#i’m planning on giving myself a little time before serious job hunting again after I move back home anyway

[chuuuvi]

How do people date while also having a job? I feel like I need to be unemployed to devote enough time to this. I’m becoming a “married to my work” person against my will.. i just don’t have the energy to fall in love T^T

[wearywinchester]

Accidents

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Even on the simplest of hunts, accidents happen.

Requested by Anonymous: "Don't hurt yourself again..."

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood, fluff, kissing

You let out a soft sigh as you slumped back against the seat of the Impala, quiet as you clutched your side. It ached and it burned across your ribs, wrapping around to your back in a way that made it hard to forget it was there. You were aware of the light splotches of a rosy red that stained through your shirt, something you covered with your jacket the moment you saw it. The less Dean knew, the better.

There was a lack of conversation as you drove down the road, one lined with plenty of trees for seemingly miles. The sun had since dipped down for the day, the sky a darkened shade of blues as the clouds started to roll in, the heightening breeze sifting through the half-open windows and it blew cool against your heated skin. There was a storm coming in, that was for sure. Queen played low on the radio, followed by Zeppelin, followed by Dean’s favorite song to sing when he gets the chance to, Cherry Pie.

He hadn’t sung it this time though, not really. You saw the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and the snort that sounded from his lips. You saw him turn the volume up a little and you heard him hum along to bits and pieces of the chorus, but he didn’t sing along just to see your eye roll and your inevitable smile. He didn’t do any of that this time, just hummed.

You didn’t know why, but you didn’t question it either as you wrapped your arms around yourself. You were too busy holding back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks in waves that came and went, the pressure behind your eyes remaining consistent. There wasn’t really anything to cry about, you knew that, but that didn’t stop your emotions from running in every direction and trying to get the best of you.

The hunt hadn’t gone terribly, having been cut and dry unlike most have been as of late, but you couldn’t help but think about the conversation you’d had right before it.

“Dean, why are you looking at me like that again?” You say, a huff leaving your lips as a knowing smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

“You know why,” he says, brow raised as he shuts the car door and purses his lips over the roof of the car at you before you meet at the trunk. “Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. Sam’s got a broken ankle back at Jodie’s, so we’re down a guy.”

You tilt your head to the side, that familiar smile still very much there on your lips.

“We’ll get the job done, Dean. We always do.” He rolls his eyes and lets out a chuckle that was only half humorous, shaking his head before returning his gaze back to you. You shift on your feet, arms crossing over your chest as you look up at him. “What? It’s true and you know it, Winchester.”

“Yeah I know it’s true,” he starts, tucking his gun in his belt before tugging his shirt back over it. “But that’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?”

His expression softens for a moment as a flash of vulnerability splays across his face before it hardens just a fraction to try and hide it, watching as he takes a step closer. Your gaze turns more curious by the second as your brows furrow, tipping your head back just a little more.

“Don’t hurt yourself again,” he says, quieter than before.

The sight of your smile has his eyes rolling and his lips pursing once more, those dimples appearing that you loved oh so much despite the fact that they reflected the discontent behind them. But your smile remained, if not widened some, a glimmer in your eyes that eased the tension in his shoulders just a bit.

“Is this your way of caring about me, Dean?” You ask, voice only holding a mere drop of teasing in it as you gaze up at him.

“I’m serious, Y/n/n,” he huffs, but you don’t miss the way he bites the inside of his cheek and inevitably fails at hiding his grin at your words.

“I know you are,” you say, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze as you lean on your toes and press a kiss to his cheek. When you drop back down to your heels you see the way he relaxes just a fraction, your hand dropping from his as you spin on your heel and walk ahead of him as he stands in place for a moment more. “I’ll try and be careful.”

You don’t see the smile on his lips in that moment, or the way it drops in favor of furrowed brows and parted lips as soon as he realizes what you said.

“What do you mean you’ll try?”

To be fair, you did try to be careful. You always tried to be, but it just didn’t work in your favor this time and now here you are, sitting in the Impala with a scrape who knows how bad on your ribs because you’d yet to look at it. You’d yet to even tell Dean about it and you wanted to keep it that way.

He’d walked away from that hunt with an angry red and purple bruise on his cheekbone, and a minor cut in his eyebrow. He was relieved with how simple the hunt had gone without the extra help of Sam and you weren’t about to ruin it by making him worry over an injury you told him you wouldn’t get.

The pain in your side was numbing, it was nagging and persistent, worsening with each rub of your shirt over it. It brought you discomfort that made it all the more difficult to sit still like you wanted to. You knew it couldn’t have been a big deal, not something to panic over. Because with a sly glance downward you’d noticed that the stain on your shirt had yet to get bigger than it was half an hour ago when you first caught a glimpse of it.

Your goal was to slip into the bathroom once you got back to Jodie’s, it was a fair excuse to say you’d wanted to take a shower. You could clean yourself up and stuff your dirtied shirt in your duffel bag and hope to get the stains out later. It was fool proof when you thought about it.

But not this time.

“So sweetheart?” He asks, breaking the near silence.

“Hm?”

It’s quiet for a few moments as you let out a soft sigh, hearing him clear his throat.

“When were you planning on telling me you got yourself hurt back there?” He asks, the knowing tone in his voice having you biting the inside of your cheek, turning your head to look at him.

He can feel your gaze, turning his head to meet it as he raises his brow and quirks the corner of his mouth up ever so slightly. It was a hint of a smile that stayed on his lips as he looked ahead once more, a smile that only held half its humor just to try and lighten the mood, to try and help distract himself from the anger and worry bubbling away in the very pit of his stomach.

He wasn’t blind to the way you’d been holding your side ever since the hunt was over, on and off. He saw the you-shaped dent in the wall from where that werewolf must have thrown you before he was able to step in. He saw what it looked like and he knew you better than to think you’d just get up and brush it off, he knew better than to believe that after that, you’d just get up without a scratch from it. Not with the very way your face scrunches ever so slightly when you move.

He knows.

Your lips purse and you heave a sigh, knowing full well you’d been caught. He figured you out and you knew he would.

“You get all broody, protective, tough guy on me, Dean!” You defend, your need to hide it quickly dissolving in that moment.

“Broody, protective, tough guy? The hell does that mean?” He asks, faux offense weaving around his every word as he turns onto Jodie’s street. “What do I look like, Incredible Hulk?”

“Yes, Dean. That’s exactly who you are. You frown and you huff the moment I get even just a little scratch,” you say, glancing over to see his narrowed gaze and pursed lips.

“So you admit you’re hurt?” You huff softly, turning to face forward as you bite your upper lip. He knows your silence all too well, that feeling that’s bubbling in his stomach moving closer to boiling over as he watches the way you clench your jaw. “Dammit, Y/n.”

He parked the car in her driveway, turning the headlights off before cutting the engine. You’re quick to get out despite the jolt of pain shooting around your side at the action, quiet to close the door because it was far too late for her or Sam to be up.

You know he’s not happy with the way you’re brushing things off, you can see it in the tension in his own jaw from anger that’s not quite directed at you as much as it is at the situation. You can see it in the way he watches you walk, cautious and a bit stiff and it only tightens the clench of his teeth as he waits for you by the door.

You went ahead and snagged the keys at some point or another, and he knows just why it is you did that. He knows it’s because you wanted to walk ahead and disappear off to the spare bedroom you shared before he could keep you from doing so. He knows your stubbornness like the back of his hand. You’re not that hard to read.

The house is quiet when you walk in, dark save for the lamp she’d left in for the two of you to navigate given the hour. You heard him lock up behind you, and you could feel the way he’d been hot on your tail as you made your way to your room.

You could feel the way his hand enveloped yours, at how he tugged you into the bathroom before you could go any further.

A huff leaves your lips when he turns the light on and closes the door behind him, shrugging his jacket off and rolling up the sleeves of his flannel. “Dean, I can do it myself—”

“Yeah, and you hate it. So if you wanna argue and wake everybody up, by all means go right ahead. But I’m patchin’ you up regardless.”

His voice was quiet despite the frustration in his tone, opening the door of the small closet and grabbing the first aid kit on the top shelf. Your shoulders slump and you pull your jacket off, looking up at him with furrowed brows and he only shakes his head, the beginnings of a smile on his lips and your habit of being more stubborn than he is.

“Let me take a look at it, sweetheart,” he says, his words softer.

You make a face then, reluctant for him to see the damage that’d been done because you yourself hadn’t even seen it. But, after a moment you tug up on the hem of your shirt, the fabric peeling away from it uncomfortably leaving you to scrunch up your face ever so slightly. You observe his expression, seeing the way his eyes move right to it, at the way his teeth press tight together behind his cheek when he clenches his jaw.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s…” he starts, sighing as he brushes the pad of his thumb across it lightly. “It’s not bad, but I still don’t like it.”

You turn your body and catch sight of it in the mirror, at the scrape over your ribs that wrapped around your side curving front to back in an irritated scratch. It’d been an angry red color, what little blood there was having smeared across it.

You turn back to him with a quiet sigh, catching the softness taking hold of his expression now that he knew it wasn’t quite so bad. Enough to make worry radiate through him in waves but he knew that’d happen no matter what.

He was quiet as he took a dampened wash cloth and blotted it over your side, gaze flickering to yours ever so often. He recognizes that pout anywhere, the one that pulls at his heart, the one that you’re never aware you have when it sits on your lips.

“I should’ve punched fangs square in the jaw for this,” he mumbles, trying his best to clean it without hurting you too much more.

A smile tugs at your lips then, beaming and bright as the softness of your laughter puffs out through your nose. It has him raising his eyebrow in curiosity, amusement soon following because whenever you’ve got that grin on your lips he finds it hard not to do the very same.

“You put him six feet under, De. I think that’s much more than a famous Winchester punch in the face,” you said, watching the corners of his mouth curls upwards in a smile.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you say, looking up at him as he shakes his head at your words.

“I would say I can’t believe you tried to hide this from me, but I can,” he says, careful as he wipes around the edges.

“I would say you’re not much better,” you counter, pulling a narrower stare from him.

He knows you’re right, you always are, but that doesn’t mean he wants you to do it too. He wants better for you than he does himself and that’s how he’ll always want it to be. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t argue, because he knows he’s got nothing to argue on that. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it anyway with the smile you’ve got sitting pretty on your lips.

He brings the bandage up to his mouth, ripping the packaging open with his teeth before tossing the crinkled wrapper in the garbage. He’s gentle as he smooths it over your side, hands calloused and warm when they touch your skin. He tugs your shirt back down then, the crease between his brows something you reach up to swipe your thumb over tenderly.

He dips down to rest his forehead against yours, noses brushing softly as you share mingled breaths. “Do me a favor?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me next time,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours softly, pulling away before kissing you once more. “It doesn’t make you any less tough.”

His smile presses against your lips, yours soon to do the same and he knows exactly what that means.

You pull away and look up at him, his eyes bouncing between yours and to your lips before lifting to meet your gaze again in that moment. He can tell by the way you’ve got that grin on your lips that there’s something teasing on the tip of your tongue.

“For the record, you are a broody, protective tough guy,” you say.

There it is.

He rolls his eyes at your words, arms circling around your waist with caution of the wound you’ve got, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop pickin’ on me, sweetheart.”

His words are mumbled against your lips, soft as they hold just a little bit of offense as his laughter brushes warm and fleeting over them, just as quickly muffled by the kiss he presses to them.

He knows that’s what he is, and he knows that’s what he’ll always be.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @campingmonkey @agalliasi @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Red Hood (Part 1)

Summary: While on a job, the reader runs into The Red Hood. She discovers his true identity to be Dean Winchester from one of the wealthiest families in the city. She knows he’s made a few enemies and tries to take advantage of that fact to get something she needs in return...

Masterlist

Pairing: Vigilante!Dean x criminal!reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, fighting

A/N: Enjoy!

________

“Oh, crap,” you said, feeling the binding around your torso. You thought you’d made it out clean. But if it was someone using a gadget like that, it wasn’t any security guard. You grunted as you saw a figure emerge from the shadows, a hood up and a mask covering his eyes. “Let me walk and you can have the money.”

“Not my style,” he said. He walked over carefully, tilting his head at you. His cautious approach stopped when he suddenly stepped over and ripped the mask covering your face off. You scowled at him but he simply stared. “I’m taking you in.”

He bent down and you used the opportunity to swing your legs up and wrap around his neck. He went wide eyed and glared at you but you smirked.

“Goodnight Mr. Vigilante,” you said. He tried pulling you off but he lost consciousness quickly. You let him drop to the ground and moved your leg back, managing to grab the knife in your boot. You sliced through the lower bindings and eventually got the ropes off. You almost left when you saw the unconscious Red Hood on the ground. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little blackmail after all. You pulled out your phone and pushed down his hood, ripping off the mask over his eyes. You took a few pictures of the man, something familiar about him.

You grinned when you recognized him as the ward of the biggest tech company in the city. 

If you played your cards right, a week from now you’d be loaded and sipping mai tais on the beach, never having to worry about pulling a job ever again.

“Shit!” you shouted the next evening, jumping straight back into your counter. The Red Hood was standing silently at the edge of your kitchen, narrowing his eyes at you. He threw down a manila envelope on the counter and stalked over to you.

“I don’t negotiate with criminals,” he said.

“I don’t think it’d look too good if Dean Winchester were to be found out as The Red Hood. With all the crimes you’ve committed yourself. I bet that’d ruin a few of your family’s contracts,” you said. You reached up to grab his hood when he caught your wrist. “I felt I was very generous with my offer.”

“Fifty million is generous?” he scoffed. He shoved your wrist away and put his back to you, tugging his hood back. He slipped his eye mask down around his neck and glanced over his shoulder. “I should throw you in prison.”

“For stealing from rich people? They can afford it just like you can afford this. Take it out of your trust fund. I bet no one would even notice,” you said.

“What do you need that much money for?”

“What do you need it for? None of your business.”

“The answer is no.”

“Then I guess your photo of you out cold at a crime scene in your little costume will be on the news very, very shortly.”

“It’s an excessive amount,” he said.

“Your family is billionaires. You got the cash.”

“I can’t move that much without red flags.”

“Figure it out.”

“I could just make you disappear,” he said, stepping in front of you. “You couldn’t stop me.”

“You only murder the bad guys and unfortunately for you, I just steal things and knock people out. It’s not justified. Your old partner, that bat guy, even he didn’t kill people,” you said.

“He let me down, more than once. I do things the way they need to be done,” he said. “Don’t think because you’re a woman you get special treatment.”

“Wouldn’t expect it,” you said. “Give me my money and you will never hear from me again.”

“Five million.”

“No way.”

“Five million a month for the next ten months,” he said. “It won’t raise too many eyes. I can justify a cost for that.”

“Fifty. One payment,” you said, crossing your arms.

“What the hell do you need with that much money?”

“Maybe I want to donate to charity. It’s not your concern. You have three days to get my money into that bank account. If you don’t, you and your entire family’s business are going down. Have I made myself clear?”

“I will find all copies and when I do, you’re gonna have a big problem. Count on it.”

He went out your back door and you rolled your eyes, already making plans to have extra copies out there just in case.

Three Days Later

“You’re good,” said Marcus. You stared at him and he smiled. “You’re clean kid. Debt repaid with interest. Your family is safe again. Any interest in working for me again? You’ll get to keep some of the profits now.”

“I’m not meant for this line of work,” you said. “Lose my number?”

“You’re not as bad as you think. Just got a pesky conscious. Enjoy retirement,” he said. You hummed and quickly left, taking a deep breath. 

Half an hour later you were heading to the airport with five million dollars in your bank account and ready to go start over.

Two Days Later

“Nice view,” said a voice behind you. You sat up from your chair by the pool, staring up at Dean as he smiled. “Nice house. A little smaller than I was expecting for fifty million dollars in the bank. If you had fifty million that was. More like five now, hm?”

“I still have copies,” you said as he sat in the chair beside you.

“Oh, I know,” he said, stealing your drink. “Whoa, fruity and a lot of rum.”

“What do you want?”

“My plan was to hunt you down and get my money back and get you to give up the copies and get you thrown in prison. But I’ve had a change of heart.”

“Really. Just like that.”

“If you told me innocent lives were in danger, I could have been a lot nicer. Marcus is an unforgiving criminal. But even he could let a mistake go for forty five million, right?”

“I owed him ten. The thirty five was interest. I screwed up a job when I wouldn’t kill a guard. He lost the pay. I started working for him most every night to pay it off. If I didn’t, he’d deal with my family over on the other coast. He’s connected enough to have them watched. For forty five million, they are safe.”

“Sounds like you owe me five million dollars,” he said, holding out his hand. “Fork it over.”

“I can’t live there anymore. I need to be out of that city,” you said.

“You’ll come back eventually. But you owe me five million dollars,” he said. You dropped your head and sighed, resting your head in your hands. “Or you can give me every single copy of the photos and agree to never steal another thing in your life and in exchange, I will pretend you didn’t take five million for yourself.”

“Are you serious?” you said, snapping your head up. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Why would you do that?”

“Why didn’t you tell Marcus who I was? That would have cleared whatever you owed and then some,” he said. You shrugged and he smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion you’re a good person. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the other criminals.”

You reached to your left and grabbed your phone, deleting the picture and then permanently deleting it again.

“You never had copies,” he said.

“Nope. You could have taken my phone and that would have been that.”

“Then I guess that settles that,” he said. “Nice place to retire to.”

“Yup,” you said.

“Mind if I crash here? Considering I bought this place and all.”

“Why are you staying here?”

“I did something yesterday. My old partner called me up, told me I ought to take a break for a bit. He had some valid points,” he said. “No one’s ever knocked me out before.”

“I have many skills,” you said. He chuckled and stretched out his body.

“I bet you do. So am I staying?”

“You can stay if you get me a refill,” you said, taking the glass from him and drinking the rest of the liquid. You held it out to him and he sat up.

“Alright. Don’t go running off on me again.”

“I think this time I’ll stay put.”

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.”

“For now.”

“Oh really? Where you thinking of going?”

“Home to Gotham. Eventually,” you said. He stared at you and glanced down, nodding to himself.

“How about a nice vacation in the meantime?” he asked.

“After you. Sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[velvetcloxds]

BREATHE| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x fem! Reader

Word count:2642

Warning: mentions of abusive family member, mentions of abuse, mentions of dead body

Summary: Scott, Stiles and Isaac create a situation where Derek and the reader are forced to talk about the very obvious feelings that they have for each other.

“I don’t know,” I say softly, looking out into the hallway to check for my aunt before softly closing the door behind me, “She’s barely over the fact that I got a B on my midterm paper,” I tell him, moving my books out of the way to sit down on my bed.

“Was it bad?” Isaac asks after a second and I sigh, tracing my fingers under my eye where there should be a completely healed bruise by now.

“It’s been worse,” I answer quickly and he sighs on his end, knowing by now that I wouldn’t tell him if it actually were bad, “I’m fine Isaac, besides it would be much worse without the whole werewolf thing,,” I add, looking up when the front door shuts.

“Was that her?” Isaac asks, the tone of his voice tense. I sigh, jumping up from the bed, pulling the curtain open slightly to see her driving out of the driveway. I smile softly.

“Looks like I’ve got the house to myself for a few hours,” I tell him and hold the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I bend forward to pull my boots on.

“So, does that mean you’ll help us out tonight?” Isaac asks not missing a beat, I smile again as I stand up to grab my jacket.

“Yes, and it also means that the whole lot of you can climb down from the roof and meet me at the front door like normal people,” I say, hearing Isaac’s little laugh in the background as I end the call, the sounds of multiple footsteps on the roof following me as I make my way to the door.

“Why don’t I get to be on the roof?” I hear Stiles ask as I open the door, pulling my jacket on at the same time.

“You know why,” Derek tells him with a cold look causing Stiles roll his eyes.

“You fall down one time and you’re labelled a fall risk,” Stiles notes waving a hand around as his other hand pulls at his plaid shirt.

“It was not one time,” Derek replies very quickly becoming annoyed, “It was three times, and it was but minutes apart,” He adds and lifts a warning brow when Stiles moves to pretest.

“Good evening boys,” I interject before the little spat could continue. Isaac and Scott look over to me with small smiles and apologetic eyes as Derek and Stiles continue to stare each other down, “Derek,” I note formally, making him give Stiles one more warning gaze before locking eyes with me.

“Y/n,” He replies in the same tone after a moment, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket without breaking eye contact for even a second, “You look good,” He says simply, looking me over quickly before meeting my eyes again.

“So do you,” I say and he nods slowly, eyes raking over my face quickly before turning to Scott who is probably waiting for a moment to explain the plan. I smile to myself as I reach behind me to close the door.

“Stiles was listening to his dad’s police radio and there seems to be another body somewhere in the woods,” Scott explains and I furrow my brows at the very vague explanation.

“Is it a werewolf body? The body of someone who was murdered by a werewolf? A hunter? The body of another human sacrifice victim?” I ask, looking between all of them, their blank expressions making it clear that they don’t have an answer to my question.

“Does it matter?” Scott offers carefully and I scoff softly before nodding.

“Yes, it matters, if we’re trying to protect Beacon Hills from supernatural killers and therefore have to find this here dead person in order to that, then I’m with you. But if we’re just going on a little scavenger hunt that’s actually someone else’s job, then I’d like to inform you all that it’s very cold out here and I’m going back inside,” I say, pulling my jacket tighter against my body to emphasize my point.

“She’s right,” Derek notes and I nod at him, “You three said that this was serious and that time was of the essence and so far, it’s been a waste of my time.”

“Time you would’ve spent doing what, Derek? Brooding?” Stiles questions with a mocking smile, shifting back when Derek pulls a hand out of his pocket.

“Look it is serious, we’re not trying to waste anyone’s time,” Scott tells us and rolls his eyes when Stiles moves in behind him, keeping a hand on his shoulder as he looks over at Derek, “We think it’s one of the missing people that’s been killed by whoever’s going around sacrificing people.” He explains and hits Stiles’ hand away from his shoulder.

“Fine,” I say and step forward to walk past them and down the stairs, “We’ll separate into two groups; one group takes the right side and the other takes the left. Who wants to come with me?” I ask looking up at the four of them.

“Derek,” Isaac says very quickly and Derek looks at him with a questioning stare, “It’s either you go with Y/n or you go with Scott and Stiles,” He elaborates and then shrugs as he looks down, Scott and Stiles doing the same when I look over at them, there is definitely something going on here.

“Or Isaac and Derek could go together,” I offer, mainly just to see their reactions.

“No.” Scott says looking a little alarmed as he looks at me. “You’re not exactly Stiles’ biggest fan either. You’d murder him before we even left the yard,” He explains, stuttering in between sentences and I nod slowly, hiding a smile as the boys attempt to hide their frantic glares.

“Okay then, I guess it’s just the two of us,” I tell Derek who looks a little lost for a second as he stares down at me before he nods quickly and makes his way to my side, making sure to give the remaining boys an unplaced glare as he does.

“We’ll meet back here in half an hour, whether we find the body or not,” Derek says beginning to turn before stopping and pointing at Scott and Isaac. “Don’t let Stiles out of your sight,” He says sternly to which the boys nod, “And you, don’t be an idiot,” He adds, pointing at Stiles who is very clearly unhappy with the order. Stiles scoffs.

“I didn’t want you in my group in the first place,” He says and extends the notion towards me when he notices the smile on my lips that I was sure I’d hidden well, “Screw you, Y/n,” He adds as Scott and Isaac pull him from the steps and carefully push him towards the right direction.

“I hate the woods,” I announce softly as we still at the edge of the reserve, looking out onto endless rows of trees, “It gives me the creeps,” I add, tilting my head to get a glance of Derek’s reaction, feeling slightly less annoyed when the softest hint of a smile graces his lips.

“We’ll be out before you know it,” He tells me, not quite meeting my gaze, “You can stay close to me if it helps,” He announces with a quick glance before zipping up his jacket and starting to head off the trail. I take a second to myself, considering the idea of going into this stupid little forest following Derek of all people in there alone and let out a soft sigh.

“Wait up!” I shout, almost jogging to catch up with him despite his offer to keep close to me.

We continue like this for a while, staying close as we look around, sniffing the air for anything that could indicate that there’s a body around here, the only sound being that of our shoes crushing leaves and fallen branches as we walk.

“What?” Derek asks, stopping suddenly after I let out another tired sigh. I frown as I look up at him, “Why do you keep doing that?” He asks and points towards the zip of my jacket which I’ve been moving up and down for the last five minutes. I shrug. “And the sighing, what’s with the sighing?“ He adds in a rush, eyes large as he lets out a loud sigh of his own. I smile up at him.

“I’m bored,” I admit and he folds his arms over his chest, “And don’t even get me started on the silent searching which is driving me mad by the way. Like honestly, Derek, why won’t you talk to me?” I ask, dropping my hands from my jacket to stuff them into my pockets. He looks me over carefully before looking away.

“I don’t know,” He says after a moment and I scoff softly.

“Would you prefer it if I talked, because I have so much to say,” I tell him, taking a step to the side to catch his gaze.

“We need to find this body, Y/n,” He tells me, voice soft and distant. I shake my head, reaching a hand out to stop him from walking away.

“There’s no body, Derek. Well, I don’t think at least,” I say and he frowns, “You really didn’t notice how weird the guys were acting at the house?”

“They’re always weird.”

“Yes, but this was different. They planned this, all of this, somehow. I think they just wanted us to end up alone somewhere where we’re forced to really talk,” I explain and steady myself when my unneeded arm gesture causes me to lose balance.

“Talk about what?” He asks me and I furrow my brows in confusion.

“Don’t do that, you know about what. About you and me. About us,” I say and then shake my head when his eyes largen as a result of my words, “Don’t freak out on me, okay. Just listen,” I say carefully dropping my hand from his arm where it’s been holding him in place.

“Fine. I won’t freak out.”

“You like me,” I deadpan, mind already filling with about a thousand different ways I could’ve approached this, “I mean I think you do and that’s good because boy do I like you too. You’re just not so good with the words and the expression of the feelings and so truth be told I could be completely wrong, but I also don’t think I am. So, to be quite frank I was just curious as to when you were planning on asking me out?” I end, breathless for no reason as I carefully take in the way his expression softens, eyes raking over my face slowly, “I mean you do like me, right?” I ask, my own face softening from slight excitement to unsettled uncertainty as he remains quiet, looking between me and the trees behind me, “You don’t.” I say and let out a soft sigh, realizing how completely silly I must look making this big scene when he very clearly doesn’t feel the same at all.

“Y/n, wait…” He says quickly stupidly attempting to stop me from walking away from him even though I’m already out of reach, “Where are you going?” He asks, deciding to follow me instead.

“I don’t know,” I tell him, fighting the urge to either cry or kick his pretty little ass, “What do you care anyway?” I muse bitterly as I hear him getting closer to me.

“Will you stop?” He asks me annoyed and I feel his hands surrounding my waist to pull me to a stop in front of him, “Will you just give me a bloody minute?” He adds, breath against my neck as he holds me against his body, “If I let go, will you promise not to walk away?” He asks carefully and I nod, his hands moving back and away slowly before I turn around to face him, the seriousness in his eyes catching me by surprise, “I don’t know how to talk to you,” He starts and lets out a long sigh, “It’s like every word I know just completely disappears from my mind the second I see you. The second you smile. The second you say my stupid name. I can’t talk to you,” He explains and my lips almost immediately pull into a smile as response.

“Derek-“

“No. Just let me get this out,” He says, smiling as well as he moves his hands to my waist once again. “I think you’re amazing. You’re good and kind and you barely know anyone of us, but you’d still risk your life to help us out and you’re beautiful, which I should’ve said first, but you are. And you’re so closed off from everyone, but I can still tell exactly what you’re feeling by just looking at you, which is ridiculously unfair because as soon as I convince myself I feel one way for you it changes completely and suddenly I can’t do a bloody thing without thinking about you,” He shakes his head slightly as I let out a soft laugh, lifting my hands to his chest, “Yes, I like you. I like you so much that I feel like I can’t breathe,” He ends and I’m sure my cheeks have turned about every shade of red in but a matter of seconds.

“Breathe, Derek,” I say softly, leaning closer as my fingers move over his chest slowly.

“You’re not being fair,” He says and I can hear his heartbeat rising in pace.

“What are you going to do about it?” I ask carefully, looking up at him through my lashes, biting at my lip to draw his attention there. He smiles, a tint of rose barely touching at his cheeks before disappearing and I’d call him out on it, but the sudden strength of his hands pulling me tighter against his body has me somewhat preoccupied. He leans in as well, nose touching mine.

“This might be a start,” He whispers before catching my lips with his, kissing me slowly yet urgently as I move my hands to his neck, pulling myself even closer as the taste of mint meets my tongue.

Whistles and applause are what pulls us apart, Derek smiling against my lips before he moves away from me, loosely keeping a hand around my waist as we turn to see the boys coming up from behind us.

“I knew this would work,” Stiles announces as the three of them still in front of us. “This is why you need to let me make all of the plans, Scott, because clearly they always work,” He adds excitedly, waving his hands in the air between us. Isaac and Scott simply smiling as they look from him to us.

“I’m happy for you two,” Isaac says with an almost brotherly smile.

“Do you think they’ll have a June wedding?” Stiles asks in thought, smiling as another thought comes to mind, “Do you think we’ll have to ask her for him?” He adds and Scott nudges him when Derek growls lowly.

“We should get you home, your aunt could get home soon,” Scott tells me and we all nod in union before the tree of them turn to walk away in the direction of my house. I try to do the same, smiling when Derek pulls me back softly.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night,” He states simply and I look up at him confused. He laughs before placing another soft kiss on my lips, “Out date.” He clarifies and smiles happily when I realize what he’s talking about, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night,” He says again and I nod.

“I’ll bring the dictionary,” I muse, laughing softly as he rolls his eyes, pulling me with him as we follow the boys home.

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

Masterlist

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥Can I Hear it Again?🔥

A/N: Hey guys! Thank you so much for the support, you guys have been so  absolutely amazing and I love and appreciate all of you! Please take this self indulgent shorter fic! It has a slightly OOC Levi in it but I wanted to try something a little different this time with his character. I still tried to make him as realistic as possible, but a but more flustered than usual. Enjoy!

🐉Song Recommendation: “Kangaroo Court” By: Capital Cities 🐉

~~~

“No.”

“I’m not leaving until you say yes.”

“No, (Y/N).”

“Yes, Levi.”

“You are a serious pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Yes, but I’m a serious pain in your ass that’s going to help you heal, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t like it.”

“That’s too damn bad.”

Levi leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, glaring at the woman standing in front of him, her own arms crossed and a determined look on her face. Damn, he sometimes forgot how stubborn she could be until something like this happens, showing her fangs a little and talking to him in a way that most people wouldn’t dare.

He had actually gotten hurt on the last expedition. It was rare, but he wasn’t invincible. It also didn’t help that it was caused by a rookie brat, a nearly fatal mistake causing Levi to have to swoop in and save him at the last minute before he became titan bait. Although he had managed to get the cadet away from danger, the maneuver he had used had been sloppy in an attempt to get to the soldier as fast as possible, leading to him crashing into a tree before he could straighten himself out. He wasn’t horribly injured, but something was definitely knocked out of place.

He knew he probably needed some basic medical attention but he refused to go to the infirmary, insistent that the medical supplies be used for the people who actually needed them for severe injuries rather than on his minor aches and pains. His shoulder had been bothering him all day but he continued to sit it out, confident that his body would figure itself out and heal over time.

He hadn’t expected (Y/N) to get wind of his refusal for medical attention. Hell, he hadn’t expected her to find out that he was hurt, but who was he kidding, (Y/N) had been with him since they were children in the Underground. Of course she would notice his normally unnoticeable reactions to pain.

He would never admit it, but his heart warmed as he looked at her on the other side of his desk, demanding he let her take care of him because she cared and was one of the few people who recognized he wasn’t perfectly fine in the first place. He loved knowing that she had his back, always had, and never failed to know exactly what he needed, sometimes before he even knew himself.

He huffed at her when she started tapping her foot, impatiently waiting for him to inevitably cave. They both knew he wanted it, but he was being stubborn.

“You know, it’s too late to act all invincible and unaffected around me now, Levi. I’ve been with you ever since we were nothing but living skeletons, you don’t have to act all affronted because you need help with a minor injury.”

He scowled at her, his intense gaze meeting her fiery one, her stance telling him she wasn’t going to back down any time soon. He sighed and rubbed his temples pretending to be annoyed. “Fine, but you better do a good job, brat.”

(Y/N) immediately relaxed and smiled at him, returning back to her normal bubbly self. He rolled his eyes at her when she came up to him, but didn’t fight it when she grabbed his wrist and dragged him from his desk chair, heading for his private quarters.

“Strip,” (Y/N) demanded as soon as they entered the bedroom, slipping into his bathroom to hunt through the oils she knew he had stashed away.

“Wow, (Y/N). If you wanted to see the goods that badly, you could’ve just asked,” Levi teased, smirking when she came back into his bedroom with a scowl on her face.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Shirt. Off. Now.”

Levi quirked an eyebrow, silently challenging her. (Y/N) sighed in annoyance and placed her hands on her hips giving him a look that threatened violence if he didn’t cooperate. He chuckled as he eventually started to comply, reaching up to unbutton his shirt while (Y/N) moved around his bed to lay a towel down.

When the shirt was finally off, (Y/N) had Levi lay face down on the bed, his face cradled by a mass of pillows, before she straddled his lower back. Years ago, she would’ve been embarrassed out of her mind. But fate had had other plans and at this point they had been through so much together, tending to each other’s wounds both emotional and physical, they had both learned to deal with the interactions between them that occasionally toed over the line of friendship.

Grabbing the bottle of lavender oil she’d found, (Y/N) squirted a healthy amount into her palm and rubbed her hands together, humming at the pleasant smell of the oil. Levi sighed at the first touch of her hands on his back, settling further down into the mattress as she started kneading the knots in his muscles.

(Y/N) started gentle, using her fingertips to discover where the source of his pain was before she really began to massage him, clenching her hands into fists and using her knuckles to knead him. Levi occasionally let out quiet hisses and groans as she worked, but for the most part the room was silent, (Y/N) too focused on giving him relief to engage in their usual banter. Not that she believed he’d be able to understand what she would be saying anyway, judging by his closed eyes and relaxed expression.

When she had finally finished up with his back, she moved on to his injured arm, gently prodding the flesh to find where he was the most tender. Finding the displaced joint, (Y/N) flattened her palms and pressed, a loud crack filling the air as his shoulder was clicked back into place. Levi’s breath had caught when she had popped his joint but he was otherwise silent, his body relaxing when she began to massage the strained muscles.

“Doing alright, Levi?”

“Hmm,” Levi hummed noncommittally.

(Y/N) smiled to herself and dug a little deeper into the flesh of his shoulder before gliding her fingers over his rough skin, using her fingers to spread the pleasure up his arm. Gently but firmly working his muscles, (Y/N) made sure to focus on each section of his arm, soothing his aches and pains like magic. Glancing down at his face, (Y/N) was about to check on him again when the sight made her freeze.

He was blushing. And it wasn’t a subtle salmon pink either, it was dark and obvious. Although her heart hammered at the sight, her stomach fluttering with how cute he looked, (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder if this was making him uncomfortable. If he was blushing because she was touching him in a way he didn’t necessarily want to be touched but was too socially awkward to say something. She knew how he was, putting up a confident front as Captain when in reality he was one of the most sensitive people she knew. It was very likely that he wasn’t enjoying anything she was doing at all.

(Y/N) immediately started to doubt herself. She had initiated this in the hopes that it would make him feel more relaxed, not more anxious. She only wanted to make him feel good, but if he wasn’t enjoying it, she didn’t want him to think he couldn’t tell her about his discomfort. Despite the rapid flow of thoughts flying through her mind, (Y/N) managed to take a deep breath and organize her words, her mouth opening to tell him what she was thinking when a loud noise filled the air.

(Y/N) froze, feeling Levi stiffen beneath her, his eyes flying wide open as they both realized what had just happened. There was no mistaking the nature of the noise Levi had just made.

Levi had moaned. A loud, needy moan that filled the room.

The sound set her body on fire, her core clenching subconsciously as her mind immediately conjured up images of him on top of her, or her with his cock in her mouth, or her riding him enthusiastically, giving him the utmost pleasure as he rammed up to meet her.

Levi gave her no time to speak as he quickly rolled over and lifted her off of him, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. (Y/N) was shocked when she saw him cover his blushing face with his hands, never having seen him show this much embarrassment before. He looked like he wanted to find the nearest knife and slit his own throat.

“Levi-”

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” Levi whispered so quietly she almost didn’t hear it, mumbling into his hands. It was so uncharacteristic of him to be acting this way, but (Y/N) found it endearing, adorable even.

“Levi, you don’t have to apologize,” (Y/N) said, trying to cool her own flaming cheeks. “It was supposed to feel good, I’m glad it was, um… working.”

Levi groaned at her words, shaking his head a little. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I was trying to s-suppress it, but y-your hands felt so g-good and I couldn’t stop it.”

“Hey, it’s alright, it was natural! I was giving you a back massage after you practically dislocated your shoulder and almost displaced your spine, it was bound to cause a reaction from you. You were hurt and now you feel better, it’s just your body reacting to being healed again, nothing to be ashamed of,” (Y/N) said. She was honestly surprised she had gotten through that sentence without stuttering but she was glad she was able to hold firm, knowing he needed that reassurance right now. No matter how hot she thought he sounded, it was clear he was mortified.

“It wasn’t from the massage,” Levi said.

“Huh?”

“What just happened, that was because of you.”

“Wait, you mean you…?”

“Yeah,” Levi said with a huff. “I have for a while now, but I couldn’t find the right way to tell you so I just kept it to myself. I was hoping to tell you eventually, but I wanted to do it my way. So much for that I guess.”

(Y/N) was stunned. He…, liked her? Since when? Ever since she had known him she had never seen him gravitate towards wanting a partner, always appearing unfazed when even the most stunning women batted their lashes at him. He was still human, she knew he wasn’t immune to his hormones, but she had never expected to be on the receiving end of those desires.

Elated couldn’t even begin to describe what (Y/N) was feeling, her heart pounding with more than just the lust from their recent encounter. She had loved him for ages but had never engaged anything with the fear of possibly losing her best friend to something as stupid as feelings hanging over her head. But now that she knew the true nature of his emotions, (Y/N) wasn’t going to hold back.

“Hey ~Levi,” (Y/N) purred.

“Yes?” Levi asked, his brow quirked up at the sound of the husky lilt in (Y/N)’s voice.

“I’ve got to admit, that moan was pretty hot,” (Y/N) said, leaning up to graze her teeth along the shell of his ear, reveling in his responsive shudder. “Care to try making some more?”

Levi whirled around to look at her in shock, his silver eyes meeting her gaze until he could see the truth swirling within them. She really did love him back, something that made Levi’s stomach do a few funny flips. He couldn’t help the wicked smile that graced his features then, turning around to climb back to the center of the bed, suddenly immensely grateful for the towel she had placed over his mattress for the massage. Reaching for her, Levi leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, his eyes half lidded and filled with a lust that matched her own.

“Anything for you, baby,” Levi said huskily before (Y/N) crashed her mouth onto his, eager to make good on her silent promise to pull as many delicious moans from her normally composed Captain as possible.

[impalas-r-important]

Love of my Life - (1) All's fair in love and snowball fights.

Pairing: Dean x reader(ish)

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You and Dean were inseparable from the moment you met; a true match made in heaven. You were killed in the big showdown with Lucifer and Michael (S5), but were brought back to life along side Sam. Heartbreak quickly took over your life after finding out that Dean had already moved on with Lisa so soon after your death.

Series Masterlist

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You sighed as you looked over at Sam and Dean. You and Sam had been doing research for 5 straight days trying to help Bobby out with a case. Dean would come over and help when he could. Sam was in the living room, his nose buried in a book and Dean was sitting with his feet up on the kitchen table, pretending to look studious as he fought off his heavy eye lids. You stood up to stretch your legs and wandered over to the window. It had snowed all night and all morning, leaving the outside world blanketed with pillowy, inviting flakes. The corners of your mouth crept up in a slight smile as an idea came to your mind. You quickly grabbed your jacket that had been slung across the back of your chair which startled Dean enough to wake him up. He sloppily wiped a bit of drool from his mouth and looked over to find an irritated Sam glaring at him. You jogged a few steps to the back door and pulled your boots on.

“Where are you going?” You could hear Sam ask from the other room.

“I’ll be right back!”

You stepped outside and the chilly wind instantly burned the back of your throat, but you didn’t care. You were just happy to not be looking at the worn pages of another lore book. You bent down and scooped the snow together in your hands creating 2 perfect snowballs. A mischievous grin spread on your face as you stomped back into the living room of Bobby’s house. Sam was your first target; he was so unaware of what was about to hit him. Literally. You pulled back your arm, took your aim, and launched the snowball, nailing him square in the face. The shocked look on his face was priceless.

“Hah!” Dean looked up and tauntingly laughed from the table on the other side of the room. His laugh quickly turned into a frown as you threw the second snowball at him. He paused and blinked a few times before wiping the snow from his face. He turned to look at you, and you couldn’t tell if he was angry or not. The three of you exchanged glances, a few seconds of silence passing while you all gauged the situation before Dean stood up giving you a perfect, playful smile.

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know what you just started.” He ran at you and you turned to run away, giving a squeal as you did. You were fast, but Dean was faster. You had a few good steps on him, but as you reached the staircase, he grabbed you by your waist, throwing you over his shoulder and marching out the door with you.

“Let me go!” You laughed as he tickled your sides.

“If you say so.” He ran across the yard and gently tossed you into a big snowbank, giving your system a shock. You shot up and tried to shake the snow out from your clothes.

“This means war, Winchester!” You shouted as you ran full speed at Dean, rugby tackling him into the few feet of snow piled up behind him.

Sam popped out from behind an icy car with an armful of huge snowballs. “Gotcha both!” He exclaimed as he pelted the two of you. Dean pulled you underneath him and turned his back to Sam, protecting you. You got lost in his green eyes for a moment as he pulled his face close to yours. “One, two, three!” Dean counted down and you knew exactly what his plan was, without needing to discuss it. The two of you had always been on the same wavelength, making you the perfect hunting (and snowball fight) partners. You both turned and ran at Sam, Dean grabbed your hand tight and extended his arm as the two of you clotheslined the taller brother, knocking him backwards. You stole the few snowballs Sam had dropped and threw them at the two boys.

“I thought we were on a team now?!” Dean grinned at you as he crouched down and began to form the snow in his hands. He cocked his arm back and launched it at you as you ducked behind a car. It just missed you. You sat with your back to the car door, catching your breath and looking on either side of you, waiting for one of the boys to jump out at you.

Dean had climbed on top of the car and jumped down in front of you. “Ha ha! I’ve got you right where I want you!” You laughed and slipped as you tried to get up, causing you to laugh even harder. Dean pulled you backwards by your feet. Kneeling on either side of you, he pinned you down with a snowball in hand. “Do you surrender?!” He demanded.

“Yes, yes fine!” Your stomach hurt from all the laughing. Dean dropped the snowball and huffed. He flopped down in the snow next to you, catching his breath and letting out a little laugh.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I mean, the look on Sam’s face when you threw that first snowball at him. Priceless!” He turned to look at you, pulling you close to him. “Thanks, Y/N/N.” It had been so long since you had seen Dean smile a genuine smile like the one he was giving to you now. Your heart fluttered and memories of your relationship came flooding back the minute you looked into his eyes. He looked back at you and for a moment, nothing and no one else existed. This felt so right and so natural, like it had always felt with him when you were together. This was a joy that you rarely felt anymore, and you knew that the only thing bringing it to you was Dean. He brushed a stray hair behind your ear as his eyes wandered down to your lips.

“Dean?” A distant voice called. It was Lisa. You both sat up quickly. Overwhelming happiness quickly turned to heart break.

“Crap!” Dean said under his breath as he checked his watch. “We’re supposed to go to a neighbor’s house for dinner tonight. I should have been home 40 minutes ago. I just lost track of time.” He stood up and brushed the snow from his clothes.

“I’m sorry, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have started that stupid snowball fight.” You apologized.

“No, no I haven’t laughed like that in…” Dean paused, “hell, I don’t know how long. Don’t you dare apologize for that.” He reached out a hand to help you up, but you waved him off.

“I’m okay, you go. It’s probably better if Lisa doesn’t see me. I’ll stay hidden behind this old hunk a’ junk until you guys leave.” You patted the car behind you and tried to muster up a fake smile. Dean didn’t buy it. Lisa hated when your relationship with Dean was brought up, and she equally disliked you being around him.

“Listen, Y/N/N, I- “

“Dean?!” Lisa’s voice interrupted him. She was clearly getting angrier and closer.

Dean opened his mouth as if to say something to you, but instead just exhaled and looked at you with longing eyes. You broke the eye contact after a few seconds and moved your gaze to the ground.

“Bye, Y/N.” Dean muttered. You could hear his footsteps crunch in the snow as he walked away.

“Where the hell were you?!” You could hear Lisa demand in the background.

“Sam and I were just having a snowball fight.” Dean tried to explain himself. You noticed he had left your name out on purpose.

“I swear you two are children when you are around each other.”

You hated the way she talked down to him. Like he was some disobedient puppy on a leash. You heard another set of crunching footsteps approach you. Sam walked around the car and sat down next to you; you leaned your head on his shoulder. Your heavy heart had returned, and you felt empty again.

A few moments passed as you both waited to make sure Dean and Lisa had left. Sam broke the silence once he heard the back door close. “You know, you can talk to me, right Y/N?”

“Yeah, Sammy, thank you.” You looked up and gave him a halfhearted smile.

“No, not like this beat around the bush kind of talking. Like, really telling me how you feel. About Dean, about Lisa, about life. Anything and everything. You can trust me to keep your secrets. I feel like you and I are in the same boat right now. Neither of us expected to die, never mind come back, and it’s hard to see how life, Dean especially, changed while we were gone. I can tell this is all weighing on you. You’re not the same as you used to be.” He arched his neck to look down at you as much as he could. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like Lisa. Not at all. I don’t get what Dean sees in her. She has changed him into someone that I barely recognize, and I know you see it too.” Sam let out a small sigh of relief. “Man, I’ve been wanting to get that off my chest for a while.” His demeanor became more serious. “You know, I thought you and Dean would be together forever.”

His words helped you a little. “I thought we would be too. I guess I was just making our relationship out to be more than it really was.” You shrugged.

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“I hadn’t even been dead for that long and he had already moved in with another woman. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and if the situations were reversed, then I would rather live the rest of my life alone than be with someone else if I lost Dean.”

“I don’t have an explanation for that, but I do know that you weren’t making it out to be more than it was. Dean was head over heels in love with you. I knew it from, literally, the moment we met you. And honestly, I think he still is. He just does a good job of hiding it.”

“Everyday hurts, Sam. Every time I have to see him with her.” You whispered. “Lately I’ve been asking myself why I’m still here. I mean, Dean asked us to stick around here and make a home base, but I don’t know if I can do that anymore.”

“You’re thinking about leaving?” He frowned.

“Yeah, maybe... I don’t know.” You traced circles in the snow beneath you. “What good am I doing here? Why do I keep putting myself through this pain? If I left, I could try and move on with my life.”

Sam nodded and waited a few moments before saying, “Well, I can’t stop you from leaving, or tell you how to live your life, but I’m going to miss you like hell if you do go. You’re literally my sister. But I understand where you’re coming from. I miss being out on the road and just living case to case. Domestic life isn’t for me, not right now anyway. But I could never leave Dean here by himself, so I’ll figure out a hybrid of the two.”

You didn’t say anything because you didn’t want to break down in tears. Sam could tell. “Let’s get back inside and change. It’s been a nice to take a break from research. We’ll go grab some hot chocolate and dinner before we dive back into the books. Deal?”

You smiled and nodded at him. Sam helped you up and put his arm around you as you walked back inside. “Sorry I hit you in the face with a snowball… multiple times.” You joked and elbowed his side a little.

“Oh, I’ll get you back for that at some point, don’t you worry. It was just good to see a glimpse of the old you again.” Sam smiled and held the door open for you. It felt good to vent to Sam, and it felt even better knowing that he was on the same page as you about Lisa. You didn’t want to hate her; you weren’t that kind of a person. But you just couldn’t help it.

Chapter 2

[arvandus]

Touch (Pt 2)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Time Frame: Right before the League meets Overhaul

Additional notes: I took some liberty in giving Reader a backstory that fits in with the BNHA world and is important for the story.  If that bothers you, I apologize - just think of it as role playing!  Also, this’ll probably be broken up into 8-10 parts, roughly.  JUST KIDDING - this has now turned into an epic (roughly) 40 chapter series.  Oops.

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Recommended Chapter Song: Cradles by Sub Urban

Part 1

Artwork credit to @hellowon31​ on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 2 - A Crack In The Armor

The pain came back, just as you said it would.   What you didn’t mention was that the numbness would gradually fade away.  It might sound nice to some, but Dabi hated it. He felt like he was driving towards a cliff in slow motion, waiting for the crash, unable to turn the wheel.  He had no control.  He hated this feeling of helplessness and traded it for anger instead. Why did he even ask for your help to begin with?

His answer was given to him as soon as your quirk’s effect finally stopped.  Dabi stared angrily at the empty pill bottles. It was amazing how quickly the brain adapted, his body acting as if he’d never had to deal with his damaged nerves before.  He had half a mind to hunt you down and demand you take care of it. He didn’t, of course, pride the deciding factor.  The scars were his, a series of choices made, a patchwork flag he wore into battle.  They were his burden and a reminder of his fight; he wasn’t going to give that up so easily.  Still, he couldn’t deny the temptation that surrounded him like a cloud, even if all he did was entertain the thought. 

Dabi waited all day for your visit until finally your characteristic knock on his door rewarded his patience.  He stood from his bed and cooled his features into their typical mask before opening the door. There you stood, keen eyes already assessing him.

“Can I come in?” you asked. Like the day before, he stepped aside just enough to let you pass.  He had discovered yesterday that he liked having your presence close to him… it gave his pulse a little rush.  He caught a whiff of your shampoo as you gingerly passed him and felt the softness of your shirt as it brushed against his own like a whisper.  His grip on the doorknob tightened.

As soon as Dabi closed the door behind you, you got started.  You were determined to be strictly business.  “How’re you feeling?” you asked, keeping your tone even, the perfect balance of concern and professionalism.  Dabi wanted to laugh.  Were you always this serious?

“Like shit.” He grinned. “That quirk of yours is potent stuff.”

You couldn’t help but let a grin escape in response to his candid words, a fracture in your hastily built armor.  “Not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“It’s a compliment.” He stated.

You felt your throat go tight.  Stay on task.  Stay on task.  You cleared your throat slightly as you averted your eyes from him.  “Well, let’s have a look.”

With a little less flair than yesterday, he removed his jacket like before, followed by his shirt as he turned around to display his back for you.

You could see that the bandages were seeped through.  You had laid them on thick since you knew you wouldn’t be able to check on him as often as you’d like – he was still going out to do Shigaraki’s bidding and you had others to look after as well.  You were planning on seeing him daily, but it looked like he’d need more. 

Your little checkups were far from over.  You couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about that.  You honestly weren’t sure what you thought about it yourself.

“I’m going to use my quirk and then change your bandages.  I’ll check on you again tomorrow morning before you leave.”

“How often do we have to do this?” Dabi asked.  His tone was difficult to decipher.  Concerned? Annoyed? …Hopeful?

You cleared your throat again, desperate for a glass of water, as you began to remove the soiled gauze. “I’ll probably visit you twice daily for the first week, then reduce it to once a day or every couple of days for the second week.  We’ll see where we are by then.  It’ll take at least a few weeks before it’s fully healed.  That’s only if you’re good though, and don’t go out and use your quirk for a bit.”

“I won’t make any promises.” He replied.

You sighed.  “Well, at least your honest.  Really though, you should at least try not to use it.”

“That’s up to the Crusty Hands.” Dabi replied.  “He’s the one sending me out there to try to recruit members and gather intel.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname for Shigaraki.  “Couldn’t you ask him for a break then?” You asked, your head tilted. “No point in making you hurt yourself over lackey work.”

The question was innocent enough, but Dabi turned around and stared at you like you grew a second head. Ask Shigaraki for time off? The thought made Dabi bristle for so many reasons.

You quickly caught on to his shift in mood and tried to repair your previous statement. “Look.  I get it if that’s an issue for you. Maybe I could be the one to ask him.  I can make it a medical request, since I’m the healer.”

That option almost seemed worse.  He didn’t need to be excused from his duties like a child with a sick note. And he most certainly didn’t want you putting your neck out for him.

“Look, I know your still kinda new here.  So, let me break this down.  There is no ‘sick time’ in the League of Villains.  No vacation, no hazard pay.  We all got our jobs to do.”

Now you bristled, your shoulders tensing up and your arms crossed in front of you defensively. “Yeah.  And my job is to make sure you crazy idiots don’t kill yourselves before we complete our mission.  You know, the big long-term one where we change the world, not the pointless dirty work Shigaraki’s got you doing.”

“Pointless dirty work? That dirty work is how we reach that long-term goal, sweetheart.”   Dabi grinned devilishly.  “I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about how we do things here.”

“Just the part about using your talents for recruiting street thugs.  Most of them are idiots that can’t tell Stain’s message from an anarchist bumper sticker.”

You were right, of course. Dabi chuckled.  You were more interesting than he thought.

“Look,” you said, your voice quieter as you uncrossed your arms.  “We’re all in this together come hell or high water, and I’m really hoping we can all see it through to the end.  If that means taking some time off to let your body recover, then I’d think that’d be worth doing.”

Dabi stared at you silently while something tightened in his chest.  Your need to hold everyone together like glue was admirable and almost… endearing.  He felt a sinking feeling in his gut.  He knew there was a high likelihood they wouldn’t all see the end of this, if the end ever even comes.  Did you know that but stubbornly hold onto your optimism?  Or were you really that naïve that you believed there was a chance that everyone could come out unscathed?  When the worst happens – which it inevitably will – will you blame yourself?

The thought bothered him.

For the first time Dabi’s mask slipped, and for the briefest of moments you could see the pity in his eyes.

“Thanks for the concern doll, but I got it under control.” Dabi said, his voice unusually calm. “Besides, if I took time off every time I hurt myself with my quirk, then I’d never be any use.”

Between his eyes and his words, there was no room for discussion, so you let the topic drop. 

You let out a defeated sigh. “Well then, let’s get started.” You placed your hands on his back.

Once again, the sweet balm of your touch spread across his skin, bringing back the relief he had missed. His body responded instinctively. His breathing slowed; his muscles relaxed.  He closed his eyes, relishing in the sensation.  You noticed the slightest drop in his shoulders and a pang of sympathy washed over you like a wave.  You wished you could do more for him, but you had to conserve your quirk for the others too.

You cleaned his wound quickly and applied fresh bandages without any more talk.  As quickly as it had begun, it was over.  Without missing a beat, he pulled his shirt back on while you packed your items.

You turned to leave, but paused for a moment before turning back slightly, your eyes bravely locking with his.  “Try to get some rest… it’ll help your body heal faster.”

Dabi didn’t respond with his usual quips.  Instead, his electric blue eyes stared at you in a way that made your blood pulse in your ears and the air burn in your lungs.  You stood captivated for a moment, locked in his gaze, before finding your way out of the maze of his eyes and left his room, hearing the quiet click of the door behind you.

 Without a word, Dabi sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands.  His brow furrowed in confusion.

This was supposed to be a game.  A game of walls and mazes and misdirection. He was the ‘Asshole,’ full of snarky comments and flirty quips all while withholding his true self.  He didn’t need friends, just coworkers so he could carry out his mission and bring Stain’s vision to life before his quirk killed him.  But your magic hands dismantled his walls, allowing you to walk right in and get in his head with your stubborn heart.  He had cared. For the briefest of moments, he cared.

It was his game.  Why did he feel like he was losing?

______________________________________________________________

Part 3

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Taglist: @lemonfvck​ @vs-redemption​ @inanabsentia​ @sheedaabee​ @toshiuwuu​ @marydragneell​ @chillinwithmybakubros​ @genuinelytodorokisbitch​ @sam-i-am-1025​

[ziracona]

[Fate Grand Order AU] The Kid pt: 1, ... 8, 9, 10,?

“Ready?”

We both nod. Ritsuka takes a very deep breath, and exhales slowly. I know she’s scared, and it’s no wonder. I would be too, if I was her; who wouldn’t be?

I’m not though.

Really, not at all. I’m doing what I want, and I’ve got the best non-master I’ve ever had with me, and an archer I trust. I’ve survived the impossible, and I’m heading in for revenge and some rescues with a good plan.

I’m feeling lucky.

“Once we’re in there, stay close to me,” says Emiya.

Ritsuka nods.

“I mean it. We’re going to be stretched thin once the fighting starts in earnest, and neither he nor I are going to be as capable as we usually are. That means we’re going to depend on you to keep up and keep your eyes open. I won’t be able to watch you the whole time, but if you stay by me, you’re not going to get hurt. I promise.”

I look over at Emiya. He sounds so intense, and sincere. I still haven’t figured this guy out, but I can tell he genuinely cares about the kid, if for no reason other than she is a kid, and a nice one. I believe him, because I can tell it’s important to him, and not because she’s his master. He wants to keep her safe.

I mean, who wouldn’t.

Ritsuka meets his gaze and gives a very serious nod.

Emiya returns it.

“Good,” says Emiya, “I know this is a lot for your first time, but we’ve got a plan, and you’ve got two servants watching your back. Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”

You know she’s scared too, I think, smiling a little to myself.

“Like he said,” I promise, and I give her a smile when she glances my way, “We’re gonna keep you safe, and we’re gonna save everyone in there. Just you watch, partner.”

She smiles back and gives another nod. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

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

 This is some kind of sick joke.

Shit…

Where did they even get a nun? Where do you get someone for…for something like…this…

I’m not…not entirely sure this is happening at all. It happened before. But things look different. Feel different.

This. Didn’t…happen to me like this. It didn’t happen to me when I was a heroic spirit.

That’s about all I have energy to think about.

You forget, when it’s been long enough, that losing blood makes you nauseous. Why?

I don’t know.

I don’t know…

Wrists hurt, a little. They cut pretty deep—she cut pretty deep. Mostly I just want to vomit. I’ve wanted to vomit for days. I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted that as a heroic spirit before.

It’s not an impulse I’m…s-still supposed to have.

There’s so much sweat soaked into everything, my hair’s gotten matted to my face and it makes it hard to see anymore. I can really only make out anything from my left eye now. So tired…

I wish it would just fucking be over. I’ve died before; I could die again. Instead I’m dying, for so long. So long.

Why?

What on earth is the point in all this?

It’s dark in this room. It’s always so fucking dim. I can see her just fine though.

She’s…she’s here all the time, it feels like. It must be more than one of them. It gets hard to remember, but, none of them look like my cousin did. I guess that must not matter.

Does to me though. Makes this whole thing feel like a joke. They didn’t quite do it right.

I wonder if it’s just that someone really hates me?

I’ve made my fair share of enemies, I’m sure. Can’t think of why else someone would set this up. They’re really taking their time if…

- 

I zone out, or pass out. I’m rarely sure anymore. Consciousness comes and goes, but it comes more than I wish it did.

I’m so tired. I feel cold and hot at the same time, but mostly cold. Strange.

Losing blood, just feels weird. Disoriented, sick. Pain is better, pain you can focus on. This is like…being ill. You’re not all there.

For some reason it makes me angrier I’m on a bed.

I forget that part. Bolted down with several bands—I’ve tried to break them when I’m conscious enough to remember I should, but there’s some powerful antimagic on them, and whatever they’re made of, it’s meant to repel heroic spirits. I can’t do shit to them, not like this anyway. I can’t flee either. Tried that before I tried anything else.

Laid on a cot, bolted down to it, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding from wrists slit so deep. They never stop bleeding, and I never run out. I’m always just on the edge of it, just on the edge of having so little my brain has to shut down, just little enough I’m nauseous and cold and pouring sweat. It hurts, but not as much as dying should, and that makes it worse too. Someone’s hunted hard for the way I died, and recreated meticulously but not so meticulously as to make me think I’m important one of the worst things that was ever done to me, and to add insult to all that I’m dying slowing for days and days on a bed. Like there’s any point in pretending this isn’t as brutal as possible.

It’s funny it was one of the coins I gave her they used to summon me. Makes me furious. Of all the catalysts.

I guess someone was really proud of their poetic timing.

 I tried, a couple times, to talk to the nun in here. She’s always nearby. Sometimes she comes over does something to the cuts on my wrists. I thought she was cutting deeper the first time, but she isn’t. She’s…play-acting. Like there’s any point to that, to any of this shit.

I tried talking.

I…

When did I get here?

It’s too much, trying to focus. I have to stop and clear my head because the nausea is too damn strong. Wait, breathe, try and stay calm, try and not pass out.

…I got here… Don’t know when. That’s okay. That’s okay. Who was there?

…

She was. One of them. Summoned me. I remember…being a little shocked, to see a nun dressed like that in this time. I should have been more suspicious. Used a seal on me. To…

…Lay down.

That’s right. Fucker. Of all the things. Not pass out, not stop moving, not ‘don’t resist.’ No. Go lay down. Go stick your own head under the guillotine.

Fucking mages.

Lay down. And ‘stay there’.

I remember…knowing it was bad when I got the first command. There’s nothing normal about being summoned into a small lab room with nothing but a chair and a bed in it. Magic resistance isn’t my forte, even as a knight class, but I tried. God, that hurts. I don’t think non-spirits have any fucking idea how much it hurts to try and resist a command spell. It feels like every atom of your body is being ripped apart by your attempt to pull away from it. It’s fucking excruciating.

But I’m not stupid, and I knew it was bad. So I tried. She ordered me again, same command. That’s right…. Right. And I couldn’t stop then.

Bottoming out, strange feeling, like I knew I was about to die. It felt, surreal… Always does, when someone who isn’t you is walking your body around with you still inside it.

Laid down. And she commanded me to stay there. I thought she’d be out then, but she had more than three somehow. I tried to resist that one too. The whole time she was fastening bolts in place over my limbs and throat and torso so I couldn’t move once the spells wore off, the whole time she was setting her fucking bowl up under my arms, and the whole time she was cutting into my arms.

…

She didn’t even do it fast. Just calm, and casual. Like it was any other job. Like she was…oiling a lamp or something.

When I realized there was no way I was going to make it out by resisting, I tried talking to her. I was afraid she’d order me to shut up too, but she didn’t. Didn’t seem to feel a need to.

I asked her what she was doing, what she wanted—why she was doing it. I tried pleading. It’s been a long time, but once the knives came out, and everything clicked as what it was, I did. I tried telling her she didn’t have to do this, I tried pleading with her to not, to stop. To tell me why.

She never even looked me in the face. Not like she was afraid to, either. Afraid to feel guilt. It was like it wasn’t worth her time.

 There were others, after the first. I’ve tried talking to them all. I’m sure I’ve forgotten faces, and tried more than once.

Most of them don’t even look at me.

None of them ever even give me an answer.

No one’s even told me why I’m here.

I have no idea what they want. Why they’re doing this.

How long it’s been.

If it’ll ever end.

 I’m so tired. I would give anything to be able to just vanish into the shadows right now and breathe again, for even five minutes.

 Funny. Usually I try so hard not to spend too long thinking about my old life at all.

It’s hard, you know. I try not to think about that either, but normal people, they get afterlives, reincarnation, something. For us, going on after we die means we just don’t see the people we loved again. Even if we’re…unlucky enough they’re also made into a heroic spirit, we maybe cross paths once every 300 years, and then it’s with mages forcing us to take up our weapons and kill each other in some ritual we never cared about at all.

So I try not to think about them. Because I miss them.

Of course I do. We all do. And I don’t think I could stand thinking about that much.

God I hope they’re happy, and that they’re together, all of them, wherever they are now.

I hope Little John was okay. I hope Will didn’t blame himself, when I was the one who didn’t take his advice.

I hope they know I miss them.

I hope they understand why I try so hard not to think about them.

I love them way too much to let myself do that. I’d never be able to bear it.

But.

It’s so hard, like this. I try, but I can’t not think about that Priory in Kirklees. I can’t not think about the one person with me, or the people I left behind to get there.

…

I remember still. How sad he looked, when I asked him to bury me somewhere green. I knew he would do it, though.

I’ve never gotten to see my own grave. I went to look, once, but I know the place there’s a marker up isn’t the right one. Little John has a nice one, though. Under a yew tree. It suits him.

Please. I can’t.

 I can’t.

I turn my head, slow, and find the woman dressed like a prioress from another time. She’s sitting in a chair nearby, sewing. God knows why.

There’s no reason to try again, but there’s no reason not to.

“Please,” I try. My voice started sounding hoarse days ago. Now it’s just…weak and dead. I know she can hear me though. She doesn’t acknowledge it, but there’s a little change in her posture, and I see it. Come on. What do you have to lose? Or to gain? “At least just tell me why I’m here. It can’t hurt to tell me that.”

This seems like the one I have the best chance with. Nobody who won’t tell me why they’ve been slowly killing me for days on end in the most fucked up way maybe possible is going to come free me.

Just like before though, she doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look my way.

…I think the bitch smiles. Why?

God damn it.

And then it’s just back to sewing. Like I’m not in the room.

Why. Why won’t you tell me? Why!

 I give up. I turn my attention to the bars I’m under, and use every bit of strength I have to try and weaken the restraint bolting down my right hand, like I have every time I’ve tried this. Pretending I might somehow eventually chip away.

Like every other time, the only thing that happens to me is I pass out.

 When I wake up again, and my weak vision focuses enough to see well, it’s another woman in the chair, but I recognize her. I’ve tried talking to her before too. How many of them are there in rotation, six?

Where did you come from? Why would you want to do this? What kind of job posting did you even answer to fucking walk in here like this?

Like she can sense me thinking, she turns and glances my way, sets her needlework aside, and stands.

Great.

Wish I’d stayed out, but, it’s a mind game, so of course she was waiting for me to wake up.

I consider trying to knock myself out again, but that would just postpone this, and I am later-me, so there doesn’t seem to be a point. I watch with numbed dread as she picks up a small knife from a little table by her chair and walks over.

“Still afraid to look me in the face while you do that?” I say, hoping to provoke any kind of a response. I don’t get one.

Of course. Figures.

She stoops by the bed and readies the knife carefully by the vein that is still very much bleeding and not even starting to coagulate in my left wrist. This is gonna hurt.

There’s a sound like a truck hitting a wall, and we both jolt and turn our heads to look towards it. There’s nothing there though—still just us in the room.

I listen, ears straining, desperate for any change to this endless fucking routine, and I hear…is that. …It can’t be gunfire? Can it?

But that’s what it sounds like. For just a second, but I could swear...

I don’t think the prioress actor can hear it, because she isn’t as alarmed as I’d think, hearing gunfire, but she’s definitely on edge after the crash. She stands up, knife still in hand, and gives the direction the thud came from a wary look.

Please be someone shooting the building up. Just come in here and put a bullet between my eyes and send me back to the throne—I’m begging you. Mercy kill me. Please.

Shit, that won’t work will it. Fuck—I have god damn catalysts. They’ll drag me right back with that coin.

Not if they’re all dead, though. I pray to God in my head that this is some mage-on-mage war breaking out and that might happen. I doubt I’ll be that lucky though—feels like a long time since my prayers were so miraculously answered.

I stop hearing what I thought was gunfire, and my heart sinks.

The fake prioress stands where she is a few more seconds, still wary, then seems to calm back down, and turns back to me again.

Shit.

There’s a smashing sound and sudden light from the far end of the room, and in the second I squint, trying to adjust to it, there’s a flash of intense motion that’s humanly impossible and something rams into the prioress’s face and sends her flying back so hard she dents the wall behind me, and I’m suddenly looking up in shock at the worried face of a heroic spirit I know.

No. I’m dreaming. There’s no way this is happening to me for real. I don’t have good luck of any kind. There’s-

“Robin!”

But that’s his voice. Sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Out of everyone in the world, somehow it’s one of the few heroic spirits I can call a real friend.

“Billy?” I manage in disbelief. Even with limited vision from one eye, it’s clearly him. Jacket and shirt bloody like he’s been shot, but acting completely fine, colt in his hand—Oh my God.

“In here!” calls Billy over his shoulder, then he’s beside me in a heartbeat, taking in the scene for a split second before immediately going for the restraints.

“Wait, don’t-“ I try to warn him, but I’m too late, and he yelps in pain and snags his hand back shaking it reflexively. “Anti-spirit enchantment,” I explain sympathetically.

“Damn it,” says Billy, still shaking his hand, “Okay—hang on—Ritsuka!”

The name is delivered over his shoulder, and I turn to look and see two more figures. There’s a taller spirit whose form I find vaguely familiar, even though I can’t see him well, standing by the door. Lookout, I think. And then a smaller person—a girl, a kid, running towards us.

A…Not a spirit—a mage?

Must be.

Doesn’t smell like one though. Just smells like a human.

When she gets close enough to see me, she skids to a momentary stop and her eyes go wide with horror and she looks sick, but before Billy even has to prompt her, she’s moving forward again, and she makes it to me out of breath in only another second, casting Billy a worried look.

“I can’t open them,” explains Billy quickly, gesturing to the restraints, “I could try and blow them off, but that’ll be loud, and it’ll be a—”

“—I-I got it,” she interrupts, “But how do I—” She stops and stares at the bolts holding me down and furrows her brow, then gives Billy a confused look like this is some kind of trap. “But they’re not locked?”

“Was mine?” asks Billy.

His? …Oh no. Oh Billy, I’m so sorry. I try and remember how he died. I think it was a shit death.

“Yours was different—I mean, it was sort of locked, but it was all hooked up to a computer. This is just…a little twist lock, like a door bolt,” answers the girl.

“Doesn’t matter,” says Billy, “He can’t touch it.”

“Oh—Oh right!” she says, realization in her face, and then she’s turning the locks on the bolts and tugging them up and off me as fast as she can. She does the one Billy had indicated, my left wrist, first, but then she gets the one on my neck, and something about that makes me like her. It’s not the most practical choice, but it was the most distressing one, and I like what that says about her priorities.

“Hi, uh—” she hesitates to give the fake prioress a kind of worried grimace, then looks back at me as she goes, “Y-you’re gonna be okay, okay?”

“—Robin Hood,” adds Billy for her with a nod. Her eyes widen.

“Robin Hood?”

That’s nice. Still surprises me when someone reacts to my name like they just heard ‘King Arthur’. Who’d have thought?

“R-Robin Hood,” she says again, nervously turning back to me and trying to give a reassuring smile as she unlocks restraints, “We’re here to help. We’re going to rescue you and all the other heroic spirits trapped here.”

‘Other’? God, I wonder how many more of us there are… I’m working hard to think fast about what those words might mean.

She gets the fourth bolt and something happens and I suddenly feel overwhelmingly sick, and my vision goes black and I’m gone.

 I’m not sure how long it’s been when I come back. My head is throbbing and my body feels weak and drained, and I’m so terrified that this scenario I can vaguely remember is some fever dream and it’s just going to be me and that woman in this room, but when I open my eyes, there’s two blurry figures above me, and one silhouette is blonde and the other a redhead, and in the six seconds it takes for my sight to focus that makes me hopeful.

“Robin?”

Billy’s voice, and I can tell from his tone he’s called my name several times. I vaguely register pressure on my shoulder, gentle. He’s…worried about me…

“Yeah,” I slur a little, but I get out.

“Crap,” whispers the girl, who looks pale as a ghost now, “Robin?” she tentatively asks louder, “This thing they have you in, I think it’s what’s giving you enough mana to stay alive, and if I remove it-“

“-I’ll die,” I answer unevenly, filling in the blanks.

“Will you form a contract with me?” she asks worriedly, glancing at her hand, and then holding it out towards me like an invitation. “I-I promise I’m only here to help, so you can stay grounded a-“

“Absolutely,” I croak out, weakly slinging my bleeding left hand up as high as I can get it, “I accept your offer. Let’s do this.”

She looks kind of shocked.

“You’re with Billy. Who I trust,” I explain slowly with what energy I have left, and I see Billy smile out of the corner of my eye, “So I know I can trust you. And honestly, kid, I’d take anything over this shit right now. It really can’t get worse let’s do this.”

I meet her gaze, and she still seems a little taken aback, but relieved too, or happy, and she gives me a fervent nod and takes my hand in hers very gently, careful of the wound on my wrist, then places her right hand on top.

“My soul becomes your will; your spirit becomes my destiny. If you accept this contract with me, then answer my call,” promises the girl unlike any way I’ve heard a mage offer a contract to me before. I feel more like I’m being promised something than asked to sign a contract suddenly, and it’s an odd feeling. But a welcome one. “and bind to me; Archer!”

I look her in the eyes and say, “I accept your contract,” and there’s a flash of red light from her hand and I feel the connection take root and suddenly I’m getting a little stream of mana I wasn’t before, and my head feels clearer than it has since the moment I was summoned.

When I look back up, the kid is watching me worriedly, but she must see something good in my reaction, because she smiles at me and sets my arm down gently, then goes back to speed-ripping the restraints off. She’s down to like, ankles and one leg when she goes, “OH CRAP!” and pops back up into my view, since I sure as hell haven’t felt like trying to sit up yet, and whips around to face me.

“I-I’m so sorry—I’ll get those in a second, but let me—”

She’s going for my wrist, and I’m confused for a millisecond, then I get it and relax, and let her lift my arm. The kid does it gently, supporting my weight with her right hand and carefully placing her left over the wound, and she shuts her eyes and scrunches her face up in concentration, and I feel a faint pulse of mana, and the pain in wrist fades to almost nothing.

Pausing for a quick glance at her work and seeming relieved by it, the kid sets my arm down and does the same thing with the other. She’s sweating now, and looks a little shaky, but if she’s somehow supporting both Billy and me at the same time, it’s really no wonder her mana’s kind of tapped out. Actually it’s a wonder she’s signed on two servants. –she has, right?

Wait—shit. I forgot the one at the door. That’s impossible though, right? No normal mage has the mana for that, let alone a kid, and I don’t think we’re in a holy grail war right now or something. He must be contracted to someone else?

Finished, the girl goes back to freeing the last few restraints, and Billy kneels by me and tugs some fabric out of a pocket and takes my wrist himself. It’s not bleeding anymore, but the cut’s still there, which is about how it felt, so I’m not very surprised to see remnants of a wound. Billy begins wrapping the incisions for me, and I keep still while they both work. I know I’m gonna have to stand up in a minute, and I’m gonna need whatever energy I can get.

“So,” I say with a tired smile, watching Billy as he wraps the cut.

“So,” he echoes, grinning at me, “Surprised I swung in to rescue you? –Well, we swung in?”

“I mean, yeah,” I answer, “Completely. I can’t even pretend not to be.”

His grin widens.

“…Did you pistol whip that prioress into the wall?” I ask after a second, trying to keep the smile twitching at the edge of my lips from becoming real.

Billy glances over at where she landed with a bit of a grimace, then glances back at me and says, “Well, she was about to cut into you with a knife.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” I say, and I’m sure damn well not.

“She-she’s still breathing, right?” asks the mage kid worriedly, hearing us.

Billy glances over at the body again.

Huh. I guess the kid is trying to avoid fatalities. She must be his master too, the way she’s talking to him, and he’s acting, so she is supporting two. A little odd for a mage to be so soft, but I guess she is pretty young. Kind of nice. I guess. Though I really wouldn’t mind if that bitch was dead… Still, probably for the best.

“Yeah, she’s breathing,” confirms Billy before turning back to me, “Don’t worry—I definitely broke some bones, but she’s alive.”

“Oh good,” says the girl in relief.

“Didn’t know your precision gun skills extended to pistol-whipping,” I comment with a smile.

“Hey, they extend to everything,” promises Billy warmly. God it’s good to see him again.

“Why are you here?” I ask, glancing from him to the girl.

“Short version? She happened to see me in about the same spot you are, intervened, and we decided to take the whole place down, like you do,” says Billy happily as he finishes tying off the second bandage, “Archer at the door is Emiya—she summoned him to help us.”

‘Emiya’? I know that name—I remember him. Not sure where—maybe a summoning I lost memories of, but…I don’t have a bad feeling attached, so that’s a good sign. He’s another archer, isn’t he? Huh, what are the odddd----wait!

“She’s contracted to three servants?” I ask in disbelief as Billy slides a hand behind my back and starts to help me up.

“Oh she’s gonna be contracted to at least six before the night’s up,” says Billy.

I gape at the girl.

“I uh, I have weird mana,” she manages in a weak voice, turning red, “I mean a weird amount.”

“Yup, which works great for us! She’s not got much training, so we’re all gonna be running a little thin on mana,” says Billy. I make it to my feet and he lets go, keeping his arms up in case I fall, and I’m unsteady on my own, but I manage to stay standing. “Downside? No noble phantasms for anyone but me, and we all gotta be careful to stay material. Upside? She’s the only mage maybe on the planet who could walk through here and contract to six servants alone.”

“Well, it sounds like we got the better end of that deal,” I say, taking that in and giving my new master a curious once-over. Now that I’m thinking clearer, I see I was right. She’s young—maybe sixteen, seventeen? Japanese. Down a command spell, too.

“Oh, I didn’t introduce myself again,” she says, chagrined, and then offers me a hand, “Robin—i-is it okay if I—?”

“You can call me that,” I affirm with a weak smile.

“Thanks,” says the girl, smiling back warmly, and I’m struck again by just how young she is. It’s not like I’ve really had time to think…any of this through, but. She’s here, saving me. Saved Billy, apparently. She saw what was going on with me, God knows what she saw happening to him, and still, she’s here, stalwartly sticking it out. Just a kid.

I know that’s not right, and a part of me feels guilt suddenly, like somehow it’s my fault she’s here and in danger and in over her head, but it’s not, and I know that. I’m lucky she came here for whatever her reasons are, and I’m damn lucky she’s helping me, and all I can do about it is stick by this new master and keep her safe in thanks.

“Robin, I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru—you can call me Ritsuka,” she adds, offering a hand for a handshake. I take it.

“Nice to meet you Ritsuka,” I say, “Thanks for the rescue. I owe you big; just tell me what you need, and I’m yours, Master.”

Her eyes widen a little and her expression changes to distressed. Hm?

“Oh, please—just Ritsuka,” she says, “You aren’t my servant, and I’m not here to be your master either. I just want to be your ally. I-I mean, you’re Robin Hood.”

I blink, surprised. “You don’t want to be called that?”

“I don’t want to be that,” she says, flushing a little, “I know technically you contracted to me, but I promise I won’t try to force you to do anything. I don’t want to be your master; just your friend.”

That might be the sweetest thing someone has said to me in the last hundred years, and it’s some kid I’ve only just met who’s got no earthly reason at all to be helping me. Something about her in that moment reminds me of Will, something about the intense fervency and the delivery of such a dramatic statement with so much genuine meaning and complete sincerity you can’t help but find it impossible to mock. It makes me like her.

“Well okay then,” I say, “If that’s how you want it. You’re very generous, Ritsuka.”

She beams like that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to her in the last 300 years, and I see Billy watching like a proud parent or something, matching grin on his face.

“Okay, great! We better get moving. We’ve mostly been able to sneak so far, so keep it down, but they definitely know something is up. Come on!” says Ritsuka, turning back towards the door and hurrying off, waving me and Billy after her. Billy lets her get a little lead and then slides an arm around my back and helps me towards the door.

“Really somethin’, huh?” asks Billy very proudly now that she’s not in hearing distance.

“You really god damn lucked out, didn’t you Bill?” I reply, giving him a weak grin.

“Oh, more than I maybe ever have before,” he agrees readily, “Told you my prayers get answered.”

I smile. “Guess they do.” We’re quiet for a second as we catch up to the others at the door. I’m feeling better and better by the second, stronger. Should be able to walk on my own in less than a minute. I’m not getting a ton of mana from the kid up there, but it’s enough I’m healing at a decent speed.

I glance over at Billy once we’re about to them. He looks like he always has. Proud, happy, relaxed, sharp, young and full of potential and hopes and dreams. A more real happy than I’ve seen him look in a long time, but with it, I can see some very recent shadows lingering. I don’t know exactly what he’s been through, but I know it was like the hell I’ve been in the last few days, and that’s enough.

“Hey Bill,” I say quietly, and he glances over expectantly, “Thank you, for coming for me.”

He smiles. “’Course. What are friends for?”

“Saving each others’ asses,” I agree with a tired smile.

“Saving each others’ asses,” he echoes, pleased.

It’s familiar.

I’ve got no real idea what the plan here is, or what my next hour is going to look like, or even if I’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving it, but I feel hopeful. We’ve been in some dire straights together before, and made it out.

Besides, I already got quite a miracle tonight; what’s one more?

“Emiya, Robin,” says Ritsuka proudly, motioning from the tall archer, to me, and back, “Robin, Emiya.”

Emiya gives me a nod. He’s familiar as hell, and I see recognition in his eyes I think, but I just can’t god damn place him. I’m right, I can tell—it’s a summon I’ve lost memories from, god damn it. I fucking hate that. I don’t sense any animosity from him though, and I’m not getting any misgivings, so I figure we were at least completely neutral towards each other whenever we met, and that’s a good sign, all things considered. I nod back.

“So,” I say, glancing out into the hall curiously now that I’m there, “Rescue mission, right? For several more of us? We got an actual plan, or we just winging this?”

“Plan,” says Ritsuka like she’s a little surprised and hurt I think she would come here without one.

“Yes,” agrees Emiya, giving me a once-over before returning his attention to the hallway outside, “We’re getting as many of us as fast as possible, because at a power disadvantage, we can use the numbers. And the next step is going to be one floor up, six doors down.”

“Any idea who it is?” asks Billy.

This is the most I’ve seen of the place I’ve been stuck. I barely had time when I got summoned to register the fucking time period, let alone anything about my surroundings. It’s some kind of multi-story building though, modern, security everywhere. Right now, there are alarms blaring, but they don’t sound focused on this level. They must have created one hell of a diversion before coming in—probably the crash I heard earlier. There are about ten unconscious guards in my line of sight up and down the hall; I’m genuinely amazed I can sense them all breathing. I guess Billy was serious about the kid wanting them to hold back. That’s going to be a huge pain with us all fighting weak and wounded, but I guess it’s unavoidable, and I’m not in a position to look a gift horse in the mouth anyway.

“No,” says Emiya, “I don’t recognize the energy signature, and from Ritsuka’s description of the catalysts she saw—if we’re limited to them—could be a large number of spirits.”

Billy gives a nod, adjusts his hat, and casually slings open the barrel of his gun and reloads it without looking away from Emiya. “Well then, let’s go find out.”

“Fast, preferably,” I agree. I don’t care if it’s the most god damn annoying spirit I’ve ever met up there. None of us deserves to be trapped like this another second.

“Okay, keep quiet, stay close,” says Emiya, moving out into the hall.

Okay, I think, watching Ritsuka hurry into the hall after him. Billy gives me a look asking if I’m okay to walk, and I nod and he lets me go and together we step out after them. Alarms blaring, unfamiliar territory, one familiar person, and God knows what in store. Still, I think, keenly aware of the now very faint throb in my wrists. What a comfort relief is. Unlike any other sensation I’ve ever known. Not really anything new, is it? These kinds of odds.

I glance over at Billy. He’s excited and focused, gun ready, eyes bright. It puts me at ease to see it. He’s always like this in a tight spot, but then, he’s about the best spirit I’ve ever known to be stuck in a foxhole with.

I’m sad for just a moment, remembering other people it was good to be pinned down with. Thinking about the worry on his face when he got to my side, and how it’s not the first time a friend looked down in horror and grief at me bleeding out like that. All these things I try never to think of.

But you’d like him, Little John, I think to myself, cheering up a little at the things I know he’d say, He’s a ruffian and an outlaw and a loyal friend, and you’d like him right away—faster even than I did. I know it’s true; I know them both so well by now. He’d be glad there was someone taking up his place, when he couldn’t be here. It’s such a rare thing, for one of us to make a close friend once we’re sent to the throne.

Part of me wonders for a second if he’s why. It’s been a long time since my prayers were answered, but I wonder if my best friend prayed for it enough he got it.

We pick up the pace, and I hear people ahead and summon my crossbow, preparing to fight. I see knives appear in Emiya’s hands and Billy pull back the hammer on his colt in the same instant.

Probably not, I think, closing my eyes and letting myself smile in the one moment before we round the corner on a fight.

But maybe.

Which is a thought worth holding on to.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Free Fallin’

“Can we, uh. Drive?”

Cas turns to Dean Winchester, amused, yet not entirely surprised. The hunter’s standing in the doorway, the line of his lips slant. But he’s got his eyebrows raised in a pleading stance, his posture as unsettled as pinkening, flustered cheeks. He is, in spite of the hesitation, to the core of his being, endearing to Cas.

But Cas rallies to stay serious. There’s a chance Dean needs that right now. “If you’d really rather. Of course.”

If you really want to avoid this. 

Dean seems uncomfortable, still, though Cas just gave him an out. Cas can feel the restlessness in his guilty stare. 

It hadn’t been long since Castiel got his wings back. And this was the first chance he was going to have, post completely healing, to fly - trial runs (flights?) didn’t really count, because they didn’t have any destinations, and he’s actually been looking forward to flying with someone, because it’s been a bit of an eternity since he’s done it. Been of use, like that. So ever since the case popped up on their radar, courtesy of a small-scale hunter in Maine, who acceded to keep them updated, he’s been waiting. 

It’s too far away to drive, if urgency strikes. They’d have to fly. Especially now that they could.

(Sam set off for Texas with Jack six days ago - a newspaper article leading them to cremated ghosts with elite, mysterious family members, and a whole lot of them. It’s fairly tame, as far as salt-and-burns go, and Castiel trusts both Sam’s intelligence, and commitment to keeping Jack safe, enough to not have decided to follow, three days in.

Which means it’s just Dean and him.)

Cas knows he’s never been more enthusiastic on a personal level about the discovery of a vampire’s nest. And he doesn’t pin it to a hunter’s heart dripping gamelust - because he’s aware that the idea of flying across the country with Dean Winchester, after so long, is significantly more appealing than the intricacies of pretending, and ridiculous badges, when they get there. 

So alright, Cas’s been waiting for this. Packing, planning and leaving. With Dean, and Dean’s familiar duffel, and his wings - it’s been an exciting thought. No matter how little time it’d take, and no matter how many times he’s flown around the vast Milky Way in the entirety of his life as an angel - this had felt like something monumental for Cas to suggest, and for Dean to agree to, through a mouthful of dinner, and several thoughtful nods. It had felt like something special.

But now, if Dean’s in enough discomfort to come out and audibly hint at it, it’s harder for him than he let Castiel believe - in the past, or even the night before yesterday. Cas knows he’d never impose on Dean. Or reinforce the multiple, exceedingly valid arguments he hadn’t had to use the first time, in favor of flying versus driving. Dean has the right to retract his agreement, his consent at any moment, and Cas instantly resolves to not let it show that this had meant something, because Dean would end up shouldering all the guilt Cas had no resolve to create, and absorbing it to the deepest crevices of his mind, to let himself fester in it.

Cas stays impassive. Ever proficient at dormancy. 

Still, Dean picks up on it. Guarded walls come up to shelter something akin to fear. “You wanted this.” It borders on inflammatory. A tinge of accusation, but it doesn’t feel pointed at Cas. 

“I did.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean grimaces, entering the room with a streeled step. It’s as if Cas’s earnestness knocked a few layers off his shield - and reduced the distance between them, literally and metaphorically. Truly, honesty is the strongest axe Cas swings at Dean’s unhealthy defenses, with.

“Dean, you needn’t be.” Cas assures him, and he means it, although the disappointment within him is giving way to a sullen sense of despondency he doesn’t wish to indulge in, so he deflects by concentrating on Dean instead. 

Dean shifts, raises his eyes from the floor to meet Cas’s, and they linger in a stare of depthless confessions. 

It’s unlike them.

So when Cas tries to render a small smile, because it felt like the silence needed to be reacted to - needed one of them to pull off, there’s no way for him to know that it’ll push them over the edge. Dean wrenches away from him, and Cas sees the strings holding him stoic, snap.

“Sonuvabitch, Cas -”

Dean storms up to him, glaring. He’s angry, it almost radiates off of him - just not, per se, at Cas. 

“- we’ve all come such a fucking long way!” He growls, and Cas meets his stare uncertainly, thrown off. This is unpredictable, to say the least. Dean’s positively glowering at him - except it’s through him, like he’s been hollowed out. “We saved the goddamn world, man. Died a combined total of a hell of a lot! Sam’s gone from being an angry teenager to a kickass, new-age Bobby Singer. Dammit Cas, we lost your wings and got them back.”

We lost your wings.

Cas nods, faintly. He still isn’t sure where Dean’s going with this. 

“Back then? You would’ve put two angelic fingers on my forehead, and zapped me the fuck to India, or something.” Dean grits out, edging towards his worst temper. Cas can hear him trying to restrain himself. “But now, you won’t - now, you listen, and you try - because you’ve grown, Cas. You’ve become family, and I -”

Cas doesn’t think about the fact that if Dean isn’t angry at him, there’s no reason to be yelling. Instead, he thinks about the rare haziness in intense, green eyes, and the pain in his crushed voice.

“And I haven’t fucking changed.” Dean ends abruptly, inflicting a scornful glare at the floor, and -

Oh. 

“Dean,” is all Cas says, because he isn't sure Dean’s done yet. They’ve always jumped to conclusions, and realized they were wrong later, but Cas really doesn’t want to interrupt right now. 

“Ten years, we’ve known each other.” Dean looks up again. There’s too much in his eyes. “Forty years, I’ve been hunting. And I’m still the goddamn same, Cas. Angry, pissed-off, worthless. The hits just keep on coming, and all I do is bury myself in the losses, and then Sam or you screws my head on straight and we pull a miracle out of our asses, but end of the day, I’m this fucked-up, hurting piece of shit, and -”

Emotions shine at the corner of Dean’s eyes; years of keeping it all down, finally overcome. With the surfacing ruinness, Dean lets out a strained sound, and lets his head fall. Chin buried in his chest, at last, he forces out. 

“- and I’m still too afraid of flying.”

“Dean.” Cas loses what remained of his reticence, and if Dean has more to say, he can say it with Cas close, hovering near with his hands featherlight along Dean’s arms, wanting to comfort, but not knowing how. Cas wants to be there - but he’s never gotten a chance before. He has no idea how. “Dean, look at me. Please. It’s not like that, Dean, you’re not those things - Dean, you’re one of the best men I know, just, please -”

Cas knows he isn’t doing the most articulate, or efficient job of reassuring the volatile, shaking hunter - almost - in his arms. None of it seems to seep through, however hard he tries. It’s years of repression. Like the other shoe dropping, the facade of being okay just crumbled - and it’d been the most convincing one yet, one Dean’s been hiding under since God was sent away. 

Instead of listening to Cas, Dean’s lost in his head. He scrubs his face with his hands, and then fists them in his hair, screwing his eyes shut. It hurts Cas to be so helpless right now - because no words seem to make a difference.

“I’m scared of it, Cas.” Dean repeats, voice breaking mid-sentence, and the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes.

Cas looks at him, terrified. He wishes he could hug Dean - wrap himself around him in a tight embrace, and not let go until Dean stops shaking, because right now, he’s trembling, but Cas has no idea if he’s allowed to do that. Dean is - well, from what Cas interprets of the situation, he’s having a panic attack, and Cas doesn’t want to cross boundaries. 

Cas just wants to brush off Dean’s tears, which have never been there before, and run his hands through his hair, and caress his temple, and he wants to soothe Dean’s knuckles with his thumbs, and he wants to tell Dean how wonderful he is, again and again until he believes Cas, and then calmly, he wants to take Dean’s hands, and -

That’s probably exactly what Castiel needs to do. 

Dean’s too out of it to register Cas gently plucking Dean’s hands from his face, freeing his hair of their assault - or maybe, he just can’t comprehend Cas holding his hand so tenderly, like it’s some kind of a precious thing, and Cas’s hands curl around his fingers, pushing Dean’s palm against his. 

Dean’s hands are colder than his, so Cas squeezes till Dean’s feel warm, and he looks at Dean as he does it, and Dean’s noticed now, and he’s staring at their hands, held between their chests, and he’s looking such awe - this delicate, beautiful wonder which makes Cas demand from himself why he hasn’t done this before. 

Somehow, as the seconds pass, Dean quietens. 

And as Cas holds on - simply holds on, running the pads of his thumbs on Dean’s skin, Dean’s chest stops heaving. He still looks dazed, and is breathing heavy, when Cas moves insufficiently closer, swaying into Dean’s space. 

“Will you let me try again?” Cas asks, in the same voice he’d have asked, do you trust me, and Dean understands it. 

He keeps looking at their hands. 

“Will you let me take you flying?” Cas says. “And we can hold hands, or if you’ll let me, I can hold you, and I promise it’ll be alright.”

There’s nothing, for a while. 

And then, Dean’s right thumb twitches, tracing the second knuckles of Cas’s fingers, and Cas feels a shadow of solace go through him, nervousness mingling with grace in his veins. 

“I’d let you take me anywhere, Cas.”

Cas feels his heart swell. Dean looks up slowly, seeking out Cas’s eyes, and Cas holds his gaze, and just like that, they’re back to saying things without any words. 

You fell from Heaven. Pulled me out of hell. We’ve been to purgatory together, so believe me, I’ll go to the corners of the world with you. 

“Maine?” Cas ventures, with growing confidence, for a smile - history assures him that Dean’ll join in, and he almost does. Only a wisp, but it’s there. 

“Yeah, but fucking hold me, okay?” Dean huffs, and it’s such a relieving sound of mild exasperation, more than a reach for normalcy, and Cas adores it. He knows Dean isn’t alright - not yet, and he doesn’t know how long it’ll take in the long run, but he knows he’ll be there for Dean. Through all of it, and on the other end. 

This is the farthest they’ve gotten, too. Dean’s hinted at these issues before, but he’s never had a breakdown in front of Cas - or anyone, and he’s never not backed off into a shell, after. This Dean is trying, and it’s wonderful. And it’d be growth, if Cas had ever looked at Dean Winchester, through the lens of an all-knowing immortal, like he’s not the most incredible being in the world, but a specimen, an experience - a phenomena to be analysed. 

Cas looks on, trying to dissect the way Dean’s eyes stay glued to his, unconsciously, and trying to read Dean through them. He can sense faith, and hope, and his resolve is renewed. 

“Well, we’d have to let go, first.” Cas points out, slow, and Dean tentatively does it first, ending up with his arms on his side again. Circling back to awkward, and adorable in his nervousness. But Cas doesn’t let him fold in, and retreat into himself, because now that he’s got Dean saying yes, and Dean asking him to, of course he’s putting his arms around him. 

Of course, he’s putting a hand on Dean’s hip - and drinking in the subtle responses of his body to Cas guiding him closer, and his other hand goes to rest on it’s eternally demarcated place on Dean’s left arm, as he looks up at Dean with all of the admiration and reverence he feels inside, trying to coax it into his eyes, and it’s not even a fraction of a millionth which makes it there, but Dean still blushes, so maybe for now, it’s enough. And then Dean’s hand grazes against Cas’s elbow carefully - because Cas hasn’t asked Dean to touch him yet, (so he doesn’t), but oh, how he wishes he would.

“How are you, Dean?” 

“I’m going to close my eyes.”

“How would you know you’re not scared if you closed your eyes?”

“How do you know I’m not going to be scared?” Dean throws back, still vulnerable, but a lot more himself. It’s a challenge, a flame disguised as a rhetoric, but Cas treats it like a question. And answers, as plainly as he can.

“Because now, you believe in me.”

It’s not a lot of words, and not the most eloquent Cas has ever been, but it conveys so much that it almost stuns Dean again. He nods, jerkily.

I’ve always believed in you.

Dean waits.

Trust is not the same as belief.

Cas decides it’s not worth this moment wasted, to stop for supplies or guns. They can circle back for them. This is it. Dean’s ready right now, and Cas wants to show him how beautiful it can be - and how with Cas, Dean never needs to fear flying.

Castiel would, and has given up his life for Dean Winchester. He’s charred, ruined, and lost his wings. Yet now, the angel shall show him how to live, on those very wings. Life is a string of poetic ironies, threaded together by choices. Love is the first pearl, and courage is the last.

“Cas.” Dean breathes out, as Cas starts to dissociate, focusing himself deep within. Dean stares openly, for Cas’s eyes are closed now, as he reaches through the realms to gather himself. “Of course, I believe in you.” Falls from his lips in an awed whisper, and the sound of his voice is still too much for the frailty of the moment.

That’s when it happens.

“I love you.” Cas lets out, because it seems far too important that Dean knows, and there’s limits to implications which can’t hold him back anymore. They’re going to fly together. 

Dean’s eyes widening is the last thing he sees, before he needs to concentrate his grace again. It feels like giving in to an old habit you’ve had to live without, more than a lover you’ve moved on from - and Dean’s hands grabbing onto him don't even register as they take off. His grand, celestial wings flap, and time hurls them out of their reality. 

Everything fades, and with the sounds, borders, and colors, so does Castiel - once again, heavenly. Everything goes away, stripping their hearts bare and momentum flickers on their skins, as ethereal, sky-like wings render the only one who remains, speechless.

Beholding the magnificence of his angel, love resonating through his ribs, Dean keeps his eyes open. 

*

It never takes too long.

Dean holds on to Cas, with arms clinging around his neck, until the end. It feels like he’s gliding - but somehow also like he’s driving hands-free in the clouds, though he’s surrounded by too much of everything for it to be the sky. He’s not terrified, but he’s overwhelmed, and he’s goddamn living- hell, he’s never lived this much in a breath, because the second he’s trying to replace the oxygen in his lungs, he finds the chasm of warped space start to dissipate. 

The ground under his boots returns, just like that.

He breathes in air - cold, real air, in the middle of a field which is certainly not Kansas, with a full-blown smile on his face which he’s not even thinking about. It still feels like he’s floating, to some imaginative part of his consciousness. It makes his heart slower, and shoulders lift, and he’s unjustifiably happy, and peaceful, and to hell with being afraid, he feels content.

Dean Winchester feels brave again. 

Maybe it’s because of Cas’s words. Maybe it’s because his arms are still fastened around him. Or maybe it’s because, Cas. He’s everything. Dean's been an idiot to have been trying to ignore the things he feels, because if he’d gotten here sooner, he could’ve had more of Cas looking at him like that, and Cas’s hands planted warmly on his sides, and Cas just smiling at him from this close. 

Now, he’s determined to make the most of the time he’s got. 

When Castiel slowly opens his eyes, looking composed again - and a little proud, definitely pleased, almost too lovely, Dean doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t wait for the voice in his head to catch up, and start second-guessing what he’s wanted to do forever. Dean just lurches forward, grabbing the trenchcoat lapels to reduce the gap, and kisses him. 

Cas responds almost right away, pushing back into the kiss, and Dean, with all of himself, and letting both arms circle Dean’s waist and shoulders, ending up impossibly close. Dean cups Cas’s face, tilting it towards himself, as he kisses him with everything he’s ever felt. There’s gratitude, and apologies, and need, and want, and then there’s the love, and that’s where he stops thinking. 

“Cas, I -” Dean pants, running out of breath. They’ve stopped kissing, and are simply paused in the moment with their foreheads leaned into a reassuring touch. Dean’s waiting to hear himself say it, and he hopes Cas is, too. “I - god, Cas - I love you too.” He takes a full breath. “I love you so much.”

And then Cas breaks into a smile, chest heaving as well, with the corners of his eyes wrinkling, and lips pulling up, and Dean gets to lean in and kiss him again, and he gets to tell Cas he loves him, and tell Cas he loves him every morning, and every time he feels like it’ll burst out of his chest if he doesn’t, and he gets to want Cas to hold him, as they fly, and -

Goddammit, he gets Cas. 

And that’s a happy ending, if Dean Winchester’s ever dreamed of one. 

[xanican-exile]

Interview the Muse

Do all of them

Long post under the cut

- What is your Full name? Include any maiden names, aliases, or nicknames.

”Venix Savreux. My last name is Mornese, I guess that must be where my mother was from. Its a country a bit to the east of Xanica.” - When is your birthday? Do you know where you were born and at what time?

”I’m actually not sure. I know that my birthday is a few weeks before the first snowfalls, but rangers didn’t really have calendars out in the Wyrmswood.”

- What is your star sign? Do you know your Chinese Zodiac too?

“I don’t know what that means.”

- What is your earliest memory that you can remember?

“My... Mother wiping a bloody scrape on my cheek. I’m really young, can’t be more than 4 or 5? It hurts a lot but I won’t let myself cry. Babies cry, but I won’t. She’s chiding me for getting in a fight, especially with two boys that are bigger than me. But I think a little part of her is proud. They were making fun of me for being a whore’s son.”

- Where was your childhood home? Was it more urban or rural?

“I was born in docks quarter of Esklay, one of the big port cities in Xanica.”

- How was your childhood in general? Did your parents treat you well? Did you have a lot of friends?

“My mother and I didn’t have much. She was a whore, no idea who my dad was, and I wasn’t exactly around there long enough to make friends.”

“Things got a lot better when I joined the rangers though.”

- How was/is school? What is your favorite and least favorite subjects? What were your grades on average?

“I didn’t go to school, but I was trained to be a ranger from the time I was... 8, 9? Something like that. I know I was ranked pretty high among the cadets, I was the top in sword skills, but everyone else that would join my pack was better than me in at least one thing.”

- Did you have a best friend growing up? What was their name? Are you still in touch?

“No, no I’m not in contact with any of them. Vex, Rand, Mako, Velite, Ilia. They.. They aren’t around anymore.”

- Were you in any cliques?

“We were encouraged to become close to small groups, they would become our pack once our training was finished.”

- Best childhood memory you can recall?

“The day my pack became full rangers.”

- Worst childhood memory you can recall?

“... My mom dying.”

- Name an event in your childhood that has shaped you into the person you are today

“Probably the day I was found by the rangers. After my mom died I ran from home, didn’t know where I was going, too young to think beyond getting away. I think it was a few weeks of being on my own, barely surviving on scraps. I guess I was going north, because I eventually ended up in the Wyrmswood. I don’t know how, it’s hundreds of miles from where Esklay is on the coast, must have ended up in one of its southernmost reaches. I.. I ended up passing out around a ranger campfire, barely noticing the people watching me. A lot of lost kids, orphans, bastards, and street rats end up as rangers, but I’ve never heard of any others stumbling on them like I did. Its probably happened, Xanica is pretty big, but I’ve never heard of it. Anyway, when I woke up they fed me, tended to my wounds, and teased my story out of me. I remember one of them asking me if I would like to be strong enough to never let something like this happen again. I took his offer without a second thought.”

- What is the dumbest thing you have ever done to impress someone? Were they impressed or was it all for naught?

“I guess there was a couple times when I was still training that I tried to go off on my own, hunt things I wasn’t ready to to impress our masters. Only took a couple beatings before I stopped doing that though.”

- Did you ever have any sweethearts or lovers? Do you have a boy/girlfriend?

“Not really. I’m on the road a lot, going from place to place. I don’t get time to get close to a girl like that. There is this one bard I seem to keep running into though..”

- Are you a virgin?

“No.”

- Do you ever plan on getting married in your life? Do you want kids?

“I’ve.. never really thought about that. I guess no. Having a family or getting married doesn’t sound like something I can do.”

- Would you rather have your own kids or adopt? How many kids would you want?

“I don’t really have a preference, its hard for my to imagine doing either.”

- Do you think you'd be a protective parent or a relaxed parent?

“I don’t think I’d be a very good one.”

- How would you prefer to pass away? Surrounded by loved ones and at peace, or while doing something heroic?

“Definitely fighting. I want whatever takes me down to remember how much of a struggle it was to kill me.”“

- Generally, how healthy are you? Do you get sick or injured easily or are you fit?

“I do everything I can to stay in peak physical condition. Doing otherwise would mean I end up dead in my line of work.”

- Have you ever been badly injured before?

“Several times. You don’t fight monsters for over a decade without collecting a fair share of scars.”

- What is the worst injury you have ever gotten? What was it and how did it happen? Were you ever close to death?

“This one right here. Those three slashes across my chest? Those are from a Wyrmling. Its like a wyvern but flightless and with four legs. I had to hunt one on my own once. Those claws destroyed my armor, but I would have been turned to paste if I hadn’t been wearing it.”

- How many times have you been to the hospital/doctor's?

“I haven’t been to many hospitals. Those are for sick people, but I’ve had to visit a lot of surgeons and healers over the years to get stitched up or have other wounds treated. I’ve never tried counting how many times I’ve been to those.”

- Have you ever had a concussion or brain injury? Have you ever had amnesia?

“I’ve had more than a few concussions, but I don’t think I’ve ever had amnesia or a serious brain injury, thankfully.”

“...I should really get a helmet.”

- What was the worst illness you ever contacted? Do you know what it was? How long were you sick?

“I don’t know what it was, but there was one time that I was stuck in bed for over a week as a child. It happens sometimes to cadets, they weren’t sure I’d survive, but I proved stronger than they expected.”

- Ever had any extended hospital stays? What for?

“Didn’t I already answer this?”

- Have you ever had to give yourself or someone else emergency first aid? What happened?

“Multiple times. Sometimes they lived, sometimes they didn’t.”

- Are you employed? Where do you work and who do you work for? What do you do?

“I guess you could call me a mercenary. Since leaving Xanica I’ve made my living going from place to place dealing with bandits, poachers, and monsters. Once or twice I’ve been hired to stay on a noble’s estates for a season to keep it guarded. Those jobs are boring, but pay best.”

- Are you happy with your current job?

“...No. Most of it is just busywork. I do it because its what I know, because its closest to what I used to do. But I wish I had something more meaningful to use my skills for.”

- Did you have any previous jobs? What were they and what did you do?

“I was raised to be a ranger. Its what I did until leaving Xanica about 2 years ago.”

- Most dangerous thing you have ever done?

“That’s hard to say. I’ve been involved in a lot of dangerous things. The expedition into the Divide might be at the top though.”

- Do you consider yourself a more active person or a more relaxed person?

“Definitely more active. I’m not good at sitting around doing nothing for than a day or so.”

- What is your dream come true? How about your worst nightmare?

“My... My nightmare already happened. My dream would be for my pack to be alive.”

- What is the biggest and most important goal you have set for yourself?

“To never let what happened to the rangers happen to someone else.”

- How persistent would you say you are? How much does it take to get you to give up on a task?

“I’d like to say I don’t give up easy, but I guess I’ve already given in on the stuff that matters.”

- Would you surrender yourself to your enemies or fight to the very end?

“Fight. I won’t run again, not while there is something I can still do.”

- When do you usually do your shopping? What is currently on your shopping list?

“Usually between jobs, or right after I finish one. Right now I need to get myself some new rope, hardtack, my cloak stitched, and a pan for cooking.”

- Top three things on your wishlist?

“Wyvernhide leather cuirass, a pair of those new glyph inscribed boots that resist water, and a warm chocolate mint drink.”

- Currently, what is something you want but do not need?

“A warm chocolate mint drink “

- Do you like shopping? What is your favorite thing to shop for?

“I don’t know if I like shopping, but I don’t dislike it either, its just something I have to do.”

- What is the most expensive thing you have purchased? Was it worth it?

“My mail shirt. Absolutely worth it, saved my life more than once.”

- What would you do if you were suddenly given one billion dollars out of the blue?

“I’m not sure. I don’t really buy a lot of luxuries. Maybe I would purchase a keep or something? A place to winter at when the roads get snowed over.”

- What would you describe your style of clothing as?

“Practical.”

- Do you have any hobbies? Name all of them if you can.

“I can make simple woodcarvings, I play the flute, and I guess I’ve dabbled in falconry.”

- Do you like and appreciate art? What is your favorite piece of artwork?

- Do you like music? What is your favorite style of music?

- Have you ever seen any musicals? What is your favorite?

- What are your top three favorite animals? What would you say your "Patronus" or "Spirit Animal" is?

“Eagles, Hawks, and Bears. Most rangers would probably say our spirits are most like wolves.”

- What are your top three favorite colors?

“Red, white, and I guess yellow or amber, though that last one is really just with eye colors.”

- What is your favorite season? Do you prefer hotter or colder weather? Do you like snow at all?

“Spring. I can’t stand the snow, it makes it easier to be tracked, and the work always slows down during the winter.”

- What kind of flavors do you prefer: Sweet, Sour, Bitter, Spicy, Dry, or Umami (savory meat taste)?

“Savory is my favorite. I’m not really a fan of sweets aside from fruits. I like mint a lot as well, but I don’t know what that falls under.”

- Can you cook at all?

“Yes. Everyone in the pack took turns cooking. So we all got pretty good at it.”

- What is your favorite dish? Can you prepare it? Do you have the recipe handy?

“I don’t know if I have a favorite, but I do like going to new places and trying their foods.”

- What is your favorite fruit and vegetable?

“Strawberries and onions.”

- What is your favorite dessert? What is your favorite type of candy/treat?

“Choclate is just about the only sweet I enjoy.”

- What is the best thing you have ever had the opportunity to eat? What is the worst?

“Xanican haggis is always a treat.”

- Do you like to drink tea or coffee? Any favorite flavors?

“Both are good, as I said earlier I like mind a lot.”

- Describe your sense of humor.

“Sarcasm.”

- What is one thing you are justly proud of?

“My skill with a sword. I’ve always been good with a blade. The best of all the rangers in my age group.”

- Do you have any religious beliefs? If not, have you ever been to a church service?

“Everyone pays respect to the gods, but I wouldn’t say I’m really religious. I’ve had to go to a few services when going to priest or nun healers. They usually make that their payment.”

- What would you say is the worst thing someone has done to you? What is the meanest thing someone has ever said to you?

"Tricking my pack into helping stoke the fires of a civil war and then getting them all killed. Anything that’s been said to me doesn’t even come close to that.”

- What is the worst thing you have done to someone? What is the meanest thing you have said to anyone?

“I’m not really sure. I tend not to talk much unless I have something really worth saying, insults are usually not worth the effort.” “Worst thing I’ve ever done to someone is definitely kill them. I’ve had to kill quite a few people.”

- Share the latest entry in your diary/journal.

“I can’t write.”

- What is the most precious thing you own? Is it valuable at all?

“Garmr. My sword. Over a thousand years old. I’ve heard some people say that its worth a kingdom, I wouldn’t know, and I don’t plan to sell it.”

- Talk about someone you know. It can be someone you either like or dislike.

“Rubio. He’s just a kid, got a lot of heart but a chip on his shoulder too. He’s had a rough start to his life, and I’m hoping to teach him a few things so he can make the rest of it better.”

[sb-sratss-obsession]

SRaTSS Episode Transcript: Ep. 1 - Star Sheriff Round-up

This is a tentative transcription of the dialogues of the first episode of “Saber Rider and The Star Sheriffs”. If you spot mistakes feel free to warn me about it, I would love to make it perfect!

Episode: 1 - Star Sheriff Round-up

Transmitted: September 14, 1987

Japanese version: 1 - "The Space Adventurers" (宇宙の冒険野郎 ‘Uchū no bōken yarō’)

OPENING THEME

Saber Rider... Saber Rider, and the Star Sheriffs Saber Rider, and the Star Sheriffs, In the sky!

Can you feel the thunder inside? Saber Rider! Make the lightning crack as you ride! Saber Rider!

(guitar solo)

Saber Rider...

Saber Rider... Saber Rider, and the Star Sheriffs Saber Rider, and the Star Sheriffs, In the sky!

EP. 1

STAR SHERIFF ROUND-UP

by Marc Handler

Saber Rider: “It was not so long ago that we, Star Sheriffs, first assembled our Special Freedom Fighting Unit. We nicknamed him Ramrod, a peacekeeping vehicle shaped like a huge cowboy. We used him to protect the settlers out here on the New Frontier. We needed the Ramrod vehicle to help stop the lightning attacks of the Outrider bandits. They were evil creatures who crossed into our dimension and raided our Cavalry Outposts. They used battalions of Dimension Jumpers and Vapor Beings who moved freely from their world to ours. We thought that Ramrod was our only chance to stop them, but in the end it was not the Ramrod vehicle but the human Star Sheriffs themselves, who really made the difference. I should know, I'm their leader. I remember when it all began; my orders were to find Vanquo, an Outrider with ghostly eyes and a long pale face. I knew they were bounty hunters seeking him so I alerted the head of operation Ramrod, a very special operative named April. Her father was the leader of the Western Sector of Cavalry Command.

Commander Eagle: What's your report, April?

April: Bad news, daddy. We think the Outriders found out about Ramrod.

Commander Eagle: Ah! But how?

April: A spy named Vanquo. I'll have to go to Planet Yuma at once.

Commander Eagle: Good luck, April.

Saber Rider: “April arrived on planet Yuma at the same time I did. Neither of us realized that we had come in the middle of their most celebrated auto race, the Yuma Grand Prix. A young driver nicknamed Fireball was leading the way in his Red Fury Racer.”

Fireball: The biggest race on planet Yuma and it’s in the bag. The other cars are so far behind I get close to the finish line smooth as a supercharged skateboard. Hey, what's that shadow? That fool! What's he doing? He's coming back around! And he set straight at me! Oh! Ah!

Colt: He's not the one I’m after.

Fireball: What’s the matter with you? You crazy?

Colt: Sorry, pardner. Afraid I got you mixed up with somebody else.

Fireball: Oh-oh. Here come the other turbochargers.

Colt: So, Vanquo sent me off on a wild goose chase. Well, that Outrider just double-crossed the wrong fella. There's a price on his head and the reward is gonna be mine.

Fireball: I had this race iced. Now I’m gonna have to fight for it.

Speaker: Ladies and gentlemen, we can see two turbochargers approaching the finish line and they’re neck and neck. Here he comes, ladies and gentlemen. He’s done it! In 23:18, a new speed record for the Red Fury Racer! What an incredible race! The crowd is going wild for Fireball, the youngest champion of all times!

Fireball: Oh, yeah, thanks!

Guy: Look out! Get those bandits!

Woman: No, stop!

Airport guard: Hold your fire!

Man: What a shoot!

Man: Get him!

Woman: They saved my little girl!

Man: But who did the fancy shooting?

Woman: It could only be one person.

Man: It has to be the legendary…

Everyone: Saber Rider!

Saber Rider: If you would be so kind, please give him a lube job. Oh, and a lump of sugar. I'd like a suite, please, overlooking the lobby if possible.

Desk Clerk: Sorry, all our rooms are full. Lots of people here to see the race, you know.

Saber Rider: Race? What race?

Desk Clerk: Why, the Grand Prix, of course. There's the winner right now.

Fireball: Hey, thank you. Thanks a lot!

Saber Rider: Where is he staying?

Desk Clerk: Way up on the 25th floor. Quite the guy, huh?

Man: Hey, Fireball, can I get your picture?

Woman: He's giving away his wreath!

Saber Rider: I’m afraid I must take his room. My mission here is urgent!

Desk Clerk: But he's got a reservation, I can't give his room away!

Fireball: Excuse me, can I have my key, please?

Desk clerk: Of course, Mr. Fireball, your room is all ready… and congratulations!

Saber Rider: Hold it right there. I'm afraid I must have this key.

Fireball: Huh? Hey, what's your trip?

Saber Rider: I'm on a mission of utmost importance!

Fireball: What? That's your problem, bud!

Saber Rider: I'm afraid it's your problem now. Let go of this key.

Fireball: Ah!

Saber Rider: Eh?

Fireball: Give me back that key!

Colt: No dice, kemosabe.

Fireball: Hey, I know who you are! You're that cowboy who almost made me lose the race!

Colt: Sorry about that, dude, but I'm on a big hunt, savvy?

Fireball: You wanna hunt? Try the jungle, savvy? And don't bother coming back.

Colt: Afraid I'm not hunting tigers, race boy. I'm looking for an Outrider with ghostly eyes and a long pale face.

Bonnie May: Colt? Has anyone seen a cowboy around here? Oh!

Colt: What?

Bonnie May: Colt! He found out about the square dance!

Colt: Who?

Bonnie May: My father, who else?

Colt: Father? You didn't tell me you had a father!

Bonnie May’s father: Don't move an inch, you slippery poisoning carpetbagging bandido.

Colt: It was just a square dance, honest!

Bonnie May’s father: You like to dance? Then you can dance the Winchester waltz. You stay away from my little Bonnie May or else.

Colt: I think I’ve used this disguise enough. Time for a change.

Bonnie May’s father: And you stay clear of bounty hunters!

Bonnie May: But daddy!

Bonnie May’s father: No buts, now come on!

Fireball: Well, so much for the fearless cowboy.

Saber Rider: I thought I might have to take a few shots to him myself, just to get his attention.

Fireball: Hmm. Yeah, sure, whatever you say.

Saber Rider: Listen, chum, I don't really want to force you out of your room.

Fireball: You don’t, uh? Well, hey, you're a sport.

Saber Rider: Look, I have an idea.

Fireball: Why do I feel like you're gonna tell me this whether I want to hear it or not?

Saber Rider: It's simple: why don't we just share the room?

Fireball: Cuz it's my room!

Saber Rider: Just a gentle suggestion.

Fireball: I think everyone around here is trigger-happy.

Saber Rider: Do we have a deal or don't we?

Fireball: You can sleep on the floor, that's it!

Saber Rider: Fine, let's shake on it.

Fireball: Huh. I'm going along with this but I don't have to like it.

Saber Rider: Incidentally, chum, about the Outrider that cowboy mentioned, if you run into him, let me know, won't you? I'm afraid if I don't find him soon this planet will probably be blown to bits.

Fireball: Are you serious?

Saber Rider: Do I sound like I'm joking?

Colt: Good thing I was wearing that sombrero and drifter outfit. The Bounty Hunter's got to have a lot of tricks and disguises, and a good disguise can come in mighty handy. Now I better get down to business; track down that Outrider. That bushwhacker gotta be around here somewhere. I just gotta make sure I find him before he finds me.

Vanquo: Let me talk to Nemesis! Oh, I know. Yes, I discovered where this Ramrod contraption is hidden; it's a sitting duck.

Colt: So are you, hombre.

Vanquo: It’s at the Frontier Outpost , just right for plucking.

Colt: Alright, dude, from vapor you came and to vapor you shall return.

Vanquo: Ah!

Saber Rider: It’s him! Vanquo!

Vanquo: I’ll be back!

Saber & Fireball: Oh!

Fireball: That Outrider just turned into vapor!

Colt: Yes, that’s what they're made out of. Nasty, aren't they?

Saber Rider: You sent him back to his own dimension, which means I can't get the information I need.

Fireball: What information? Who was he?

Saber Rider: A spy who knew about a secret defense system called Ramrod.

Colt: Right, he said something about that Ramrod. Said it was at the Frontier Outpost, like a sitting duck.

Saber Rider: Are you planning to go out there and investigate?

Colt: You kidding? I'm a bounty hunter, pardner, I got a reward to claim.

Fireball: Strange guy, huh?

Saber Rider: Totally undisciplined, no sense of etiquette whatsoever.

Fireball: Cowboys!

Saber Rider: Well, I guess I'll go and take a little rest.

Fireball: Yeah, I think I'll go for a walk, just to clear my head, you know?

Saber Rider: Alright.

Fireball: See you later. I'm going out to that Frontier Base fast!

Saber Rider: I got to get out to that Frontier Base quickly. Steed! There you are! Let’s go, boy! Up, into the sky!

Fireball: Red Fury Turbo on! Somebody's gotta warn those settlers and nobody can get out there quicker than I can!

Desk Clerk: I can't get a hold of the Outpost.

Colt: What?

Desk Clerk: I’m sorry, sir, it seems to be some sort of emergency.

Colt: I’d better head out there!

Fireball: Ah! Oh, no! The attack is already underway!

Outrider: Find the Ramrod Equalizer Unit and destroy it!

Soldier: We can’t hold them out much longer! Here they come again! We need help!

Saber Rider: You've got it, chum!

Soldier: It’s Saber Rider!

Saber Rider: Right up here, mate!

Fireball: Well, look at who’s here! Those guys aren't playing around. I’ll better get out the artillery! Ah! I can’t escape now!

Colt: Look like you need a little help there, hey, race boy?

Fireball: There are two more straight ahead!

Colt: Not anymore!

Fireball: That must be Ramrod!

April: Over here! Hurry! Did the Star Sheriffs send you?

Fireball: Star Sheriffs? Who are they?

April: Never mind. If you can drive a racecar you can help with Ramrod. It's an experimental frontier fighter system. I'm afraid it's never been tested but it's the only chance we've got.

Fireball: Hop in!

April: Right.

Colt: Hey, don't forget about me!

April: Look out! You got them! This is it, the Ramrod Equalizer Vehicle.

Fireball: Wow!

Saber Rider: I'll take charge from here!

Fireball: The lady invited me.

Colt: That's cause she didn't know I was here.

April: There's no time to argue, I'll need all three of you when we go to challenge phase.

Colt: Challenge phase, that's fancy! How fast does this puppy go?

April: Fast enough. Come on, this way to the control room. Hurry!

Fireball: It's cool!

Colt: I bet this baby packs a lot of horsepower!

April: You better believe it. These three saddle units are interactive, but the center is especially for land operations. Since you're a race car driver, well…

Fireball: They call me Fireball!

April: All right, Fireball, you take the reins!

Fireball: Right!

April: That one is for the quick draw control.

Colt: That's gotta be mine, yeah.

Fireball: Now we know what two of the systems are for. What about the third one?

Saber Rider: Maverick flight dynamics. I was already briefed back a Cavalry Command.

Fireball: Cavalry Command? What's that?

April: Headquarters of the Star Sheriffs. I'll ride shotgun over here. You'll all have to listen up. Hey, wait a minute, there's something coming at us. It's big! The Outriders have built another Renegade. We are finished if it catches us here, we've got to take off and we've got to do it fast!

Fireball: Okay, hang on your seats. We’re moving out!

Colt: It’s working!

Saber Rider: We’re accelerating to mach 4 and closing!

Colt: Yahoo! We’re out of there!

Fireball: What's that?

April: It's a Renegade Desperado Unit!

Fireball: Watch out for that claw!

April: Oh!

Fireball: You all right, April?

April: Yes, keep moving!

Colt: Well, we know that he can dish it out. Now let’s see if he can take it.

April: Look out!

Fireball: It’s following us!

April: We got to go into challenge phase.

Fireball: What's that?

April: There's no time to explain! Activate the rods above your key compartment, hurry!

Fireball: Okay, let's see what happens!

April: When the rods are clear, hit the flashing red light. Saber Rider, you give the signal.

Saber: Okay. Get ready. Not yet. Hold it. Now!

April: All right. Ramrod will now take navigational control.

Ramrod: Acknowledge, April. Navigational control on, Ramrod challenge phase, one. Head ‘em up, move ‘em out. Power stride, and ready to ride.

April: Here he comes!

Colt: Block!

Fireball: Look out! It’s doubled back!

April: Duck!

Colt: Alright, boys, let’s laser rope this Renegade dupe. If you liked the left, you’ll love the right.

Saber Rider: Nice move, cowboy. Now shall we follow up with a soccer kick?

Colt: Take it away!

Everyone: On target!

Fireball: Let's vaporize this viper!

Colt: Good thinking, pard. I'd like the feel of this shooter.

Saber Rider: We may only have one shot so let's use all the firepower we have.

Colt: All right, amigo. You want firepower? You got it.

Saber Rider: Ready? Aim. Blast them!

Colt: Well, it looks like those Outriders have seen their last round-up.

Fireball: Yeah, but what if they come back?

Colt: After that little lesson? No way.

Saber Rider: You're wrong about that. They'll definitely return

Colt: How do you know so much about it? You got an inside line on this thing, pardner?

April: He knows because he's one of us. A special agent of the secret Star Sheriffs. With these Outriders still on the loose we could use your help too, if you want to join us.

Colt: Star Sheriffs, huh? I always wanted one of those shiny silver stars.

April: Afraid we don't have many badges left since the Outriders took over the silver mines but we use these E.B.U., electronic badge units.

Saber Rider: It usually takes years to train a Star Sheriff but this is an emergency. We'll have to issue your E.B.U. right away.

Colt: No badge? I don't know, pard.

Fireball: I'm not sure about this either. What about my racing career?

April: You'll have to quit for a while but remember: Ramrod is faster than any racecar you'll ever see.

Fireball: Yeah, you've got a point there!

April: And about those badges… I'll see if I can special-order some from headquarters. What do you say, boys?

Colt: Can you picture it, pard? Riding high, fighting out with the Outriders! Paw!

Saber Rider: “And that’s how all began. The bounty hunter, a racecar driver and a beautiful girl from Cavalry Command. Together we've made a commitment to the spirit of the frontier freedom fighters. Wherever danger leads us, wherever the people need us, that's where you'll find… the Star Sheriffs!”

ENDING THEME

Saber Rider... Your destiny will lead you, To wherever people need you, Though danger may have found you, You have your friends around you now, Now! Now! Now! Saber Rider, and the Star Sheriffs! Saber Rider, and the Star Sheriffs, In the sky!

Saber Rider!

[thereddeadredeemed]

An Ironwood meta that just randomly popped into my head.

So I’ve been skimming over a lot of the observations on RWBY from @bionic-jedi and aside from the glurge of absolutely adorable Nuts ‘n Dolts stuff (Which I appreciate, I ship it now), the part that really got my attention was all the shit going down around Ironwood. I don’t watch the show anymore, not that I hated it or anything I just sorta lost interest in the show itself, decided it ultimately wasn’t really for me and mainly just enjoy it through fanart and shipping now, but from what I gathered from bionic-jedi’s Let’s Watch Ironwood sounds absolutely fascinating in all the ways that I don’t think was intentional by the CRWBY but is still pretty awesome that it’s there.

Forgive me if I get the details wrong since I haven’t kept up with the show and all my info is coming second hand from @bionic-jedi​, but from I could gather Ironwood comes across as a man who:

- Is an experienced veteran fighter who individually is very badass with a proven tactical record on the battlefield

- Has the natural charisma to instill genuine loyalty and belief in his cause into his subordinates (To paraphrase Mass Effect 3 for a bit, you can pay a man to fight, you can pay him to charge up a hill, but no amount of money in the world will ever convince a man to believe in you), and does possess a genuine care for the troops under his command

- Will nonetheless still engage in abusive behavior if a subordinate is not performing in a way he believes is proper for their duty (Yeah I would consider forcibly hacking a sapient being to count as that)

- Carries around a very cool badass revolver as a signature weapon 

- While brilliant tactically, possess horrible long term strategic assessment skills that if allowed to be acted upon could have/did end in disaster

You know what that sounds like? Ironwood is almost a perfect RWBY equivalent for George R. Patton (with maybe a bit of Bernard Montgomery thrown in).

Like, I think that the CRWBY may have accidentally written a scenario that asks “What if Patton was the Supreme Commander of the Western Front instead of Eisenhower?” And the results are an absolute clusterfuck unfolding in real time, but I feel I gotta clarify this.

Patton is one of America’s most celebrated and respected generals, and for good reason. Dude was a badass with a keen sense of armor tactics and mobile warfare that proved repeatedly that he could beat the Germans at their own game. His personal bravery could also never be called into question, having proven his mettle in direct combat during both the Hunt for Pancho Villa and WW1, as well as putting his own life in danger being very close to the front lines numerous times during WW2, one time even riding a tank into a German-occupied village to inspire his men. He also did genuinely care for the lives of his men, only ever seen openly weeping when mourning for the lives of his fallen soldiers, treating his wounded troops with the highest respect, and properly giving praise when they did a good job.

For all of Ironwood’s faults, his own mettle is certainly not into question given he suffered such grievous injuries that half his body is now cybernetics, and the man for sure knows how to fight and fight well, so that’s one similarity with Patton. He has also inspired real loyalty in Winter and the Ace Operatives, and in turn he does seem to actually care for them, and he had no real reason to give Yang a new prosthetic arm (and rather quickly fast tracking her an incredibly advanced one at that), so he’s not completely heartless or devoid of empathy. 

However, Patton was a man focused on the tactical short term in lieu of long term strategic planning, and possessed with some horrendous character flaws that bit him in the ass on several occasions. One of them being the, even by the standards of the 40′s, deplorable manner in which he treated soldiers wracked with what we in the modern day would diagnose as PTSD. The man flat out did not believe PTSD was a real thing, thinking of it as cowardice and...you know what? I’m just gonna let the Wikipedia quotes say it all, I bolded some choice quotes for convenience:

Private Charles H. Kuhl, of L Company, U.S. 26th Infantry Regiment, reported to an aid station of C Company, 1st Medical Battalion, on 2 August 1943. Kuhl, who had been in the U.S. Army for eight months, had been attached to the 1st Infantry Division since 2 June 1943. He was diagnosed with "exhaustion," a diagnosis he had been given three times since the start of the campaign. From the aid station, he was evacuated to a medical company and given sodium amytal. Notes in his medical chart indicated "psychoneurosis anxiety state, moderately severe (soldier has been twice before in hospital within ten days. He can't take it at the front, evidently. He is repeatedly returned.)" Kuhl was transferred from the aid station to the 15th Evacuation Hospital near Nicosia for further evaluation.

Patton arrived at the hospital the same day, accompanied by a number of medical officers, as part of his tour of the U.S. II Corps troops. He spoke to some patients in the hospital, commending the physically wounded. He then approached Kuhl, who did not appear to be physically injured. Kuhl was sitting slouched on a stool midway through a tent ward filled with injured soldiers. When Patton asked Kuhl where he was hurt, Kuhl reportedly shrugged and replied that he was "nervous" rather than wounded, adding, "I guess I can't take it." Patton "immediately flared up,” slapped Kuhl across the chin with his gloves, then grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the tent entrance. He shoved him out of the tent with a kick to his backside. Yelling "Don't admit this son of a bitch," Patton demanded that Kuhl be sent back to the front, adding, "You hear me, you gutless bastard? You're going back to the front."

Corpsmen picked up Kuhl and brought him to a ward tent, where it was discovered he had a temperature of 102.2 °F (39.0 °C); and was later diagnosed with malarial parasites. Speaking later of the incident, Kuhl noted "at the time it happened, [Patton] was pretty well worn out  ... I think he was suffering a little battle fatigue himself." Kuhl wrote to his parents about the incident, but asked them to "just forget about it." That night, Patton recorded the incident in his diary: "[I met] the only errant coward I have ever seen in this Army. Companies should deal with such men, and if they shirk their duty, they should be tried for cowardice and shot."

Private Paul G. Bennett, 21, of C Battery, U.S. 17th Field Artillery Regiment, was a four-year veteran of the U.S. Army, and had served in the division since March 1943. Records show he had no medical history until 6 August 1943, when a friend was wounded in combat. According to a report, he "could not sleep and was nervous." Bennett was brought to the 93rd Evacuation Hospital. In addition to having a fever, he exhibited symptoms of dehydration, including fatigue, confusion, and listlessness. His request to return to his unit was turned down by medical officers. A medical officer describing Bennett's condition

And yet another incident like this:

Private Paul G. Bennett, 21, of C Battery, U.S. 17th Field Artillery Regiment, was a four-year veteran of the U.S. Army, and had served in the division since March 1943. Records show he had no medical history until 6 August 1943, when a friend was wounded in combat. According to a report, he "could not sleep and was nervous." Bennett was brought to the 93rd Evacuation Hospital. In addition to having a fever, he exhibited symptoms of dehydration, including fatigue, confusion, and listlessness. His request to return to his unit was turned down by medical officers. A medical officer describing Bennett's condition

The shells going over him bothered him. The next day he was worried about his buddy and became more nervous. He was sent down to the rear echelon by a battery aid man and there the medical aid man gave him some tranquilizers that made him sleep, but still he was nervous and disturbed. On the next day the medical officer ordered him to be evacuated, although the boy begged not to be evacuated because he did not want to leave his unit.

On 10 August, Patton entered the receiving tent of the hospital, speaking to the injured there. Patton approached Bennett, who was huddled and shivering, and asked what the trouble was. "It's my nerves," Bennett responded. "I can't stand the shelling anymore." Patton reportedly became enraged at him, slapping him across the face. He began yelling: "Your nerves, hell, you are just a goddamned coward. Shut up that goddamned crying. I won't have these brave men who have been shot at seeing this yellow bastard sitting here crying." Patton then reportedly slapped Bennett again, knocking his helmet liner off, and ordered the receiving officer, Major Charles B. Etter, not to admit him. Patton then threatened Bennett, "You're going back to the front lines and you may get shot and killed, but you're going to fight. If you don't, I'll stand you up against a wall and have a firing squad kill you on purpose. In fact, I ought to shoot you myself, you goddamned whimpering coward." Upon saying this, Patton pulled out his pistol threateningly, prompting the hospital's commander, Colonel Donald E. Currier, to physically separate the two. Patton left the tent, yelling to medical officers to send Bennett back to the front lines.

As he toured the remainder of the hospital, Patton continued discussing Bennett's condition with Currier. Patton stated, "I can't help it, it makes my blood boil to think of a yellow bastard being babied," and "I won't have those cowardly bastards hanging around our hospitals. We'll probably have to shoot them some time anyway, or we'll raise a breed of morons."

There were serious cries for Patton to get sacked after theses incidents, his reputation and job only saved because Eisenhower knew his tactical command abilities were simply too valuable to give up and so was only temporarily relieved of duty instead. Point I’m trying to make here is that while Patton could definitely hold sympathy and understanding for his men, it was contingent on them acting in a way he believed was properly honoring their duty. If they erred from his ideals of a how a proper soldier behaved, he could lapse into some seriously abusive behavior disturbingly quickly.

I can’t be the only one that sees some parallels between this and Ironwood hacking Penny am I? A man who cares for his troops but as soon as Penny acted in a way he deemed to be out of line, immediately sought to violate her autonomy and rights as a sapient being to force her back into line and back into his ideals of how a proper soldier should behave. Perhaps he wasn’t as violently physically aggressive about it as Patton, but arguably what Ironwood did was ethically much worse than slapping the shit out of and threatening people.

Patton also wasn’t the type to worry about the long term consequences of his actions. Before he died in a car accident shortly after WW2 he was unceremoniously sacked from his job after making one too many aggressive comments towards the Soviet Union, potentially nudging towards a potential Operation Unthinkable, and carelessly allowing former Nazis back into political power. Both of these were unthinkably horrible for obvious reasons.

There is one key difference between Patton and Ironwood however. Eisenhower was keenly aware of Patton’s potential shortcomings and he was kept on a leash and out of the highest levers of power, thus preventing him from ever being in a position where his worst traits would allow him to truly fuck up. Ironwood however I feel got Peter Principle’d hardcore and was promoted way above his level of competence (Always a risk for men who gain a reputation as “fightin’ generals”, see: John Bell Hood), where his positive qualities of personal physical bravery, combat skill and tactical leadership is wasted and his worst qualities of hyper-focus on short sighted tactical victories over long term strategic goals, paranoia and distrust leading to an excessive need for control, and moral cowardice are allowed to flourish.

And we see the consequences of it. He may have started with solid pragmatic ideas, but his insanely one-track minded obsession with short term strategic goals like making sure he has control over the Winter Maiden is costing him big long term strategically by burning bridges with potentially valuable allies and isolating himself and his command. Valuable time and resources that could have been spent coordinating forces against Salem wasted on various shenanigans involving Penny, RWBY and JN_R. Especially devastating given that Atlas is the only industrialized military power worth a damn in this world and isn’t reliant on mostly independent and unorganized Hunters and Huntresses (individually skilled but too few in number and takes far too long to train each one to reliably stop a Grimm invasion), and he’s just wasting the resources of the world power best able to hold the line against the Grimm.

Next part is a bit of a non-sequitur and really long so I put it in between the dotted lines if y’all ain’t interested and want to skip on over to the relevant Ironwood parts.

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Getting a feel for the strategic situation in Atlas, I get a strong sense that what Atlas needs more than anything else right now is a Dwight D. Eisenhower. Eisenhower the the exact man needed to lead the Western allies, and I can’t see anyone else doing as realistically as good a job as he did, this is a hill I’ll die on. It wouldn’t look like it at first, the man had never once commanded a unit in battle (a fact that made many of his “actually seen combat” rivals bitter), and his softer, more easy going disposition would seem at odds with the alpha-male take charge image cultivated by men like Patton and Montgomery that would be stereotypically expected of a general, much less a Supreme Commander. 

However, that calm exterior hid a man with a sharp eye on the necessary strategic goals needed for victory, expert resource and personnel management skills, the humility to listen to his subordinates and admit his own mistakes, and most importantly, both the smooth negotiating skills and the iron will necessary to deal with larger than life figures.

The western allies were made up of many different nations and factions and filled to the brim with what I would call (to put it lightly) strong personalities. This was an organization that involved: 

- Franklin D. Roosevelt

- Winston Churchill

- Charles De Gaulle

- Bernard Montgomery

- The aforementioned Patton

- Occasional dealings with Stalin even

All of them larger than life personalities, all of them strong willed and possessed of their own ideas of how to win the war as well as their own political/personal motives, and all of them vying for dominance in the strategic decision making of the Western Allies. It was like herding a clowder of cats, but all the cats had frggin tanks and bombs. Eisenhower actually managed to cut through the bullshit and resist all the arm twisting and actually got all the different countries, armies and leaders together to act upon a united plan. He did this while still being able to control his subordinates worst impulses and (mostly) was able to resist the shitty plans put up and embrace the good ones (for the most part, Montgomery did manage to convince him to approve of Operation Market Garden, and it was the last major German victory of the war mostly due to Monty’s mishandling). Tactical battle ability was largely irrelevant for Eisenhower’s role, and his ability to see the big picture clearly and being able to maneuver through the internal politics meant everything to his success as a Supreme Commander.

If Eisenhower or an Eisenhower-esque figure was in charge of Atlas during this latest season, you’d probably get a drastically different turn of events. An Eisenhower would not be so quick to drastic action as Ironwood was. An Eisenhower would probably sit down with their subordinates, hear out all their arguments for why or why shouldn’t a specific action be taken, then calmly consider their actions. An Eisenhower would probably then say “Working with an enemy agent to hack into the Winter Maiden is a dumb idea” and proceed to create plans on how to coordinate all available forces in Remnant to best fend off Salem.

Atlas as a whole doesn’t really strike me as the type of organization that would raise an Eisenhower though. Militaries are always offshoots of the cultures that create them, and I don’t believe it to be a coincidence that a Supreme Commander like Eisenhower would be American. The country was literally founded on democratic ideals and it was enshrined very early into its history that the military would always be subordinate to the civilian government. This precedent makes it necessary that anyone that rises high enough in the military must be able to respect a strong civilian presence and be able to work with both internal and external politics. Any general that rises high enough must be half-general half-politician by necessity (there’s a reason why former military often do have successful political careers after retiring from service, including the aforementioned Eisenhower who eventually became the 34th President of the United States).

Atlas just doesn’t strike me as having that same sort of cultural framework. If anything the Atlas military strikes me as having a cultural framework closer to WW2 Germany where tactical efficiency and high tech weaponry/tools is prized above all else, often at the cost of long term strategic goal setting. Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan never set realistic goals for themselves and predictably got steamrolled eventually. Occasionally you’ll get an online thread asking “What if Germany/Japan had smart top leadership during WW2?” But that’s a trick question. A WW2 Germany/Japan with sensible leadership...just isn’t WW2 Germany/Japan at all, it was intrinsic to the identity and character of those nations in that time period. Similarly, I just don’t see an Atlas military that sees a potential Eisenhower in their ranks and thinks to promote them to High Command as opposed to just shuffling them off as an aide to some random officer and never consider them for higher promotion. An organization that prizes short term tactical victory over long term strategic goals just isn’t the type of organization to do that.

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Thing is though, I think just from what I gathered, Ironwood just shot up to be my favorite RWBY character because of how frigging fascinatingly horrible he is. He’s not an entirely awful person (at least not at first), but his own paranoia and fear combined with his habit of confusing short term tactical advantage with long term strategic goals leads him down the path of utterly despicable actions while convincing himself that it’s all for the greater good. All while being an idiot and wasting the legitimate game-changer resources of having an actual army when everyone else is still dicking around with hunters and huntresses as their only defense.

Smart money is he’s gonna die, it seems to be where he’s heading. If CRWBY’s writing staff has some serious cajones however, it’d be really cool if they pulled a Catra on him and see how low they can make him sink before making him hit rock bottom, realize his mistakes and force him to work hard for a redemption arc. I dunno, maybe I’m giving him too much slack but I actually do feel for him a little bit. The dude was clearly an alright guy that had the world fall down on him and just wasn’t suited for the massive responsibility that circumstances forced on his shoulders. He’s still a soldier that genuinely wants to protect Atlas, he’s just too short sighted to see how his actions just aren’t what Atlas is gonna need in the long term. Maybe a harsh talking to by Glinda would do him some good (I still ship IronWitch don’t @ me). I dunno, I just think that a redemption arc would be a lot harder to write than just killing him off, and thus would be that much more satisfying to see it pulled off right like what Noelle Stevenson did with Catra’s character in She-Ra.

[missroserose]

all you touch and all you see

“So...why are we here?”

A moment of silence.  Fingers tighten around a trendy reusable mug.  Green eyes flick up, meet his, far more sincere than he could have imagined, even a week ago.

“I can’t explain it.  I’m just...more myself, when you’re around.”

Sam Wesson is dreaming.  Well, half-dreaming; awake enough that he can tell that he’s lying in bed on sheets with some ridiculous thread count, covers bunched around his legs, the cool constant breeze of the ceiling fan blowing over his sleep-warm chest.  At the same time, he’s sitting in the passenger seat of an old muscle car, rain tapping on the roof and hissing beneath the tires.  The thrum of the V8 permeates his whole body as he flips through papers, research for the next job.  The automatic reverse on the tape deck clicks over, and Sam wonders how many times Dean’s played this exact Led Zeppelin album on this very deck.  A hundred?  A thousand?

Dean.  Dean is there in both worlds, beside him.  He glances over to where this Dean is squinting through the rain.  Takes in his scruffy jacket and worn shirt, hair standing on end in places, the ketchup stain on his jeans from his lunchtime drive-through burger.  It’s such a contrast to the Dean beside him in the bed, the Dean of suspenders and suits and Brylcreemed hair, the environmentally conscious vegetarian Dean who wouldn’t be caught dead driving a car that got fewer than thirty miles to the gallon.  

And yet, there are tells.  Little commonalities, signs that the two of them aren’t as different as they might look.  The way their eyes narrow slightly when faced with something they don’t immediately understand.  Their absolute disdain for talking about feelings any more than strictly necessary.  Their unbridled fierceness when they take on a threat, corporate or noncorporeal.

The way they both love Sam.  Fierce.  Devoted.  Protective to a degree that makes Sam wonder, sometimes.  Or would, if he weren’t every bit as smitten.

Sam isn’t sure what to say to that.  It’s disconcerting, seeing Dean in casual clothes—still natty in a sweater and slacks, but his hair is carefully (and attractively) mussed, his posture a fraction looser.  He keeps quiet, keeps his face open.  Knows, somehow, that this is the best way to keep people talking.

“You bring out something good in me.  If I’m going to keep climbing the corporate ladder, I need someone to help me remember I'm not actually in hell, you know?”

Sam can’t blame Dean for staying at Sandover, not really.  He’s on the fast track, in a position most people their generation would kill for.  Especially with the economy the way it is, steady jobs with good salaries and benefits are nothing to sneeze at.  Working as an executive is prestigious; it’s not like he was a cubicle jockey, subject to the indignities of unflattering uniforms and unsavory coworkers.  Dean is on his way up.

Sam, meanwhile, was on his way out.

The week after his slightly dramatic walkout, he’d been making serious plans to go hunting alone.  Spent his days poring over newspapers, looking for strange deaths or weird occurrences; imagined sniffing out supernatural threats, saving people.  He applied for a loan for a car—found a great deal on a Dodge Charger—and dedicated an afternoon to looking up supplies he might need to kit it out properly.  It was terrifying and exhilarating reading, realizing how much might be out there, how many beings he had yet to encounter, how much studying there was to do.  What to look for, what to pack, where to even begin.

Perhaps most saliently, his dreams—the strange, inexplicable dreams that had haunted him during his entire three weeks at Sandover, where he hunted things, where Dean was his partner, continually present—had stopped.

Then Dean Smith had called and asked him for coffee.

Dean’s eyes meet his again, just briefly, before dropping, a charmingly bashful smile spreading over his face.  “Look, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything,” he says, rubbing the side of his neck, looking away.  “It’s just, if you wanted...I think we could have a good time together.”

They do have a good time together—it’s a little surprising, really, the uptight executive and the slacker cubicle jockey pairing off.  But they share a love of bad action movies, and a passion for video games; Sam hasn’t had his ass kicked so thoroughly and consistently in Halo 3 since college.  But even beyond that, it was like their rhythms are aligned; they fall into cohabiting in Dean’s tiny apartment almost immediately, as if they’re already entirely used to living in each others’ pockets.  Work during the day.  Chores on weekends. And at night—

Well, of course, there’s the chemistry.  The sheer blinding-white magnesium-flame heat of the two of them together, as bright-burning as it is undeniable.  The way Dean’s eyes, green as his own, darken, pupils dilating, when Sam stands just a little too close.  The pulse-pounding rush of need that hits him when Dean’s mouth curls up at one corner in just the right way, the way that indicates Sam is about to come harder than he ever has in his life.  The soft, broken noises he knows Dean makes, that they both make, when they teeter together on the edge, a bare breath from tipping over, entwined.

“I know you don’t think this is our life.  What we’re meant to be doing.”  The words give the air around them strange twin taste—resigned and relieved, both.  “But Sam—it’s a good life.  It’s the life I’ve wanted, the one I never thought I’d be able to have.  God knows my dad didn’t think I’d make it.  Nobody did.  But here I am.”  His eyes meet Sam’s again.  “Here we are.”

Those beautiful manicured hands on him feel right in a way Sam’s never experienced before.  It’s not even sexual, not really—the sensation is there as much when Dean musses Sam’s hair as it is when Sam is shaking apart with Dean knuckle-deep inside him.  There’s just something about the two of them together that’s...centering.  Liminal.  Like they form their own shelter, the eye of the hurricane when the chaos of the world is howling around them.

Sam asked Dean once if he felt the same. Dean had quirked a brow at him, given a little smile—”What, like some kind of past life thing?  You going to start telling me we’re soulmates?  Whatever you say, Samantha—” and yet there’s something in the way he touches Sam at times.  Reverent.  Almost disbelieving.

Like Sam, too, is something Dean had never thought he’d be able to have.

“I’ve got some connections at my old firm.  I can make a few calls, get you an interview for a decent job.”  He takes a drink of coffee, forcing a pause; shielding himself for a moment from Sam’s reaction.  “I know it’s not your dream.  But you could stay.  With me.”

And yet, in a way, it is Sam’s dream.  Because Sam’s been having dreams again, almost from the day of that fateful coffee date.  Dreams where he and Dean do everything together that Sam had imagined, had read about.  Where they hunt demons, vampires, demigods—creatures that make Old Man Sandover look like something out of Beetlejuice.  Where they spend what feels like half their life in the boredom of long drives or library research sessions, punctuated by the heart-pounding adrenaline rush of a hunt, a fight.  Where he and Dean save each others’ lives over and over, where they would die for each other, probably will sooner rather than later, but where they’re alive now, where they retreat victorious with whiskey or beer to their shitty motel room—

Somewhere more private.  Lips swollen from kissing.  A hand on the side of his face, long fingers threaded in his hair.  Green eyes on his once more, open, honest.  Vulnerable.

“I’d like you to stay.  God, Sam—please.  Stay.”

—and where they never, ever touch.  

So Sam took the job.  Let the loan application lapse, eventually deleted the various websites on ghosts and mythology and monsters from his bookmarks.   He spends his days working in IT security, which is at least more interesting than tech support—it turns out he has a knack for breaking into systems, for getting into places he’s not supposed to be, for ferreting out information companies would prefer remain hidden.  And his nights—well, if spending his nights in Dean Smith’s bed (and on his couch, and over his desk, and in his office chair, and) is the consolation prize for growing up and letting go of childish dreams, it turns out adult life has its perks as well.

He takes one last look at the scruffed-up Dean—still pretty, Sam thinks, fondly; there’s just no way to make a face like that look common—and lets the dream fade.  The vibration of the engine, the hiss of tires on wet asphalt, even the dry-dusty smell of the Impala’s heater all grow distant; Sam moves his fingers, stretches, moves just enough to scoop his lover into the crook of his shoulder.  Dean nuzzles him, murmurs a few nonsense syllables, and sighs, settling back into sleep.

Sam takes a deep breath through his nose.  Hair pomade.  Cologne.  Sweat.  Dean.  It makes him happy, in the kind of way that leaves his chest a little tight, that brings tears to the corners of his eyes.

Most people don’t even get one life with Dean.  He gets two.  Gets to tread the thin line between them, the one where Dean is his perfectly ordinary lover, and the one where he’s—both more, and less.

As dreams go, he’ll take it, and be grateful.

[arazialotis]

Every Time You Leave, I Hit Rock Bottom

A/N: Written in celebration for Angelina! @atc74​ A while ago she celebrated 4,000 followers and 4 years on tumblr! Can you believe it?! Congratulations girl!! If you aren’t following her, do it now! You won’t be disappointed. For the duet challenge, I chose Rock Bottom (Hailee Steinfeld & DNCE) for inspiration. Give it a listen to get in the mood and let me know how I did. 

Word Count: 2050

Summary: Scenes from the up and downs of Dean and Y/N’s relationship as they struggle to balance his life as a hunter. 

Warnings: arguing, swearing, a hint of smut, implied cheating

****

***November 5***

“Do you love me?” You cooed in the aftermath of a passionate heat. 

He chuckled, as if your question was absurd. He swam through the tangle of sheets to kiss your lips. “Of course I do.” 

Though you doubted his faithfulness, he had sworn it to you. He laid his head against your chest. His hand found yours. The ring he had given you months earlier twirled gently as his fingers danced over it. 

“I’m gonna miss you.” You admitted stroking your fingers through his hair. 

You felt him hum in delight.

“I always miss you.” 

*** November 30***

White flecks fell outside the window, joining a hefty covering on the ground. The snow muffled the sounds of the night, making the world seem at peace. Your arms held you tight, waiting for him to finish shoveling the drive. The flyer clenched in your fist crinkled as you contemplated the best way to bring it up with Dean. 

He came in, a burling heap of wool and snow, his cheeks red from the blistering cold. You hustled back to the kitchen, pretending not to have lingered. The hot toddies you prepared were still steaming. You whisked in a drizzle of honey. 

Dean made his way over to you, brushing snowflakes out of his hair. Your heart warmed seeing a boyish look to him.

“What?” He matched your smile. 

“Nothing.” You smirked and pushed his mug closer to him. You pressed your own to your lips. “You’re cute.” 

“You’re cute.” He repeated, gently kissing your forehead before taking the hot drink. He set his drink back down, the flyer on the counter catching his eye. “What’s this?”

You took another sip, concealing the flush to your cheeks. “Hmm.”

His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the paper. “It looks like Dan’s Auto is hiring.” 

“Oh.” You set your mug down, moving closer to him, wrapping your arm around his waist, pretending to read with him though you already knew the words. “You’d be good at something like that.”

If he knew what you were doing, he didn’t hint at it. “Yeah, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck, setting the flyer back down and went back to the tea. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to get more information.” You nudged. 

He smiled and leaned into you. “Right now, I just want to get warm.” He nipped at your neck. 

You chuckled, as heat and desire spread through you. You let the conversation end for now. 

*** December 12 ***

Dean stumbled into the bedroom late at night. He’d been gone a week and a half. At first you thought he was drunk, but when your eyes adjusted to the dark, panic rose up into your chest. You scrambled out of bed and followed him into the bathroom. 

“You’re hurt.” Your eyes went wide with fear.

He balled up his flannel and threw it in the sink, the water turning red with blood. Three long slashes ran from his shoulder down his arm. “It's fine.” “We need to get you to a hospital.” You stammered.

Before you could run for the keys he caught your wrist, stopping you. “With what insurance?” “God. I don’t know, we’ll figure it out later.” You pulled your arm away from his grip. 

“It’s fine.” He assured, sitting down on the edge of the bath. 

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Okay.” Somehow you managed to force the panic down. “Okay.” You repeated, going for the medicine cabinet, looking for gauze, alcohol, anything that could help. 

*** December 19 ***

“You’re not going back out!” You stomped your foot on the ground like a toddler who had no chance at winning an argument. 

He shook his head and chuckled as if to contain his anger. “Your arm was nearly ripped off a week ago!” You continued, attempting to make him see logic. “You're in no condition to hunt.” 

He threw his duffel bag over his shoulder. “I’ve had worse Y/N. Anyways, it's recovering just fine.”

Fine. You hated that word. It was if he used it to cover up any indifference growing in your relationship. You went to strike him, only to prove him wrong. His hand caught you before you could. “Are you fucking serious?” He accused you, disdain seething out of his eyes. He pushed you aside and went for the door. 

The worry balled up, forming a pit in your stomach. Staying with you until he returned. 

*** January 3 ***

“Don’t give me that look Y/N.” Dean could feel your scorn through the dark bedroom, dimly lit by the full moon’s beam. 

“What look?” You huffed. You had woken to rustling and the spot next to you cold. He was planning to leave you. Again. You had stayed silent, watching him pack, waiting for him to realize you were awake. 

“Y/N.” He groaned. “Don’t do this, not now.”

“I’m not doing anything Dean.” You argued back. 

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to reason with you with anger. Releasing his own, he gently crawled onto the bed, creeping towards you. You flipped over, avoiding his gaze and pulled the blankets into a shield around you. 

His breath was on the back of your neck. He spoke in a whisper. “You’re resenting me.” He kissed the back of your head. “You’re pouting.” Another kiss. He paused hearing a whimper. “And now you are crying.” He laid down and pulled you tight against his chest, a tear sliding down his own cheek. 

When you finally found courage to speak, your voice shook. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Babe… you know I have to.”

You turned around to meet him. “No, you don’t.”

His thumb wiped away a trailing tear against your skin. “Who else is going to do it?”

“... Sam.” “He’s across the country. ‘Sides, it’s only a state over. I’ll be a week, tops.” He kissed your forehead before getting up to finish packing. 

You didn’t turn to watch him leave. You only stared at the empty pillow next to yours. He left the door cracked open. It wasn’t until you heard the front door shut and the rumble of his car coming to life when the anger surfaced again. 

Gently grabbing for his pillow, wrapping your arms around it and burying your face in his scent, you whispered,“Fuck you.”

*** Valentine’s ***

Traditionally, the holiday hadn’t meant much to you. A way to push over priced Hallmark cards with clashing colors. But Dean was home, and so recently he hadn’t been. You fussed around the kitchen in a little black dress, concealing something skimpy and lacy underneath. Filet mignon sizzled against hot cast iron and a cherry pie bubbled in the oven. Dean shuffled behind you. You turned around hoping to be met with a kiss. Instead you saw that dreaded duffel bag. 

“No.” Your heart sank. “Not today.” 

He gave you that look. The look that said, this is what you sign up for.

“Can it at least be after dinner?” You pleaded. 

He sighed, running his hand through his hair, contemplating it for a second. “The longer I wait, the more someone could get hurt.”

You’re hurting me, you thought to yourself. It was selfish though. You closed your eyes and hung your head in defeat. 

He strided closer to you, planted a kiss onto your forehead and pulled you close to him. 

“We’ll celebrate when I get home. K?” 

You nodded into his chest.

*** February 25 ***

“You just got home. And you’re already leaving again!” You fumed. 

“What choice do I have!?” Dean clenched his jaw, attempting to control his temper. 

The nearest object to you was his phone. You picked it up and threw it at him. He easily caught it, avoiding any blow you intended. “Call someone else to take it. Don’t go. Take that job at the shop. Those are your choices Dean!” 

“This is my job Y/N! This is the only life I know. I can’t sit around here, with a white picket fence, knowing people are out there are dying on my watch.” 

“Then take me with you!” You pleaded. “I can’t keep watching you leave, not knowing if you’ll come back or not.” Tears threatened to spill out. 

“Like hell!” He firmly protested. “I won’t put you in harm’s way.” 

You rolled your eyes. “God, I wish you realized how hypocritical you sound right now. Can’t you realize that's how I feel every single time.”

“I can take care of myself.” He thumped against his chest. “I always have. And I don’t need your whiny, nagging ass causing extra stress on a hunt.” 

A feral scream escaped from your throat. You slid off the ring he had given to you months earlier and chucked it across the room at him. He didn’t bother to catch it. “Fuck off Dean. You might as well not bother coming home.” 

“Maybe I won’t then!”  He grabbed his bag, slamming the door shut with a bang. 

*** March 4 ***

“I’m so sorry baby.” Dean’s gasped. His mouth buried into the crook of your neck. Your fingers ran down his bare torso as he rocked into you. “I’ll never leave you again.” 

You moaned as your bodies clashed against each other, moving together, beads of sweat outlining each muscle. He groaned, his kisses growing more hungry and desperate as he neared a climax.  A whimper escaped your lips and sent him over the edge. He buried his face into your shoulder, panting for air. 

With a final grunt, he was satisfied, leaving you empty and craving for more. He rolled over on his back catching his breath. 

“God. I needed that.” He ran his fingers through his hair before getting up for a water break. 

You turned over to your side, pulling up a sheet to cover yourself. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’

*** April 10 ***

To be fair, he did stay longer than usual. But the itch got to him. One he couldn’t help but scratch. You knew it was coming. He became more antsy. Pacing around, working on mundane house projects, spending more time outside. Honestly, it was making you anxious.

You began searching for cold cases in the area, drawing out farther until something seemed to fit. Over dinner, you handed him the phone to look over the articles. He kept his expression as blank as he could. 

“What do you think?” You prompted. 

He set the phone down and searched your eyes, treading lightly. “Could be a case.” He went back pushing food around his plate but not eating. 

You dabbed your mouth with a napkin, and then cleared your plate, washing it in the sink. “Maybe…” You sighed. “Maybe, you should look into it.” 

He came up behind you, turning off the water, and wrapping his arms around you. You both stood there for several minutes, your heartbeats matching in rhythm.

His whisper barely broke the silence. “Are you sure?”

You only nodded. 

He gently kissed the side of your temple. “Love you.” He slipped away. 

“Love you too.” *** May 8 ***

“Who the fuck was that Dean?!”

“Nobody!” He yelled back into his cell. “Like Hell!” A scoff made it through your seething anger.  

“It was just the TV, Y/N.” He calmed his voice, to try and reason with you. “Bullshit!” Your blood began to boil. “She was right fucking next to you!” 

“Stop being so fucking paranoid. You’re my one and only.” You heard the rustling of sheets. 

You made your way through the dark hall to the medicine cabinet, looking for something to cool a rising migraine. “Then prove it.” “What?” He stuttered. 

“Prove it! Give me a face-time tour of your hotel room.” You popped the bottle and swallowed a few pills. 

His voice lowered to a rigid growl. “I don’t have to prove anything to you. If you love me, you’ll trust me.”

You slammed your phone shut and threw it across the room. 

*** May 11 ***

Dean entered the home, ready for a fight. He slammed the door on the way in and tossed his key’s onto the kitchen counter. 

“Why haven’t you been taking my calls?” He called out, waiting a few moments before going to look for you. “Y/N?” His voice echoed through the empty house. “What the hell?” He muttered to himself. 

He paced down the hallway, calling your name again. Upon entering the bedroom, it became abundantly clear. He ripped open the closet door, and stood back. Only his items remained. 

***

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[fairyshuuu]

Iveracity 1| do kyungsoo

.summary. IVERACITY (noun) the act or practice of deceiving; concealment or distortion of the truth for the purpose of misleading; duplicity; fraud; lies. .word count. 30k .pirate!au | princess!au | strangers to lovers!au. .pairing. kyungsoo x female!reader .genre. fluff, romance, fantasy, smut (in part 2) 

.warnings. violence, blood mentions, char/char threats (violence is not cute pals!), swearing, human trafficking mentions, drowning threats and mentions, sehun is best boy, pirate!baekhyun (not a warning but i ♡), explicit language and scenes, dom!kyungsoo, first time, unprotected sex, it starts very slow, i’m sorry!

!  if you are on mobile, please try to open this post on desktop instead because it might very well crash the app, thank youu  !

.author’s note. this bitch is really long, so sit down with a blanket and a cup of tea please, i don’t want you to get back or neck pain. hope you enjoy!!

    🌊🌊🌊    

With the bright of morn, a harmonic melody sounds just barely though the thick, stone walls, waking any stragglers from slumber. You, however, have been awake for hours already. Though your hair is pinned up with costly jewelry every which way, still a few stray strands fall into your face. “Oh please, your Highness,” you breathe, turning on your heel to follow behind the tall figure that readies to walk out the door, “it’s hardly a difficult request. I’ve been scouring the port for weeks now. I’m prepared entirely, top to bottom.”

The man sighs and sends you a small smile, while two maids slide the protectors around his lower arms into place. When all is finished, his pristine outfit all in place for the day, he turns to you. A heavy hand is rested on your shoulder, dark eyes finding yours. “Will you settle down? It’s early, Princess, and people are still sleeping.”

“The sun is up,” you huff in response, “that means ‘get to work’.” The two maids bow deeply and leave the room after that, leaving just the two of you in the smaller of dressing rooms inside the palace. When the King doesn’t say any more, you breathe out deeply. “Father, please. I promise I can do this. I’ve readied all my supplies myself, I have a guard set up and everything. Besides, I’m not as young as you hope I am anymore. If not now, I’ll never get to do anything worthwhile before I’m married off.” When your father glances at you again, you pout. “Please?”

“Y/N Clementine Panethin,” he says, a frown sliding onto his face. Your father, though he does his best to sound fed up, has always had a soft spot for you. It is why you can push it as much as you can, you’d hardly ever consider whining this way to your mother. He rubs his fingers right above his brow, smoothing away the non-existent wrinkles there as he thinks. Your father, like most of the kings and queens, is still very young. Perhaps it’s this that sets you apart from the working class. The ability to marry young, to have children while you’re still as able-bodied as you were. Well, that, and the money of course. 

“Why,” he sighs then, “why is it so hard for you to just accept your role in this world?” His clothes are covered top to bottom in fine copper thread, shimmering even in the low light of the sun. If he was hunting for food, and not for fun, you’d guess the clothes impractical. But royals don’t do anything for the need of it. “And I don’t think you can complain about marriage, young lady. When I was as young as you are now, I was already married and had your sister, after all. Be glad I haven’t married you off myself already.” You huff in response, taking as deep a breath as the tight corset around your ribs allows you to.

“I’m fading away in these sad, lonely walls! Colet and Toelo don’t have to stay inside all day, why do I?”

“Because your older sister and brother are both married and are doing their ruling jobs, Princess. Until you are, you’re supposed to stay inside and learn your families craft by heart. That is your role, as the younger of the two girls,” he smiles as he says it, sensing your absolute refusal of his words as soon as he speaks them. He is, by all accounts, right of course. Women being the head of the family comes with some great advantages, ones you have no right complaining about. Still doesn’t take away the excruciating boredom though.

“I’ve learned everything I had to since I was five years old. I can read texts older than my great great grandmother, should I ever need to do so. I can paint, sing and dance.” You sigh, looking at the countless pieces of jewelry displayed on the wall next to you, and pick one of the pieces from it’s hanger. Your father bows his head smoothly for you to place it on him, securing it in his long, black hair to have the colorful stone fall between his brows. A protection charm. “But what I want more than all of that combined— is to see the world. Please, your Highness, let me. And I’ll never complain again.”

With this, your father straightens up, and pulls you into a small hug. “Alright, you little monkey. You can go.” He walks to the door and past it then, not willing to lose more precious daylight spent indoors. You trail behind, eyes wide.

“Wait, really? I’m really allowed to go?” When your father rolls his eyes at your disbelief, you jump up and give him another hug. “Oh really?! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best parent ever. I love you.” When you rush past him and toward the exit, your father laughs along with you.

“Be careful! And I want to hear from you in a dozen days at the latest.”

“Promise!” you confirm, already rushing through the shiny halls on bare feet. With the door closing behind you, you run past the many rooms of the palace, past the gardens too. After a good minute or two you finally make it to the main room, as many of your cousins and nieces get ready to eat breakfast. You don’t need to join them, not when you have a ship to board in a couple hours. Arriving to the main hall, you slow, taking a deep breath in and out. Excitement rushes through your veins.

The main hall leads straight to the wide, open world. The sky is clear, though still dim in the early quiet of the morning, colored an orange to pull in the rising sun. The big plaza in front of the palace is still devoid of people this early too. You clean and dry your feet quickly before tying your shoes and grabbing the bags prepared carefully for your departure.

The plan is to join the traveling fleet on it’s journey to your biggest trading companion. Aking, the Capital and the only home you’ve ever known, is rich with many talented artisans who often sail their goods to the land north from here. You don’t just know this of course, since a Princess doesn’t have much to trade for. You barely go outside of the city, let alone to leave the island. And you like it that way for the most part, since your country is a beautiful, thriving place. 

But for as much as you’ve read, there’s one place that seems to be even prettier. Elyfhil, of the land of snow. When your older sister announced yet another trading fleet to go there, you couldn’t help yourself. You just have to see it yourself, if only once. The cold breeze travels down your spine, carrying the soft rumbling of the lively city to greet you. As if right on time, a voice clears behind you. “Where do you think you’re rushing off to so quietly, Princess?”

You straighten out, and pull a grin as you greet the new person. “Out.”

The young man’s eyebrows rise considerably, normally serious expression replaced for one of youthful wonder. “You actually got them to let you go?” Sehun is dressed in the royal guard colors, sunflower yellow and a deep blue, though he still looks about as sleep deprived as usual. For as much as the guards get switched out, a security measure of sorts, Sehun’s been there for longer than you can remember. He was one of the only people to ever volunteer, if you recall correctly. He’s been your friend ever since he entered the palace at twelve years old, wide eyed and clueless.

“Sure did,” you nod, smiling gratefully when Sehun takes the heavier bag from you to carry it himself. He’s not the little, scrawny boy he once was anymore, and it shows. “Actually, I was just about to go check the quarters for a guard willing to accompany me on a long and tiresome journey like this one. It might be hard to find someone able to travel with me. Unless you want—”

“I’ll go!” Sehun brings out before you can even finish, reaching forward to grab your second bag. “Anything to get away from the new maid girl. She’s been following me around for the entire week, I can’t do it anymore. I suppose I feel flattered, but Gods… I can hardly focus on my work this way.” You snort as he colors slightly pink.

“Yeah, you’re right. Which man would possibly enjoy the attention of a beautiful girl like her? I can’t imagine the hardship.” Sehun’s face voids when he looks at you, though you can almost read the retort in his eyes. Luckily you’re a Princess, who can’t be sworn at. “Come on, Master Sehun. We have a ride to catch.” With a swift nod, he slips into his shoes as well, and starts walking. Down the stairs and across the marketplace that unfold in the shadow of the mountain. You greet some people as they walk past, getting ready to set up store on the expanse.

When you look further down the path, Sehun has your both bags on a shoulder each, dark hair swaying left and right in the wind, much like the flowers that line the cobbled street. You speed your steps to keep up with the man, and take a deep breath of the peaceful silence of the city. Some kids dart behind the houses when they see you two approach. “Are my bags not too heavy?” you ask, turning to your friend. “We might have to leave some things behind in the stables if they are.”

Sehun laughs at that, shaking his head. His eyes crinkle into moons with that sentiment, reminding you of the many times you two played in the royal gardens when you were both a lot younger. This must be the first time you’re heading out with him though, even with all the years that have passed. “They are fine, Princess,” your friend grins, looking over his shoulder as you do your best to keep up with his long legs. As you arrive to the big, richly decorated building he pauses, putting them down next to his feet. “Now quickly go pick a horse for us both. Or your precious dream will sail off without you.”

     🌊🌊🌊    

The trip to the port city Aoran takes both longer and less than you expect it to. The sun is quite unforgiving while you travel, the heat of the horse beneath you only adding to it in turn. But though you ride for a couple of hours, the scenery is ever-changing and you find it to go by much quicker than hours normally do. When you finally arrive, your water and tea are almost at day’s end. The salty ocean wind comes to wish you welcome, along with the busy chatter of the city life. The streets are wider than those back home, and crawling with people left and right. You dismount your horse smoothly, not catching your robe like you watch Sehun do, as he almost levels with the ground. You do your best to keep the giggles to a minimum when he already looks entirely mortified.

As you cautiously walk into town, many eyes trail behind you. You guess you do stand out quite a bit, doused top to bottom in everything expensive. Aking is full of these sorts though, you never noticed how obvious you were until just now. The people here are used to a more toned down display of class. Long hair tied out of the way with ribbons instead of the metal pins you’re used to, and a surprising amount of pants. Weird. As you walk, Sehun stays close to your side, though his eyes are as full of curious stars as yours are, if not more. “I’m pretty sure we just follow the road down,” you mumble to him, noticing people who scurry around to get out of your path. You never really thought the Capital as rich before, but maybe now— 

“I believe so too, Princess.” He cocks his head forward in gesture, towards a group of men and women further down the wide, cobbled streets that click under your shoes. “I’d say follow the fishermen, probably.” Indeed, the people have thick bundles of nets tied around their backs, and heavy ropes in hand, most likely seafolk of a sort. When they turn the corner at the end of the street, so do you. The houses here are nowhere near as tall or large as you’re used to, but they have a certain charm. Though foreign, the city carries a peacefulness, a rhythm of life that seems to bring you warmth. If you weren’t so down on time, you’d love to spend weeks here, exploring every single nook and cranny. 

Soon, the sounds of chatter is replaced with that of seagulls, and of metal slamming against wood. A much rougher sound. The sun sinks ever so slowly past it’s highest point, making you swallow. After midday, the letters had informed. You just hope… “What if we missed the boat, Sehun? I can’t possibly explain my mother that I wish to try again.” You lean a bit closer to him when a vendor jumps into the street to sell some goods, reeking of wine, or maybe some cheaper drink. He doesn’t seem worried though, and trails peacefully behind you.

“I doubt there’s anything your parents wouldn’t allow you, your Highness.” He smiles as if to himself, before looking over at you. “Or is it not you whose entire collection of ancient pottery was painted over at a certain time, “by accident”? Pretty sure you didn’t even get told off, let alone punished. The King and Queen have the biggest of soft spots for you. If you blink your lashes enough, I’m certain you can do whatever you desire.” When he finishes with a giggle, you have to pause. A soft hum leaves you, because he’s right. You can hardly complain.

The fisherfolk in front turn corner again, leaving you to wonder. As you look up to follow one of the birds overhead with your eyes, you spot a tall pole sticking out above the houses. It is a little rough around the edges, with worn ropes hanging from the top and another fabric that darts softly back and forth in the wind. It takes a few seconds for you to really realize what it is, but when you do you almost swallow your tongue. “Is that the mast?” you bring out, shocked. “It’s so much taller than I thought it would be, dear Gods! How big is this damn boat?”

You rush down the last bit of road at a much swifter pace, the brown mare trotting behind you. When you round the corner, with Sehun’s displeased mumbling in the background, you stop drop dead in the middle of the street. The pier is long, and filled with hundreds of people, but that’s not what catches your attention. The wooden boat closest to you is massive, and only one of many. You could run the entire length of it and be out of breath. The national flag blows proud in the wind, wood accompanied with touches of silver, and ocean topaz that shimmers in the light of the sun. Clearly part of the royal fleet. You don’t even want to doubt how a thing of this size floats.

“Princess Y/N,” Sehun calls from behind you, having caught up. “Over here.” You have to forcefully tear your eyes away from the countless things happening to find your friend in the stir. People do their best to stay out of your way though, staring over their shoulders with whispers of ‘princess’ to their friends. You spot Sehun standing by another guard, as he motions you closer. “This is Marthe, a guard of house Sinith. He’s staying here in town until the crew return from their journey.” The boy is still quite young, with boyish features and some messy, brown hair. He gives you a deep bow, not quite catching your eyes. It too, is pinned out of his face with a silver-like pin, decorated all over with tiny, orange gems. Strange how easy it is to pick out who belongs and who doesn’t. But then again, maybe that’s the point.

“Your Majesty” the boy smiles, taking hold of Sehun’s horse as he hands it over. “My sister and her husband own that tavern, over down by the beach. We have some stables that can hold the royal mounts while you go, though. If that would convenience your Majesty, of course.” Sehun’s already taking your bags off of the horses before you can say anything, so with a small smile, you agree. He smoothly picks the reigns from your hands without touching them, and bows once again. “I’ll take good care of them,” he confirms. You don’t doubt it.

“Thank you. You’ll be rewarded graciously upon my return,” you confirm, already watching him turn away. Some voices sound from down further, with the wafts of the waves rhythmically smashing against the pier. Everything seems to move much quicker here, like the rapid flow of the ocean affects the people just as much as it affects the sand. This is their life though, the maritime trade provides everyone here with money to live. You grab a loose hold of Sehun’s garb as he travels through the people, hands occupied with your large sacks. His tall shape barely sticks out between all the others here. “Hey, Sehun?” you suddenly bring out, squeezing between two men who drag a full net over the ground. Sehun can just about catch your eyes as he looks over, and pulls a questioning face. “Was this one of my really bad ideas, you think?”

“Probably,” he laughs, “but I like it. At least you’re trying to be someone you dream of being. The Capital has enough prim and proper Princesses to marry half of them off without problems. You’re making a difference!” He points over to the ocean then, to the incoming waves that look a lot less unruly from a distance. “I haven’t heard of a single princess boarding a ship just for the fun of it, after all.” You two walk past the full length of the pier to reach the way up, as you stare all the while. People climb with ease into the ropes that span between the masts. Some people carry the last of giant boxes of merchandise down deck, while others talk joyfully between them. A boat like this, as strange as it sounds, almost has an entire life of it’s own, you think. A life where city rules don’t count nearly as much.

“Careful,” Sehun motions over to the edge of the pier as you come to a standstill, looking up now too. He stares for a second longer, before lifting his shoulders. “I think here is where my expertise stops, your Highness. You do have a way to get on board, don’t you?” You point in front of you without thinking, to the narrow piece of wood connecting the pier to the boat. It moves up and down with the motions of the wooden vehicle. “By Idite, not that! I mean, are we even allowed to be on the ship, Princess?”

“Oh, that,” you respond. Of course you thought of that, you’ve been preparing for this journey for two months now. Though, you’re not quite sure how this works. “Yes, of course, we’re allowed. I’ve sent multiple letters back and forth with the crew leader, after all. I just don’t really … know what they look like, ‘s all.” This makes your friend’s mouth drop open in disbelief, but you’re already walking up the plank before he can add any of his no-doubt entirely positive criticism. “Only one way to find out, I guess!” With wide outstretched arms you walk forth bit by bit, not willing to let the sudden movements of the waves below scare you. Another advantage of being royal born maybe, is that you have received a great swimming training, since you were a small child.

You hold your breath when the plank creaks below your feet, balance feeling entirely clunky on the narrow walkway. When you finally set foot on board, a relief seems to fill your tense body. You turn to Sehun to check on him, and motion for him to throw the bags over to you, which he does with a surprising ease. As the bags land with loud thumps beside you, you turn to take in the ship. Your entrance doesn’t seem to have gone unnoticed, however, since many of the men stare at you without blinking. “Captain!” one calls over his shoulder, as you look around. The sails of the boat are truly gigantic, most likely the largest pieces of fabric you’ve ever seen, and fall from three different masts. The wood under your feet is polished top to bottom.

Without warning, a person suddenly drops from the sky— or one of the many ropes more likely, having you stumble back in surprise. The stranger is tall and quite built, with long, copper hair that peeks out from under a large hat. The woman grins when your eyes widen in surprise, before bowing a slight bit. “Well, well, what pretty flower washed onto my ship so suddenly.” Before you can answer, she takes a gentle hold of your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, as you shoot entirely cherry red. “You’re awfully dressed up.” 

When you don’t respond right away, she lets your hand drop back down under the laughter of some of the crew, and lifts an eyebrow. “Sorry to say, sugar plum, but I think you’ve walked onto the wrong ship. And I don’t like sending pretty girls away so rudely, but we have somewhere to be before sundown, so.” The woman is clearly a good bit older than you, but is dressed in the colors of your house, albeit a faded version of them because of the sun. Her skin is full and warm, and her face with big, round eyes that seem to scan you thoroughly.

As you open your lips to respond, a smooth voice comes from your right, somewhat hurried and with a hint of laughter laced between the words. “Ah, Captain, I think this is my doing.” The man greets you with a deep bow, and smiles, lips curling cutely like a feline during a nap. “You must be Princess Y/N, I’ll assume. I’m your correspondent of the last few weeks, it’s nice to finally meet you in person. Kim Jongdae, quartermaster.” He greets you in the traditional Aking way that you’re much more used to, with his knuckles pressed together against his heart and a small bow of the head, that you gratefully reincorporate. “Or first mate, for the non seafaring folk, I guess.”

He then turns your attention back to the woman to his side, and smiles widely. “This scary one is the boss of this operation, you’ll be safe in her hands. Captain Lilith, meet the Princess that will be accompanying us for our travels. Princess,” he then returns. You briefly offer the captain a deep bow, looking around. The crew that have gathered around you in a circle seem increasingly interested now. You have to wonder how many of them have ever been to the Capital before, if any. Lilith nods in understanding, before crossing her muscular arms over her chest. You’ve seen strong women before, but geez, she’s got more muscles than Sehun does. It’s kind of impressive.

“I see. Well then,” she sighs, pointing in the general direction of the cabin at the far end of the boat. “Sugar plum can stay in the free room downstairs.” She looks around at her crew then, and frowns. “What are all of you still standing here, we’ve got a ship to man! Off your feet and to your positions. This is not a evening cruise, so make it snappy, thank you very much.” With a hand on the black-haired man’s shoulder, she moves to walk away. “Jongdae, you’ll handle this?”

“Aye, Captain.” Her heavy boots make the wood creak as she walks away, disappearing out of view by the wild back and forth of her crew. You stare until the feather of her hat vanishes entirely when the door is pulled close behind her. So instead you turn your attention to the man who’s left. Jongdae is kind-looking, with bright, calculating eyes and high cheekbones, one of which has a scar down it. His hair is tied back with the same ribbons you saw the townspeople use, but he has a certain attitude that screams Capital to you. He takes you in top to bottom again now, and then smiles, the gesture warm. “I’m sorry about that. I did tell her that you’d be coming a few days ago, but in all the preparation, it must have slipped both of our minds. I’ll prepare your room as soon as we’re out of the harbor, Princess.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, toying with your dress, “I’ve had that happen to me more times than I can count.” You turn to pick up the bags that were so graciously tossed on board earlier, and then gasp. “Oh! This is Sehun, by the way. He’s my guard for this journey. I did mention that, didn’t I?” Sehun bows politely to the quartermaster, looking about as out-of-his-element as you feel.

“You did,” the raven haired man grins, giving the other a slight bow.

“Good.” You flush a little, attempting to shake the silence between you. It’s just strange. You’ve never met people before who regard you so casually while knowing who you are. It’s either one or the other, most of the time. When you go out into the outskirts of capital, dressed in the plainest clothes you own, it’s easy to pretend that you’re one of them. Sit by the canal, watching small children rushing by on their short, stubby, little legs. When one of them tumbles and you rush forward to help, a mother thanks you genuinely. Because she wants to thank you, not because of a certain imposed obligation. Jongdae looks at you this way now too, despite knowing who you are. You swallow, and attempt a better hold on the bag when it slips down. “Is there anything I could help with?”

“Later, maybe,” he agrees, which makes a slight pride swell in your chest. At least he doesn’t think you’re entirely useless. Jongdae nods, more to himself than to you, and cleans his hands on his brown pants. You’re a bit caught off guard when you really take a look at him. His clothes are not what you expected a sailor to wear, though that might be an entirely self-centered misconception on your part. It’s just— his clothes are clean, and entirely well made too. The white blouse seems much more comfortable on a busy place like this than the tight, restrictive clothing your dressed in. Colorful glass beads are woven into some strands of his hair, and his earrings are even more intricate then yours. “I guess it’s good that our ship is as big as it is, huh. With the amount of metal you’re wearing, a smaller vessel would have gone straight to the bottom.”

You laugh a little at that, glad to rid the situation of the awkward tension as soon as possible. If you’ll be on the same ship for a few weeks, you’d rather be comfortable with the people you’re on it with. Jongdae doesn’t seem very hard to like, though. “I think you’ll be fine.” You look up to the sky again, watching as people swing around between the ropes with ease, like they’ve spent their entire lives up in the ropes. Most of them probably have. “I’ve never been on a boat this big,” you admit, “or at all, really.”

Jongdae motions to follow him as he talks, eyes smiley. “It’s not just a boat. It’s a ship, Princess. The royal fleet has some of the biggest ships in the entire world, the May Terror is no exception.” As you walk toward the cabin, you notice that the plaque above the door indeed has ‘May Terror’ engraved into it, bright in the afternoon sun. You wonder who gave it it’s name. Lilith, maybe. You walk past many of the crew, attempting to acknowledge every person you meet with a little bow of your head. “Besides,” Jongdae continues, “I guess we would be fine! Don’t Royal born’s float in water?” He turns to you with a laugh, but the question seems entirely genuine, so you raise your brows at him.

“No! Of course we don’t.” You glance behind you to check for your friend a second, before continuing. Sehun seems bright in the light of the sun, his demeanor entirely soaking in the new environment. You’re glad he likes it this much, you do too. “I don’t think there’s anything that floats in the ocean, quartermaster.”

“Actually,” Sehun brings out, long legs easily keeping up with your pace even with his wondrous looking around, “I heard the same about sailors.” Jongdae’s eyebrows raise at that. “That they float in water, you know.”

Jongdae snorts, and pushes open the back door of the cabin, leading into a dim staircase. “Well, believe me, we don’t either. After you,” he gestures. You shift your dumb, big bag to one arm, and lift your dress with the other hand as you descend, blinking against the darkness of the hall. Jongdae follows behind you, and Sehun last. The hall is narrow, the air a bit dull. The strong scent of sea is still present, but there’s also hints of candle wax and wine here, which seems to check out. Jongdae leans over you a little to point at the far door to your right, and laughs. “That’s the one. You and your guard would be sharing a room though, if that’s okay. Or, if you’re not too comfortable with that idea, he can sleep downstairs as well, where the rest of the crew is.”

You nod and make your way over, pushing down the silver handle to reveal a beautiful room, with more light than you would’ve expected. A large, round window sits in the middle of the wall, flanked on both sides by beds. The side closest to you has a large dresser, and even a mirror. “Wow,” you just breathe, making way to allow both men to enter. As you walk towards the window, a loud bell sounds from somewhere upstairs, scaring you a little.

“Ah, I’ve gotta be getting up there, we’re sailing out.” Jongdae checks around the room quickly, before nodding. “You can get settled in, your Highness. And afterwards, come find us up top, the main door will lead you straight to the office. If you have a need for anything else, we’ll get you sorted out then.” Before you can even say a proper thanks, he closes the door behind him and rushes off to help man the ship, you guess. With a little sigh, you drop the one bag on your bed, and sit down next to it. Sehun follows your lead, though he stays standing on his side of the room, with a little frown.

“Your Highness. I’ll go find myself a place downstairs, do not worry. And maybe I can get the quartermaster to apologize for the mistake as well.” He turns away to start unpacking your stuff, mumbling quietly to himself, but loud enough for you to catch it. “A guard and a Princess sleeping in the same room, ridiculous.”

You pause to think for a moment, hearing the waves rushing past at an almost timed speed, again and again. Paired with the creaking of the ship and the muffled sound of voices, sounds entirely foreign, and yet you find a joy in it. You, a Princess, on a gigantic ship called the May Terror, it’s comical at best. “Actually,” you say, “if you don’t mind, I’d rather have you here.” Sehun’s eyes are big as saucers when he turns to look over his shoulder at you. “It’s unconventional, I know, but I don’t know anyone else here, and I’d take a great comfort in having you here. Besides, it’s not like the King and Queen would even find out.”

After a long pause, your friend nods, though hesitation is still marked in his eyes. “Of course, your Highness, if that’s what you wish for.”

“It is,” you confirm, getting up to take out one of your dresses. It’s a much lighter fabric that the traditional one you’re used to wearing, which means it’s infinitely more expensive, but it doesn’t look it. Besides, it’s hot down here, the air smothering. A lighter dress would do you well. When Sehun notices your stance, he immediately looks away.

“I’m waiting outside.” With that he runs off and shuts the door behind him, while your giggle follows. Sehun should probably also change. You’re not sure if he brought anything but the bare essentials though. Maybe he could borrow from Jongdae. You lay the dress down on the bed and stare at it for a second, taking in it’s pale pink color, as well as the form-fitted silhouette. Modern craftsmanship at it’s finest. If you were to wear this inside the palace though… well— safe to say you just wouldn’t wear it in the palace. Your mom and your older sister would both have your head.

You reach behind you to loosen the tied lints of your corset, fiddling with them until they come apart, and lay it down next to you on the bed, to disrobe entirely. Despite what some people might think, you actually don’t get dressed by maids every day, so you’ve gotten quite good at taking off your clothes without wrinkling them. The intricately embroidered dress is put aside and replaced by the pretty, empire waisted dress. It’s light, made of countless layers of sheer linen and entirely too “modern” for someone of your status, but this place makes you feel daring. You slip it on quickly, and sigh because it’s gorgeous, like you expected it to be. But Gods, does it show the entirety of your ankles. You’ll just have to live with it, you suppose.

“Sehun,” you call out then, hoping that he’s still waiting in the hall, “please come help me lace up! I can’t do it on my own.” This is true, of course, you think as you situate the corset back into place, but this way you can also check the reaction of your friend before going out into the real world. If he truly thinks it too much, you might just have to suffer through the heat. Sehun enters after two swift knocks, and sighs.

“It’s really dark in that hall, they should place some candles or — something.” He trails off, before blinking a couple of times. You motion for him to lace up your support and to your luck, he does so without thinking twice about it. “I won’t say anything about it, your Highness,” he says as he pulls the piece to your usual tightness, “but if your parents would know what you’ve been up to already, and the ship has barely left the port?” He doesn’t need to continue that sentence, because you both know you’d be in massive trouble.

“But they won’t know, now will they?” You respond, relaxing when Sehun ties the lints easily. “Now, I’ll go ask Jongdae if he has something to lend that you can wear. You’ll overheat if you keep walking around in uniform like this.”

Sehun snorts, but lets you do what you want. He’s known you for long enough now to realize that you will do what you want to do, whether there is someone to stop you or not. “Let’s get up to the cabin, then,” he grins. “If I you don’t get followed around by every man on the ship, that is. You know, I thought you were going on this trip to get away from the prospect of marriage, not to gain your own harem.”

“I heard that all girls dress like this in the smaller towns, actually.” You push open the door with a huff, already walking towards the stairs. “Your lack of fashion knowledge proves that you’ve never been outside the Capital before, Master Sehun.”

“And you have?” He laughs when you send him a little glare, but follows behind at a polite distance. When you get back on deck, the wind is much more wild then it was in port. You lean over the barricade as far as you can, mouth dropping open when you look behind you. Aoran already looks tiny from here, the white of smaller sails looking like little specks in the distance. Everything looks so green from this far out. The waves of the sea smash against the sides of the ship, small drops flying up high enough to reach your face. “Have you ever seen anything that beautiful, Sehun? Look at the city.”

He nods, staring at the view much like you are. “The world is so much bigger than you realize when you’re always locked up indoors.” And right he is. You feel so small in the wake of it all. Trailing behind this first ship are two more, smaller in size but impressive nevertheless, all with the same design as this one. Not wanting to disturb anyone working on deck, you decide to follow Jongdae’s command and make your way to the main cabin as soon as possible, while Sehun decides to explore the ship further. When you knock and push open the office door, you’re surprised by how spacious the room is. The Captain is stood bent over the massive map, as Jongdae sits slouched comfortably in a chair by the window.

“Hope I’m not intervening,” you mumble softly, as the door falls into lock behind you.

Jongdae smiles, getting up to motion you over. “Not at all, princess. We’re just trying to predict what route to sail, is all.” You nod in understanding, as Lilith gives you a small smile of acknowledgement. “You said you’ve never been on a ship before, right?”

“Right.”

“Have you ever seen any other place but the Capital, your Majesty?” the Captain then asks, frown deep set on her visage, as you lift your shoulders.

“I saw Aoran for the first time a few hours ago, if that tells you anything. I mean,” you trail your finger over the map slowly, where Aking is just barely visible on it, “there’s large forests around the city, and mountains that you can walk up for days without getting to the other side. I’ve seen some of those places on outings before, briefly. But real cities, I’ve only ever read about.” The two sailors share a glance when you talk. “Not that I’m ungrateful for my position, of course. I have it much easier than most people. But that’s also partly why I wanted to join this journey. I want to be involved in my nation’s trade, I want to know who we’re trading with. Want to know what people go through, you know.”

Jongdae nods, before putting a hand on your shoulder. “I think that’s you’re doing a pretty good thing then, your Highness.” You mouth a ‘thank you’, before aiming your gaze back at the map. Lilith maps out points with a definite ease, she must have done this many, many times before after all. “Well, let me show you then,” Jongdae suddenly says, pulling you around to the other side of the table. “Our first stop will be this island. There’s a small town there called Caryon, where our food and water gets refilled for the rest of the journey. It’s the biggest of a couple islands here, as you can see. But unlike most other islands in this area, Caryon is under the nation’s control. If you have a need for anything, be sure to ask before we leave there. We’re meant to arrive around tomorrow evening, by sundown. Then we dock there until morning to resume our travels.”

“What about the other islands?” you ask, looking over at Jongdae as he easily explains. Jongdae too, looks at total ease on the ship. You wonder how long he’s been sailing for, but don’t ask. If he’s from Aking, something that seems likely considering his appearance and gesturing, something must have happened to turn him into a seafarer. People from the Capital don’t just become sea folk. Not like he is.

“What about the other islands?” he repeats.

“Well, you said, unlike the other islands, Caryon is owned by the nation. Who own the other islands?” You can barely finish your sentence or the Captain clears her throat, standing up straight. The two experienced sailors don’t say anything for a few seconds, before someone moves. Captain Lilith turns then, takes a glass and fills it to the brim with peach wine, a drink highly prized even in Aking. She offers it to you, and sighs.

“Just no-good chums, sugar plum. Don’t worry too much about them, we’re not planning to run into them anyway.” She wraps your fingers around the cup and then softly gestures you towards the door. “Why don’t you enjoy a bit of the sun and the wind, outside, ay? It’s a nice day out, and you’ll be stuck inside for too long when it starts getting cold out. Faring North tends to have that effect.” As if to confirm her words, Jongdae nods and gives you a wink.

“Captain’s right, Princess. I’ll let you know when you can help, okay? For now, you should probably experience your first boat ride from a better place than inside this dusty, old office.” With a slight pout, you nod, and bow as you head back out. The sun still hangs high in the sky, and the crew is easily bustling with a life of it’s own, laughing and talking as they do their jobs. The wind in the sails makes them bulge like reeds in the wind. As you sip your wine, you take in the view. The city that was once visible on the horizon behind now is gone, swallowed entirely by the waves, making way for an endless ocean to stretch out. It seems just as vast as the night sky, without edges to contain it on any side. You wonder if you’ll be able to count stars on the surface of the ocean when evening comes. You hope you can.

     🌊🌊🌊    

Your hands wrap around the cold game pieces again, tossing them onto the table with an attentive gaze. The ship bobs back and forward without purpose, as you reach to the side and watch the man in front of you work. He topples one of the bone runes, and then another. The game is kind of confusing, and you absolutely suck at it, but it’s entertaining anyway. The man across you plays easy, you can tell by the rolling of the eyes of the crew behind him. “Put that one forward,” Sehun mumbles to you, pointing at the piece with the number three. Cato, that’s what the blond in front of you is called, nods and points at the piece too.

“Good move,” he says. So you push it forward a square, and smile when Cato hands you a silver coin as a reward. “Congrats, your Highness.”

“You let me win.” Though he doesn’t say anything, you can see it in the glint in his eyes.

He shakes his head dramatically though. “I wouldn’t dare.” You don’t believe it one bit. “Well, thank you for this game, Princess. I’ll be heading back up though, my break is done.” Cato is a junior officer, in charge of the naval provisions and making sure the food is all accounted for. He’s nice, he offered you a biscuit earlier. With a bow, he stands from the table and puts on his vest. “I best take my leave before the Captain has my head on a stick.” The blond smiles at your expression. “Metaphorically, of course.”

“Or literally,” a guy laughs behind him, as you look on in surprise. “You know what they say, Cato.”

“Aye,” the other responds, placing his hat on his head.

You don’t though, and frown in question. “What do they say?”

Cato laughs off your confused frown, and rests his hands on his belt with ease. “They say that the Captain is the daughter of a giant and the ocean Goddess. I wouldn’t know though,” he smiles, “I’ve never asked her. It would make a lot of sense if you think about it.” You don’t know much about giants, but if anyone is the daughter of one, you believe it to be Lilith. And she does carry herself with the confidence you expect from a goddess’ child. “I’ll play you later, if I get the chance. And I won’t go easy on you that time.” You nod at that, laughing softly.

As you wave Cato out, the loud bell signalling your departure sounds out of the blue, the ringing rushed. It lasts a really long time. The two crewmen left in the hull look up at the sound of it, while glances are exchanged between all of you. They seem just as confused with the signal as you and Sehun are, which is much more concerning than the sound itself. Shouting seems to come from up top, ringing through the depth of the ship. The men get up and rush out the way Cato left, leaving only you and your friend left behind in the confusion.

“Uhm, what’s going on?” you question, asking no one in particular, glancing at Sehun with wide eyes. He is entirely as lost as you are, looking more like a sailor himself instead of a guard in the new clothes he borrowed. The shouting doesn’t stop, and you take this as a signal that something is wrong. “We have to go check up deck,” you say. Sehun attempts to hold you back by your dress but you’re up and through the door before he gets the chance to, rushing down the abandoned halls. The shouting gets louder and louder the higher you get, indicating your guess to be correct. Whatever is causing the ruckus is an unexpected and unwelcome one. When some of the crew scramble down the stairs in a hurry, you flatten yourself to the wall to let them pass and continue up, ignoring Sehun when he calls for you.

You get upstairs slightly disoriented, the sun bright compared to the dim inside, even though the sky colors orange and yellow. People are scuffling all around you, as you heave yourself out of the indent of the stairs and onto deck. Someone dressed entirely in black almost runs into you, choosing to push you aside instead. You frown but don’t let this stop you. As you get up from the deck you look around the tangled mess for anyone you recognize. And sure enough. Jongdae stands far behind you, sword in hand and fighting off the person that opposes him. When he spots you, his eyes widen, as he uses his free hand to motion ‘no’ over and over again. You can hardly run back to the stairs though, watching the rest of the crew storming up them, armed with swords and shields. Jongdae overpowers the other man and kicks him in the gut, before pushing him overboard with a grunt. 

While you’re distracted with all of this, someone grabs for your arm, holding tight. Sehun. He says something in words so rushed you don’t get to make them out, but sounds angry without question. You point over to the stern of the ship. “Jongdae’s over there.” Sehun pushes you behind him, and makes his way over there slowly but surely, avoiding strangers that get in your way. The quartermaster runs to meet you halfway, pushing another stranger out of the way in the process, as you blink around you in confusion, clinging to your friend. “What’s going on?” you yell over the noise. Jongdae wipes some blood from his cheek with his sleeve. You don’t know if it’s his or someone else’s, and it doesn’t really seem like the time to ask. You’re so lost at the situation. Both parties drop to the floor like flies, marking the spotless deck with stains of red.

“Pirates,” Jongdae breathes, gaze dark. He takes the smaller knife out of his belt to hand it to Sehun, before hiding the both of you behind him to make his way through the invaders. It’s hard to make out who is who in the mess of it, so you just cling to Sehun as you can’t do anything but watch. People getting pushed overboard, and others getting stabbed. Your stomach drops at the sight of it. To the side of the ship, you notice, is another boat, almost identical in size. It’s not a part of the fleet though, because the entire length of it is painted entirely black, with deep red sails that seem to have been doused in blood.

Jongdae comes back around to stay by you, something you find a lot more comforting. He seems to have found the Captain in the fighting, or they at least end up in the same place together when you look over at him. The woman slashes two men across their throats at the same time, the bodies falling overboard with a well-aimed kick. They fall in between the gap of your ship and the other, but just barely. “Captain!” Jongdae yells, glancing at her in worry. “Where’s the other ships?”

“I sent them ahead! These bloodsuckers are not getting a single coin today,” she roars back. She tackles another of the men and skewers him against the deck, viciously glancing around. Whatever she is, Goddess or not, you’d be terrified if you were fighting against her. She glances over her shoulder for just long enough to make you and Sehun out in the madness, and swears. “Get those two on a ship and out of here, Quartermaster!” Jongdae refutes almost instantly, but she doesn’t back down. “We are fine! They won’t keep fighting if enough of their men are injured. If she dies however,” another person gets speared to the floor, smacking their head into the deck hard enough to knock them out, “I won’t be responsible for the start of a war! Get her off my ship!”

Jongdae slashes another person down when they charge at you, before giving in with a swear. He pushes the two of you toward the back of the ship more, grabbing a hold of you. When he turns, you notice how much blood is on his face and ruining his white blouse. Blood runs out of his nose, though it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. “Run to the back and get your stuff, as fast as you can,” he says to Sehun, who nods and runs to the back immediately. “You,” he brings out, wiping the back of his hand over his face and smearing the blood all over his cheek because of it, “run into the Captain’s cabin and get a big bag. Fill it with food, money, and flasks of water, okay? I’ll protect the door. Go quick!”

Waiting for one of the Pirates to stumble away, you nod, doing your best to keep your eyes from watering. You didn’t even know pirates were a thing, let alone that they would attack you on sight. With the way towards the cabin relatively clear, you run over there as fast as you can, and push your full weight against the heavy door to open it. The door falls closed behind you, leaving you obstructed from the fight. If something were to happen to Jongdae or Sehun or the Captain, you wouldn’t even be aware of it until you got back out there. However, you don’t have time to think about that. You grab a big bag and do exactly as Jongdae asked, tossing everything in with shaky hands. A map, the small metal thingie the captain was using to mark places, you toss all of it inside. Three flasks of water, a heavy pouch of money, and all the fruit that was cleanly displayed on the dresser to the side.

The door creaks behind you as someone attempts to open it, but falls back into lock just as fast. Tingles of adrenaline crawl all over your skin, like small needles. When you’re done, you grab the thing in both arms and hoist it up to the best of your ability, but it’s heavy. You lean it against the wall to pull open the door, screaming as a person stumbles inside when you do. The pirate has a knife in his back though, the one Sehun had. “Come on!” your friend blurts when he notices you there, pushed against the wall as your only protection. He grabs the bag from you and pulls you through the door so fast you almost fall over your own feet. Jongdae is standing by the railing, and fights off another of the pirates. How many of these guys even are there?!

You arrive out of breath and with flushed cheeks, but don’t get time to pause. Sehun tosses the bag overboard, as you watch with wide eyes. “Sehun!” you start, before noticing the much smaller boat there to catch it’s fall. The bag lands with a loud thump, but the small rowboat stays afloat. Sehun climbs onto the other side of the railing without hesitating, and lowers himself down to the boat by the thick rope that Jongdae must have tied there at some point when you were inside. The ship is high though, and the waves suddenly don’t look nearly as calming as they once did.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Sehun says, “you can do it!” You climb onto the other side of the railing with shallow breaths, and start lowering yourself down the rope by clenching it in between your legs. It gives you some nasty rope burns. Before you can side down any further, your hands lose strength and slip. You fall the rest of the way, landing onto the side of the boat and almost flipping it. “By Idite’s name,” Sehun brings out, helping you into the boat properly. Your feet are wet and your hip hurts a lot, but apart from that you’re fine, and the boat luckily is intact. Now you just stare up at the edge of the ship and wait for Jongdae’s face to appear. It doesn’t, not for a long while, to the point where you both attempt to pull yourself back up to check for him, but to no avail.

Luckily, after another minute or so, he finally appears to look over the side of the ship, and climbs down with his sword still in hand. He lands easily, but stares guiltily to the ship as the small boat bobs with the motion of the waves. “We don’t have to leave, Jongdae,” you quickly say, feeling equally guilty. “I can hide, or fight!”

“No,” he says though, putting the sword down and grabbing the paddles, as Sehun grabs the second pair. “The fact that you think that just means that we have to leave. The Captain knows what she’s doing. She’ll meet us in Caryon, by tomorrow. Sit tight, Princess.” So you do as told, and sit down. But the entire time the boys row away from the atrocity that just happened, your eyes stay on the ship. You can’t see anyone on deck anymore. You don’t dare to ask if that’s a good sign, or a bad one.

You’ve been swaying with the stubborn movement of the waves for at least an hour now, staring into the distance where the ship has vanished into the fog for ages already. It’s getting later and later, and the ocean is getting exponentially dark as time goes on. Not much more now, and you’ll be surrounded entirely by darkness. The idea that that can happen is terrifying. Aking is never entirely dark, even at night. However, that seems like the lesser of your many problems. Jongdae peers to the front intently, on his knees and looking for something, though you don’t know what. Sehun seems to have taken it onto himself to count your items, most likely to fight away the silence. He doesn’t do well in complete silence, it lets his thoughts run entirely free and in situations like this, he’s never the best at staying calm.

After a while, you get more anxious by all the things and Sehun’s twitching, and turn around in the boat to watch Jongdae instead. He glances behind to catch your eye, and smiles a bit. His face is still not entirely clean of the blood, but he did his best to wipe most of it away, or at least you think he did. It’s hard to tell in the slumber of nightfall. As if sensing your total and complete loss at the situation, he cocks his head to the front. “The waves are too strong for a rowboat of this size. We’d just be burning energy and staying in place, trying to head for the main island.” That makes sense. A while ago, he told Sehun to stop rowing after all. You offered to take his place, but it would have been no use, he’d said.

“So where are we going now then?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he nods, glancing at the stars and then at the map again. You don’t know how much use a map is when you don’t have a single thing to base your position off though, just water. Jongdae doesn’t seem scared by the ocean even in a situation like this, you admire that in him. “If we have a little bit of luck on our side, we’re still heading in the right direction. And with even a bit more of said luck, we’re coming up to land any second now.” He peers out into the distance again, fingers curled tight around the paper in hand. Sehun stops his mindless counting to join in your staring. It’s hard to see because of the fog. But sure enough, very faintly, like a small curve sticking out above the horizon, you see something that you just hope is land.

“Is that it, you think?” Sehun asks, a hopeful tone in his voice.

“It can’t be anything else,” the sailor confirms, which settles your nerves. Your heart still feels heavy though. At least you’ll be reunited with the Captain and her fleet. You worry about the crew, about Cato and all the other innocent people who might have gotten hurt in the attack. How didn’t you know about this? The Captain and Jongdae did, which means that it’s happened before. How many innocent people have been attacked by pirates to get rich folk some foreign fabrics? The possibility that your parents don’t know of this is scary, but it’s even scarier to think they do. That just means they don’t care. That’s not an issue for right now though, you decide.

“Is Caryon far from the beach?” you settle on asking, “how will we get there?”

But Jongdae makes a slight noise of disagreement, before looking back at you. “This isn’t the main island, your Highness. We’re still a few hours out of reach on this little boat.” He frowns, and shakes his head. “No, this is one of the smaller islands, one we normally choose not to stop at. It is not a place you wish to stay when you work for the Royal fleet. Ayusoshil.”

You sigh, and lean forward a little, grasping the sides of the boat. “What does that mean?”

“Thief’s Bay.” Jongdae doesn’t look away from the slight bump raised above the water as he talks. Sure enough, it already seems closer than it was before. 

“Charming name,” you bring out, which makes him snort.

“Very.” When you wait with shallow breaths to get even closer, you swear you can see a tiny light through the fog. It’s faint, but unmoving, and at least it’s something to base your position on. “Let’s row now,” he says, turning to face you in the boat, “we’re close.” Sehun nods and takes a hold back on the paddles, dropping your stuff back into the big bag that lays useless at the bottom of the boat. You can hear the waves raging in the distance, washing up against the islands like a vicious attack.

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The wind is cold against your skin, biting at the exposed parts of your body with razor sharp teeth, and though Sehun shelters the most of it by walking behind you, you feel weak. The sand hurts when it hits your face too. But Jongdae walks with a reasonable pace, and an optimistic attitude. The grass is long and wet, wrapping around your ankles as you scale the hill. The light you had seen from afar had been but a mirage, but Jongdae is sure that people actually live here, and that you should be coming up on them soon. The silence is broken by the sound of a bird in the distance. When you make it to the top of the hill you’re truly exhausted from the events of the day. “I told you!” the quartermaster sighs, relief brushing his features ever so softly.

Jongdae helps you up the last step and makes way for Sehun, before pointing towards the valley that spreads out in front of your eyes. Many torches burn in the darkness, flames fighting to stay ignited against the damp air. They reveal a few houses, with one large one in the center of the town, and lights that lead a path to the other side of the island, where you guess the ships are docked. “Oh, good Gods!” Sehun whispers, “I didn’t want to say it but I was worried we’d never arrive. I’m so tired, a good warm drink and I’ll be ready to go to bed.”

Jongdae stares for a while, before slowly walking down the hill, with the two of you following behind. “I don’t know if there’s an inn we can stay at, Sehun. I don’t even know if there’s anyone here who can help us. But it’s worth a try, at least.” He walks in front of you two by a few steps, and nods. “Let’s just be careful, though. And your Highness, if anyone asks,” he swallows then, eyes too serious as they regard you, “you are not a Princess starting from now, alright?” Though you don’t understand why, you nod. It seems to be really important to him.

When you finally arrive at the town, the bottom of your dress is colored a dark pink because of the wet grass. The streets are abandoned because of the nasty weather, you guess, partly wishful thinking. The main building you spotted from a distance looks old and worn, the wooden front colorless and bulging because of the elements, with yellow stained windows that are fogged up by the cold night air. “Here’s the plan,” Jongdae says, slowing his steps underneath the overhang of one of the much smaller buildings. They looked like houses from a distance, but it seems more like an abandoned storage house when you look at it now.

“The people that come here aren’t those favored by the nation. Some are probably criminals, some are most likely fugitives or other lot of that sort. And I can’t enter there without being denied immediately or worse,” he admits, “I should have brought some neutral clothing but — we were kind of in a rush to leave. It’s also not a good idea to enter there with your money on you, unless you want to be robbed the second you set foot in that place. So Sehun will stay here and hide behind this house with our things, and I’ll stand guard out here.” The wind whistles through the cracks of the building.

Sehun drops the bag to the floor for a second then, and raises his eyebrows. “All right, but then who will go inside to ask for help?” It stays silent for a while, before Jongdae’s gaze slides over to you. Sehun immediately shakes his head though. “No, no way. You can’t make the Princess of the Capital enter into a rat’s nest like that! What if something happens? She can stay hidden behind the building instead of me.”

“Sehun,” Jongdae frowns, “with all due respect, she can’t fight. You’re a guard, you have at least some fighting training. If we lose the money to thieves, we’re as good as dead. Then we’re never leaving here, and we wouldn’t have any reason for them to not kill us on the spot.” He sighs, and turns to you. His clothes are still entirely stained with blood. It would be best if he didn’t enter, you reason. He’s right, if he were to enter he’d immediately give away in how much trouble you really are. “You’ll have to do it, your Highness. I’m sorry.” Sehun opens his mouth to cut in again, but you place a hand on his arm.

“It’s fine, Master Sehun. I can do this.” You look to the floor then, and at the one bag full of everything you own. “I can do this,” you nod to yourself, before motioning to the biggest building. “I’ll try to hurry. Stay safe out here, please.”

“You too,” your friend says, frown still digging into his features in worry.

When you walk to the door by yourself, the night seems entirely quiet. Even the wind has ceased to reach this far down the valley, instead making way for a void where only the ocean is audible. You’re so used to the sound of it you almost don’t notice it anymore. The door is thick, and heavy-looking, like a piece of driftwood that was merely attached here out of ease. When you look behind again, the two guys have already moved to hide behind the building, so you take a deep breath to calm yourself, and then push hard against the door with your shoulder. The loud buzz of the room quiets when you enter, and tens of eyes turn in your direction. The men here look unfriendly to say the least. With unshaven faces, scarred arms, and sunken eyes. They seem to gleam at your arrival, but you will yourself to be brave.

The door falls shut with a loud sigh of the wood, bending under the pressure. “Does anyone here have a ship?” you ask, looking around the room and briefly at the fire that burns wildly in the fireplace. It stays silent for a while, so you sigh, and bite your lip. “Or does anyone here have a ship, who can speak Home Tongue?” Your reading ability might be pretty great, but you’re far less equipped to speak a language you’ve never even heard before. Some men talk among each other when again no one responds. Then, with the sound of metal being dropped and some ruffling, the group of men to your right move apart to reveal one of the few tables of the place, and the person sitting at it.

“I do,” he says, voice deep and full, with a slight bit of raspiness. When his eyes move from the grain of the table to meet yours, you pause to take a deep breath, and link your hands behind your back. The man seems to radiate cold from every fiber of his body, bringing a baring panic that is laced into the color of him. Though his skin tone is far from pale, it seems icy, just like the slight curl of his lips. His eyes are dark and piercing, though he’s dressed entirely in white. The many piercings that he has are delicate, and his posture casual. But maybe the most peculiar part is his hair, since it’s so much shorter than you’ve ever seen anyone wear. It is not only weird to cut your hair in your culture, it’s almost like you’re cursing at the Gods directly. “Well?” he asks, sounding bored.

“Good,” you just respond, taking a few steps closer to him. His men come to stand behind you, closing off the entrance with their bodies. You feel entirely uncomfortable turning your back to them, but you don’t really have a choice. “Me and some friends were on a fishing trip, but it seems a storm snuck up on us and we got stranded here. We would really like to get back to Caryon by tomorrow, or people will start to worry.” You pause for a second to check his reaction. But the man barely moves, just blinking a little. “I can pay you.”

“Can you, now?” he responds, straightening up in his chair. He rests his hands on the table for a bit, before toying with the glass on the table. “So a storm caught you off guard, and now you need to get out of here?” he repeats, not looking at you while he speaks. It doesn’t look like he’s looking at anything really, rather staring through the creaky, old planks of the floor into nothing.

You squeeze your own hand out of nerves and ignore the breathing of the men behind you, too close for comfort. “Yes, Sir.”

He smiles. Wide and mischievous, it curls on his lips into a heart, making him look younger than you expect him to be. It’s a pretty smile. But despite that, it sends a shiver down your spine. Smoothly, he leans back in his chair, and props his feet up on the table. Polite. His eyes find yours for just a few seconds from under long lashes, before flicking away at his surroundings. “I’ve never seen fishers before with clothes like that. Very pretty.” It’s like he doesn’t even want to look at you, like you couldn’t pose a threat if you tried. Your gaze hasn’t left his shape once for the opposite reason. He seems volatile, flammable and if you’ve learned anything of people like this, it’s to keep close watch on them.

When he gestures vaguely in your direction, you actively have to break that rule to look down at yourself. Your corset is bedazzled all over with small, shiny crystals that shimmer in the light of the fire, with thin threads and exquisite craftsmanship. Even the dumbest of people would be able to tell it to be of value, but you take solace in the fact that there are plenty of families rich enough to afford things like this. He wouldn’t be able to track you back to the royal house with just this. “You seem like a smart girl,” he sighs, with a nonchalance and a slight tick of his jaw. The rest of his crew keep their eyes on you, increasing levels of curiosity. “How about you tell us your name, huh?”

He takes clear pleasure in the doubt you express, dark eyes gleaming with the gold light of an inferno. Like a lion, exchanging glances with his prey. As if he’s asking to be dared, wants to have a reason to light up this room and tie you to the floor with it. You’re determined not to let him though. With a small nod, you take another step forward, and place your hands on the table. “It’s Clem,” you say, voice sturdy as much as you can get it in a situation like this. You only straighten up when he looks at you again, sighing deeply. “Now, can you help us or not, Captain?”

He lifts a brow and grins again, looking over at his crew. “You seem very sure about your chances here, little girl. I assure you that I’m not normally very kind to strangers who impede on my territory, though.” He stands up from his chair then, leaning forward on the table like you had seconds before, and bringing his sword up from his belt to have the blade rest against your throat. It’s perfectly sharp, dragging lines into your soft skin every time you shake. Both from the cold and the nerves. “You have some guts to come in here all alone and demand something from me so confidently.” The breath you take is shaky against the cold metal, but you clench your teeth and do your best to fight through.

“Not confident, just desperate,” you gasp.

He now pauses, expression freezing over within seconds. Then, slowly, he drags the tip of the sword down your throat and leaves it to press under your collarbones, thin skin almost revealing blood. “Then what makes you think that I won’t kill you here, right now, and find your little friends after that. It seems to me a lot more profitable to just get rid of you all together, and still take your silver for myself.” Some of the men chuckle at that, like threatening a person is a normal part of their routine.

“You won’t,” you breathe. This seems to amuse him greatly.

“Want to bet your head on that, rich girl?”

Despite the blazing fire in the room, your body is cold, and your muscles weak. You might as well. “You won’t kill me, because if you wanted to do that, you would’ve by now.” His eyebrow twitches a little at your voice, sword becoming increasingly painful on your skin. “Now, I might not know much about you or anyone in this room, but I bet you’re all here for the same reason. You believe in rules that the world doesn’t adhere to, and you think that you can do better on your own, out here in the middle of nowhere. I believe in that too.” The room feels thick with the eyes that are aimed at you like throwing swords at your head, but you don’t dare stop. At least, as long as you’re talking he doesn’t get the chance to scare you out of it. “But if you truly feel that way and you’re willing to die for it, then don’t play around like unknowing, little children. Prove that you are better than what you’re running away from.” A long, tense pause. You don’t think anyone breathes, because the room is entirely dead quiet.

In one smooth move, the sword is away from your skin, and slid back into his belt. His heavy gaze stays on yours for a second longer, before he makes his way through the men and to the door with weighted steps. “The smart mouth can live, for right now,” he brings out, taking the white jacket that matches his other clothes and draping it over his shoulders. “Baekhyun, bring her and her foundlings to the beach in a bit. The rest of you, go man our godforsaken ship before the wind changes again.” When the door is pulled open, it carries in waves of cold, and the howling of the wind through the frame. He turns over his shoulder once to give you a one over, and tuts. “Oh, and if she opens her little trap again, you kill ‘em where they stand. Understood?”

“Ay ay, Captain,” it sounds from across the room, almost sung with amusement. The idea of talking so casually about death makes you sick to your stomach. It’s like none of them have seen death before, like they don’t believe in the concept of it. But before you can say anything else, or want to, he leaves the house and disappears into the dark night, taking most of the men with him. You stare until the door slams shut with a lot of noise, before letting out a deep breath. The place where his sword was pressed is painful when you brush your fingers over it. “So what have we here,” the same voice sounds from behind you, slipping around you too fast to keep up. When you look over your shoulder, he’s already in front of you, and turns your face to meet his with a hold on your jaw. “What a curious little fish who washed up on our beach,” he grins.

“I didn’t wash up on your beach, I washed up on the other side of the island,” you bring out, pulling your face from his hold and frowning at him. The man in front of you also has relatively short hair for a citizen of any city, with smiley features and a bright grin. He’s beautiful as well, eerily so, with silvery eyes that glint with glee. He seems to light up at your attitude, and brings his face uncomfortably close to yours while he inspects you.

“I should really stab you for that,” he brings out, voice playful, “but I quite like a bit of bite in my ladies. So you’re free to do so, for as long as I’m around. Isn’t that kind?” His back is turned to you but his gaze is over his shoulder at you, as he holds his sword in his hands behind his back. You just glare at him and don’t respond, which makes him laugh. One of the men who didn’t go with the Captain pours a bucket of sand onto the fire, effectively putting it out. The other, Baekhyun you guess, tosses him a piece of silver, and then glances back at you. 

When he notices your gaze on him, his smile grows. “So, let me guess about you, little fish. I think you’re the second daughter of some sort of high ranked citizen in the Capital who sent you out, right? Your storm story is complete garbage, there were no storms anywhere near here. So the people who are with you are most likely a brother, cousin or friend who was sent with you for support, and the person who was supposed to ferry you over, right? You’re one of those librarians they sent every once in a while, right, one of those girls?” You again, don’t respond, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “I always wondered why they only send girls. My guess is they offer one to the gods every few months.” He smiles as he places the point of his sword against your lower back. “Guess you’ll find out, huh. Now walk, unless you want to get skewered.”

You walk to the door under his tight surveillance, and pull it open with both hands, goosebumps covering your every inch in the cold night air. Baekhyun hums a melody as he walks behind you, steering you towards the dirt road and out of the light that peeks through the small windows of the inn. “So what are you,” you start, staring out into the night to see of any sign that might reveal your friends, “you’re pirates, right?” Baekhyun doesn’t really respond for a bit, so you slowly start moving into the direction you came from, and wait for a sign. But as you think that, a doubt makes it’s way through you. Jongdae is still in his same uniform, unmistakably an ally of the Capital and if these men find that out, things don’t look good for his safety. You stop in the middle of the road as you think, suddenly unsure about this whole idea. You’ve got a sword pressed to your back, for the Gods’ sake. 

“I guess that’s what they call us, yes,” he admits, halting when you do. You can feel his statue behind you, unwavering. What now?

“But you’re not?”

This makes him laugh, a bright, chilling sound in the silence of the abandoned island that sounds much too genuine. “Oh no, we definitely are. It just doesn’t sound very nice, does it? ‘Pirates’, like we’re out to hurt every single person in the whole wide world, murder in cold blood. Thief would be kinder, I think.” You can’t help but wonder how sane this man truly is, if he thinks being called a thief would be any better. In old tales, thieves end up with their heads being bitten off in the night. When you still don’t move, Baekhyun presses harder against the sword, urging you forward. “What are you waiting for, little fish? If you want your request fulfilled, you’ll have to move and get your friends.”

“How can I trust that you won’t kill us and take our money?” you bring out, gathering some of your dress in your both hands to step into the long grass.

“You can’t.” Baekhyun sighs deeply, and then hums again, the same tune. After a second of walking, you pause, and turn to face him. “What?” he blinks, staring at you with a teasing look. His eyes are lined with a black that makes them seem sunken in, and almost impossible to read in the darkness. This of course, is true. But you can’t help but feel that if they were planning on killing you, they would’ve done so by now, and twice over. You just hope this man is loyal enough to his Captain to follow the order of bringing you to the ship, alive. You don’t have another choice, or the Royal fleet will leave without you.

You take in a deep breath, and hold back a frown as best as you can. Here goes nothing. “I was going the wrong way, the sword held to my spine must’ve confused me.” At the raise of his eyebrows, you breathe out. “I’m sorry, it’s that way instead.” Baekhyun tilts his head to the side, before shrugging and lowering his sword entirely, a small grin crawling up to his lips, triumphant. He cocks his head to motion you to lead the way again, hands settling around his belt. The casual way in which he does it only seems to prove again that he doesn’t consider you a threat. So either he’s dumb and cocky, or he genuinely has no reason to be worried. You don’t really know which you’d prefer.

You speed your steps a bit as you return in the way you just walked, and towards the house you left your friends at. Baekhyun trails behind leisurely, the gravel crunching under his feet with each step. As you peek around the back of the house, relief fills your body. Sehun is pressed to the wall of the building, his eyes wide as he stares at your sudden appearance. Jongdae lowers his sword and smiles at you, as you let out a breath. “You’re not dead,” Sehun cleverly says, which makes you laugh.

You nod, and let your dress fall back to it’s normal length, smoothing it out with small movements. “Good news, I found us a way to Caryon. Uhm, bad news—” you say, falling silent when Baekhyun shows up beside you, face lit up with curiosity.

“Hi there.” He looks the two men up and down, before huffing a little and putting out his hand toward the sword in the other’s hand. “I’ll take that.” The frown on Jongdae’s face is clear, but he agrees with the man almost instantly. He too seems to know that in this state, he’d lose a duel, even if you have the majority here. “You look to be in seriously bad shape,” he nods in the quartermaster’s direction, taking in the blood stains and the intricate stitchings of the shirt, “and from a much more prestigious ship than a small fisher boat.” A big grin comes to kiss his lips. “You know, you’re a really bad liar,” he says, turning back to you. Jongdae’s sword is slid into his belt, as he motions his own at the three of you to guide you toward the beach. “I guess you’re lucky I worship the Goddess Manto. We’re big enthusiasts of any form of drama, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” you bring out, as you grab Sehun’s arm and trail behind the pirate, who walks backwards toward the beach. Many of the royal palace worship that same goddess, and you are sure to know that they most definitely enjoy a good bit of conflict and theater. The walk down the narrow path happens mostly in silence, with the humming of the leading man carrying through the emptiness of the valley. The island isn’t that big, it seems, because you reach the beach sooner than expected. “I’m sorry to say,” you suddenly begin, hesitating for a second when Jongdae catches your eyes, “but you seem quite casual for a pirate.”

Baekhyun laughs, ringing loud as he walks, and turns back to look at you. “How so?”

“I was under the assumption that pirates were more… ruthless, maybe.” You smile a little when Sehun squeezes your arm under his.

“Would you like me to be?” the raven-haired pirate asks, raising his eyebrows. When you shake your head ‘no’, he smiles. “We are when we need to be, I think. Captain definitely is not one for small talk like I am, I guess you would find him ‘ruthless’ more so then me, in the simple sense of the word. But he doesn’t enjoy suffering as much as I do, either.” When he faces you this time, it’s with a smile that you can only describe as dangerous, one of a person needing desperately to play games. “I like seeing a body curl into unnatural shapes with pain,” he admits. You quiet when he doesn’t say more, and look away from the pirate to glance at the busy back and forth of the indistinguishable shapes near the water edge.

The ship is about as big as you think the May Terror was, though hard to tell from this far away. People are loading large boxes up into it. As you get close enough, you can see the ship in it’s full glory. Though it doesn’t have the same glamour as the royal fleet did, there’s a definite air that surrounds it. Like the ship allows only awe to be pulled from you. The ship is made of dark wood that has grayed in the sun, and giant, white sails. Baekhyun grins as he comes to a stop, poking Jongdae with his sword. “Up, up, my seafaring friend. We’ll have to get you onto the ship without the Captain seeing, after all.”

“Why are you helping us if you’re so against the Capital?” you bring out at that, glaring when he jabs Jongdae between the shoulder blades.

“Well, because I really want to see this thing play out. Long journeys can be so terribly boring when we don’t have captives or any form of entertainment. The rest of them,” motioning at the men that walk around on deck above you, “are just following orders. And the Captain— just hope that he doesn’t find out before we load you off again. Maybe you’ll be able to run off as soon as we board, and just survive it.” With a smile he pushes Jongdae toward the plank, then Sehun and lastly you. As you walk up it, Baekhyun follows close behind, sliding his sword away. “You know… a kiss might make me consider trying harder to keep your secret from coming out, little fish.”

You turn over your shoulder to catch his smug grin, as you send him your hardest death glare. “Don’t dream of it, you sneaky, stealing— lowlife.”

“Ouch,” he pouts, “you wound me. Truly.” When you arrive on the deck, people are too busy manning the ship to really pay attention to you, though some eyes follow your group to the back of the ship. They walk around with candles and lanterns, giving just enough light to keep you from running into things. Baekhyun takes one of the candles and tosses open a door nearing the back of the cabin. “Down into there,” he points, to the dark hole that the door opens into. The ladder down is rickety, creaking under Sehun’s feet as he descends. 

You follow, wanting to get away from Baekhyun though not daring to remove your eyes from him. You quickly think of the Captain, and what he might do if he finds out that Jongdae is who he is, or worse, who you are. But then the last of your trio descends and Baekhyun is leading you around in the belly of the ship, past food stocks and even past the beds of crew until you reach a little corner. There’s a small space left there, with ropes and barrels taking up most of the space. “Here we are,” Baekhyun nods, squishing you in one by one, “pleasure having you on board, and thank you for sailing the world’s grandest pirate ship. I do have to tie you up now. Don’t want you getting any ideas, of course. Oh!” He suddenly exclaims, dramatic as ever, “and I need our money.”

You pause for a bit to think, locking eyes with Jongdae and Sehun before nodding. “Alright. We’re paying you half now, and the other half when we arrive in Caryon, safe and unharmed.” When Baekhyun giggles, you swallow, and cross your arms over your chest. “I think that’s only fair, considering our situation. And I’m staying untied, also.” The black haired man cocks his head to the side with a smirk, before looking behind him and back.

“If that makes you feel any better, sure.”

Before you have to ask, Sehun reaches into the bag without taking his eyes off of the pirate, and takes a handful pieces of silver to hand him. “You can try to cheat us or steal from us before we arrive,” he mumbles, “but this is all we have. You’ll be disappointed by your win if you do.” You nod along, watching Baekhyun as he slides the money into his pocket with a smooth move. Now just to hope that he doesn’t take it all for himself. Jongdae seems to be strangely quiet, leaning against the wall with a frown on his handsome visage. Maybe he’s thinking the same you are. A pirate isn’t to be trusted.

“Alright, pretty boy, quiet down. If I wanted to steal from you, you wouldn’t have that bag anymore, or your hands, alright? I won’t keep being as civil as I’ve been if you keep accusing me.” True to his word, he ties each of your arms behind your backs, leaving one of your hands untied. You are all tied to the barrels then, as Baekhyun gives you a small bow. His grin has yet to leave his face, and you can’t help but think that this is his normal expression. With his free hand he gives you a little wave, walking back in the direction of the ladder. “Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the rats bite. I’ll see you all in the morning. Or before that, who knows.” With a loud laugh, he climbs back up to the deck, slamming the door shut. It falls into lock with a grinding, metal noise. Most likely a lock of sorts.

When the silence comes for the first time since maybe an hour ago, you slide down the side of the barrel to sit on the floor, grabbing at the bag near your feet. Sehun and Jongdae are already seated, their hands tied tight behind their backs. Poor them. You guess he didn’t feel the need to tie you up because he thinks you can’t fight, and sadly, he’s right in that assumption. Instead of dancing or singing, they should have given you fencing lessons, at least you’d be able to make yourself useful now. “I’ve just doomed all of us, haven’t I,” you breathe, looking at the both of them. Your eyes are still adjusting since Baekhyun left you behind in total darkness.

Sehun opens his mouth to answer, but settles on squeezing your arm softly instead, and rests into you a bit. It must be terrifying to him too, though he doesn’t admit it. Jongdae stays quiet for a long while, like he’s trying to sort through all his thoughts, before finally sighing deeply. “No, you did well. I’ve dealt with pirates before and I was hardly as helpful as you were. I mean, we’re tied up, but on our way to Caryon at the very least. That’s more than we had an hour ago.” Count on him to be full of optimism even in the dark, dim depths of a pirate ship.

“Jongdae?” you call again, waiting for his small hum, “what happens to you if they find out that you’re part of the royal fleet? What if Baekhyun lied, and he’s tells the Captain at this very moment or at any point during the trip? I don’t trust him.” Sehun seems troubled by this thought too. You don’t want anything to happen to him. He saved you before, and even if he didn’t, you’d want him to be okay more than anything.

A tiny smile comes to his lips, but you can tell it’s not very genuine, or self-assured. “I don’t know, Princess. Let’s just hope they don’t find out before we arrive.” When silence falls, every crack of the wood or whisper of the wind sounds loud, and you have a hard time letting go of thoughts. Despite this, the call of sleep catches up to you after a while. In the cold belly of the ship you sleep, resting against Sehun’s shoulder as you sink into a dreamless night.

     🌊🌊🌊     

You’re awoken by the sound of many feet on the deck above, and the faint sigh of the heavy door being pushed open. Cold, salty air blows down into the belly of the ship and fills your lungs, a much needed breath of fresh air. Sehun is already awake when you glance over at him with heavy lids, Jongdae awakening from slumber much like you. “They are coming down,” Sehun mumbles, and he’s right. Heavy boots stomp down the ladder, past the load of food and past the beds. They are coming for you guys.

“We can’t have arrived this soon already,” Jongdae mumbles, which makes your heart sink to your toes. If they’re not here to get you off their ship, then why are they?

Two men drag you up by your tied arms before you can say anything to your friends, yanking you through the rooms under loud mumbling from the other crew, as you struggle to stay upright. They don’t even allow you to climb up yourself entirely, instead dragging you up by your shoulders the last bit. You’re led to the middle of the deck, and pushed down onto your knees without a second thought, with Sehun and Jongdae following the same path. Sehun is dumped down with a harsh shove that sends him on his side, and winces when he lands onto his shoulder. You do your best to help him up with your tied hands, looking around. The waves are wild today, ship anchored in the middle of nowhere. Though the sun is out, the weather is chilly, leaving you with the hairs on your body raised.

Feet click on the wood, shoes decorated with metal that gleams in the first light of the morning. The person halts in front of you three, barely acknowledging you as humans in their own right. Dust blows into your face, but you don’t look away. The man of last night sighs with the same stone cold attitude he carried then, before squatting down and taking a hold of Sehun’s face to yank it up into view. When his stained fingers grab at your friend you clench your teeth, but hold your tongue. Now’s not the time to talk back, you know this. His dark eyes flick to yours for just a second, before he surveys the young man. After a little while, all under the judging eyes of the crew, he moves away from your friend to do the same with Jongdae.

“Tell me,” he clicks his tongue, before looking between all three of you again, “where’s the rest of your men and women?” He trails his finger over the colorful emblem on Jongdae’s shoulder as he waits, but none of you answer. Only the wind can be heard over the rushing of the ocean waves. The small emblem is that of your family, your home so far away by now, it’s yellow and blue clearly recognizable. You don’t know how they found out, but you can only guess that someone talked to the Captain. But as you look around, you don’t see Baekhyun under the men. “Is my question unclear to you?” the man in white breathes, glancing at you with a fire in his eyes, like that of the burning sun.

You curl your legs to the side to push yourself from the wood, and glare back at him. But before you can say much of anything, Jongdae pushes himself up from the deck as sits on his knees, hands still hung uncomfortably behind him. His brow buries deep into his visage, the frown proof of his fighting spirit. “What men and women do you speak of, Sir, that we are supposed to know the location of?” Before he’s able to say any more, the Captain’s leather boot connects with his face. Jongdae collapses back against the deck, head hitting with a sharp thud. He winces, blood dripping on the floor.

You stare at the scene in horror, heart dropping all the way down to toes. “Do I look like I am wanting to play games?” the Captain asks, taking out his sword to twist it in the light of the sun. The sharp metal glints playfully in the beams of morning color. Jongdae just groans, and rolls onto his back, hands trapped under his body. His nose is bleeding, and bottom lip busted because of the impact, face paled. When no one responds, the man standing above you all clicks his tongue in disapproval, and lifts Sehun’s chin with the edge of his sword. The point makes a mark under his jaw, blood dripping down his neck. He trembles, catching your eyes for a flash before looking back at the Captain. And you see the fear in his eyes.

He didn’t want this, Jongdae didn’t want this. Only you did, and look at you now. The dark, cold eyes stay aimed at your best friend’s face for a while. “Tell me. Or I’ll cut into his pretty face over and over and over, until you can’t look at him anymore without feeling terror. Same goes for that capital scum.” Though the Captain doesn’t look at you, you feel the weight of the question on you. Your lip wobbles without your control, so you pull it between your teeth to keep it at bay.

“I don’t know where —” Another sharp kick to Jongdae’s face, this time connecting with his cheekbone so hard you think you hear it crunch. Jongdae’s head falls to the side, eyes flickering with pain and you can’t hold the tears that well up. “I’m sorry, I’m trying!” you yell at the standing man, and glare at him from under your lashes. His eyes are just as cold, though now they are unflinching on yours. His full lips open to let out a sigh, as he places the sole of his shoe on Jongdae’s face. “Just stop! Stop hurting him, he has nothing to do with this,” you repeat. Sehun’s eyes bore into the side of your head when the sword comes to press into your cheek instead, but you don’t look away. Can’t look away.

“I’ll ask one more time.” His deep voice unwavering, filled with a hatred that you can barely comprehend. How can a person have so much darkness inside them towards someone they don’t know? “Why are you traveling with this rat,” he motions toward Jongdae, “and what are you doing on my fucking ship?”

The sword presses hard enough to slice open the skin of your cheek, sharply burning like a fire. You breathe in deeply, and do your best to silence the cries that well up in his throat. But before you can muster up the courage to answer him, Jongdae huffs out a strained laugh. “Don’t.” His soft eyes glide over to you, and despite the blood and blooming bruises that mark his face, he doesn’t look scared. “Let him rot in his doubt.” Everyone quiets. Where before there were soft whispers running between the crew, now there’s a thick void. You look back up to the man dressed in white, taking in his quiet form. In those cold, dark eyes brews a storm that would terrify every mortal soul.

Then, ever so slowly, a smile starts creeping up to his lips, as he meets your eyes again. “Have you ever held a sword before, little girl?” A shiver runs between your shoulder blades at the softness of his voice. Tender almost, like he’s talking to a loved one. You shake your head into a minuscule ‘no’. “A sword is an honorable weapon. It kills quick. When on sea, there’s much more horrible deaths. Starving. Disease. Drowning.” He kneels gently before you, and looks only at you with that same smile that would bring comfort in any other situation. 

Right now, it looks like death itself. “I almost drowned, once. You can’t do anything but sink, holding your breath as long as you can. Longer than you ever have, until you feel like your head is going to burst. You can’t help but hold out until every single part of you quakes in pain. Your head bursting from the pressure. It’s agony. And then, when everything starts to fade, when you can’t hold out anymore, you open your mouth anyway. And it feels like hell. Filling your lungs to the brim, as you choke to death. It’s the longest, most painful death you can imagine.”

Your lips are still shaking. For the second it lasts, he seems truthful, entirely. A deep, suffocating sadness that is pulled from the deepest part of his soul, making it’s way onto his features. And it touches you, despite your anger and your fear. “That’s horrible,” you breathe. Because it is. The Captain nods, staring at you for a beat longer, and then he gets back up to his full height. Towering above you from where you sit motionless on the cold, hard floor. His voice is equally soft as he speaks again. 

“Throw the rat overboard.”

A darkness overtakes you at those words, dread bubbling up from deep inside. You flinch when the crew grabs hold of Jongdae by his arms, and glance between the three men in rapid succession. Blaring fear for the new friend who only wanted to help. The Captain doesn’t move a muscle when you look at him. The quartermaster now looks scared more than you’ve ever seen him, jerking in their hold as they drag his towards the edge. He fights with all his might, but to no avail, ignoring his words. They lift him over the wooden railing, and— “Stop!” you scream, “take me instead!” Your free hand wraps around the Captain’s ankle, grabbing his attention whether he wants it or not. The crew waits, Jongdae dangling halfway over. “It’s me you want, believe me. Throw me overboard instead. Please. I’m begging you.”

Finally, a sliver of emotion crosses his face, a frown pulling his eyebrows close together. “Did you not hear what I said? That right there is the most painful death you can imagine.”

“I heard you,” you say, letting go of his leg now to wipe your hand under your eyes, glancing over your shoulder at the bloodied face of Jongdae. He looks about ready to pass out from the stress and pain that he’s been put through. So you pull up your nose, and rub your eyes with the back of your hand again, staring into the Captain’s face. “And it sounds terrifying. But I don’t want anyone else to hurt because of me.” Sehun makes a noise of disagreement, but a hand comes over his mouth to shut him up, much to his displeasure. “You want Jongdae because he is of the Royal fleet, right? But I’m the Royal blood that fleet was carrying,” you admit. Sehun’s shoulders sag.

In one smooth motion, you’re pushed backward against the deck, sword back at your neck. The Captain’s eyes glint with anger, jaw tight as he looks you straight in the eye, your cheeks still red and burning up. This is the most emotion you’ve seen cross his face yet, anger dripping from him like tar. “What are you doing on a ship?!” he grunts, teeth clenched so hard they might shatter.

You smile pitifully, the open wound on your cheek pulling with the motion. “I wanted to see the world. Just once.” The wind whistles as it blows between the creaks in the wood, ocean waves slamming against the belly of the ship again and again, as you wait. Your breathing unsteady, heart slamming painfully hard against your rib cage. The metal gleams a pretty shade of orange under the rising sun, that you choose to watch instead of looking at the man above you.

After what feels like forever, the silence is finally broken. From the back of the group of men, a voice sounds out, strangely familiar. “They’d probably pay a nice sum if we bring her back unharmed, Captain.” Baekhyun moves from between the taller, burly men to reveal his sharp face, a slight smile on his lips as he catches the recognition on your face. His raven hair is damp, curling slightly as it falls over his eyes. His steps are smooth as he walks closer, not disturbed in the slightest by the hostile posture his Captain carries. His sword is still pressed to your neck. “I’m not sure about you, but I’d rather have her weight in silver than another stain to clean, Kyungsoo.” His grin only widens as he reaches forward, hand wrapping around the blade and slowly dragging it away from you.

“You dare push me too far, Baekhyun. I’m your Captain.” The man in white only sighs, before straightening and letting the sword drop from his hands into the other man’s, not acknowledging you in the slightest.

“Aye, but you’re also my best friend. So with all due respect, Captain,” the man grins so wide at the word that you barely believe he means it at all, “let me play devil’s advocate for once. If we bring this little fish to Caryon unscathed, we’ll be richer than we are now, and isn’t that what you told me pirates do? Rob the rich, give to the poor, more of that inspirational nonsense.” He squeezes his friend’s shoulder, the other already turning his back on you and walking between the crew, who plop Jongdae back down on the deck. 

“I’m the murderous, crazy one of us two. You’re the smart one.” The Captain, Kyungsoo, shakes his head at his friend’s antics, but clearly the words hit home in some way. When you let out a relieved sigh, Baekhyun grins down at you and pulls you back up to a seated position. Kyungsoo waves his hand dismissively, telling his men something that makes them spread out, as the dark haired one in front of you calls after him. “If they don’t give us a high enough price, you can still get your revenge! Drown her in a bathtub for all I care.” You’re not sure if he means it or not. It doesn’t matter, relief fills you all the same.

“Get back to work, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo responds, before disappearing into the cabin.

Baekhyun’s eyes glide from you, to Sehun, to Jongdae, all three of you slumped onto the deck from the stress. With two fingers, he brushes a loose strand away from your face. “There, there.” He stays squatted in front of you for a bit too long, staring down at you with those same gleeful, flickering eyes, like he doesn’t see the absolute terror you just went through as a bad thing. But still, he takes the flask of water you didn’t know he had, wetting a piece of fabric to press it to your cheek. Then he walks over to Jongdae, to cut loose his binds and helps him up, doing the same for Sehun. Some of the crew glance at you three while they work, but none seem surprised by Baekhyun’s behavior, which only serves to heighten your confusion.

As you stand up, you notice the sun has risen entirely above the sea now, gold and peach tones filling the sky. Your legs are shaky still, but you’re alive. And so are both men you came with. As soon as you realize this fully, you rush to embrace Sehun. His long arms come around you just as easily, breath still shaky against your cheek. He holds you for a long while, before stepping back to check your injury. You look over at Jongdae then, who has a grateful smile on his lips, holding himself up against the railing. And Baekhyun— he just stares at you and your best friend with an interest that you can only see as foreign. Like he’s watching a fascinating animal in it’s natural habitat. Still, when you catch his eyes, you bow at him. “Thank you, Baekhyun.”

The man smiles, before tossing the flask towards you. You catch it, just barely. “I didn’t do it for you.” He bows back the slightest bit, before disappearing the same way Kyungsoo went. Leaving the three of you behind in confusion, as the day truly begins.

You haven’t seen Baekhyun or the Captain again, since they entered the cabin. Something you are grateful for, now that the shock has worn off. Sehun helped Jongdae back down into the belly of the ship not much after, to clean him up and settle him into rest. And while he wanted to stick close by you, you asked him to keep an eye out for Jongdae instead. He got the much shorter end of the stick after all. Now, with the sun still rising, the clean air has been abandoned by most for wine and music below deck. You run your hand over the railing as you walk the length of the ship, stilling once you get to the very front. In a couple of hours, you’ll arrive on the small island of Caryon. You hope to see some familiar faces soon, Lilith, or Cato, or anyone else.

The sea, though loud and wild earlier, has now settled into a softer shape, crashing open into millions of tiny droplets. You take a deep breath of the salty air, and lean your top half onto the wood, letting your arms dangle. Your body is tired, and muscles uncomfortable in their stretch. Your mind can’t help but wander, settling back to your home, to your father, mother, siblings. If they ever caught news of all that you’ve been through, they’d never let you set another foot outside the palace. Understandable in a way. You’re their precious gem, you know this. They would, however, protect you with everything they have. Some people, like Jongdae don’t have such luxury. For maybe the first time in years, you notice the true advantage of your position.

It reminds you of the one other time you realized it. You were still young, barely half your height now, and out with your older sister. A bright day, perfect for going for a walk, though unlike much of the kids in Aking, you had to be under tight surveillance. While walking down the stairs toward the river, a group of giggling children rushed by you, in the middle of their own game. In the mess, an even smaller girl ran straight into you, falling backwards because of the impact. She tumbled down several stairs, sitting up with a small hand pressed against her head and tears in her big eyes. But instead of helping her, your royal guard demanded an apology from the poor thing. And she did, with the most sorry expression you’d ever seen on a person.

Now, it strikes you again. Jongdae almost died in your place, and for what. You let out another sigh, before standing up. From the corner of your eye, you can make out a shape behind you, scaring you into the corner. You almost lose your balance from the shock. The Captain regards you with a blank expression, wearing a soft blue, long-sleeve shirt in place of his white jacket now. Despite the softer appearance, he still carries the same darkness on his face. At your unmoving state, he clenches his jaw a tad. When he takes a step forward, you take one back, his frown deepening. “I’ve hurt you once today, I think that’s enough.” He lifts his hands, to reveal a bottle with a murky, brown liquid. “I’m going to clean up that cut.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you snap back, almost rolling your eyes. He gave you the damned cut.

Kyungsoo just stares at you for a moment, before taking a few steps in your direction with raised hands, like you’re a rabid animal ready to strike. He has the same deep line digging between his brows every time he looks your way, only fading slightly when you cross your arms over your chest. The small jewels of your corset dig into your skin that way. “Baekhyun is helping your … friend,” he sighs, “he can’t help you right now. If you don’t clean the wound it will infect and fester.” Though you want to argue that he doesn’t care either way, you choose to look away instead. In a way, he probably does care. If you’re damaged, he might not get his money after all.

Kyungsoo steps up onto the higher ledge to stand a few feet away, and opens the bottle. A strong, alcoholic smell comes with it, making you pull up your nose. “Turn this way,” he motions. You turn your head towards the other end of the ship, as he pours some of the stuff on a rag. As a frown comes to rest on your face, he shakes his head. “This is all we have for cleaning wounds. Luckily, I don’t see a need for stitches.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have cut me at all,” you mumble, gaze on the wooden boards beneath your feet.

His eyes narrow at you as he lifts the rag to your face. “Maybe you shouldn’t be too nonchalant about my help. You’re on my ship, surrounded by my crew, under my rules.” A pause, and then he looks out from the ocean to you. “It’ll sting,” he says, as he drags the rag over your cut. It does burn like hell, and you have to bite your lip to keep from cursing something. Two good brushes of the rag before he takes it away, and walks down the ledge to go back towards the cabin. His steps rhythmic on the planks. After a second, he stops in place to turn around, and looks at you once more. “Don’t mistake my curiosity for kindness. I’m a lot of things and kind isn’t one of them.” You scoff. Yeah, you’ve noticed. It doesn’t seem to bother him. “Where was the fleet going to take you?” he questions, and for the first time the dark shadow on his face clears.

You hesitate for a second, before uncrossing your arms and swallowing. For some reason, you find it strange that he would ask. There’s barely any cities that far north, that the Royal fleet would fare to. Only a few have trading accords with the Capital. The other ones aren’t seen as important, and you barely know a thing about them. So, you answer him truthfully. “We were going to Elyfhil.” The Captain nods in response, expression barely changing. Yet, staring back at him like this, his face looks softer at the admission. “I read it’s the loveliest city in the world. Have you ever been there?”

“Born there,” he says, frown climbing back to it’s place on his features. “It’s a miserable place, really. Always cold, many old, abandoned houses, a lot of poverty and a lot of rich people abusing power.” He shakes his head though, and lifts his shoulders, as the ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth corner. “I guess someone like you wouldn’t find it miserable though. After all, you’ll never be one of the poor suckers struggling to feed their family.” The words hit your skin like a knife, leaving you with an open mouth and too little words coming out of it. “Go back indoors now, the wind is picking up.”

He walks away without waiting for your reply, as you follow his retreating shape with your eyes. You can’t even say anything in return, because to your surprise, you find yourself agreeing. You’ll never be one of the people who need help the most.

The sound of people is surprisingly loud, not only on the ship itself but from around it. There’s sound of vendors and merchants, but also children playing around the port. Sadly, you can’t see much of the small town of Caryon since the three of you are tied together around the mast and with your backs facing each other. And even if you could escape, you wouldn’t be able to get far without Sehun or Jongdae’s help. Most of the pirates went to land long ago, leaving you under the surveilling eye of a big man with a grimy beard and large hoop earrings. He doesn’t seem to speak Home Tongue, since he’s ignored every one of your pleads for water. After even more waiting in the smoldering sunlight that beams down on you without stop, people finally come back. You can only hope the Royal fleet was willing to pay off a group of pirates.

Baekhyun is the first one back on deck, with nimble movements as he hoists himself and two large bags over the wooden guardrail that protects you from the water. His dark hair messier than ever, but partly clipped back with a golden pin. He tosses the heavy looking bags to the side, before skipping over to the three of you with a smile. His dark eyes shining silver as he crouches in front of you. “Do you like my pin? I got it to match yours.” He tilts his head more into your view then, revealing the intricate details of a gold-threaded dragon that you recognize immediately. It’s yours, one you left on the ship when you had to flee. Baekhyun sees the recognition in your eyes, and giggles. “Seems like you really are from the royal fleet, huh. They sold some of your stuff but I’m guessing most of it is still on board.”

“They— no, wait, who sold you this?” you fumble, watching him stand again. The rest of the crew is already pouring back on board, carrying various crates and sacks. “Did you find the Royal fleet? Did they give you the money?” Baekhyun doesn’t answer your questions. He walks towards the cabin with a spring in his step. “What in Idite’s name…” you sigh, feeling Sehun’s fingers wrap around your hand and holding it in support.

“I’m sure they found them,” he mumbles back, his shoulder pressed to your own, “Captain Lilith wouldn’t just let us sit here. Right, Jongdae?” There’s a non-committal sound from the quartermaster. “As soon as she hears word of your being on the ship, she’ll come and get you, Princess. Have no worry.” Though his comforting words help to calm your heart, there’s part of you that doubts this notion. After all, any pirate could say they have someone of value on board. Who would believe a bunch of thieves without a shred of proof?

Not much later, the Captain comes on board too, hopping over the railing easily. He straightens his jacket, before giving an order to the men behind him. You’re too far away to hear. After a second, his eyes meet yours though, deep orbs scanning you up and down a few times. It sends an uncomfortable feeling to your stomach, you don’t enjoy being viewed as cargo. He grabs the shoulder of one of the pirates, and cocks his head towards the three of you. “We’re sailing back out, so get into the nest. When we’re about an hour out, you can let them out of their binds. They won’t be able to run elsewhere.”

When he turns to walk away, most likely to steer the ship, you lean forward and clear your throat. “Captain Kyungsoo!” Several of the men turn to look at you, but don’t say anything. “Could we get some water, please? We’ve been sitting in the sun for hours.” When he turns to look at you, he lifts an eyebrow, before clicking his tongue in disapproval. His hands come to rest at his belt, where the sharp sword that was pressed to your throat just this morning still hangs easily, next to two smaller knives.

“Any requests can go to Baekhyun,” he sighs, sounding most fed up you’ve ever heard him. You want to ask about the fate of you and your friends, but judging his expression, now is not the best of times to ask. “He’s been put in charge of your well-being.” Said man comes from around the corner with a grin that makes his cheeks cutely round, already waving a water bottle back and forth nonchalantly. Kyungsoo whispers him something as they cross, but doesn’t acknowledge you any further. He merely shakes his head, and walks toward the helm, to steer the ship without having to see you three. You huff when he disappears, and watch the last of the men pull the anchor of the ship up. Four of them, straining to get the giant metal onto deck. Baekhyun hums as he approaches, pressing the bottle against Sehun’s lips and pouring without thinking twice.

Half of the water runs down the sides of his mouth and almost in his nose, but the pirate clearly doesn’t care. “Drink up, buttercup!” he grins, waddling to Jongdae next. The man has been mostly quiet since you’ve arrived on Caryon. It doesn’t sit well. Jongdae, out of you three, has been the most optimistic the entire trip. Even when you were floating out in the middle of nowhere, he had a smile on his lips and a spring in his step that brought you an immense feeling of calm, despite the hopeless situation. You can only guess what’s going on in his head. When the quartermaster has had his fill, Baekhyun settles in front of you, and motions at you to open your mouth.

The water is cool, even when it slips down your lips and drops from your chin. Two gulps, and then the bottle is pulled away. Though you glare at him from under your lashes, Baekhyun beams down at you with a smile. You still can’t get over the strange feeling you have around him, even with the kindness he’s shown you. There’s just something— that feels off about him. “What is happening now, Baekhyun?” you ask. You can feel the ship moving again, the sails curved into half moons in the wind. “You didn’t find the Royal fleet, did you?”

At the very last, the artificial grin slips off, revealing for the first time ever a slight frown on his handsome face. It stays silent for a long while, before Baekhyun leans a bit closer, face uncomfortably close to yours. He truly must not understand what personal space is. “You didn’t tell me you got attacked by pirates before. I thought we were friends, and friends tell each other things.” Holding your tongue for a moment, you look at him. His eyes are tense, lips set into a straight line, like whatever he found out genuinely bothers him and for this moment only do you truly feel for him. But then he leans back and cocks his head, smiling. The chance is instant, if you had blinked you would’ve missed it. “There’s no problem, little fish. Just a change of plans.”

You frown, but nod. “Well, I would have told you, but I thought whoever attacked us must have been part of your men. I take it that assumption is wrong?”

Baekhyun grins, before tapping his hand softly against your injured cheek, ignoring your wince entirely. “You do have some brains in that pretty head of yours, after all. A bad liar, but not useless.” He jumps back to his feet to put the bottle into a bunched stack of thick ropes, and then stretches out. “You’ll all be staying with us for a bit longer. You see, the Captain has decided that he really wants that coin you’ll make us, so I’m not allowed to play with any of you. But it seems the Royal fleet has been split up. One of the ships was taken by the Red Skulls, and they are on their merry way to capture the other two as well. With on board, our money. So you see how this becomes a problem for us. If the Red Skulls take the fleet before we can, there won’t be anyone left to pay us off.”

“How do you know all this?” Sehun asks, unable to look at Baekhyun but listening intently nevertheless.

The raven-haired pirate just shrugs. “I have charms, getting people to talk isn’t hard.”

For the first time in a few hours, you finally hear Jongdae’s voice as well. “Did they say anything about the crew?” But Baekhyun doesn’t answer, which is the most telling answer of all. His lips purse though, and he turns away from you to look out at the no doubts vanishing island, as if he doesn’t want to face the disappointment in Jongdae’s eyes. All you can do is touch your fingertips to the man’s bound hands, unsure of what to say. When Baekhyun turns back to you, he lets out a deep breath, and rubs his black-stained hands under his eyes.

“They have a few hours on us, but our ship is much faster. We’re going to take that ship before it can get to Elyfhil.”

“And what about us,” you question, running it over in your head. If they can take back the ship with that much ease, surely, they don’t need to deliver you back to get the money they so eagerly ache for. If anything, I’d be easier to just get rid of you all together, and take the remaining ships as well. Baekhyun takes out his sword as you talk, planting it into the wood between your feet. “The way I see it you have no good reason to keep us around. You’re going to get your money, you’re going to get your revenge. You’ll probably even get to stab a few guys along the way.”

He chuckles, before leaning forward onto the sword to look straight into your eyes. “Aye, but you forgot to tell us some really important things before, didn’t you? The first ships of the royal fleet, those that weren’t taken yet? They were looking for something more valuable than coin.” His eyes glint knowingly, the same dangerous smile curving onto his face like a shadow. “They were looking for a lost guard, and the Queen’s daughter. Now what are the odds of that?”

“You think I’m the Queen’s daughter?” you scoff.

“No, little fish,” Baekhyun shakes his head the tiniest bit, before answering, “we know you are.”

     🌊🌊🌊     

It’s been a day. A whole day, you’ve been locked up in the small wine storage they cleared out as a cell. You’ve burned through six candles, since the tiny window that sits right below the ceiling is constantly blocked by water gushing past. At least you’re able to use your hands again, and look your friends in the eye. This has given you plenty of time to think, too. Something limited only slightly by the alcoholic fumes you’ve been breathing in. Sehun sits slumped against the wall across from you. “We could try and pry loose one of these boards, and jam it into the keyhole to open the door. Then, we sneak past the crew once they are asleep, and we knock out the captain. Then we either sail straight ahead towards the city, or we turn us back around to Caryon. Either would work, really.”

You snort, unable to help it. His ideas have been getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. “You almost lost your finger pushing it into the lock earlier, Master Sehun. I think we’ve all seen enough of that for the rest of our trip.” Jongdae is stood against the wall next to you, his arms crossed over his chest and eyes the sharpest of all of you yet. You guess he’s more used to the wine than you are. His lip is still swollen, cut right through the middle and looking very painful. “And even if we got out of this room, we’re still on the ship with a couple dozen pirates who won’t hesitate to stab us.”

“Stab me and Jongdae, you mean. They are not going to stab a Princess.”

You stretch out your leg to deliver a tap to his shin, your friend jumping out of the way with a smile. At least someone’s still seeing the fun in all this. You shake your head at him, and sigh. “What happens to you, will happen to me as well. I’m not letting any of you get hurt in my stead. Not again.” It’s strange to think that less than a week ago, you were still in the innocent belief that this would be a fun experience. Jongdae’s hand is soft on your arm, his smile strained against his injury but genuine all the same. You wave him off, when he mouths a ‘thank you’. “We’re not going to escape here any time soon, is all I’m saying,” you finish, pressing your back against the coarse wood behind you.

It stays silent for a bit, before Jongdae clears his throat. “Actually, that isn’t that bad of an idea.” Your eyes are wide when you glance at him over your shoulder, and see that he means it. Never mind, Jongdae doesn’t handle wine well at all. He’s gone completely crazy. When you laugh, the quartermaster takes hold of your hand. “No, listen, Princess! We could take the ship from the inside out!”

“How in the Gods’ names would we do that?!” you respond, glancing between the two clearly irrational men that are locked in this shed with you.

“Well, Baekhyun is right. They know who you are, they know they are right and how much the Capital can pay to have you back unharmed. Meaning, you’re relatively safe around them, even though they don’t look at all like the caring types.” Jongdae speaks with so much conviction, that you almost believe him. “Second, and please excuse my crudeness, your Highness; but you’re an desirable young girl, if anyone can get close to the Captain, it’s you.”

You just blink at him. “You’ve gone insane, Jongdae. Truly!”

“I hate to be against your judgement, Princess Y/N, but I think the Quartermaster is right.” Your disbelieving gaze snaps to your best friend at that, mouth dropping open. He cannot be serious. “You’re the only girl on a ship full of men, and you cannot be harmed under their care. That is the perfect moment to use your womanly charm, and enchant the Captain into your trust.”

Jongdae nods. “If he trusts you enough, maybe you’ll be able to enter the cabin. You can steal the key, and then when night comes, we can sneak out and lock the men beneath deck. I can take the wheel from there, and we’d only have to deal with the captain, which is us three against one.” He runs his hands through his hair, and nods. The faith they have in your abilities would be a compliment, if not for the fact that Captain Kyungsoo scares you more than a tad. “It’s quite a good plan, your Highness. But we need you to be willing, of course.”

“That is, assuming the Captain wants to be charmed at all! I don’t know if you’ve yet noticed, but he’s not the most jolly of individuals,” you argue, with wild, frustrated hand movements. “Let’s just assume that he did, in fact, have an interest in me past the monetary value he sees me as, then I have to convince him to let me into the cabin without him, and steal a key that I don’t know what it looks like. And then what?! Say we do get to Elyfhil without any further issues, what do we do with them then?” Sehun seems entirely too amused by your worry, so you take off your shoe to toss it at him, only missing his face by a hair. Jongdae, for the first time in a while, smiles as well.

“We have a few weeks to figure it out,” Sehun grins, giddy at the idea and all you can do is glare at him in response. “This is pretty much the only plan we have, Princess. But fear not, for I have faith in your abilities.” Stupid boys. Stupid, idiotic boys with their stupid plans.

When night falls, your head falls into an tired rest on Jongdae’s shoulder, with the last flickering light of the candle dimming into darkness. The wood creaks around you, ship waving back and forth smoothly on the face of the sea. Your lids are so heavy, and soon you’re falling into an unsteady sleep.

The sea is calm, smooth like a mirror to the sky, as the ship cuts through it. The water reflects yellows and soft pinks, cold filling your lungs as you wait. The figure stands at the very front of the ship, looking out over the sea with gentle, rhythmic breaths. Calm. ‘Captain Kyungsoo?’ you breathe at the shape, watching him as he turns over his shoulder to look at you. Face dusted a soft pink, he smiles. A kind smile, one that fills you with joy and you can’t help but return the gesture a tenfold. ‘There you are, I was waiting for you for a long time,’ he says, motioning you up onto the ledge. You do, feel his hand in yours as support, while he leads you to stand in front of him. His sturdy figure close to yours, pointing out at the sea. ‘A bit further and we’ll arrive at the shore. Just past the fog you see there, there’s trees as tall as giants, white beaches with sand finer than the finest thread. Woods, for miles and miles. You’ve always wanted to see it, haven’t you?’ Your nod is gentle, but genuine. You have. He rests his chin on your shoulder then, breath brushing over your exposed skin. ‘I wish we could see it together. I wish you could explore it all, with me.’ ‘But we can’t. Can we, Princess?’ You can’t move. You want to turn to look at him, you really do, but you can’t move. Unable to move a single muscle. Unable to speak. You can only watch the undisturbed ocean, and feel the soft brush of his hand against your fingers. ‘We can’t, because you lied to me. You’ve been lying to me the whole time, and now everything is ruined. Did I deserve it? Did I deserve to be a pawn in your royal game?’ ‘Y/N?’

“Y/N.”

A hand wraps around your wrist, shaking you up and awake at once, eyes wide. Small beads of sweat gather at your hairline, your cheeks glowy, bright red. “Wake up, Princess,” Sehun breathes, his large hand still gently wrapped around your arm. You blink a few times, before pushing yourself up from the uncomfortable position you’re sat in. “You’re glowing.” You look around to see the same small space, though the door is open, and Jongdae is nowhere to be seen.

“Where are we?” you breathe, rubbing your warm hands over your cheeks in circles. They are very hot indeed.

Sehun lets go of you once your stable on your feet, and smiles. “Still aboard the ship, Princess. But we’ve been allowed out, we’re too far away from land to escape, it seems. I think you need some fresh air, you were overheating in here.” You nod, and swallow. Your throat is dry, tongue sponge-like. Your friend watches you intently, before lifting his brows. “Are you okay? You look out of it.”

“I’m fine, Master Sehun,” you respond, peeking out of the door into the dark belly of the ship. You need some fresh air. As you walk, the tall man follows close behind. That must have been a dream. It can’t have been anything but a dream, yet it felt so real. Your breathing is still strained, only evening out once you get out of the confined space of the ship. The ship creaks loudly, under the busy movement of the crew. Jongdae is sitting on the railing further up, letting his legs dangle. He looks so casual, despite the worried expression he carries. You feel his worry. Sehun’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder after a second, where he returns with a cup, ordering you to drink with the most gentle voice anyone has ever given an order.

You sigh when you catch his eyes. “Listen, Hun… I know that you’re putting all your hope on this plan,” you lean a bit closer to say the last word, “but I have a really bad feeling about it. As in, I don’t think we should go through with it.” Your friend doesn’t try to hide his surprise, mouth dropping open slightly. “I know that we should try— but I don’t think I can. I’m hardly as charming as you seem to believe I am, I’m stubborn and a little bit too snappy for my own good sometimes. I can’t… make a random man suddenly like me. He’ll see right through it!”

The dark haired man bites his lip in thought. “I don’t think he will, Princess. After all, he did clean your cut out of his own volition, did he not?” You let out a tense breath, and pout up at him, making Sehun’s face flood with a certain joy. You should both know that he only did that not to carry damaged goods aboard. Sehun seems to purposefully ignore that part. “If you really don’t want to, then don’t. But you know as well as we do that there’s nothing more we can plan. We’re outnumbered by a tenfold. The only way to get anywhere is to gain a bit of their trust or even respect.”

“And what if I don’t think they deserve to be lied to so?” you bring out, wringing your hands together in the soft, pink fabric of your dress. There’s no other clothes aboard, so you’ve been in the same dress for days.

At this your friend just stares at you, disbelief in his eyes. “They are pirates, Princess!”

“I know, I know that,” you sigh, “I know that I’m looking too much into it but…” 

Before your friend can say anything in response, a shout comes from behind you. “Little fish!” the voice beams, bright and too loud for even your sunny disposition. Sehun just lifts his shoulders, as confused as you are when you turn. Baekhyun’s bright features cut through the bustle easily. “Come over here, please.” He waves you over with a happy grin, and places his hands on his hips. “Or Princess Little fish, I should say!” You huff out a tense breath, but walk over, and tilt your head at him in question.

“What do you want?” you say.

Your defiance delights him endlessly, every time. You can see it in the way his cheeks seem to get even wider, if possible. “Don’t be rude now.” You glare at him in return. “You’re all worked up I see,” he beams, and takes your hand smoothly in his own to lead you around, “but I’ll get you even more worked up! Captain has sent me to get your pretty self to join us for lunch. He worries about your well-being every second! Isn’t he the kindest?” You can only imagine the tiniest truth hidden behind his words, and decide to ignore the rest. This man really knows how to get under someone’s skin like a rash. You pull your hand from his, but walk alongside him.

“What’s the purpose behind this sudden lunch invitation if I may ask?”

A playful hum comes from him, as he pinches your side. “No reason~” Baekhyun sings, only adding more fuel to your worry. As you near the door, you sigh, glancing back at Sehun just once. You can’t deny that the setup to the plan is being handed to you on a silver platter at this very moment. Your friend gives you a tense smile, and puts up his thumbs toward you. Though it frustrates you beyond belief, you know as well as your two friends that any other means of escaping will be as good as impossible. You’re more than a week away from your destination. You tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear when Baekhyun leans around you to open the door, and swallow your hesitance. You can at least give it a try.

The silence that lingers in the room between each sentence is deafeningly uncomfortable. You lay your hands next to your plate, and drum your nails on the smooth wood of the table. It’s a miracle that this ship even floats, with the amount of heavily decorative furniture occupy the cabin. You’re sat across from the Captain, whose seat remains empty for now, while Baekhyun sits at the head of the table. “Would you like some water?” the deep voice calls from across the room, broad back facing you.

You don’t respond, unsure of what to say. After all, what could he possibly want from you that requires lunch to precede it? You will yourself to remember that these men, however charming, are still pirates. Pillagers, murderers, thieves. They take what they want, when they want it. The only reason you’re still alive is because they have a use for you. You have to remember that. The Captain glances back at you with a frown, and places a glass of water in front of you anyway, mouth corners turned down. “I’m not usually this attentive to my captives,” he mumbles, as he takes his seat across yours. “Your pride is going to give out before I start caring, so drink while you still get to.”

“Maybe I won’t drink anymore for this entire journey,” you bite back, unable to help it. You don’t understand this man, and it frustrates you to no end. He invites you to lunch, but threatens you basically the second you’re in his presence, and calls you his captive. “Then I will die of sickness and you won’t get any riches at all.” The darkness on his face flickers like a flame over his gaze, playful but unwavering, though his frown grows deeper if possible.

“Then die, Princess.” He takes a drink from his own glass, before slumping back in the plush of the chair. “If that is the way your Highness chooses to go, by all means, be my guest.” Your jaw stays locked hard together, eyes on his expression. But he’s not looking at you anymore, like the sight of you disgusts him. His handsome face aimed solely at the table, or the wall behind you, but not on your face. You almost wish he’d at least have the guts to stare you in the eye when he talks to you, but in truth, that might just anger you further. “You speak of your life so easily, like you’d be willing to give it up for anything and anyone.”

“I would,” you say, full in this notion. You don’t feel the need to lie, since your truth is much more to you than just a way you were raised. You believe in it, fully and from the bottom of your heart. Not that he’d understand, you think, watching the nonchalant way he twirls the small knife between his fingers. Baekhyun, meanwhile, has been the most quiet you’ve ever seen him. Your bottom lip juts out a bit as you continue. “It’s my duty to protect my people, and I take that role very seriously.”

At this the Captain scoffs, loudly, grinning at the ceiling in disbelief. For two full heartbeats, it stays quiet, and you can feel the anger in your body bubbling over. Forget charming this man, maybe you’ll just launch over the table and strangle him instead. But when he finally looks at you again, you don’t see the gloating expression you’re expecting. Instead, there’s a distinct sadness that settles in his features, brushed gently over his face. The face of sorrow, and loss. “Have you ever even seen death before, Princess? Sickness? Excruciating hunger and pain?” He shakes his head at you. “Because if you are willing to give your life so easily, I don’t believe you have.”

The tenseness of your body ebbs out with the long breath you let out. “Then don’t believe it. I have. Not me, and not my close relatives. Because I was as fortunate as to be born into a position of power and money.” He doesn’t respond. But your lips shake slightly as you continue. “But I think I’ve seen more death than you have, Captain. Whenever I can, I sneak out of the palace to visit the temples, and after that the doctor houses. Orphanages. I see people pray to every God they know of to heal their family members. I watch them wither away as I hold their hand, cold in their beds. I read stories to those poor children who’ve lost everything and it’s true… I am healthy, because I get fed every day, and because I can pay the best medics.” You swallow, removing your eyes from his to stare into your glass. “But do you think I don’t feel it? I am the only one standing tall between people who see death as a constant. People put their faith in me, their hope, their dreams, they give them all to me because I was born a princess and yet, I can’t do a single thing to save them!

“So yes, I want to give my life for the people I care about, because that is the only thing I can do to help,” you say, clenching your trembling hands in your dress. “I’m not sorry for giving my one life away for the values I believe in. At least I don’t kill for enjoyment.” You’re not sure what the man is thinking, but you’ve had about enough, and lunch hasn’t even started yet. You push your chair back and stand, ready to walk out of here. Tell your friends that you’d just have to sit it out. You and the Captain are just too different, there’s no way you’d ever get along. But then fingers wrap around your arm, pulling you back, and your feet falter as if automatic. Baekhyun’s grip on you is tight, long fingers locked around your wrist.

“Stay,” he says, face void of the familiar grin you’ve learned to anticipate on him, and it makes you hesitate. “Kyungsoo is not a man of many words. He doesn’t talk much, and when he does, it often comes out too harsh. But we might all have some things in common, Princess.” His eyes are clear on yours, mouth pulled in a soft line. “So sit back down, please.” You huff, but do so, not looking across the table again. One of the men soon enters with a pot of soup, and places it on the table. You all eat in silence, something you’re not used to, but at this moment you’re glad for the bit of peace. When Baekhyun finishes his plate in record speed, the Captain sends him a look.

“Baekhyun, would you please check up on our other two guests for a moment?” The other nods, and leaves the room without another word. You wonder which of the two really wanted this lunch. From the way Baekhyun held your arm, it seems to suggest… but then why? The Captain pauses for a moment, before linking his hands together on the table. “I trust that Baekhyun has been looking out for your well-being sufficiently?”

You bite your bottom lip, but nod. “He has been trying his hardest, I think.” The Captain agrees wordlessly, and chooses to watch you instead. His sharp, calculating gaze is entirely distracting. You play with your cutlery for a moment, but are unable to keep quiet anymore. “Whatever the reason for this dinner, I don’t think I—”

“I wanted to apologize for my impertinence toward you throughout this trip,” the Captain cuts in, his strong voice filling the cabin easily. Definitely now it’s just the two of you, it seems to tremble through the fibers of the wood.

“Do— w-wait, what?” you stutter, eyes wide, “Apologize?”

“Yes.” His handsome face is aimed solely on you yet again, and this time, your cheeks heat under his gaze. You’re absolutely confused now. Kyungsoo tilts his head a bit when you don’t immediately respond, and continues. “I was harsh in my punishment, and I’ve come to understand you’ve been quite polite towards me for it in return. I wanted to…” he pauses, and for the first time to this point, he looks unsure of his words. Like you’re the one who might shut him down. But, you’re still too starstruck by the apology to make out anything else. Who in the history of -ever- has gotten a pirate of all people to apologize to them, out of choice? “I want to promise that I will not cause you harm again, Princess.”

Your mouth drops open at that. You’re starting to think you’re currently still having a fever dream and that you’re still locked up in the wine cellar, imagining all of this. You don’t even really care if he has an alternative motive, which he most likely has. That makes two of you, then. “Thank you,” you mumble, finishing the last of your soup quickly. Then, you look around the room, this time out of genuine curiosity. On the wall facing you, hangs a giant map, with thin, blue lines of ink marking a spider web across it. They must have all been sailing together for a long time, if they’ve seen all those places in their relatively short lives. You bite your cheek, and slowly breathe in. “Can I ask you a question, Captain Kyungsoo?” He nods.

“You’ve traveled a lot, right?” Again, he gives you a nonverbal response. “Do you believe in mermaids? I know they are most likely just stories,” you smile despite your hesitance, “but I’ve always wondered. They seem so fascinating!” This pulls a quirk from his full lips, turning them up at the corners, ever so gently. “Don’t laugh! My aunt, the third Queen, swears on her life that they are real. I just have to know, it’s been eating me up inside. And even if you haven’t seen them yet, doesn’t mean they can’t exist. You haven’t sailed the entire world yet.” You cross your arms over your chest when his smile grows, turning his smile into the shape of a heart, full and warm. It’s a foreign sight on his otherwise serious face.

“They are real,” he nods, smoothing his expression back into one of indifference, but you can see the twinkle in his eyes as he looks at you.

You brush your strand of hair back behind your ear, before shaking your head. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?” This makes the man giggle, a sound that surprises you so that you freeze in place. It makes him look so much younger, painting such true joy into him that you can’t help but join in. “I would’ve believed you!” you whine, pushing your plate forward a bit in protest.

“They are real,” he repeats, eyes crinkled into half moons because of his wide cheeks. “There’s an island, far up north where the water is as cold as ice, but it doesn’t freeze. And there, in the water, you can see them swimming around. I swear it, they are real.”

You stop laughing when he does, and lean forward. “Are they pretty?”

“No,” the Captain breathes, “they are very ugly. With thick, grey scales all over, and sunken in cheeks. They have dull, almost see through skin, only barely visible in the water. And their hair is long and dark like the night. When you sail through their waters they try to crawl on-board of the ship, to take you with them into the water, and they cry painful songs as soon as their heads peak above the water.” He says it so fully, that you can’t even tell if it’s a lie or not. You want to believe it. “The Hellbound still has scratches on the side of her from when their claws scraped by the wood,” he nods. You just blink, and look at your plate.

“How do you know they want to harm? If they are magical creatures, they could be kind.”

“We don’t know they want to harm. But none of us were willing to find out. The water is too cold anyway, would’ve killed us in minutes. And since I’m responsible for my men, I didn’t want to take a chance.” You nod in understanding, looking around this room. To your left is the door back out, and to your right is a door that has only a small window in it. The golden plaque on it says ‘Office’. You can only imagine what treasures lie hidden in the office of a Pirate Captain. “And magic, that’s something for landlubbers like yourself. I don’t really believe in it.”

For some reason that doesn’t surprise you. With the breath you let out, some of your anxiety ebbs away. “Maybe I’m totally wrong, and excuse me if I am, but you don’t seem to want this,” you suddenly murmur. The Captain raises his brow a bit, a silent question. You clear your throat. “Everyone looks at you like you’re meant to be the one to lead, like… like you’re programmed to do so. They admire you, but they also seem to think you have all the answers, when you don’t. I feel the same things in a way, back home. Being a Royal. I know I shouldn’t complain, but most days I wish I could switch places with any other girl my age. I never asked for this, but people treat me like I did.”

You blink at him for a second again, biting through the tense feeling as best you can. “You treat me like I asked for this. And I treat you like you wanted to become what you are.” The man across from you gives you the tiniest nod. So you pick at the thin fabric of your dress, and look down. “So I guess I’m asking you now… Did you?”

The silence is filled yet again with the rushing of the waves, a constant the last few days that has become calming to your soul. Then, like the truth pains him deeply, he lets out a huff. “No.” Kyungsoo stares through the window revealing the deck for a long time, blinking against the muted light. “But things happen that push you in ways you never meant to go.” You try to respond a couple of times, but you’re not sure what to say. You agree with him… again. He doesn’t seem interested in elaborating about it further, so that leaves you both alone to your thoughts, in the same room. Not much later, Baekhyun suddenly pushes the door back open, his happy demeanor breaking through the void easily.

“The guests are breathing and alive! And I brought the second course.” The rest of the meal goes by in relative silence, both men informing you that the Red Skulls sold most of your left-behind items in Caryon. They also mention that these pirates are more ruthless than most. When you ask about what might have happened to the remaining crew on the ship, their faces don’t let on much, but you can notice Baekhyun tensing up at the topic. He swiftly explains that you shouldn’t have hope of seeing them again, which makes you incredibly sad for Jongdae. You don’t find out the actual reason behind inviting you to lunch though, which leaves you the most uncomfortable you’ve been in a while. Because you can’t figure out for the life of you why the Captain and his Right hand are being kind to you.

     🌊🌊🌊     

The days, though painstakingly long at times, are quite nice. You’ve truly grown to enjoy the breeze that flows past your shoulders when you stand out on deck. You’re gotten to sit up in the lowest of the crows nests, even though Sehun looked terrified for you the entire while. Turns out you wholly underestimated how long the trip would take, because seven more days out at sea seem like a lifetime. However, today is fun, since the wind has turned. The ship barely moves on the ocean, and the sails are pulled up and bound, which is a spectacle in itself. Baekhyun hangs in the ropes like a monkey, grinning like he is having the time of his life and you can’t help but tilt your head all the way back to follow his smooth motions from mast to mast, swinging between the ropes.

When you look over towards the rear of the ship, you can see Jongdae and Kyungsoo talk, even though it doesn’t last long. Kyungsoo’s hair is loose today, like it’s been freshly washed and though you’re not sure how he did that on a ship, you decides it looks good on him. It falls in fluffy tufts over his brows, hiding most of his frown even though you don’t doubt it’s still very much in place. When Jongdae returns back to your side, he smiles. You smile back at him, though the motion seems to pull at your muscles uncomfortably. You haven’t told him about the Red Skulls yet. You couldn’t, not when it’s clear that the hope has been all that he’s been holding onto. You turn to him, and lift your brows. “What’s got you so happy, Master Jongdae?”

“Nothing much,” he blinks, before poking your side playfully. “But I do have a slight surprise for you.”

“Oh no, what now…” you breathe, growing even more concerned at his overly excited grin.

“The ship is going to be stuck here for a while, since we’re stuck in between two currents caused by some smaller islands to the east. So I might have asked the Captain if it was alright to go have a swim. And before you say no, Sehun’s already getting you one of his shirts so you can’t back out.” He takes your hand to take you across the deck to the small space without railing, where a rope ladder hangs to a foot above the water. “We’ll just have a little dive, alright? The water looks great and it’s not very deep either.” The water does look great. It’s a warm, blue color, like that of a tropical island, and small droplets splash onto your exposed skin while you look.

“We’re on an pirate ship, and you want to take a little dive?” you giggle in return.

“Just because we’re on enemy territory doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to have some fun! Even Captain grumpy didn’t need any convincing.” When you roll your eyes, he pouts. “Come on, Princess, we’re going to be stuck here for an hour or two at least!”

To your other side, your best friend comes to lean his arm over your shoulder, and holds out the dark fabric of what you guess must be the shirt he was talking about. It’s quite thin of fabric, but at least it’s not as sheer as the dress you’re wearing. “You know you want to,” Sehun mumbles, the smile on his face audible even in his voice. You shake your head at both man’s antics, before jutting out your lips. But before you can convince yourself of any reasons that this might be a bad idea, your best friend lets out a high pitched laugh. Because he can see it on your face clear as day, fuck yes, you want to.

The water was pretty cold when you first entered, but now it’s actually quite warm. You laugh when Jongdae splashes a whole wall of water Sehun’s way, and swim out a bit more. The seafloor is only a few feet lower than the belly of the ship here, but it’s still way to deep to stand up. You smile, before letting yourself sink underneath the surface of the water and gently open your eyes. It feels a bit uncomfortable, but after a second or two you can make out your friends in the water, lower halves looking extremely silly. They look like frogs jumping around, only without getting very far. You look down the side of the ship, making out some paler lines on the wood that could very well be scratches, before coming back up for breath.

Jongdae smiles at you. “Princess! I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to catch a fish like that.”

“I wasn’t trying to catch one,” you giggle, and splash some water on their direction, before shaking your head. “Never-mind,” you reply. You sink under again, this time turning away from the ship to look down at the colorful plants that occupy most of the sea bottom. Small, multicolored fish swim in and out between the corals, unbothered by your presence. Some even swim towards you, as if curious to what strange creature you might be. They never get close enough to touch though, so you come back up to the surface for air. How pretty. For the first time in a while, this trip is going the way you wanted it to, and without being able to help it, you smile. You slowly make your way back to your friends, feeling the strain in your muscles from the lack of using them.

In all honesty, though you’re a good swimmer, you can’t remember the last time you actually did. It must have been years ago, that’s for sure. After another couple circles, you take hold of the ladder to your side to rest. Some of the pirates in the ropes glance down at you three every few, most likely wanting to take a dive as well. Jongdae comes to hold onto your shoulder as well, motioning Sehun over. “The plan seems to be going quite well, right, your Highness?” the older says, lowering his voice a bit out of caution. “The Captain seems less on edge about our presence than before.”

You give him a slight hum, though your brows are furrowed. “I guess… but I don’t really think that’s because of me. Baekhyun mentioned something about common goals, so it wouldn’t surprise me if we weren’t the only ones with hidden agendas. And besides, the Captain has hardly been very open with me since that one lunch we had a few days ago. He’s been very busy with the crew, and I don’t want to make it obvious either. Who knows what they’ll do if they find out we are —” you lower your voice even more, barely reaching above a whisper in volume, “trying to take over the ship?”

“I don’t think they have a clue,” Sehun smiles easily, backstroking past. “Who’d think that three people would plot against three dozen, after all?”

Jongdae nods. The two have become good friends throughout the time you’ve spent together, you’ve noticed. It makes you happy to see, since most of your time has been spent away from your best friend the last few days. And not that you’d admit it to him, but you’ve also grown quite attached to the older man’s quirky sense of humor and kind personality. “Exactly,” he agrees. “You’re doing great, Princess. Really. If you keep this going, in a few days you’ll definitely be able to enter there without the Captain even questioning it.” Though you shake your head with a roll of your eyes, you can’t help but hope he’s right. You don’t feel particularly glad to be misleading him after all, even though you should have no problems with it. Sehun and Jongdae are both kind people, and they don’t seem bothered, after all. Why should you be?

“Hey, Dae?” you then call, swimming away to let Sehun rest for a bit. “What do you think is going on with Captain Lilith? I know you most likely don’t want to talk about it, but I… I just worry, you know?” Baekhyun and Kyungsoo seem to worry too, though you don’t say this.

“I understand, Princess,” he soothes you, though he smiles sadly as he talks. “I know I’ve been avoiding the topic, because honestly… I felt guilty for a long time there. The Red Skulls are infamous, and known to sail those parts. As soon as we got attacked, I should have realized it was either them or these group of thieves, and never have left the fleet.”

“Jongdae…” Sehun tries to cut in, attempting to help, but Jongdae shakes his head.

“That’s what I should have done. But I didn’t, so there’s no reason I should beat myself up about it any longer. I can’t change the events of the past anymore anyway.” And he’s right, though you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you didn’t get attacked by pirates. What would you be doing right now? You’d probably be lounging in your bed, in the belly of the ship and sailing across the sea with no worries and no qualms. You wouldn’t have the scab on your cheek from a pirate sword, and you would most likely never have become friends with Jongdae. Not as quickly, at least. You would have never met Captain Kyungsoo and his mess of a Right Hand Baekhyun. You would definitely not have stopped here to take a dive in the perfect, blue water and you can’t help the nagging feeling in the back of your brain telling you that maybe, very maybe, you’re having a better time because of it.

but no, that’s ridiculous, right? You do your best to shake that idea from your mind, and sigh. “Whatever might happen next—” You’re cut off by a loud, childlike shriek from above you, and you look up. Baekhyun grins down at the three of you in the water, along with many others of the pirates who seem to have given up on work for right now, in favor of a bit of fun. The raven-haired tease scrunches his nose at you when you eye him, before taking a run up and tossing himself over the guardrails of the ship.

“CANNONBALL!” The splash he creates is gigantic, and goes up your nose when you giggle.

After a few long hours of playing in the water, you’re the first to climb back up onto the ladder. Which isn’t easy, with the immense effort you have to put in to lift your exhausted limbs above your head. You almost crawl onto deck, choosing to lay down on your back for a second, and feeling the cold wind nip at your shoulders. The afternoon sun is still warm on your shoulders, and the air is clear and cold in your lungs. If this wasn’t such a strange situation, this would be the only way you’d choose to spend your free time. Out at sea with friends, just enjoying the days. Maybe visit a tropical island or two, while you’re at it. When you open your eyes and roll onto your side, you come face to face with some boots, and looking up further, Kyungsoo. He stands hovered over your body, his top lip lifted slightly in what you can only guess is… awkwardness? So you stare at him for a moment, before pushing yourself up from the deck surface to stand on your legs. Only when you do, you notice the airtight way your shirt sticks to your shape, revealing much more of yourself than you wanted to. Oh, that’s why.

The man’s eyes linger for just a split second too long for you to miss it, though the rest of his face is schooled back perfectly into one of seriousness. He holds his arm out, with over it a white piece of clothing. “Here,” he nods for you to take it, “we figured you’d like to have the remainder of your items if given the chance. We found them being sold in Caryon. Don’t thank me either, it was all Baekhyun.” As you take the dress from his hands, you stare at it for a bit. It’s a white dress, with a boat neck and simple lace ruffles at the bottom, though pretty designs have been stitched on with white thread. Did you really bring this dress with you? You might have, though you don’t recognize it. The entire preparation period seems like a bit of a blur now, since everything that has happened between then and now. “I saw you getting up so…” he trails off, biting the side of his cheek. “Can you call the rest back up? The wind is picking up, we have to get going soon.” With that he walks away, not waiting up for your answer.

You hum after him in response anyway. When the Captain disappears from sight, you quickly peel the wet shirt from your body to slide into the dress, shaking a bit as the wind indeed picks up. Normally you’d never be this brave, but since everyone is either in the water or sleeping, you take a chance. Right on time in fact, because not long after the first pirates are making their way back onto deck. You tug your dress down a bit, frowning. You definitely did not bring this dress, you now realize, as it doesn’t even reach your knees. With a frown, you push the edge down a bit, turning when a whistle sounds out. Of course.

Baekhyun’s eyes seem to shine like diamonds, glee like you’ve never seen on him before. Of course this is his doing. “Baekhyun!” you hiss, walking over to him to punch him in the shoulder. “You think this is so very funny, don’t you?” He doesn’t respond, but takes hold of the hand you hit him with to pull your body way too close to his drenched one, smirking all the while. “Gods— let go, you maniac!” A bit harsh maybe, but it’s Baekhyun you’re talking to. He’ll get over it. This seems to push him towards the edge even more though.

“Don’t be like that, Princess. I got you a gift, you should be grateful.” Gift, hah, you think. The only person who it’s a gift for is him. “If you’re not grateful, I’ll tie you back up and sell you for a nice price as soon as we get to land again, little fish. Wouldn’t be the first. Don’t test my limits or I will test yours,” his voice grows so very close, face way too close to yours. Never mind, not harsh enough. You can’t help but want to shove him back, but his hold is too strong on your wrists. His words give you shivers down your spine, because you know he means it. You pull back again, and tilt your face away from him. Too much, too much— 

“Baekhyun,” that calm, deep voice suddenly mumbles, and you can’t help the relief that fills your chest, “let the girl go.” Kyungsoo, though he just lifts a simple eyebrow in your direction, looks livid. It expresses in the line that digs deep between his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth that are genuinely down-turned. You freeze, as well as Baekhyun does, because both of you seemingly had not expected anyone to help. But you’re oh so grateful.

“Come on, Kyungsoo, let me play with her just a little bit!” the other whines, wrapping his arm around your waist as you struggle against him. “You never nag like this when other women are present. Just because she’s a pretty, little Princess doesn’t mean that I can’t tease her. Should I tease you a bit,” he asks you then, glints still flickering in his eyes. You don’t want to be teased. Not by him at least, you think, glaring up at the attractive guy, who suddenly looks so much less pleasant. He really doesn’t seem to notice that the game has long died for you, and that you just want him to let you go now. But with Kyungsoo standing so close, you’re not scared to push against the other man harder, shoving him to let go of you. But Baekhyun is quick, and his hand snakes around your arm, grip painful on you now. “Come on, sweetheart, I won’t bite.”

“I don’t care, you’re gross and this dress is not a gift to anyone but you! You care about no one but yourself, I can’t even believe I was starting to not despise you!” you snap at him, feeling a warmth around your other hand now. Kyungsoo is holding your free one, clenched tight in his. If it’s for your support, or his own, you’re not quite sure. It doesn’t seem to deter Baekhyun, in fact, it’s as if he’s able to look straight through Kyungsoo. Like a bull seeing red.

“If you want me to sort you out, you just have to ask, Princess. I’ll treat your precious, rich girl body so well that you can never spread your legs again unless I tell you to.” The grin he was wearing has long worn off, eyes so sharp that you don’t want to keep them. When he wants to step closer to you again, Kyungsoo pulls his friend back by his shoulder.

“Let. her. go,” the bassy thrill of his voice makes the hairs on your neck stand up. “I’m not telling you again.”

The dirty look that Baekhyun sends the other is vicious. “Why? No one else is allowed to play with your property, is it?” Though he seems to be getting more ferocious, he loosens the grip on you. “You’re delusional, Kyungsoo. You’re just as bad of a person as I am, I don’t know why you’re acting like a saint here. Why don’t you let go of her?! At least I never put a scar on her face.” You, seemingly forgotten, fall from his hand entirely, as he closes in on the other man. “I saw you looking at her too, I’m just not afraid to admit to it. You’re delusional,” he repeats. “At least I don’t expect her to suddenly fix what a shitty human I am! Unlike you, I have self-respect!” When you step forward automatically, Kyungsoo’s hand pushes you back away, keeping you out of reach. You’re not sure why you care, but Baekhyun looks frantic. Like he can’t see the world around him anymore, too drilled down in this emotion of anger to care.

“Baekhyun, snap out,” Kyungsoo solemnly replies, not backing down when Baekhyun shoves him against the shoulder. He doesn’t even seem to listen to the words thrown at his face, Something in the Captain’s expression makes you feel like he feels at least as sad for the other as you do, if not more. Your eyes narrow a bit as you watch the both of them from the sidelines. You want to help, but you wouldn’t know how. It’s truly as if the older sees black from all sides, and Kyungsoo knows. “Hey, breathe. I’m not your enemy.”

“Fuck off, Kyungsoo! You don’t know me!” Baekhyun basically growls at his friend, pushing past him. The man stomps away with his fists clenched so tight that his bones peek out white through his skin. You stare after him until he disappears into the stairway, leaving you both standing here in silence. All your energy has depleted, and the urge to sink to the floor floods over you. But you stay standing, and instead turn back to Kyungsoo.

“Thank y-” Don’t, a voice in the back of your mind screams like an echo of your previous anger, making you swallow the rest of that. 

What Kyungsoo did was only what any other person would do. You don’t need to thank him for being a sane human being! Baekhyun was all up on you, because you’ve been taken as a captive here! You know your frustration is speaking now, but can’t help be mad. Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to notice your mental tug-of-war. “Don’t— hold it against him, if you can. Baekhyun doesn’t mean to be this way, he hates it too,” his voice seems to die down the longer he speaks. “He just can’t… he wasn’t always like that. Some things still give him a very difficult time, and he has a hard time snapping out of it by himself.” He doesn’t look you in the eyes as he takes a few steps back, staring instead at your shoulder or something behind it. “I brought the rest of your stuff down. Baekhyun bought you some new things too. He thought you might like to get out of that one dress you have.” A soft sigh, as he looks at you again, storm-colored eyes dripping down your skin, as if soothing you from afar. “He seems to really like you, you’re kind to him. He hasn’t had a lot of that in life yet.”

“Right,” you just respond, biting your lips as you give a tense nod, not able to aim it towards him fully. He seems to understand, and gives a soft, understanding hum. Kyungsoo walks back after that, picking some of the thick ropes from the floor and hoisting them over his shoulder, before walking out of your view. And though you might not be able to admit it out loud, you say it internally with every fiber of your being. Thank you, Kyungsoo. Really.

     🌊🌊🌊      🌊🌊🌊      🌊🌊🌊    

.next part. 30.01.2020  as soon as possible

next part up tomorrow if all goes well!! thank you so much for reading his beast up ‘till here already~ it would mean the absolute world if you could sent me something about this one because i felt like deleting it all more times than i’d like to admit! hope you enjoyed and love you ♡♡♡

tag list @chanyeolol​ @ninibears-erigom​​ @suhoerections​ @kimjongdaely​ @byunfirstlady​ @greenmetalroof​ and @spring-medley​ pirate!kyungsoo is finally here ♡ thank you so much for helping me through this and being excited for it

[fedeipox]

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 6 (3/3)

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/640021017292636160/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-6-13

Part 2 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/640495394492710912/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-6-23

Chapter 6 (3/3) - Gifts

Words: 3k

Molly was probably able to hide all those bad feelings from the other people in camp, but she couldn’t hide them from Emily: she was good with emotions, and in reading poetry. However, she had talked too much, again, and she felt mortified for how Molly had treated her. Walking around with the weight of regret on her chest, she ended up in front of her tent where Mary-Beth was still reading and Tilly was washing some clothes.

“Hello, girls. Do you need help, Tilly?”

“No, I’m almost done.”

“Is it still that book? The one with the man who wants to visit the moon?” she asked to Mary-Beth.

“Ah-ah” she affirmed. 

Emily had soon found out that her books were boring and foolish, but she tried not to point it out to avoid insulting Mary-Beth. Besides, she had only three and she kept reading them again and again.

“How did the job go?” she asked to Emily.

“Good, I’ve made some money, so now I can buy you some other book. Something more interesting.”

“This one is not so bad. You have never wondered what goes on, on the moon?” “What should go on, on the moon? It’s a big cold rock.”

Mary-Beth widened her eyes.

“How do you know? You’ve been there?”

“No, of course not, but other people have.”

“You mean there’s folks living up there?”

Emily laughed, but then she saw Mary-Beth’s half hurt half curious face and decided to explain to her what apparently she didn’t know, that the moon couldn’t be colonized because there was no air and that men could only go up there with spaceships and space suits that allowed them to breathe.

“I’ve never heard of any of that” said Tilly.

“That’s because you have to wait until 1969 for that to happen.”

“So much time? We’ll probably never see that” replied a disconsolate Mary-Beth.

“But I can tell you everything about that, so it’s like you’ve lived that” Emily tried to cheer her up.

“Hey, what are you talking about?” asked Karen walking closer.

“The moon!” exclaimed Mary-Beth.

“Puff, again with your stupid fantasies?”

“It’s not a fantasy. Emily says we will walk on the moon one day.”

“Is that so? And how you expect to reach it? Riding a winged unicorn?”

Emily summoned all her patience and started explaining how Armstrong had been the first man to ever walk on the moon, how space rockets worked - without going into details that even she didn’t know, of course - and especially what gravity was, a new bizarre concept for the three girls.

“How the hell can you know all these things?” asked Karen who in spite of herself had started to get interested in what she was saying. 

“I learned them, at school.”

“Are girls allowed to learn these things at school?” asked Tilly.

“Of course. We learn everything.”

“That sounds great. Can you bring me with you when you go back? The future looks so much better than now” said Mary-Beth.

Emily giggled but almost immediately she turned serious. 

“If I’ll ever go back.”

...

The next morning Emily had an insistent itch on her head, and she perfectly knew the reason for that: a week, a week without a shower, a week without touching water. As she walked across the camp to reach Mr. Pearson’s kitchen and take some biscuits, scratching her head vigorously, she wondered how could those people live without washing everyday. It was humanly impossible. 

“Morning, Miss Emily!” thundered Pearson with his big scratchy voice. Emily was getting used to it, he was a sort of morning alarm clock for her.

“Morning.”

“Some big plan for today?”

“Yes, washing” she murmured.

“Aah nothing better than a good bath.”

She couldn’t but agree, the only problem was: who she might have asked for a ride in town? Taking a couple of biscuits and with that question buzzing in her head she started walking around camp. Charles was her first choice, he was the one she trusted most there, so she went looking for him. Only after a couple of minutes of empty roaming she learned that he was out hunting, so her choice moved on Lenny.

“I’m on guard duty. I can’t leave my place.”

“Never mind, I’ll ask someone else.”

Javier? He was still asleep. He had had the guard turn that night. Uncle? He found an excuse not to lift his ass from the piece of shadow under which he was seated, drinking from his bottle. Dutch? Never. Bill? Emily wanted to bath in water, not in blood. In the end, she thought about Hosea. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb him, but she had no other choice, that was becoming a matter of life or death and she couldn’t delay it anymore.

“Morning, my dear” the man said when she reached him.

“Morning, Hosea” she murmured and left a slight kiss on his cheek, a habit she had taken in those days and to which Hosea still hadn’t become accustomed. 

“How are you?” he asked a little embarrassed.

“Fine. I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“What do you need?”

“I…” “Gentlemen, I’m going to Valentine for a little business.”

Emily turned around when she recognized Mr. Strauss’ voice and she fixed her eyes on the little man with the tiny glasses, walking quickly with his back bent and his ledger tightened to his chest.

She hadn’t even taken him in consideration, but after all, she didn’t mind with whom she was riding, she just needed someone who brought her to town and then back to camp. She turned again to look at Hosea and said a hasted “never mind” before she ran to Mr. Strauss.

“Good Morning, Mr. Strauss.”

“Morning, Miss Richardson.”

“You said you’re going to town. Do you mind taking me with you?”

“No, if you can keep the pace.”

“The pace? Y-you don’t… I thought you were taking a horse.” “I don’t ride horses, Miss, I walk. If that is a problem for you, you can go with someone else.”

“N-no no, it’s not a problem. I can walk.” “Good. Keep up the pace.” Without a wagon nor a horse, the little path that leaded out of the wood and on the main road seemed endless. Besides, Emily couldn’t fill the time with words because, let’s be honest, what kind of conversation could she have with Strauss? And only when they emerged from the trees she found the courage to ask him something.

“So, why don’t you ride horses?” 

“I don’t like them.”

Emily raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had just found something in common with the person she thought to be the most different from her. 

“Oh, well, you know, I don’t like horses, either. I can’t understand why they find them so interesting.”

“They’re easy and fast transportation.”

“Yes.”

Silence fell as they kept walking. Mr. Strauss had spoken the truth, he really had a fast pace, he almost ran with those short and skinny legs and Emily found it really difficult to keep up. For a second she wondered what was he going to do in town, but then she glanced at that ledger he tightened to his chest like a new born and realized that probably he was going there for some debts.

“Are you going to Valentine to recollect some money?”

“Lending.” “To whom?”

“I reckon you’re asking just to make conversation, but if you don’t mind I’d rather keep the names of my clients for myself.”

“Alright” Emily whispered and lowered her head. She was starting to regret her choice. Hosea would nave been a far better conversation partner.

“I know what you all think of me” said Mr. Strauss suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“You think that what I do is disgusting, but if you think about it, compared to what other people do, my job is not so terrible. After all I don’t kill, I don’t steal, I don’t do anything which is not inside the limits of the law.”

Emily kept looking at him with wide eyes asking herself where all that was coming from. She had never questioned his “profession”, she had never spoken about it, nor expressed a judgement to his person. How could she express a judgement on a money lender in a camp of criminals? And, how could the others in camp express a judgement on him? After all, Mr. Strauss was right, they were thieves and murderers, and if they really despised him for the usury, they were a bunch of hypocrites. 

“I don’t think you do anything wrong Mr. Strauss. You lend people money and then ask it back with interests. You’re like a private bank.”

“I’m glad you are such an open minded type, Miss.”

“Who knows, maybe with your job you also help some people. If someone is in extreme need of money and you lend them some, you might save their lives.”

Mr. Strauss looked at her for a moment, a second really, before he fixed his eyes again on the road.

“I don’t understand you, Miss. You look perfectly sane but at the same time you insist on that deluded story of the time travel.”

Emily huffed. It was time to try and convince him too. And she tried, for all the way to Valentine she tried convincing Strauss that she wasn’t crazy, but she couldn’t. That man was so firm and attached to his principles that she had to give up. 

They parted when they reached town, with the promise to meet again in front of the general store when they had finished to do what they had to do. Strauss walked down the main road while Emily aimed for the Hotel. Mary-Beth had told her she had to go there for a bath. She climbed the four steps of the porch and walked inside.

“Morning, Miss. How can I help you?” asked the man behind the counter.

“I’m here for a bath” she said with insecurity. 

“I’ll have it arranged for you” he said and walked down the corridor to his right. 

Emily took the opportunity to look around: the room was rather basic with no paintings on the walls nor carpets on the floor. After all, in a town like that, what kind of luxury could they have?

“They’re warming the water, Miss. If you want to sit down while you wait” said the man coming back from the corridor and pointing to a chair.

Emily sat on the green worn out cushion and waited patiently for the water to be warmed and in the mean time she wondered how they were doing it. Maybe making it boil on the fire before pouring it inside the bathtub, just like she had seen many times in the movies?

It was exactly what they were doing and she found it out only when they let her inside the candle lit room with no windows. The average large bathtub was in the centre, a sort of basin with a mirror stood right beside the door while on the back of the room there was a partition panel for clothes changing. On a little table beside the tub there was a big bar of creamy soap and a brownish sponge, which she was sure she wasn’t going to touch. 

Emily looked around her carefully and then fixed her eyes on the piping hot water. For her all that was awful: wash in a copper bathtub, with a piece of soap that God knows how many people had touched, no towels, no carpets. But she had to do it or she was sure that in a couple of days she would have got fleas. 

Slowly and unsurely she undressed herself and dipped in the water. The lack of other kinds of soaps made her understand that in 1899 people made no distinction between shampoo and body soap, so she took the bar on the table and melted it in the water and, in the end, the general feeling wasn’t as bad as she expected. 

She made sure to wash her hair carefully, who knew when she had had the chance to wash them again, but she tried not to spend too much time just in case Strauss had got bored of waiting for her and had chosen to go away and leave her there. But when she finished, dressed up again in a hurry, quickly gave a look at herself in the mirror, ran outside the room, paid the man his twenty-five cents and walked out of the Hotel, she didn’t find him waiting out of the general store, and that meant he wasn’t done yet. She decided to cross the street and enter the store to have a look and maybe find something interesting. Now that she had her money, she could buy anything she wanted.

“Hello there. Nice to see you again, Miss” said the owner when he recognized her.

“And you too, Mister. Do you have any books?”

“On the top shelf, up there” he said pointing a finger to the corner of the room.

He really hadn’t a big selection of books and most of them were unknown for Emily, but eventually she found what she was looking for.

“I’ll take this” she said leaving the little red book on the counter together with a couple of chocolate bars.

“Tess of the d’Ubervilles. What is this? Some kind of silly romantic novel?”

“No, it’s the story of a fallen woman who commits murder and in the end she’s hanged” she replied with a little annoyance. Did she look like someone who liked silly romantic novels?

“Well, not exactly the kind of reading for a lady” he laughed.

“But it perfectly represents the patriarchal repression that 19th century society had on women and the wrongs of a hierarchical mindset.” The man’s eyes widened and an imperceptible “oh” left his lips, but he hadn’t understood a word she had said.

“I-is that all?” he asked pointing at her purchases. 

“Yes.” 

She paid for the book and the chocolate and left the store. Right when she stepped outside she saw Mr. Strauss walking down the muddy street with a man following him and gesturing widely with his arms. Emily left the porch and reached the two of them, being careful not to walk too closer: the last thing she wanted was to stick her nose in Strauss’ affairs, but the two of them were talking so loudly she could perfectly hear them even if she had waited on the other side of the street.

“I have already told you Mr. Downes: you have a week.”

“B-but Mr. Strauss I have a family, I’m about to lose my house a-and…”

The man stopped to cough, bending on his knees and grasping Strauss’ arm who withdrew with a disgusted face. 

“P-please, Mr. Strauss. I need some more time. Kindness… kindness will always be repaid. Be kind to me, please.” Strauss tightened his ledger to his chest and looked at the man with no trace of mercy on his face.

“You have one week” he repeated before he walked away. 

With a sorry glance at the poor man, Emily reached Strauss and the two of them took the road back to camp. 

“These cheap do-gooders are the worst. They believe that because they are benevolent with their neighbor everything is due to them. I have rules in my job, I expect everybody to follow them, with no exceptions.”

“Aren’t people who do good usually selfless?” asked Emily.

“I don’t get involved in matters of good and evil. That is a job for priests. All I care about is feed the mouths in camp, and the only thing I’m good at are numbers.”

Emily thought that he was a little harsh and insensible, but she couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the goal the problem, but the means. 

“You could try and… give him some more time. He looked kind of desperate.”

“I can’t delay a payment. If something happens and we are forced to flee, I won’t be able to recollect the money. And two weeks are more than an appropriate amount of time to collect thirty-four dollars.”

Just like it had happened with Javier and Dutch, Emily couldn’t find anything to reply. That man had his way of doing things, all the reasons to do so and no intention to change his mind, which meant that argue with him was impossible. 

The road back was made of scattered questions and long silences, but Emily didn’t mind too much. She was clean, she was smelling of soap, she had brought chocolate and she was in a great mood. Now, following Strauss’ fast pace wasn’t a problem anymore, on the contrary, it was Strauss turn to follow the girl, who was almost running. 

“Alright, thank you for bringing me with you Mr. Strauss” she said when they got to camp.

“No trouble.”

Emily ran to her tent where Mary-Beth was reading, as always. Anyway, Emily was surprised to find Tilly reading too. Not that Tilly didn’t like reading, but she preferred to avoid Mary-Beth’s silly stories.

“You can put down that thing, my friend. I bought you this” said Emily showing her the new book.

“What is it about?” asked a surprised Mary-Beth taking the book and reading the title.

“Just read it. It’s a little different from what you’re used to, but it will make you understand some things. And there is a love story in the middle.”

“Have you read it?” 

“A long time ago.”

“What do you mean ‘a little different’?” asked Tilly.

“It’s a little… dark sometimes.”

“Good, I like dark things. Can I read it too?”

“Sure, you can all read it. I reckon Karen will also like it” replied Emily opening one of the chocolate bars to take a piece.

“Karen doesn’t like romantic stories” said Mary-Beth.

“Who said it’s a romantic story? Chocolate?”

“Yeah, I’ll take some” replied Tilly stretching out a hand.

“You said there is a love story in the middle” stated Mary-Beth frowning.

“Ah-ah.”

“How… how can love not be romantic?”

“You’ll be surprised.”