then brought it to his mouth. “—It’s tasty.”

“Right?” Gallerian then butted in, grinning, “—Five days from now I’ll finish this indictment and head to the World Police. Is that alright?”

“Yes. We’ll have our preparations set in order by then.”

“Are you going to stay here today?”

“No, it wouldn’t be good for Loki to take issue with me for being absent. And—I feel I’d get in the way.” Bruno looked at both Gallerian and Mira’s faces and then got up from his seat. “I shall have the leftovers of my quiche on the way home. Well then—”

He scooped up the bundle that he’d carried in, put the quiche inside, and left.

Five days later, Gallerian sent the bill of indictment to the World Police as planned.

At the same time, his survival and the contents of his indictment were sent en masse to every media company.

Another day after that. Second Level Judicial Aide of the Dark Star Courthouse Loki Freezis was captured and arrested by the World Police.

The primary charges were “Attempted murder” of Gallerian at first, but later it was changed to “murder” in accordance with the contents of the indictment.

.

One month after that Loki was prosecuted, and made to receive trial at the Dark Star Courthouse.

The one acting as head judge was Hanma Baldured.

--About a whole year had passed since Gallerian was almost killed by Loki in the snow field.

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