#informed decision about the home. We answer all of your questions about your new home during an informative walk-thru at the end of the ins

[rhaenyra-storms]

STOPP your drabble of cregan was adorable, we need more stories of him!! i would like to request something for cregan, where the reader is his lady wife and is introduced to jacaerys for the first time!! it’s up to you whether they have children of their own or it’s just rickon (cregan’s child from his first marriage), i like to think lady stark!reader would become eager to talk to jacaerys and his dragon!!

thank you so much!! i literally love writing for him omg. and i would definitely freak out too if i was able to see a dragon!! :,)

it got a lot longer than expected, but i hope you enjoy!!

pairing: cregan stark x wife!reader warnings: cregan is a little overprotective, that's it, just fluff words: 1.7k

You didn't want to believe it at first.

Cregan was sitting in the Great Hall of Winterfell when the news arrived. A few scouts had spotted a dragon flying north at a rapid pace and tensions were high in the castle.

Winterfell was far away from King's Landing, as was the coronation of the new King Aegon, but the Starks and the North were still sworn to the Targaryens. You and your husband had already suspected that sooner or later, you would be dragged into their mess as well.

Judging from the little time you had spent at court in the South, you knew the Targaryen family was a horrible mess. When King Viserys made the decision to name Rhaenyra heir to the Iron Throne, you knew it would be catastrophic as soon as the old King would pass.

"Do we know who the dragon belongs to?" Your husband's deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Cregan always asked the right questions, to the right people, but this time... everyone seemed a little clueless.

You placed a hand on your husband's arm, giving it a little squeeze. "They will not attack alone and without an army. They don't have reason to," you said in a quiet voice, just for him to hear. Cregan gave you a soft smile as he looked over at you, but his eyes were filled with concern.

While an attack was highly unlikely, he couldn't really exclude it entirely and that was already enough reason for him to worry. He wanted to keep you safe and all the people in Winterfell.

"We should still proceed with caution," your husband answered, his hand finding yours and giving it a small squeeze in return. He then pushed himself out of the chair, towering next to you, before he addressed the rest of the people in the room. "We will welcome the dragon rider into our home. With caution. I do not want to start a war with the crown, not when we have more important things to worry about."

Cregan knew the next winter would not be far and he needed to make sure his people were well-prepared and his men were strong. You had always admired your husband for his composure and his natural talent for ruling.

Two hours later, you welcomed the oldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen into your home. Your husband had talked to him alone at first, using the Godswood as a sight of common ground and when a servant informed you that he wished for you to join them for dinner, you knew their conversation had probably been a positive one.

"Lady Stark," Jacaerys nodded his head at you as soon as you entered the Great Hall. He was a pretty man, his black curls a mesmerising sight. However, you couldn't deny that all the rumours you had heard about his father might be true then. He didn't have the signature Targaryen white hair and from the few times you had met Lord Harwin Strong, he seemed to resemble him quite clearly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my Prince," you greeted him with a smile. Jace gently placed a kiss upon your knuckles.

"The pleasure is all mine, m'lady."

Cregan watched Jace closely as you two introduced yourselves to each other, but after their short conversation he felt like he could trust Jacaerys. He had been kind enough not to threaten him with his dragon. Said creature was now waiting outside the Winterfell gates and he was sure the people of the castle couldn't take their eyes off it. The Lord of Winterfell himself could only describe the creature as mesmerising and a sight to behold. And he knew that his wife would probably love to meet a dragon.

The dinner went by quite fast and the conversations were lighthearted despite the general situation of the realm. Jacaerys didn't mean to only talk about the conflict between his mother and Aegon, but he knew that he had a chance to win Cregan Stark over for their cause. And winning over his wife as well in a way would be beneficial too.

"Have you ever seen a dragon, my lady?" Jace asked you after he placed his cup of wine back on the table. You could feel your husband smile next to you. He was very aware of the fact that you had always been fascinated by those creatures. Their freedom to fly, their strength and their sheer power. Dragons were pure magic in your eyes.

"Unfortunately not, my Prince," you answered, leaning back in your chair a little. Jace had mentioned "Vermax" throughout the conversation and you knew the dragon was waiting outside the gates. Its roars were hard to miss throughout the day.

"But I would love to. One day."

"Then today might be the day. If you wish to, of course," Jace gave you another polite nod and an inviting smile. The prospect of meeting a dragon had you ecstatic in seconds, but you knew your husband would suspect danger in this situation. He was more than right for that.

"I would love to accompany you two then." Cregan sounded determined, but still polite. A subtle sign for Jace to understand that he was good-willed, but still cautious.

The support of the North was vital to Rhaenyra's cause, so Jacaerys really didn't intend to mess it up.

"Vermax is a kind dragon. As long as you mean no harm." Jace waited for your husband to push his chair back and stand up first. You followed right after, hooking your arm with Cregan's as you made your way outside.

The sight before you was stunning.

It was already dark outside, but the dragon could hardly be missed. His olive green scales appeared almost black in the dark and your husband grabbed a torch from a guard as you approached.

"Relax, Vermax", Jacaerys spoke in Valyrian, making you raise your eyebrows for a moment. You wished you would have paid more when your family's maester had tried to teach you a few simple words in Valyrian.

"They're our friends."

Vermax' eyes turned into slits for a moment, studying both you and Cregan. The dragon was probably evaluating if you were a threat despite his rider's kind words.

"I've seen more outgoing dragons than Vermax, but he's a gentle one at heart," Jace explained.

It was fascinating to hear about dragons having different personalities and being a little more like humans in a way. Some were impulsive, others were shy. As a child, you had always wished for a dragon as a pet.

"It's... He's wonderful," you whispered, feeling your husband's arm wrap protectively around your waist. Cregan would rather throw himself in front of the dragon's teeth than watch anything happen to you.

"I know. Do you want to touch him?" Jace asked, his voice soft and inviting. "Only if you want to, of course. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable in any way."

Excitement bubbled in your stomach. You could feel the heat rush to your face. All your childhood dreams seemed so close now – meeting a dragon, touching a dragon and pretending for just a moment that you could be a dragonrider too.

Cregan's grip around you tightened, a small reminder of how all of this could backfire. A cold wind blew by and you took a deep breath.

"I will be fine," you assured your husband, taking the time to plant a kiss to his cheek. A small attempt to calm him, but you knew that he would always be worried for your safety. The Lord of Winterfell only knew you were safe when you were in his arms, sleeping safe and sound.

Slowly, you made your way over to the dragon. It seemed to smell your anxiety and retreated for a moment. Jace put up his hand, a sign for Vermax to calm down – to relax. There was nothing bad that would happen.

You gave the dragon time, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you couldn't take your eyes off the creature in front of you. It still seemed wary, but after a few short moments, the dragon eventually bowed down a little, lowering itself to the ground. It was a silent invitation for you to come closer.

But you still wanted to get reassurance from Prince Jacaerys who quickly gave you a nod and beckoned you closer.

It felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest when the dragon sniffed your hand.

Your husband was on the edge of his nerves behind you. His hand was already positioned at his sword, as if he would stand a chance against a dragon. "Careful, my love," he mumbled. He was feeling increasingly uneasy as he watched you and he let out a small gasp when you eventually laid your hand on the dragon's head.

Vermax closed his eyes slowly after he had eyed you enough. You weren't a threat. Not to him and not to Jace.

The dragon's skin was warm and hard, rough against the soft palm of your hand. "Seven hells..." you mumbled, watching in fascination as Vermax continued to relax.

Jace placed his hand on the dragon's wing for a moment, stroking it softly. "I told you he is a kind one. I would offer you a ride, but I think your husband might fall over dead if I do." It was a small jest, but it made you laugh softly.

You turned your head a little, spotting the Lord of Winterfell as he was tensing up more and more behind you. He forced a smile to his lips, trying to look more relaxed than he was. Cregan wanted you to fulfil your dreams, but he needed to keep you safe as well.

However, seeing you as happy as this, as your hand laid upon the dragon's nose, he couldn't help himself but smile a little more genuinely. His hand remained at his sword, but his shoulders relaxed nonetheless.

Seeing the joy in your eyes as Jace told you more about Vermax and the dragon seemed to be content with your presence, Cregan couldn't help but think about how many more days he wanted to spend like this. Seeing you happy was the biggest light in his world.

He'd do anything to see that beautiful smile. Over and over.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 So close, Quantico.

Post prison Reid x Fem!reader

Read part one here!

Summary: A strange visit to the prison ends with an unexpected confession of love and makes you run away again. You were ready to leave, but maybe this time he'll make you stay.

Words: 2,5k.

TW: literally none, just drama and sweet love+emily being a bestie. english is not my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I didn't expect to be asked for a second part because I'm still new here and I don't think anyone will read me (intrusive thoughts lol), but here I am giving it to you because Spencer needs a happy ending!

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Just as you sat down and pulled out a travel magazine to read while you waited for your flight, you got a call from Emily. You frowned and were confused for a few seconds until you remembered that you hadn't told her that you were going back to London so soon and that the possibility of having a drink together would not be fulfilled. You hadn't even said goodbye in person, and it was only now that you realized it.

You hadn't noticed anything after working on Spencer's case for four days straight and losing your mind over it. It was the first time you hadn't seen your client or personally briefed him on the progress of the investigation, and that impersonality made everything strange, but you knew he didn't want to see you, and you weren't going to push him. At least you managed to get him released on parole after you found some evidence of third party involvement in his alleged crime. And as soon as you were informed of this decision, you assigned a trusted lawyer to the case, booked a flight, and packed your bags.

“Don't hate me, but I'm about to catch a flight and I forgot to tell you.” You said quickly as soon as the call started and you could hear a sigh of shock from the other end.

“You what? Why? You just got here and we haven't even had a chance to talk and drink wine.” She replied after a few minutes of processing the information.

“I'm really sorry, Ems. I have things to do at my office and my work here is already done.” You tried to explain as you fiddled with the hem of your skirt. You didn't like the idea of looking like you were running away again, even if you were. “I really have to go.”

“You have or you want?”

The question alone made you sigh and question being best friends with a profiler. It was impossible to hide your feelings and thoughts from her.

“It doesn't matter...anyway, you can visit me whenever you want, I have plenty of wine at home.” You spoke trying to avoid her question at all costs. “Penelope and JJ can come, girls' night out and all.”

“And Spencer...?” She asked in a cautious tone, knowing that this was a complicated subject. After all, Emily was the one who had to put up with your sighing and crying over Reid for years.

“He's not a girl.”

You could almost see her roll her eyes at your answer, and by the tone of her voice when she told you she meant it, you knew she did.

“Seeing him was as strange as I imagined, but confirming that he doesn't want to see me and that he hates me felt worse than I thought. I have to face this from a distance.” You tried to explain and put into words the feelings you were avoiding.

“He doesn't hate you, and he definitely wants to see you.” She corrected you, making you frown.

“What? Please don't try to make me feel better with emotional profiling tricks.” You said wearily, looking up at the big screen with the flight schedules and realizing that it was still more than half an hour before your plane was due to arrive.

“These are not tricks. Seriously, if he didn't want to see you, he wouldn't have asked me for your hotel address yesterday.”

Your heart stopped at that moment, and any attempt to focus your attention on something else, or even keep your cool, failed. You didn't want to get your hopes up again and sound like a fool for getting excited about something so minimal.

“I'm not even at the hotel anymore, and he never went there.” You tried to control your nervousness and conceal how this information had thrown you. “Ems, my flight arrives in 30 minutes, I have to leave you, but I promise to call you more often and visit you sometime. I love you.” You ended in a chaotic way.

“Well, me too. But don't disappear, I'll wait for that girls' night.” She replied, defeated by your insistence, and paused before speaking again. “And tell Reid we have a case in Utah, we're leaving in 30.”

“What?” You asked immediately, not understanding if you had heard wrong, but she had already hung up.

You looked up again, expecting to see the central screen with the schedules, but instead of seeing your flight number in bright letters, you saw Spencer's brown eyes searching for you a few feet away. You had to blink several times to confirm that it was him and that you weren't hallucinating, and only then did Emily's last words make sense.

Was he here to see you? Was it possible?

You remained motionless in your seat, as if bound to it, and watched as Reid walked at a brisk pace straight towards you. It was the first time you had seen him since that chaotic visit to the prison, and you still had a bittersweet taste in your mouth from that interaction. He was wearing a suit now, probably the clothes he wore to work, and he looked like he had run several miles, judging by his disheveled hair and labored breathing.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as soon as you had him in front of you, rising from your seat to be at his height even though you were several inches shorter.

“I needed to talk to you for days and you never came to see me again.” He explained, still trying to regulate his breathing after searching for you all over the airport. “About what you told me before you left.”

“I didn't come back because you made it clear that you didn't want to see me, and I respected your wish.” You explained as calmly as you could. “And as for what I said, there's no need to talk about it. It's outdated and I shouldn't have brought it up.”

You saw him sigh and fidget chaotically for a second before he spoke again. He seemed nervous, as if he had rehearsed the conversation a thousand times in his mind.

“I need to talk about this. You told me you were in love with me...I just found out and I couldn't stop thinking about it, it's stuck in my head because you never told me.” He tried to speak slowly, but it was as if the old Spencer you once knew had reappeared and started babbling. “You said you were leaving because you were offered a better position and you were bored with this job, you never mentioned that...that you liked me.”

“My flight leaves in less than 30 minutes, I can't talk now.” You tried to get out of the situation, but he gently grabbed your arm before you could escape. And with a sigh, you spoke again. “Good. I never told you how much I liked you, but that doesn't change anything.”

You pulled away from his touch and putting your hands on your bags so you could leave soon.

“It changes. It really changes everything.”

“What? How?” You dropped the suitcases and looked at him in confusion.

He remained silent for a few seconds, looking at the clock on the bright screen above you, trying to use the little time he had to talk to you and express himself. He felt the words catch in his throat, and it was a disappointment after having only you as the protagonist of all his thoughts since you had visited him, pushing away any possibility of holding a grudge against you because the only thing on his mind was doubt about what would have happened if he had known.

Spencer had spent so many years locked in hate, trying to hold a grudge against you for leaving, leaving nothing but torturous memories in an eidetic memory and a ridiculous need for a hug from you every time things went wrong. And suddenly you showed up, looking as beautiful as ever, saving him from a traumatic experience and delivering information he never expected.

He had only been free for a few days and yet everyone looked at him differently, from pity to fear, knowing that prison had changed him forever. But not you, you looked at him as if he were the same as always, even though years had passed and you had only seen his worst face again.

“If I had known...if you had told me I...” He stammered, trying to find some courage to stop feeling like the same young man you had left. “You would know that I felt the same way.”

At that moment, you almost had to sit up again because of the impression his words had made on you. You closed your eyes and opened them again to make sure that you were not hallucinating and that it was really the one you had been dreaming about for years who was telling you that he also felt something for you before.

“You don't have to lie...no, don't lie to me like that just because I got you out of jail.” You started to blurt out, completely denying the strong beating of your heart.

“I appreciate you doing this, but I won't lie to you. I could never do something like this.” He assured you, looking you straight in the eye for confirmation. “And if you don't believe me, I can tell you exactly when I first realized I liked you, it was November 8, 2005, it was 11:35 in the morning because I looked at the clock. You had completed your third month with us and you went to talk to Gideon and Hotch because you wanted to get out in the field and stop doing paperwork. You were so nervous about getting fired that you grabbed my hand before you left, but you didn't notice because you were busy listening to my comments about your performance. I thought it was nothing and that I was just nervous because you were the only one I was talking to and I was afraid of losing you, but before you left you smiled at me and I knew everything was going to be okay. Again I thought it was nothing...but every time things went wrong I thought about it, I still do because that smile is probably the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life.”

“I...” You tried to speak and formulate even one word, but it kept getting stuck in your throat.

“Wait, I'm not done yet.” He interrupted you, saving you from a possible babble. “I never told you because I thought you didn't feel the same way and that you saw me as a younger brother to be taken care of. I'd rather have you as a friend than not have you at all, so I left it in my mind as an impossibility and I thought I was completely over it until you left and I lost my mind...and it's happening again.”

“God, I need to sit down.” It was all you could say at the time as you tried to process everything he said.

You sat down with his help and watched him relax a little as he finished speaking, as if he had waited a long time to say it and had practiced it many times. You felt your heart pound after years of dreaming of hearing those words from him. You had never imagined a life where Spencer felt anything more than friendship for you, and now it was real. He had loved you as much as you wanted, and you had been too blind to see it before other people came along.

“I know it's been years since you got over me and that I was a jerk to you when you came to see me, but you need to know that ever since I saw you I couldn't stop thinking about what my life would have been like if I had told you from the beginning.” He spoke again, trying to look closely at you to decipher what was going through your mind. “I'm sorry, I'm really sorry if this has upset you or...”

“Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say that?” You said, still surprised, taking the opportunity to get up from your chair.

“I'm sorry, I know it's too late and now you're going to leave again, but this time I'm here to ask you not to do it again.” He came over and took you by the hands, bending down a little to be at your level, as if he was begging you. “And I know it's selfish because you have to go and you have a life away, but I really...”

“Spencer.” You stopped him before he started babbling, and he looked at you anxiously for your answer. “It's not too late.”

“Really?” He asked, as if he could not believe he had heard you correctly.

“Really.”

You gave him a small smile of affirmation and felt your eyes glaze over with emotion as you felt him release your hands and grab your cheeks to wipe away the stray tear that had fallen. The look of tenderness he gave you along with his touch made you tremble.

“Are you planning to kiss me already or are you going to wait 13 more years?” You spoke without even thinking.

He didn't have to think once before closing the distance between you and fulfilling the longing that had been in your mind for so long. You couldn't say anything because his lips had been on yours before and the first contact had almost made you melt. His hands were still on your cheeks, but one of them went down to your waist to pull you closer and make sure you were real.

Your lips tasted like cherries and that made him smile immediately in the middle of the kiss, thinking that you were still wearing the same lipstick that you had applied in front of him so many times and that he had only dreamed of tasting. Finally, the reality was far better than any fantasy and the softness mixed with the intensity of a repressed love during the kiss because finally the stars had aligned for the two of you.

“Are you going to go out on a date with me?” He asked as soon as you both parted.

“I have a girls' night out first.” You replied, letting it be known that you were tired of running away. “But I'd love to go on a date with you.”

He came over and gave you a quick kiss before you could say anything else. You returned the kiss and then pulled away, putting your arms around his neck.

“You're kissing me like this before the first date?” You joked, still trapped in the bubble of love you felt you were in.

“I don't intend to wait any longer now that I have you here.” He responded by giving you a kiss on the head and wrapping his arms around you to hug you. “So please don't go away for 6 years again.”

“I don't plan to go anywhere now.”

[yostresswritinggirl]

What Do You Mean I'm The New Grand Sage?!

Alhaitham, Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh x Grand Sage! Reader; separate, gender neutral

In some twisted turn of events, Lesser Lord Kusanali herself thought you are the best candidate for the position of the Akademiya's Grand Sage. From a Haravatat Researcher to soon running a whole region, how do you deal with this? And do the prodigal scholars approve of you?

'It's been weeks now and there's still no proper Grand Sage.'

'If it were me, I would have fired the two remaining sages, they might scheme as revenge.'

'How can we trust the choices of the next Grand Sage anyways? What if history repeats itself?'

Despite the House of Daena being respectfully quiet with only murmurs and mumbles from the surrounding entourage, these unspoken words taunt and occupy the mind of the Dendro Archon as she takes into account all the thoughts of her people regarding the matter.

All the candidates for the Grand Sage and other sage positions, as well as the exceptional figures of each darshan (some of which are familiar to her) crowd around the table where the Lesser Lord situated herself.

Unfortunately, based on Nahida's standards, none of them qualify for the position.

"Lesser Lord Kusanali?" Opening her eyes, Nahida tilts her head to the Scribe situated on a seat next to her, a quill unused in his hand. "Is something the matter?"

"Just deep in thought." Crossing her arms, the god of wisdom would hum to herself as she tapped her chin. "For example, what would the new Grand Sage do once they get appointed?" And with that, she closed her eyes again.

As expected, more thoughts filtered through her mind as the audience took the bait and began pondering on the provoking question in their minds.

'Just do what the past Grand Sage did? Minus the evil? This is easy.'

'As a Grand Sage, I would probably fire all the personnel, they can't be trusted.'

'Cultivate wisdom and govern Sumeru as best as possible, right?'

'With the Lesser Lord in power, probably just answer to what she wants.'

'Hm, to what extent did Azar mess up the system anyways? It would definitely be good to fix the things that he deliberately abused as soon as possible, right? The unnecessary laws, look into the international affair decisions he's done too, he might have signed contracts that would be damaging to Sumeru in the long run -'

A hit! But an unfamiliar voice. Opening her eyes, the god of wisdom looked around the area to look for the voice to match a face.

"Are you looking for something, Lord Kusanali?" Cyno straightened up on his stance by her side as he watched the archon stand on her seat. The action urged him to scan the area too, albeit for different reasons.

'Why am I thinking about this right now? I should really hurry home -'

"Over there!" The crowd parts like the sea as everyone in the area turned towards someone in researcher garb. Which looks to be... drenched in water. Looking up from wringing the sleeves of your robe, you finally notice all the attention on you.

"Ah! Sorry about the mess, I fell in the fountain in front of -"

"You shall be the new Grand Sage, (Y/N)."

The whole Akademiya seemed to have quieted down to the point that you could hear the individual droplets of water splatter from your hair on to the marble flooring of the House of Daena.

"Huh?"

And like catharsis, everyone exploded in exclamations of disbelief. Including you.

"With their determination alone, their steadfast effort is enough to shape them to the right person to hold the title of Grand Sage."

With the absence of the Akasha Terminal and the person that holds records of documentations and research, Alhaitham was reasonably the person that people flocked towards for information about you. Despite the inconvenience, there are a lucky few that the Scribe entertained.

The male personally knows you as a Haravatat graduate who researched about the current civilization and quality of life of Sumeru in great detail, something that honored your name for being their darshan's most cited thesis. And when asked about your eligibility to be the next Grand Sage, he repeats those words, even when the archon herself asked.

After all, he himself had been privy to that determination. Your dedication to graduate and use your knowledge to create something worthwhile, beneficial, purposeful. A kind of vigor for knowledge so pure and immense that not even he remembers having the same amount of passion.

Even now as he pretends to be occupied with his book, he watches as you practically lay on the huge table for Azar the Grand Sage in exhaustion, Alhaitham was confident that your sighs results from your worry of finding the best solution.

He lowers his eyes back to the pages just in time with you finally lifting your head. "Alhaitham?" He pretends the small smile was out of politeness, not because you have yet to get accustomed to being entirely formal with him.

"Yes, Future Grand Sage?" Alhaitham masks his voiceless laugh with the book in his hand at the sight of you huffing, sputtering at the foreign title.

"Azar had you draft the gazette when he makes up a new law or order, right?" He nods, you grip your head as if you were having a headache, which is quite likely at this point. "If you don't mind, do you think you can give me a copy of all of the laws he created? And the meeting transcripts too?"

"That is certainly doable. However," you straightened up when Alhaitham stood across the table to stare you eye to eye, placing his book on your table. "That would be hundreds of documents to go through, are you sure you're able to utilize that amount for your perusing?"

The expression on your face showed that you haven't exactly accounted that part. But there it was, that flicker in your eyes that captures you so perfectly, the perseverance that had always kept you afloat. Now he can bare witness to it. "I'm sure."

Even if he didn't have to, Alhaitham stayed by your side the whole time, assisting you about certain laws and contexts if you ever needed it.

And when you fell asleep on the table after hours of reading, he immediately placed his cape on your shoulders, because you needed it.

Surprisingly enough, Alhaitham is the one who puts in a good word about your designation out of all of them.

What they're unaware of is that he's quite fond of you and your prestige, being in the same darshan had him subtly defending you from the rumors other darshans/candidates spread.

You should be grateful that you have Alhaitham as your Scribe. Not only is he meticulous and dedicated to his work, but he acts as your assistant with how closely related your positions are.

Perhaps his usefulness and help also stems with the fact that he was the most recommended candidate before he declined, and the knowledge he had honestly makes him look like your master and you his apprentice.

A lot of times, you end up comparing yourself to him when you feel like you're lacking.

Thankfully, Alhaitham's perceptive made him aware of your tells, and knows when you're having such thoughts. He would try to derail that train of thought immediately, subtly remind you of your progress, or straight up tell you you're wrong.

For such an emotionless co-worker, he sure does well with being your hypeman.

"A lack of harmonious relationship with the archon, even with the people of Sumeru, became the downfall of Azar, . That level of respect is crucial in ensuring that history would not repeat itself."

As Lesser Lord Kusanali's main guardian, it was only logical that his beliefs about what the new grand sage should embody reflects that. And perhaps there were also some details that influenced his opinion, details that he would never elaborate on.

This isn't the first time he had been less receptive to the decisions of the archon (the first being the punishment of the Sages, if you can even call it that) but this one has more potential to go awry than any other.

His cold stare only grew colder, sharper, now that you've been assigned the highest seat in the Akademiya. You can tell his prejudices without him having to spell it out.

The harshest of glares usually happen when you request an audience with the god of wisdom, him always standing by her side in case you become hostile. Which is honestly quite a hilarious take - you? Harming a god? But with the history of the previous Grand Sage's you can't exactly call his fault.

In your case however, despite the stories of Cyno's job as the General Mahamatra, you never once feared the possibility of his judgment on you as an academic. After all, if you had done nothing bad, then you're out of his case, right? So as far as you know, this is your first time knowing about each other's presence.

Although, being nominated after you fell in the Akademiya's fountain and made a mess everywhere you walked certainly isn't the best first impression.

However, after one too many times you feel a chill up your spine yet see no one when you look around the area for a possible cause, you're starting to suspect that he may know you more than you know him.

"She's currently resting in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, don't -"

"Ah, no, I'm not here to ask about Lesser Lord Kusanali today." At your sheepish demeanor, Cyno opted to close his mouth and wait for your reason to approach him. So you continued. "I was actually hoping if you could accompany me to Aaru Village."

"The desert?" Why him?

"I've heard that you've been closely working with Lesser Lord Kusanali to rebuild the relations with the desert side of Sumeru." Your fidgeting made him notice the thick notebook tucked under your arm. "I wanted to ask questions about the details, as well as see for myself what else could be done."

There was a long pause of silence that passed by with you mostly avoiding looking into his eyes directly. Humbled but respectful. Cyno sighs. "You're not in proper attire to journey to the desert, nor do you have the proper equipment." Your gaze followed his retreating form until he stopped and looked over his shoulder to you. "Are you coming or what? Standing around does not count as preparing."

"Right! I'm on it!"

It was a long process, but you managed to convince Cyno of your worth, especially when it comes to your efforts to help the desert. He had seen it all himself and at this point he couldn't deny it any further.

Cyno would find his tailing to be out of security instead of suspicion, often times finding himself walking by your side as your protector whenever you had to go out. After all, you're still an important figure, your safety is high priority.

Soon, it would be you who he would go to concerning updates about the desert, hearing out your efforts for rehabilitation. Your desert internship program to help Setaria with her education efforts is by far his favorite.

Despite being the General Mahamatra, he found a bit of his job description changing: being the protector of the Dendro Archon and the new Grand Sage.

Whenever you have to cross to the desert to either talk with the village chief or negotiate with the Eremites, he would always find time in his schedule to be your escort.

Perhaps it was his mistake to doubt Alhaitham's judgment on this one. At the very least, Cyno became your ever reliable check-and-balance.

"At the end of the day, well intentions are enough of a factor to understand the path one would trek no matter the adversaries."

Tighnari was positive that he wouldn't have to deal with the Akademiya anymore after Lesser Lord Kusanali, maybe even enjoy a more peaceful life in the forest now that the Withering had stopped spawning together with Eleazar disappearing.

But of course, the exiled sages just had to be dropped into his forest for their 'tap on the wrist' punishment. Perhaps that would be the end of the Akademiya pestering him now that there's no need to exploit him for some evil scheme.

Well, the world had never been to kind to the forest watcher, what would make this any different? The hybrid would sigh as he watched a group donning Akademiya robes approach Ghandarva Ville, none of which he's familiar with.

This is a larger group compared to the ones the previous sages trying to coerce him back to the city brought - now that he squints, there seem to be Corps of Thirsty members tailing the group, too. This doesn't bode well at all.

At least Cyno's there. "And what business do you have in Ghandarva Ville to cause such a ruckus so early in the day?" Straight to the point, Tighnari stares dryly at the person that seems to be in charge of the group.

However, at the sight of Cyno freezing up in his peripheral, the forest watcher immediately realized that this is unlike any other encounters he had dealt with. Unlike the arrogance of the other scholars and sages, he could see how you looked conflicted from speaking.

"Seeing as you don't look to be well-informed," ah there's the Akademiya scholar he expected. The researcher gestures to you. "The Future Grand Sage is here to see the exiled former sages in hopes to interview them about their previous positions."

He wants to bite back, he really does - why was he not informed beforehand? Why are there so many personnel with you? How sure are they that you are not trying to conspire with Azar? Why are YOU the next grand sage?

"Alright." And he will never admit the relief he felt when your despondent look immediately lifted at his response. "It's a bit of a walk from here. And being the person assigned to oversee their training, I would like to be there during the exchange too."

"Thank you." You cut off the arrogant spokesperson before he even uttered a single word of protest, presenting a bulky journal in your hand to the forest watcher. "I actually prepared a set of questions to ask that you could verify -"

Old habits die hard, and admittedly, Tighnari didn't want to treat you more than the people he works with everyday, the people around you can easily do that for him. But he refrained from letting any past prejudice cloud his judgment on your character: there is undoubtedly something different about you in comparison to the old sages, and he didn't want his attitude to change that.

One day during one of your many visits however, Tighnari may have spilled a bit about his discontent about the attention your entourage brings to his forest. Even with you next in charge, he still dislikes bringing the affairs of the Akademiya to the forest rangers' territory.

He thought his words was out of pocket when letters of notice regarding your arrival ceased. Did you get all the information you needed from the sages? Or was what he said finally drove you away? That wasn't at all his intentions.

One random encounter brought him answer when the suspicious cloaked figure waving at him from behind a tree turned out to be you. "You said you didn't want my personnel to come so I decided to visit discreetly from now on."

At least you were... considerate. Conversation came easy without multiple glares constantly stabbing him in the back, talking about your progress as well as the conditions of Ghandarva Ville on the way to the training area of the sages.

While he was wary and skeptical about your appointment despite his utmost trust in the dendro archon's judgment, Tighnari soon came to accept your honesty and determination.

That transparency and good-intended perseverance are what Azar lacked, but under your rule, perhaps Sumeru would really be in good hands now.

Tighnari leaned against the tree as he watched your passionate discussion with the previous Haravatat sage. Undeniably, you as you are now without the title, greatly reminds him of someone dear.

"We've long realized that wisdom alone begets arrogance. Perhaps fixing the prejudices against the pursuit of art and whatever this and that Azar has gotten his grubby hands on should be first priority."

"Let me through! I must speak with them, this is important matter, too! If the new grand sage is really -"

Turning your head towards the commotion, your conversation with Alhaitham ended shortly as a tuft of blonde became visible from the sea of Mahamata's trying to keep him away from you.

Patting the imaginary dust off his sleeves, Kaveh would look into your baffled gaze with unyielding resolve. "I've heard you had been meticulously gathering the opinions of Sumeru and thought I could be of help."

"Exercise some tact, Kaveh, we're in the presence of the appointed Grand Sage here."

"I don't need your sass today, Scribe -"

"No, it's fine, Alhaitham. I was actually planning on talking to Kaveh at some point, anyways." Wait, you are? Kaveh dumbfoundedly asked as he watched you move a few books around to get to a worn out journal under the pile. "I assume you're here to represent the arts."

Besides the conversation, Kaveh insists he takes you out to the Bazaar and his magnum opus to properly showcase the culture. Alhaitham, who looked positively displeased of the impromptu outing, had to stay back to focus on documenting a new batch of submitted thesis.

It was endearing to see someone as passionate about change in Sumeru as you talk about the harmful acts Azar published against the Bazaar and the pursuit of arts. Well, what else can you expect from the Light of the Kshahrewar?

Talking to him about anything and everything felt like you were conversing with friends, a very vocal and expressive friend. Especially when you're introduced to the Palace of Alcazarzaray, something he looks at with both pride and regret.

"I am simply making sure that Alhaitham had not brainwashed you with his sense of morality. Knowing him, you won't gather such thoughts about the importance of arts from him."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." You really were, after running around from here to both ends of Sumeru, you're very grateful that your source of info decided to come to you instead. "It's not an easy feat trying to undo 500 years worth of corruption."

"I can already see how Sumeru would be under your care." He flashes a genuine smile. "Thank you for hearing me out as well, future Grand Sage, I'm rooting for you. You're already doing much better than the previous Grand Sage."

It was a simple reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, but when he finally sobered up from the feeling of elation, Kaveh can't help but scream to his pillow about how buddy-buddy he acted to THE FUTURE GRAND SAGE!

Kaveh offers a fresh perspective and a lighter, reassuring encouragement in comparison. Perhaps being the person who knows less of the details helped form a positive judgment.

Like Tighnari, he keeps a level-headed approach when it comes to your position, but less about respect and more on shared beliefs.

When it comes to efforts to rehabilitate certain areas, Kaveh is always quick to offer his guidance and opinion. He knows you trust him due to his honesty and genuine want for a better future for Sumeru.

He's also the type to casually waltz in to your office when he has a brilliant idea or important information to share. At this point, he's talked to you more than the new Kshahrewar sage - if he's so adamant to be heard, why didn't he accept the nomination?

Whenever he stumbles upon you when you're outside or he sees you pondering the giant orb™ in your office, he's quick to voice his concern and urge you to take a break.

His intentions recently are hard to read, but he really does believe in you, and he's not shy to voice that fact.

You just find yourself missing the quietness of your office before Alhaitham and Kaveh's banter in front of your table became commonplace.

"The Akademiya and Sumeru as a whole would surely flourish under this new samsara if I were to lead it with you by my side."

Lesser Lord Kusanali gives a knowing look at the sight of you standing straight in the presence of the archon, opting to offer your seat (which she declined) and refusing to sit down as a sign of respect.

She didn't need to read your mind to know. "How have you been? I've heard from the others that you've been working really hard to prepare for your inauguration."

Conscious, you pulled at the grey sleeve signifying your position as the current sage of Haravatat. Admittedly, it was a little stiff and stuffy for you, thicker and more uncomfortable than your uniforms in the Akademiya as a scholar and researcher. You missed those times.

"I've gathered a lot of opinions and information about operating as a sage as well as the current matters of Sumeru." Nahida smiles widely at this, before her expression faltered when you still had a bothered look on your face.

As far as she knows, you've gathered all the resources you need, more than you need even. So why do you seem troubled still despite your meticulous preparation? "Is there something in your mind?"

"I don't - I respect your wisdom, I really do and I'm honored that you think of me this way. But I'm - is this really the right decision? Am I really fit for this?"

Oh, so it's about that! You looked up from your journal laying on the table at the sound of the dendro archon's giggles, not at all expecting that reaction. Was your question that laughable?

"Not at all, I'm just amazed that you haven't noticed." Floating over to where you stood, her tiny hands reached up to give you - head pats? Embarrassed but too scared to deny, you took the gesture. "Since that day, I was certain that there would be no other puzzle piece that would fit the position of Grand Sage other than you."

You part your lips to interject, but she was quicker.

"And besides, there are many who share my view. I'm not the only one who believes in you, and you will see it for yourself when the time comes."

"When the time comes?" Holding on to your hand, Nahida starts pulling you towards the elevator and out of the House of Daena. Only when you reached the double doors of the Akademiya did she finally let go.

"You have these doubts because you are a good person, (Y/N). And even then, your own thoughts cloud your mind from seeing that the only person that doubts you now," Nahida would gesture towards the door. "Is you."

Looking back and forth between the entrance and Nahida's encouraging smile, you took a deep breath before pushing open the door -

Only to be met by a roar of cheers and explosion of applause.

Your fellow Sages, Alhaitham, Cyno, Kaveh, even Tighnari (with his ears pressed down) stood near the entrance with smiles of their own. But looking past the Akademiya staff and scholars, a crowd made up of Sumeru citizens from Port Ormos, the Bazaar, Ghandarva Ville, and even Aaru Village occupy the platform and every inch of the paths going up and down the Divine Tree.

Their collective chants mixed together to convey their utmost respect and belief in you.

"Every single one of them are here to root for you," turning to your side, Nahida stood next to you with a gray hat cradled on her palms. "Grand Sage."

Biting your lip to stop a big wobbly grin, you finally let out a relieved sigh as you kneeled in front of the god of wisdom, closing your eyes as she walked forward to place the hat of the Grand Sage on your head.

"People of Sumeru, may I present to you the new Grand Sage, (Y/N)."

The overwhelming amount of support from everyone made you take off your monocle to rub at your eyes.

And when your biggest supporters stepped forward to congratulate you, everything felt just right.

You got this.

Can't believe my random idea got written first lmaao alright we're in the good feels arc now

@ireallylikehamsters

[kedreeva]

You're sort of one of the kindest people i know on tumblr, so. um. i had a question.

how do i deal with it all?

right of the bat i will tell you i am a minor and my parents are zionists, so i have no income of my own or anything i could donate. everytime i post a single fundraiser that reaches my inbox and is vetted, i get 4-5 new fundraising asks for palestine.

most of them are unvetted, but i keep thinking that if i can't donate i should at least have faith in people and reblog the fundraisers even if they're unvetted, possibly that they're actually new and need as much help we can give, however, there's a possibility they are scams, and i don't want to draw away the attention vetted fundraisers might get.

how do you decide where to help out and how to live with your decision?

I have a policy that when it comes to asks (or messages) that solicit money or other actions (like boosting posts) I don't respond to or even publish asks that come from anyone that has never spoken to me before that moment, and that's a policy that has been in place for many years now, and is unlikely to change largely because the majority of asks/messages that are requesting money or to visit a blog post/their blog/their website are scams (or more often several years ago, led to virus infections on your computer!). My blog is, as it has stated at the top for over ten years now, a personal blog, not a fundraising/signal boosting/vetting blog for spreading donations- there ARE blogs like that, and people can choose to interact with those blogs or not, but my blog isn't the place for it and that's a hard boundary I enforce for my own well being. Tumblr is my place to rest and recover, however I see fit to do that.

A random ask to my inbox asking for money, regardless of what it is for, is (in my view) equivalent to a cold call from a stranger soliciting money. It's not about faith in people, it's not about right or wrong, it's not about can or can't. This is my home, and I don't answer the phone to unknown numbers. I will help friends/family/people I know personally (or parasocially, if I like them or recognize them), obviously, but that's a bit of a different horse.

As for how I decide where to help out, if I have the ability (funds, spoons, time etc), I will seek out information on the best place to donate that can do the most with the money to help the person/people/cause that I want to help. It's the Food Pantry Equation: I could spend $5 on groceries at retail price to donate, and maybe get enough for 1 meal for 1 person (though in this fuckoff capitalist hellscape, I'm not sure $5 would even buy a whole meal), or I could give $5 directly to a Food Pantry organization, who buys in bulk and knows where to get stuff cheap, so that my $5 can help five people or ten people or whatever. I also do my best to participate in fandom events that raise money for good causes; stuff like the fanworks charity auction I helped run to donate to a wolf sanctuary, or stuff like Fandom Trumps Hate (another charity fanworks auction event). Those kind of events are generally open about where the donations go to, and have done research into organizations to ensure the gathered money goes to good charities.

Like with the above, however, it's different if I know the person. If my neighbor comes and asks for a cup of sugar or my friend needs help moving or whatever, I'm gonna give them what they need without the middleman because we have that relationship already established. Donating $5 to a food pantry would probably help more people by numbers, but helping my neighbors and friends and family etc builds community in a way giving $5 to a random stranger on the phone soliciting money cannot, and even in a way donating $5 (or $5 worth of food) to a Food Pantry cannot. It's also usually a matter of one and done, as well as semi-transactional the way any relationship is a give and take; I can give my neighbor some sugar, and down the road they can return the favor the next time I'm in need of help. I help my friends move and I know whether or not I ever move, myself, that they would do the same for me if they're able. You can't say this about a random ask on the Internet and you likely won't ever be able to say it for most charities unless you somehow end up in their exact area of expertise. So it's different.

I feel like you should also learn about Tim Wong, the guy who basically single-handedly repopulated the Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly out in California. The lesson his story can and should teach is that... sometimes it can do more good for the world to care Very Much about one specific thing, and put your heart and soul into it, than it does to spread a little bit of care over a lot of things.

So, I guess what I mean to say here is... don't feel guilty about what you cannot do. There's no guilt in that. When you are ready and able to help, you can always go and look for a good way to do so (and what you end up helping may not always be the thing you think it will be), but you don't need to feel pressured by telemarketers or charity donation calls from strangers while you're trying to eat dinner. Especially if they don't even know who you are, either.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Elaborating on robot!König. He was a man, once, he believes - or that’s what his fuzzy memories tell him. He’s unsure, but he knows that this is his reality now. And he’s built to love it, to love the attention he gets When he walks onto the battlefield, and the praise from his superiors from time to time when he successfully destroys an enemy base with just a flick of the hand. His wrist opens, splitting his forearm and Hand apart, revealing a hole - and a second later, a rocket heads straight for his targets.

Within the destroyed enemy base, someone manages to escape. A frail little being, könig notes, when he scans her from afar. He chuckles to himself, seeing her run around like a lost fly hitting a window over and over again, because one second she’s running this way and the other she’s running that way. She has nowhere left to go.

He decides to kill her. He’s her enemy, and his sensors are going crazy noting that the target is trying to run away. But it all soon quiets, as he hears a voice through the earpiece built into his head. “You noted a target escaping, are they strong?” König stands on the battlefield, unharmed, talking to his superiors as if nothing particular is going on. “Ach, nein, very… weak. Not suited for war. She will to die by exhausting herself, running in circles.” He laughs loudly, making heads turn towards the 208 cm tall crazy metal-man.

“Then get her for questioning.”

“Jawohl.”

He simply walks over to her, not rushing one bit. He loves the terrified look on her face when she turns around and sees him. She doesn’t even try to run away. “Stupid girl, not even trying to escape me?” You don’t answer and he grins, “A smart decision. Jetzt komm schon, hopp hopp!”

He flings her over his shoulder like it’s nothing. His mouth curls slightly upwards at the “oof!” Sound she lets out. He grabs her steadily by the back of her knees and one large hand over her butt. On his walk back to the helicopter, he experimentally squeezes a few times and decides he likes the feeling of it. He sits her down in his lap, ass on one thigh, and he bounces the other every now and then. He wants to stare at her, but he doesn’t want to scare his new little prey off.

Back on base, they keep you for questioning. You know better than to give information away, but you suppose it’s either that or you’ll leave this place in pieces - as they heartily promised to send könig to blast you away into the night sky like a firework.

When they don’t let you go, you’re still confused, but just as you’re about to speak up to the leaving soldiers, two men walk in. You recognise one as König the war machine, and the other must be in a higher position with the way he holds himself. König meets your eyes and grins toothily, not that you could see it because of the mask. But you shudder at the bright blue shining on you.

“She’s all yours, König” the older man pats his back, “we don’t have any use for her, and I could see the way you looked at her. I guess even those like you happen to to want to keep a war trophy, yeah?”

“Ja… jawohl” he keeps staring at you, eyes scanning over your body. Quite literally. The older man nods and tells him that he can take you home, “have a good time, you’ve deserved it.”

He props you up on his shoulder again and leaves to his apartment, built right beside the base to make it easy for him to come and go as commanded. He slaps your ass, and grabs a cheek through your pants, smiling and your soft gasp.

“I’ll show you a good time, trophy girl.”

(Proceeds to show you the 30+ modes he has on his vibrating dick)

WHO ARE YOU?!? Can I marry you…? 👉👈

I mean do I follow you here anon? And if not then wtf?! Give me your blog now if you’re pushing out stuff like this! Gimme! I beg of you!

(I had to collaborate to the awesome bleakness of this: here, have this as a ty gift!)

She literally prayed that some other veteran would have taken her as a “trophy”, just anyone except this machine.

It claims it was once a man, but seems to have forgotten what it is to be human, walks in and out of his apartment that’s really just an old container, disturbs your only moments of peace in the “bathroom” where you’re trying to wash yourself clean, under a bucket shower with a small bar of soap he found for you somewhere.

Doesn’t respect your privacy at all actually, stares at your breasts when you get up and get dressed, scans your body up and down when you hesitantly crawl to him at night. He has a body warmth feature which he uses to lure you in and to his arms because the metal casket you live in with this war machine is horribly cold, night and day. Of course you seek warmth from the giant radiator so that you wouldn't freeze to death.

Due to the many upgrades – or that’s what he calls them – made to his body, he has inhuman stamina. Gets his pleasure out of edging and studying your body, clearly trying to remember what human women were like... How they writhe, what makes them quiver and cum, what forces them to moan.

He wants to know how many orgasms can be pulled out of your weak body, how many times can you take his dick that’s a bit too hard and unforgiving compared to the smoother human cocks, he's especially curious whenever you start to beg for him not to stop.

You feel like you’re more like a guinea pig to him when he returns to probe and experiment on you at night. Asks why you look sad when you curl into a fetal position after the three peaks he just tortured out of you. When you explain to him that you’d like some skin-to-skin contact and cuddling after sex, the automated breathing behind you stops for a moment.

“Ah... Post-coital procedures... Ja, I remember, ganz sicher.”

He settles down next to you and draws you into an embrace, a bit too cold and rough. There’s no heartbeat, but he breathes steadily behind your back, the steady thrum of his inhales and exhales supposed to make you relax. He could probably turn his body heat system up if you asked, but you’re too shaken to even speak.

“You feel good now...?” He asks as if it’s in his protocol to do that these days. That it’s his job to make you feel nice and he must not fail…

“Yes, much better,” you lie as you spend another night with this war-torn but highly functioning cyborg, trying to cuddle and comfort you like a human man.

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Eight

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None except for like one cuss word

Notes: Hot off the press - I just spent my day packing my house up to move tomorrow and I’m up past midnight to get this out... You guys have been so freaking supportive and I’m excited for this story to pick up!

Word Count: 3158

Series Masterlist

• March 11th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

“Emotions.” Jasper says by way of greeting, placing his backpack on the picnic table that no doubtibly contains his art supplies.

“Everyone has them, yes?” I reply, my forehead wrinkling in confusion at his peculiar single-word statement.

“I can control them.” He answers, visibly nervous as if he were afraid he just opened a can of worms.

I watch him pull out his well-worn sketchbook and pencils as I decide how to respond to this new bit of information.

“Say something, doll.” Jasper looks almost pleading, worry setting in on his face.

“How does it work?” I question him, I’m in shock that he volunteered such important information in the middle of a school day at lunch as if it were a typical topic to talk about.

“Well, it started off as just being able to sense the emotions of humans and vampires in my vicinity,” he lets out a sigh as he begins shading whatever it is he’s working on. “Then I quickly figured out I can influence them. I can either enhance what someone is already feeling, take away their emotions altogether, or replace them entirely and give them something completely different.”

“W-wow,” I stutter, “that’s honestly impressive.” I raise my eyebrows as his eyes meet mine.

“I can also do small things since I’ve had time to hone my power, like it’s easy to find people I’m familiar with in a crowded area, within a reasonable distance. As long as I can get to know the person, orient myself with their emotions, it’s quite easy.” He glances down at his drawing as he finishes his explanation.

“That has to be rough, feeling everything everyone else is feeling all the time. You can turn it off though, right?” I muse out loud, I can’t imagine having a power that doesn’t come with an ‘off’ switch.

“Unfortunately I can’t, my family is usually pretty good at regulating the intensity of their emotions when we’re gathered at home. At school though… Sitting out here alone with you during lunch is a welcome reprieve.” Jasper turns back to his sketch as he admits that last tidbit of information.

“Do any of your other siblings have super powers like you?” I tease him, not ready to dive into that nugget of information about how spending time with me makes him feel.

“Rosalie and Emmett don’t, neither do Carlisle and Esme. Unless you want to count the staggeringly strong self-control my adoptive father possesses.” Jasper pauses, “Alice can see the future, subjectively though - she has to be searching for that person’s intent and as long as they make a decision, she can see it and the immediate effects. Edward on the other hand, can-“ but he’s interrupted by the bell signaling the end of the lunch period.

“You’re not off the hook now that you’ve enlightened me, I expect to finish this conversation.” I tell him as I stand and meet him on the sidewalk leading towards the school building.

“I would never leave business unfinished with a lady.” He says rather cheekily, trying to get a rise from me, but all it earns him is a huff of a laugh as we walk in a comfortable silence.

“Thank you for sharing that information with me, I promise not to tell anyone.” I vow soberly, meeting his eyes as we stand outside of my next class.

“I was never worried.” Jasper replies, backing away as students finish milling about in the hallway. “See you in History, darlin’.”

I could feel his eyes on me as I stood in front of my open locker, quickly shuffling through the books I needed for my last class of the day. It’s almost like his gaze seemed to burn me alive as I felt it travel across my skin, the hair on the back of my neck rose due to my heightened state of awareness I had towards this gorgeous man. Does he know the effect he has? Is he even aware that I am utterly at his mercy? I hate to fall in line with all the other girls that must throw themselves at his feet, most of them much prettier than I, so why me? Why does he want to take me on a date?

I glance over my shoulder in the direction I know his own locker is in and sure enough, liquid gold is locked onto its target. A steady unwavering gaze stares back, so solid and intense that it constricts my chest for a moment with the pure force of it.

I turn back to my locker and grab a pen before slamming the door shut, the warning bell signaling one minute before everyone still occupying the hallway is tardy. As I turn to hurry my way to History, Jasper has made his way to stand right behind me.

“Do you like baseball?” He blurts out quickly, as if to not lose his nerve.

“It’s probably the only sport I understand, so yeah. Why?” I counter, tilting my head in question.

“My family and I were thinking of playing a game Sunday. Would you like to tag along and spectate? Bella Swan will be there, I’m sure she would love your company.” Jasper tacked on the last part as if I needed more reason to go than just spending time with him.

“As if I could say no to you and your family.” I tell him with a smile.

“Good, so you’ll want to meet them tomorrow?” He asks with more confidence than the last request, slowly taking steps backwards down the empty hall and I gravitate with him.

My mind blanks, not prepared to be sprung with such a big step in… whatever is happening between us. First he tells me he wants to take me out on a date, now I’m meeting his family? Is this some lucky alternate universe where the insanely attractive boy falls for the incredibly average girl?

No-no way, friends bring their friends over to meet their entire family before a family outing, right?

“I-I-uh-“

“Noon tomorrow, they’ll love you.” Disappearing around the corner of the hallway with a smirk in place, probably because I was gaping at him in the middle of an empty hall.

I glance around - an empty hallway! I’m late for class! I can’t even be mad, Jasper Hale has effectively monopolized my weekend and I’m more than happy about it.

• March 11th, 2005 • Home •

Reader

“Hey, mom?” I ask, poking my head in her open bedroom door.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Putting down the book she was reading and pushing up her reading glasses, my mother sits up in bed to give me her full attention.

“So,” I take a seat at the end of her bed, “Jasper Hale invited me to his house tomorrow, to have dinner with his family and just hang out I guess.”

“Oh?” My mother sounds intrigued, eyebrows raising. “A date with a cute boy?”

“Not a date!” I immediately correct her, “it’s just dinner, or whatever.”

She laughs as I pick at her bedspread. “Honey, of course you can go, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?” She questions.

“He also asked if I wanted to play baseball Sunday with his fa-“

“You? Play baseball?” She blurts out, incredulously.

“Mom!” I draw out the word. “He’s invited me to hang out with his family this weekend - you’ll be cool, right? When he picks me up? No interrogating?”

“Me? Interrogate the cute boy stealing my daughter for a weekend? I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you.” She teases me with a wink.

I stand and begin to leave, “You are insufferable, woman.”

“I love you, sweetheart!” She yells after me as I round the corner to my room. Flopping onto my bed with a smile, I’m both giddy and equally nervous for the next two days.

• March 12th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

“This is my adoptive father Carlisle and his wife Esme.” Gesturing to the two beautiful adults patiently waiting in the foyer as we walk in their home.

Thankfully my mom was at work when Jasper picked me up, giving me another day to prepare myself for the potential train wreck of them meeting tomorrow.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen.” I give them a smile as I shake their hands.

“Trust me dear, the pleasure is all ours!” Esme responds excitedly, her smile wide and beaming.

“The others are in the living room, beware of what you’re throwing her into.” Carlisle warns Jasper with a smile.

Throwing me into? I glance up at Jasper with my brows furrowed, a little concerned.

“C’mon, I’ll protect you.” He jokes with me, I must be missing the punchline.

As he leads me to the living room in his house, I gape at the beautiful artwork spaced throughout. “This is gorgeous, Jasper.”

“Esme is pleased you like it.”

Not having heard his mom speak, I turn from where I was ogling a painting that appeared to be ancient. “But she-“

“Can hear you from her study and I can feel her emotions, remember?” He winks at me, show off.

Finally we walk into the space where his siblings are and I realize what Carlisle meant: Mario Kart.

Alice and Emmett are sitting on the edge of the couch, deep in concentration while Rosalie seems bored from her perch in the corner by her significant other.

“You’re fucking cheating!” Emmett bellows, frantically mashing buttons on his controller.

“It’s not cheating if you’re playing someone that sucks.” Alice taunts him, a wicked grin on her face.

“You can see the future Alice, cut him some slack.” Jasper chides his sister as he leads me to an empty section of the couch.

My eyes widen in amusement as I observe the small dark haired girl, “That’s right! You can-“

“See everything I try to do!” Emmett yells, frustration setting in as his character is hit with a shell.

It’s almost laughable, Emmett’s character Bowser and Alice as Princess Peach. I sit down next to Jasper, a few inches between us as I cross my legs and he lays an arm behind me on the back of the couch. I try to keep my breathing even as I sit here, but the excitement to be spending time with him is almost overwhelming.

I watch as Princess Peach zaps the other players into miniature size and Rose reminds Emmett not to throw yet another remote at the ground, when Jasper leans in close.

“Want a tour of the house?” He asks in a whisper, creating goosebumps down my arms.

“Yes.” I respond, probably sounding breathless, but he’s standing and offering his hand before I have the chance to feel embarrassed.

“And this is my room.” His tour coming to an almost close, since I’m still patiently waiting for a peak at all their cars.

I walk in the doorway he pointed to, stopping just inside. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bookshelves lining the wall opposite of the floor-to-ceiling windows that seemed to be a theme throughout the house. His room was much darker than all the others, warm and inviting with the shades of black and dark wood tones. Stepping closer and skirting the immaculately made king size bed, my eyes close in on some familiar titles on the shelves.

“I always see you reading and since I have quite a bit of free time, I thought I’d pick up a few.”

I turn to look at him with my mouth parted in surprise at his thoughtfulness, his hands are clasped behind his back like he’s bashful for getting found out.

“Jasper-“ but he interrupts me.

“The garage is next.” I watch him turn on his heel and disappear down the hallway.

I look down and brush my fingers on his black comforter as I smile to myself before following him, so Jasper Hale isn’t immune to his own feelings - he just doesn’t like to show them.

Walking into the garage, my eyes skip over the beautiful cars and land on a sleek little thing in the back. A Ducati 848 to be exact, it draws me in like a magnet. Immediately I knew it had to belong to Jasper, no one else seemed like the type. Rose had her red convertible, Emmett had his Jeep, and Edward had his mom-car. Alice and Esme didn’t bother with vehicles and Carlisle had a reasonable, albeit expensive, commuter.

“Wow,” my voice quiet as my fingers brushed the gas tank, “I’m impressed, Hale.”

“You know bikes?” Jasper asks with a hint of curiosity.

“Not really, but I know enough to know that this Ducati is basically a rocket and that it must’ve cost you a pretty penny.” I replied, eyes still glued to the beautiful machinery. “Why didn’t you tell me you drove a motorcycle?”

“Not many parents let their ‘teenager’ drive death traps around.”

“Touché.” I pause, “Take me for a ride?” Swinging my leg over to straddle the beast, I lean over the tank and glance at Jasper.

I know I’ve successfully distracted him by the amount of time it takes for him to respond. Grinning, I sit back and look at him expectantly.

“Absolutely not, darlin’. No way I’m risking-“

“You have safety gear, don’t you?” I tease him as I get off and walk behind him to snag the helmet placed on the counter along the back wall.

Jasper groans and tilts his head back in mock-frustration as he fishes the keys from his pocket. I squeal as I pull the helmet on and hop excitedly towards the bike.

“You’re wearing my protective gear or no deal, sweetheart.” He lays down the law as he stalks over to a cabinet, retrieving a thick coat and gloves.

I almost protest, but he’s pulling the jacket over my arms and zipping it up my chest leaving me breathless before I know what’s happening. Even with the helmet covering my face, I’m sure he senses the heat in my cheeks as he finishes checking me over.

“You sure about this?” Jasper asks, finding my eyes under the visor with his supernatural vision.

“Are you sure about this?” I counter, the unease floating around is practically choking me in this enclosed space before it vanishes in a snap.

He flips up my visor, “Riding with someone requires trust-“

“I trust you, Jasper Hale. Completely and without any reservations or doubt in your abilities to keep me safe.” I swear my words stunned him, his mouth parted slightly as I blurted the confession. As if he realized the doubt that was flowing earlier was from him and not me.

“You are…”, he mutters his response low enough that I can’t hear as he swings a leg over the motorcycle and turns to me seriously. “Number one rule, don’t let go of me. Lean with me on turns and stay tucked in. If you need to stop, tap on my chest. Any questions, doll?” Jasper asks.

“Where are we going?” I climb on behind him and scoot close enough to wrap my arms around his waist lightly, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to be this close to him and it’s amazing. I let out a small gasp when he grabs the backs of both knees to tug me closer, bracketing my hips around his to tuck me in close. He then grabs my arms and places them over his chest, the side of my helmeted head coming to rest on his large back.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, ready?” I feel a teasing chuckle rumble in his chest, so I simply nod, excitement tingling all over from where my body touches his.

The Ducati roars to life in the enclosed space and I feel it lean to the right as Jasper taps the garage door button on the wall to open our exit. My arms squeeze him a little tighter as we launch forward down the driveway, I’m tempted to wave to Esme smiling from the porch, but I decide against it remembering his number one rule of not letting go.

This is single-handedly the best idea I’ve ever had.

Jasper

This girl will be the death of me, I know it for certain.

She could ask me to bring her the moon and I would have it in her hands in a heartbeat. Taking her out on my motorcycle? Easy in theory, extremely difficult in practice. I’ve never felt as I do right now with her arms around me, her completely pressed against my back and squeezing me at every jolt and turn I make.

Heaven and Hell, having my greatest temptation in such close proximity.

She trusts me. Completely and without doubt - her fucking words. I’m positively speechless, I’ve never had someone to myself that trusted me so wholly without needing any kind of explanation or-or proof-

And her leaning over my bike in the garage? I nearly swerve us right off the road thinking about the arch in her back, the way her chest pressed against the tank, her toes barely able to touch the ground… it took nearly every ounce of control to remain rooted while she was seated atop my motorcycle.

My only regret is not showing her the garage sooner, that image of her will forever be seared into my mind. On second thought, I’m sure my mental images were extremely loud and clear in the garage - it’s a mystery how Edward can manage to be around the couples in our family. For me at least, the emotions get too much sometimes and I need breaks.

I’ve noticed that I’ve needed them less and less since Y/n literally slammed her way into my life - breaks from everyone else that is. She not only elicits a physical reaction that no one else has ever managed to coax out of me, but she has also become a mental safe-haven. Being around her energy is as easy and mindless as breathing, if only I could breathe around her without inhaling molten lava. Everything about her completely consumes me, tears me apart and builds me back up, unmakes and makes me over and over, infinite bliss and unending torture. My singer, her blood is a symphony and I am her rapt audience hanging on to every beautiful note and praying for an encore.

My singer.

The revelation clangs through my soul and grants my body with a new purpose; her. She is mine to protect, from this day onward. My left hand reaches up to anchor myself where Y/n’s hands rest on my chest, her arms not quite long enough for her fingers to meet in the middle. I smile to myself, maybe I can allow myself this one bit of happiness, to let her in.

Next

[thaliagracesgf]

i hail a cab with a goat, and make some questionable decisions at a party

next

author’s note: i want to make it, like, really, really, clear that this is not a fic glorifying sa or being a victim. what the reader goes through here is a horrible experience, one that’s happened to me and countless other women (and other people!!). this fic is for anyone who, in the words of rachel sennot in bottoms, has been “gray-area-d,” and felt completely lost afterwards, not knowing how to feel or what to think. this is one example of how you deserved to have been treated, and i’m sorry if this or something similar wasn’t your experience. 

content warnings: sexual assault (not graphic and not by luke! r is sort of tied down and has their shorts undone), violence (luke is not happy about this situation), alcohol (r is drunk), talking about it afterwards?, talking about monsters (on a regular pjo level), swearing. 

word count: 6.6k. i had a lot to say. so sorry.

this is the first fic i have written in a while, i hope you enjoy it!

⭑

seven a.m. in the camp half-blood dining pavilion saw the same faces every morning. you, silena beauregard, clarisse larue, and annabeth chase. your little group of friends spanned six years, at seventeen, fourteen, thirteen, and eleven, and your best friend, who had been off at college all year, made it eight. 

you didn’t remember becoming friends with silena and clarisse, although you figured hannah, your best friend and silena’s older half-sister, must have introduced you, and clarisse came along with her. 

you had met annabeth and hannah when you were just thirteen, when you had followed a friend to connecticut in the middle of pre-algebra. 

“do you understand any of this?” you whispered to grover. he gave you a look as if he had never seen a fraction before last week, and you sighed. your teacher, a kind old woman named ms. lucy, gave you a look. when she gave the class a new problem to work through, she came and knelt by your desk, looking over your shoulder at what you had managed so far. which was a whole lot of nothing, unless you included a sketch of grover that would make picasso proud. you shrunk sheepishly in your chair. 

you looked to your right, as if trying to see how bad it really was compared to your model, but he was gone. you turned back to ms. lucy. 

“did you see grover leave?” 

“hmm?”

“grover. did he go to the bathroom?”

“i assume so, dear. if you convert the decimal—" but grover’s things were gone. you felt terrible. you knew you were a terrible student, and ms. lucy was so kind to you anyways, but it wasn’t like grover to walk out of class like that. he was terrified of authority.

“i have to go,” you mumbled to ms. lucy, throwing your things in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “stomachache.” 

she looked genuinely concerned. “would you like me to let the nurses know you’re coming?”

“no… no. that’s okay.” and you ran out the door. 

it wasn’t too hard to find grover. he was sitting in an empty classroom just a few doors down, but what was weirder was that he was watching a video on the projector. weirder still, he was talking to it. you knew it was rude to eavesdrop. it didn’t stop you from doing it. 

“chiron, i can’t just leave. she’s here, and she’s in danger. she needs a protector. anything could come for her at any moment—" was he talking about you? 

a deep voice over the projector, whose face you could hardly make out through the low-quality image, answered: “i will inform her mother and she will go home. she will stay there until we can send gleeson to collect her and—"

“why can’t you send gleeson for these kids?” 

“he’s too far, it would take him a day at least to reach them. i already told you, this was a request from hermes himself. he wants his son and his friends collected as soon as possible, and—" 

who the hell was gleeson? and hermes… who names their kid after a greek god? at least choose one with a better name than hermes. it sounded like a disease. your mother had named your brother after some greek hero, but he didn’t go by it. and at least it was, like, a human name. 

“he’s the god of travelers.” you were starting to worry that grover might be on drugs. what on earth had they put in those enchiladas at lunch? “can’t he get him, like, a car? a day could be too long for—"

“grover.” the voice boomed. that shut him up. “you will go. you will escort the son of hermes, the daughter of athena, and the daughter of zeus to camp, and then you may return to the city. this is not up for discussion.” you were really starting to think that the booming voice might have been two booming voices, but the door was closed and the audio was already crackly, so you decided it didn’t really matter. 

you heard grover’s voice say, “alright,” defeated and almost mournful, and then the message cut off. your eyes widened as you realized that grover would probably step outside any second, and you would have no excuse as to what you were doing with your ear to the wall. you turned slowly, and winced as your shoe squeaked on the linoleum floor. you started speedwalking. no sense in trying to hide anymore, you were just interested in getting as far away as possible before-

“oh, gods.” grover’s voice echoed between cinder block walls and metal lockers. “how much did you hear?”

you turned, your fingers nervously twisting the straps of your backpack. “i mean. not everything. just. you know.”

“almost everything?”

“yeah.”

“this is not good. this is really not good.” grover wasn’t talking to you anymore. he was pacing the short ways of the corridor, head in his hands, muttering to himself. “my first mission and i’ve already messed it up completely.” 

“how could you have messed it up completely? you haven’t even met these kids yet.”

“oh, gods,” grover groaned.

“woah, dude. are you like, hindu or something?”

“what?”

“you said gods. plural. i read this book—"

“okay,” grover interrupted. “you need to go home.” 

“okay. that was rude. also, it’s like the middle of the day. my mom’s at work and my stepdad will kill me if i come home early.”

“your stepfather. perfect. just climb in the back window of your room, and when your mom gets home, tell her that chiron says you need to go to camp immediately.”

“what? what the hell are you talking about? who— is that who you were talking to on the phone?”

“what?”

“the phone call. the one you were mad at me for overhearing…”

“okay. first of all, that was not overhearing, that was eavesdropping. second of all, i’m not mad. this just complicates things slightly. third of all—"

“dude, you need to—" grover glared at me, and i shut up. 

“third of all,” he repeated, “that wasn’t a phone call. it was an iris message.”

“a what?”

“nevermind. not important. ask about it at camp.”

“why do you keep talking about a camp? i haven’t been to camp since music camp in second grade, and they don’t want me back. i was really, really, bad at the recorder.”

“you played the recorder?” grover looked suddenly very interested. “nevermind. you need to go home.”

“dude. i’m telling you, i. can’t.” 

“you have to—"

“take me to connecticut,” you suggested. 

“what?”

“isn’t that where you’re running off to?”

“you can’t come to connecticut with me—"

“why not? you seemed pretty adamant on the phone—"

“iris message”

“that you needed to be with ‘her’. based on how insanely you have freaked out, i’m guessing that was me. so take me with you.”

“i know you have no idea what is going on right now—"

“thank you for finally acknowledging that important part of this conversation.”

“- but taking you to connecticut would be an astronomically bad idea. like i-would-get-fired kind of bad idea.”

“you’re twelve. how on earth would you get fired? child labor laws are—"

“i’m nineteen.” 

you laughed at that one. “yeah, sure.” 

grover rolled his eyes. “look, i really, really, wish i could explain more, but i need to go. and i really, really need you to go home.”

“ok.”

“like really, really need you to listen—" he paused. “okay? great!”

“if it means that much to you, i’ll go home.” grover sighed with relief. 

he was eating his words. and a tin can he had picked up off the street. you had followed him out of the building, watched him call a cab, and then, at the last second, jumped in after him, slammed the door, and told the driver to drive before grover could figure out what was going on. 

after your initial panic, when you realized you were hurtling up fifth avenue at three-hundred miles per hour with three old ladies behind the wheel, you had straightened yourself out, and made grover explain everything. he had, reluctantly, when he came to terms with the fact that you were in too deep to back out now.  

he explained camp, the greek (not hindu) gods, and the ladies in the front (who had one eye between them) were very helpful about filling in the details. so, so many details. he explained that he didn’t know who your parent was, just that you were powerful, and that he was planning on asking your mom before everything went up in flames.  

he explained that he was going to connecticut to escort three (now four) demigods to camp half-blood, and that they would likely be tailed by monsters the entire way back. four demigods as powerful as you, and one forbidden child — a child of zeus, poseidon, or hades, as he had mentioned — would attract a lot of attention. 

and you did. it took you a month to get to camp after you found thalia, luke, and annabeth, constantly being thrown off course by monsters, over which you got to know them better than any friends you’d had in your life (with the exception of maybe grover and your little brother). your mother was worried sick, but you iris-messaged her (grover finally got through on that one) every so often, letting her know you were okay. she was surprisingly understanding about camp. she apologized that she hadn’t been the one to take you herself, and that she had been forced to hide the truth from you for so long. the calls always ended though, when she tried to tell you who your father was. the water would shut off suddenly, the rainbow disappearing along with your mother, so you learned to avoid the topic if you wanted to continue talking. 

when thalia died, you were in shock. you sat at the edge of long island sound at camp for three days, staring into the ocean. you didn’t speak, even when you were claimed, as you sat, by your father, poseidon, and shuffled your things from the hermes cabin into cabin three. it was just another loss — you could no longer sleep in the bed next to luke’s. there were no familiar faces in cabin three — no faces at all. you were completely alone. 

eventually, an older aphrodite girl came by the cabin. she introduced herself as hannah, and she showed you around camp, forced you to sit with her and her siblings at dinner, dealing with chiron and mr. d’s disgruntlement herself, and at the campfire. she dragged you to the center of the amphitheater, dancing slowly at first, and then faster, until you were laughing and finding luke and annabeth in the crowd and dragging them to dance as well. 

you missed hannah so much. she wasn’t that far, a first year at barnard this fall, where you would hopefully be in a couple of years. you weren’t ready for college yet, you thought, so you would take a gap year (though you hadn’t been in school for years) and stay at camp, while chiron would help you convince the admissions committee (using the mist) that you had a perfect gpa, excellent extracurricular activities, and a stellar recommendation letter from a highly admired ancient greek scholar by the name of professor c. brunner.  

sitting at breakfast with you was probably miserable, you could admit. you were counting down the days until hannah came back, and your friends were definitely tired of it. but for some reason, this morning silena was practically jumping up and down with something. 

“will you stop?” you asked. “you’re shaking the entire table.” 

“i can’t, i’m sorry.” she seemed sincere in her apology. “i just— oh, you’ll see.”

you didn’t see, in fact, as someone jumped out from behind you and wrapped their arms around your head, their sweatshirt covering your eyes. “who—" you started, before you got a whiff of lavender-vanilla perfume and jumped up from the table. 

hannah. you shrieked, probably waking up half the camp. you spun around and tackled her to the ground, hugging her so tightly you would probably cut off her circulation. 

she pushed you off, laughing, and got to her feet. “it’s good to see you too, babe. what’s up with all of you? you never call, i feel like i’ve been completely cut off.” (you had iris-messaged her last week for five hours). 

“your sister is still absolutely obsessed with beckendorf,” you said, sitting down.

“hey!” silena protested.

“but of course he has no idea that he likes her.” silena turned pink. “no one here is good enough for annabeth, obviously—"

“i never said that, clarisse doesn’t let any boys near me.” you stick your tongue out at her. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” clarisse said, feigning obliviousness. “you hang out with luke all the time.”

“he’s always hanging out with that new kid.” she grumbled. “or—"

“speaking of, clarisse definitely thinks this hermes boy is so cute— you haven’t met him, he got here a few months ago, but his name is chris, and i think they would be so cute together. she’s out of everyone’s league, obviously, but if anyone would be good for her—" 

“gods, you would think you’re the aphrodite kid, listening to you.” hannah smiled. she stole a bite of your french toast. 

“i’m just excited to see you,” you said, laying your head on her shoulder. silena and clarisse smirked. 

“she’s leaving somebody out here,” silena said, smiling. 

“i know, it’s weird, she never shuts up about him otherwise,” clarisse added, narrowing her eyes at you teasingly. 

“oh, who could you possibly be talking about?” hannah twirled a piece of hair. she hasn’t even been here, but one doesn’t forget their best friend’s crush of four years in a few months. 

“i do not,” you protested meekly. 

“you knew who we were talking about, though” 

“i spend a lot of time with him, that’s all. there would be a gaping hole if i told you about my day and didn’t bring him up.”

“would you stop pretending as if you aren’t in love with each other, please?” annabeth interrupted. “you’re worse than them, at least they can admit it.” she gestured at clarisse and silena. 

“i am not in love with him, annabeth.”

“you’re always starting at him.”

“i’m in conversation.”

“with your eyes. that is literally textbook romance.” 

“i could so admit if i was into him,” you say, cutting her off. “i admit things like that all the time. i told you i thought jack was cute. you know that kid from demeter?”

“we all know you made that up,” annabeth said, crossing her arms over her chest. silena gave her a light push. 

“don’t be so quick to accuse, annie.” only you and silena ever called her that. “i don’t think she made it up. i just don’t think she’s as into him as she is into him.”

“would you drop it, about luke, please?”

“hey, you said his name, not me,” silena smiled. “but sure. i don’t believe that you’re not into him, but i’ll drop it if you can prove that he isn’t into you.”

your heart sank. you weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought. hannah’s hand rested on your knee, as if she could sense it. 

“how am i supposed to do that? i can’t read minds.” 

“hook up with jack at the campfire.”

“what?”

“flirt with him! you were just talking the other day about how you’re eighteen and you haven’t even had sex yet.” hannah covered annabeth’s ears, to which she shoved her off and glared. “jack’s, like, really hot. i saw you staring the other day.”

“when luke wasn’t around,” annabeth added, one eyebrow raised.

“you want me to have sex with jack?” 

“i’m not saying that. just flirt with him. see what happens. we’ll— she gestured between herself, clarisse, annabeth and hannah— see how luke is doing.” 

“okay, he isn’t going to be doing anything,” you said. “i don’t see what this accomplishes.” but even as you were saying it, your mind betrayed you. you thought for a second and conjured an image of strong arms holding you, soft lips kissing yours with the bonfire light in the background. maybe you were near the beach.

“we’ll see,” silena smiled. 

you didn’t want to go all the way, or anything. you knew that. but… jack was really hot. and sweet. he was always catching little kids falling off of obstacle courses with soft bushes, and growing them flower crowns. it couldn’t hurt to talk to him, see what happened. maybe he’d ask you out, or something. bring you flowers on a date. and you guessed you wouldn’t mind making out with him. 

the campfire roared in the middle of the amphitheater. the only people there were the older campers, and some counselors trickling back in from tucking kids into bed. you had helped luke with the hermes cabin, because he had so many kids to take care of, and you had none. 

you pulled the covers over katie, a girl a little younger than annabeth, who had gotten to camp a few months ago. she was still unclaimed, but with the way she spent all day in the strawberry fields, and the plants tended to shoot up around her, you were fairly sure where she belonged. 

you kissed the top of her head, and stood up, looking around the dark cabin for luke, seeing him kneeling beside a little boy, probably about the same age as katie. the boy sounded like he was crying. 

 “hey, connor,” luke whispered, rubbing circles on the kid’s back. “it’s okay. it’s okay. i get them too.” you realized that the boy must have been afraid to fall asleep. “travis is right above you, he’ll protect you, okay? nothing bad can happen to you here.”

he looked over at you, before turning back to connor. “and we can play poker tomorrow, you’re getting pretty good.”

“are you leaving?” the boy whispered, choking a bit on his tears.

“just for a little bit, kid. i’ll be back soon, i promise. i’ll be here when you wake up. i’m not going to leave you anytime soon.”

“okay,” the boy mumbled. luke pulled the covers over his shoulders, and ruffled his hair before turning to you. 

“let’s go,” he mouthed, gesturing at the door. the two of you crept outside, luke much more stealthily than you, closing the door silently. “god of thieves,” he shrugged, but he didn’t grin as he usually did when he bragged. you didn’t have to ask why, but you played along. 

“yeah, yeah, i know,” you said, rolling your eyes. “can we go now?”

“yeah, ‘course,” he said. he slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him as you walked, and you couldn’t help but think of silena’s words as you rested your head on his chest.

arriving back at the campfire, you pulled yourself away from luke, walking over to hannah. she smirked at you, pulling you in for a hug. 

“you don’t have to do this, you know,” she said. 

“i know,” you replied. “i want to. he’s cute.” 

and he was, you thought, as he led you away from the campfire. you’d sat for an hour, letting the flames dance over your skin as you talked with him. he made you laugh, even blush when he grew a flower out of the stone to tuck behind your ear. when he grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet, you felt dizzy, though that might have been the alcohol. 

as you walked further away from the amphitheater, you spun around in the grass, laughing, and he laughed with you. or at you? you couldn’t really tell, and you didn’t really care. you just wanted to kiss him. you didn’t notice that you weren’t heading near the cabins until he stopped in a little cove at the edge of the forest. 

“why are we here?” you asked, a little dazed. 

“come on,” he said. “you know why.” 

and then he was kissing you. it was messy, and made you kind of uncomfortable, but you told yourself to get over it. you couldn’t expect it to live up to the time luke had kissed you, on a dare, when you were thirteen. nothing would ever live up to that, because you couldn’t have him. he hadn’t even cared when you had left him at the party, talking up some girl you couldn’t really see on the other side of the fire.

you blinked, pulling away from jack. you hadn’t realized as you were thinking it, but you had admitted to yourself for the first time that yes: you did want luke. really, really, wanted him. you pushed back on jack lightly. 

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i can do this right now,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth on the sleeve of your hoodie — luke’s hoodie, that he had given you that night after he kissed you, when you were shivering outside, staring into space because you couldn’t understand what you were feeling. 

“come on, it’s fine,” jack replied, pulling you back into his arms. they weren’t like the arms you were picturing earlier. no, you could admit to yourself new that those had been luke’s. your mind was reeling— you knew that you couldn’t have him, that he would never like you like you liked him, but kissing jack felt wrong. not that you had really been kissing him back. 

“i want to go home,” you said, and you weren’t sure where you meant. back to the campfire, to luke and hannah, back to your cabin? maybe even back to your mom on the upper east side, who you missed every day but couldn’t live with during the year for the sake of your little brother, who was too young to know that he, too, was a son of poseidon. 

“really? you were flirting with me all night,” jack mumbled into your lips. “stay a little longer.” it was true, you had been flirting with him. you figured you could at least make out with him for a bit. you resigned, letting him lower you onto the grass, and reluctantly letting him run his hands along the hem of your shirt. 

hannah was getting worried, and luke could tell. he had forced himself off when you were clearly interested in that demeter guy, who luke knew and was friends with but suddenly hated with all his guts. he had forced himself to be interested in getting the details on silena and beckendorf, which he didn’t really realize he was getting to share with you later, resigning to glancing too often through the flames of the fire at your face, and the way the flames made you look like a goddess. no, he thought. you always looked like a goddess. 

but hannah, who had just arrived back at camp for the summer that morning, was biting her lip, and looking around with a bothered expression on her face, and luke had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, that he needed to know you were safe immediately. 

he walked over to hannah, probably too quickly, and didn’t waste time asking how she was, or how college had been. “where is she?” he demanded, too forcefully. he would have to apologize to hannah later, but he only had one thing on his mind.“what’s wrong?”

“oh. hey, luke,” she said, still in a sort of trance. he snapped his finger away from her face, shaking his head.

“hannah? where is she?” 

she shook her head and widened her eyes. it was clear to luke that you had picked up that habit of staring out at nothing when you were deep in thought, usually not about pleasant things. “she’s with jack,” she said. “they left a little while ago. i just… i don’t know. i should go check that she’s back at her cabin by now.” 

“yeah, yeah we should,” luke grumbled, and started taking the steps out of the theater two at a time in an effort to get out. hannah followed— you had told him that his stress could be contagious. 

you weren’t in your cabin. you weren’t in the demeter cabin either, and the pair of them woke up a bunch of kids as you barged in, which he was sure mr. d would have a lot to say about in the morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

he ran across the basketball court, hannah close behind. 

“i have an idea of where they might be,” hannah said, pointing in the direction of the woods.

“how do you know?” 

“because i showed jack that spot when we were fourteen,” she said, grumbling. luke clearly wasn’t the only one who cared about you. 

“i thought you were gay?” luke questioned, not slowing down. 

“yeah. like i said, fourteen. people explore things, figure themselves out.” gods, she thought, men could be so incredibly stupid. 

they ran faster than ever to the edge of the woods, where sure enough, they found you, lying on a mossy stone with jack hovering over you. luke wanted to run to you immediately, but hannah held him back — no easy feat, but she managed. 

“hold on, romeo,” she strained. “you can’t just barge in there and—” then she heard it— the unmistakable sound of your voice, and the word stop.

“jack…” you mumbled. you were so drunk. you weren’t sure where you were anymore, and you didn’t really remember walking over here, though you knew you had. “jack, we can do this later, i’m tired—” 

“you’re fine, it’s fine,” he said quietly, starting to undo the zipper of your shorts. you reached down to stop him, but he pushed your hand away, and as it hit the stone, moss started growing over it, holding it there. 

“jack, stop it,” you said, more forcefully this time. you realized that he didn’t even know what he was doing, and for some reason that scared you more. he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but he wanted it— he wanted you held down, and he didn’t care that you didn’t. 

he shushed you, but looked up at a rustling in the trees, and a familiar grunt. 

luke broke out of hannah’s arms, but it didn’t really matter, because she had been letting him go anyways. he stormed across the clearing, and while you were still dazed and confused, you couldn’t miss the entirety of jack’s weight being ripped from on top of you, and you thought you saw a fist collide with his face. 

hannah, however, rushed to your side. she didn’t particularly want to see luke end up bloody and beaten in the infirmary, but she had bigger fish to fry right now: namely, you. she tore up the moss, no longer strong as jack’s focus was elsewhere, and redid your shorts for you. there were tears on your face as she pulled you to your feet. 

there was so much noise. jack was shouting at luke, but you couldn’t make out the words. you could hear the music and the gleeful sounds of counselors from the amphitheater, but it seemed worlds away from you. 

as hannah led you out of the woods, much faster than you could really manage, your head began to pound behind your eyes. a splitting pain hit your forehead, and your vision went black and spotty. you stumbled forward, relying entirely on hannah to keep you upright, but one stray tree root took you down. you swam between consciousness and a dark, dark sleep. there was screaming, it was hannah, and then the familiar deep voice of clarisse, barking orders. you thought you heard annabeth’s name, and then two strong sets of arms lifting you up, and carrying you away. 

you woke up at the bottom of the sea. no. that wasn’t right. the bottom of the sea was soft, covered in mud and sand. you tried to stretch your body, hitting plastic walls. as your eyes focused, you could make out cartoon fish swimming entirely too close to your face, and you sat up with a start, splashing water all over a corner of the infirmary. 

a kiddie pool. they had filled a kiddie pool with salt water, and left you in it overnight to soak, like one of those colorful dinosaur toys that grew in water. and the worst part was that it seemed to have worked. you felt brand new, like you had slept for a hundred years, and at the same time followed a very strict workout regimen, taken a juice cleanse and eaten like a king. you groaned, and slipped back under the water. 

you stared at the ceiling, watching wooden beams ripple with the surface of your personal ocean. you wondered if your father ever felt like this is in the pacific, if he could be that big if he wanted to. your camp necklace floated up before your face, crossing a familiar face lurking over you. 

you sat up. cara fletcher, hannah’s friend, held out some nectar. you shook your head. 

“i’m okay.”

she raised an eyebrow. 

“fine,” you sighed, taking the flask and drinking. it did help. you felt like you could take on the minotaur. 

“your friends were here all night,” she said. i kicked them out around ten because they were falling asleep on each other, and i didn’t need any more cracked skulls when they fell off the stools. 

“more?” you asked. she sighed, looking over her shoulder. 

“your boyfriend beat that kid up pretty bad last night,” she said. you didn’t see jack lying on any of the cots, but a head of dark curls lay a few beds down, and the body attached to it did not look to be in great shape.

“he’s not my boyfriend.” you answered quickly, not taking your eyes off of luke. “is he okay?”

cara seemed to make out which he’s you were referring to. “i wasn’t talking about him,” she said. “hannah told me what happened. if you ask me, luke didn’t do nearly enough damage.” 

“don’t tell him that,” you said. “and he’s also not my boyfriend,” you added as you processed her words fully. 

“not yet, he’s not.” hannah said, strolling in with three bagels in hand.

“i thought i told you to go to bed,” cara scolded, taking her bagel. “you’re going to drop dead one of these days.” hannah smiled, ignoring her as he sat down next to her and put her arm around her shoulders.

you glance between them, ideas churning in your mind, but they were quickly interrupted by the bagel being shoved in your face. you had always thought that the harpies must have spent some time in the city— they made a dam good bagel.  

“so.” hannah started. “you are going to tell us everything you’re thinking right now, because i see you looking over at him every two seconds, and don’t think you’re getting out of any of it.”

“i’m eating,” you grumbled. hannah reached to snatch the bagel away, but cara swatted her hand back. 

“she’s recovering.” you stuck your tongue out at hannah. 

“i don’t care,” hannah said. “spill.” 

“look, i don’t even know what happened last night—” 

“because you were really, really, drunk,” she interrupted. 

“do you want me to speak or not?” you demanded. 

“okay. fine. but just so you’re aware, he swooped in and defended you, and beat the shit out of that little asshole, who, just between us, mr. d is fucking fuming with.” trust hannah to get distracted two seconds in. demigod adhd was no joke. “he dragged him to the big house this morning himself, severe concussion and all, and according to lee, chewed him out for about an hour. something about the sanctity of drunkenness and how it is not to be weaponized… even chiron was surprised.” she paused for breath. 

“anyways, the point stands— he,” she nodded her head at luke, “was quite literally your knight in shining armor, and if you still don’t think he is absolutely enamored with you—” and you were pretty sure you heard a cot creak— “then i swear on my mother i will call her down and force her to do something about this because i cannot take it any longer.” 

“he was just being a good person, hannah,” you muttered. “he’s just like that.” 

hannah looked as though she were about to scream, but cara rubbed her hand along her thigh, calming her before she spoke herself. 

“there’s something more than that, isn’t there?” she asked softly, and you thought she was staring directly into your soul. “there’s a reason you don’t think he likes you.”

you hesitated, splashing the water around in your pool and making eye contact with a cartoon fish as you worked up the courage to say what it was you knew you had to get off your chest.

“before last night,” you started, your voice cracking as you spoke, “it was just me thinking i wasn’t pretty enough, or good enough for him. that he wouldn’t look at me because there are so many other girls at this camp who are obsessed with him. and i don't think i realized that i liked him either. but now…” a sob came from the back of your throat, and you looked up at hannah, tears streaking your red face. 

“why would he want me now?” you sobbed.

“hey. stop that,” hannah started. “what jack did to you wasn’t your fault, and everyone knows that.” she was trying to make you feel better, but the news that your pathetic love life was the talk of camp wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“it was, though,” you said quietly. “i led him on. i never told him no that strongly, and i was flirting with him all night. what reason did he have not to think… not to…” you were hyperventilating now, your words coming out in broken syllables. 

“i’m a fucking slut, and now everyone knows it,” you managed. you sank back into the water to slow your breathing, but tears still streamed down your face. 

“that’s bullshit,” came a voice from elsewhere in the infirmary. you could have thrown up then and there. you pulled yourself up by the walls of the kiddie pool, looking down the aisle as luke castellan limped towards you. his scarred eye was bruised and bloodshot, and he had a massive scrape running up his left arm, and that was just what you could see. the tears began to fall faster. 

“luke…” 

you were thirteen years old again, at the top of half-blood hill, holding grover upright. you were watching desperately as he stumbled upward, through the pouring rain, carrying a screaming little girl who was trying with all her might to run back and help her friend. all four of you were sobbing, exhausted and beaten. seeing them all like that was ten times more painful than the gash in your side. 

“that’s bullshit,” luke repeated. you got up from the pool and held his face in your hand, inspecting the bruise. you took the rest of the nectar cara had given you, holding it to his lips, but he pushed it away. “you’re not a slut,” he said. suddenly everything about your conversation came rushing back to you, and it hit you that you had just admitted to him that you were in love with him. 

you turned your head. hannah and cara were gone, slipped out the back door. you turned back to face luke, face red and tears pouring over your skin.

“that wasn’t your fault. you didn’t owe him anything. he‘s disgusting, and deserves to have his fucking dick cut off.” you laugh, despite everything. 

“i think mr. d may have actually taken care of that,” you whispered. 

“good.” you looked at him for a while. his eyes were so beautiful, a deep, deep, brown that reminds you of the otters that hung mysteriously around your upper east side apartment when you lived in the city.   

“why did you have to fight him?” you asked, reaching up to his face again. 

“you were in trouble,” he said. 

“luke.” the tears were threatening to fall again. “you could have seriously hurt yourself. i just… why? why not just pull him off of me?” you needed an answer. you needed to know why, why on earth he had put so much of himself in front of you, in front of jack’s fists.

he looked down at you, a pained expression on his face. “you know why,” he whispered. 

he looked down at your lips, and you shook your head softly. you looked down at your feet. you were so afraid, afraid that he wouldn’t be interested now that you didn’t want… that. from him. yet— that you considered looking up and letting him kiss you.

he shocked you when he wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him, holding the back of your head into the space between his chest and his shoulder. 

“okay,” he whispered. “that’s okay.” then, softer. “i love you.”

you couldn’t say it back. not yet, not now. but you held him tighter, holding on to him like he was the only thing stopping you from falling into tartarus. 

“i’ll be here forever,” he spoke into your hair. and you believed him. 

the hermes cabin hosted a movie night that night. you were watching the incredibles two, at a request from connor stoll, who was currently involved in an intense argument with annabeth over which installment was better.  

“i think i’m going to start calling you that,” luke whispered in your ear. “jack-jack.” you glared at him. “‘cause, you know, your last name’s jackson-” 

“yeah, dude, i got the joke,” you said. you rolled your eyes, nuzzling your head into his chest. you could stay like this for a while, you thought, and as you closed your eyes, you felt him press a kiss to your head — something you had told him was okay. you couldn’t wait to bring him home for a weekend. maybe annabeth, too. you couldn’t help but think she would get along great with your brother.

⭑

a/n: hello loves! i hope you enjoyed this, please please leave any feedback or anything, and let me know if you would like me to continue this story/write more of luke and the reader's past. i hope people enjoyed the little hints at percy! so excited for this reader and to explore all her relationships.

[egoistrin]

letters from the past

DILUC RAGVINDR X FEM!READER

[🐰] angst. female reader. use of the word y/n. hurt no comfort. mentions of diluc's past/lore. may contain typos and grammatical errors. this is cross-posted on my ao3 account. likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Dear Diluc,

I heard from the knights that you had left Mondstadt and went on your way to pursue people who had given your father the delusion. I assume you are on your way to Snezhnaya? The Fatui are mighty and I hope you know that but I know I cannot change your mind as you are as stubborn as ever. You are doing this to give justice to your father's death, Mr. Crepus was a good man and he didn't deserve to be disrespected by Mr. Eroch. I truly understand your decision. However, these are just my thoughts as a knight. I hope you do not mind me babbling about my feelings as someone who holds you dear to my heart.

I cannot accept the news that you had left Mondstadt. I hate it as it was the first thing that I heard in the morning. You know me well enough to know that I do not want to hear this information. So, why? I could always help you, Diluc. Why did not you consult me? I thought you trusted me? We have gone through so many talks about this already. Did you not promise me? I understand your grieving but I do not understand your rash decisions to leave the city and go risk your life hunting the Fatuis. It will not go well as Snezhnaya has the most powerful military in all of Teyvat. Why do you have to be stubborn? Why can you not just let Grand Master Varka and Jean handle the situation? At the end of the day, Mr. Crepus is already dead. A mere person like me cannot change the hard-headed Diluc Ragnvindr. If this letter finds you, you are not obligated to reply. Safe travels, Diluc.

From, Y/n

No matter how many times Diluc had read this letter, he always felt the twinge of pain in his chest. He finds himself thinking of the answers he can give Y/n in her letter but he chose to be quiet. It is better this way. He is not sure if his answer would suffice to cover all her questions or not. He would rather feel miserable than face her again.

After all, is it not a bit scandalous to talk to a married woman in his manor?

Diluc puts the letter down and his eyes roam at the table. He was about to organize the papers when he saw the other letter written by Y/n. Compared to the first letter, this one appears the latest and less crumpled than the other one. He took a deep breath before opening the letter, preparing himself not to breakdown as he already knows the content of the letter like the back of his hand.

Diluc finds himself questioning if he is a masochist or not. I mean, why would you even read the letter your ex-girlfriend sent you? Finally, he opened the paper, and beautiful handwriting greets Diluc's eyes.

To Diluc Ragnvindr,

I hope you are having a good day Mr. Diluc. I have heard from Lisa that you came back from your adventure yesterday. I am disappointed as I cannot greet you in person as I was busy dealing with work. It has been four years since you left Mondstadt. I assume you had your questions answered now? I assume yes, 4 years' worth of traveling and not even a single clue? Impossible, you are a well-capable man, Mr. Diluc. Kaeya told me you left your vision.... I do not know what to say, I deduced that you used your father's delusion to survive. That is dangerous but never mind, the fact that you are home now puts my mind at ease.

This is probably not the right time to say this but I am now married. My parents decided to put me into an arranged marriage as they could not stand the sight of me waiting for a man whose return is unknown. I tried to oppose them, insisting on waiting for you but as time goes by I can no longer hold on. This is not your fault Diluc, I have come to accept my fate. I am just a mere woman compared to your father. I understand that you would choose to avenge your father's death than fulfill a stupid promise to marry me. I hope that one day, you can let go of your past and decide to move on from all of the things that happened. In that way, you can find your happiness and find someone you love. I have faith in you, I will forever cherish you and our memories together.

From, Y/n L/n

Words cannot describe how Diluc wants to hold you in his arms and apologize for being away from you the whole time. Yes, he needs to search for clues behind his father's death but he cannot stand letting you go. He finds himself wishing for another chance to makeup the time that he missed with you, a chance to redo his mistake, and a chance to spend time with his family again. He cannot help thinking that this is all his fault, from his father's death, his and Kaeya's fight, and to your marriage to another man. But alas, he cannot turn back time. Yet he still holds that prayer tight, If Barbatos is listening to him right now he just hopes that He will give Diluc a chance to live his life again.

He holds your letter tight to his chest as tears sprung down from his eyes. Someone walking on him crying is not his concern right now, he can easily order them to forget what they saw.

Who would have expected that Diluc Ragnvindr can cry from just a single letter? But Diluc has always been emotional, he just tries his best not to show any emotion as he claims himself not the same anymore. Most people see Diluc as grumpy but he is not. He is just reserved, a fragile person, that is. A single letter from his past is sufficient for Diluc to show emotions.

[🐰]. i miss diluc so much for real 😭 i need more of his lore !!! hoyoverse give us more diluc crumbs !!! i miss my man !!! i still remember the time that i rlly wanted diluc so much... sighsss... good times fr. reblogs guys plss!

[knightprincess]

No Matter What (Crosshair x Reader) - Platonic

Words: 1.3k Warning: Fluff with a little bit of hurt/comfort. Synopsis: After settling on Pabu with Clone Force 99, (Y/N) goes on a self-given mission with Crosshair to bring their lost brother home. Standalone Sequel: Silence

After the assault on Mount Tantis and the death of Hemlock, things had been different for Clone Force 99. Echo had refocused his efforts on helping the build Clone Rebellion, taking with him Emerie and some of the clones rescued from the Advanced Science Division, among them Comet. Omega had seamlessly adjusted to life on Pabu once more, happy to be just another kid, growing up peacefully until she was ready to join the fight once more if she did.

Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair would take care of Jax, Bayrn, Eva, and Sami until they could be returned to their families. Each had decided it was time to retire, to discover who they were outside of being soldiers, and to find out what adventures life had in store for them now. However, they’d always be on call if Echo ever needed them.

(Y/N) on the other hand, would use her skills as a bounty hunter to help provide for the people of Pabu and help clones across the galaxy find their way once they were freed from the empire. Although she loved the peace Pabu offered and the small family unit she had gained with Clone Force 99, she wasn’t ready to settle down completely. Not when she still had questions that needed answering. Not when she still needed to find closure.

“I miss him too,” said Crosshair, picking up Tech’s broken goggles from the dashboard of (Y/N)’s ship. Seconds later, a sigh escaped him, hidden within it, regret and grief. The last time he’d spoken to Tech was on Kamino; once again, they’d gone their separate ways. If only he’d chosen differently. “You have to let him go (Y/N). He wouldn’t want you to hold on like this.”

“I can’t,” whispered (Y/N), stopping what she was doing and allowing Crosshair’s words to sink in. “I have to bring him home, even if I have to say goodbye one last time,” she added, admitting she knew there was a chance Tech was truly gone, but she couldn’t allow herself to believe it, not until she found him. “He never gave up on me when I was lost. Neither of you did. I won't give up on him now until he’s home.”

“Then I’m going with you,” said Crosshair, putting the broken goggles back on the dashboard, moving to sleeping racks, and setting another up, if only to make his point clear.

“Omega and the kiddos need you here,” commented (Y/N), attempting to protest. Although she already knew it was pointless. Crosshair was one of the most stubborn people she knew. Once he made up his mind, there was little that could change it.

“Hunter and Wrecker can handle things here until we get back,” declared Crosshair, turning to face (Y/N) before crossing his arms over his chest. “Right now, you need me more,” he added, although he did not admit he’d thought about going out there to look for his brother. Something didn’t sit right with him, leaving Tech out there.

“I’m not going to win, am I?” asked (Y/N), sighing as she walked the length of her ship. Filled with memories of the past, her life as a Jedi Knight that felt like a lifetime ago, and her new life as a bounty hunter and protector.

“Nope,” simply responded Crosshair, “You’re stuck with me this time Shortfire.”

The moment Crosshair entered the cockpit, he pushed the red button, activating the com channel. He spoke to Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega there, informing them of his impromptu decision to join (Y/N) on her journey. Framing it to make sure she had backup and would come home again.

“It wasn’t your fault (Y/N),” said Crosshair when (Y/N) entered the cockpit, following the routine she’d once taught Tech, checking over all the systems. There’s nothing either of us could have done to stop him from using Plan 99.”

“If I was there, I could have stopped him from falling,” admitted (Y/N), finally opening up about the guilt haunting her. When her family needed her most on Eriadu, she was across the galaxy, hiding from her past and the Jedi Hunters that had seemingly appeared overnight.

“You were protecting them. No one could have predicted Saw being on Eriadu, and no one could have predicted Tech sacrificing himself. Blaming ourselves won’t change the past (Y/N). It will only prevent you from finding peace and happiness, whatever that looks like.”

“For what it’s worth, Fortune Cookie, I’m glad you’re coming with me,” admitted (Y/N), bestowing Crosshair with a new nickname, replacing the old one of Snarky Sniper. “I don’t think I could do this alone.”

“We’re family until the end,” Crosshair replied, pulling (Y/N) into himself and wrapping her in a warm embrace that seemed foreign but familiar to them both. “Where do we start?”

“Where our fight ended,” responded (Y/N) with a shakey voice, recalling when she’d gone to Eriadu, risking everything to follow the monorail track in search of Tech. She’d found the car's wreckage but no sign of Tech. If there was any blood, the rain had long since washed it away; there was no body to be found or any trace that he was even there, just what remained of the car.

“Tantis?” questioned Crosshair, confusion evident in his quiet voice as he took up the co-pilot’s seat.

“Hunter said Hemlock was the one to return Tech’s goggles; there’s got to be some trace, a lead to follow somewhere,” replied (Y/N), a slither of hope present in her otherwise whispered voice. She dared not speak louder in case her fears grew stronger and became her cruel reality.

“Setting course for Tantis,” worded Crosshair as (Y/N) piloted the ship safely away from the small island. As per tradition, the people waved goodbye, Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega among them.

“Take good care of them, Gonky,” spoke Omega through her com, receiving a simple gonk! in confirmation.

“We’ll see when you come home,” added Hunter, his voice filled with acceptance as if he knew the day would come when (Y/N) went in search of answers. As if he knew one day she’d go on the self-given mission to bring Tech home. “Stay safe out there.”

“You got it, Havoc #1,” replied (Y/N).

“I’ll make sure she comes home in one piece,” declared Crosshair, resting the stump of his wrist on his lap, grabbing onto the handle beneath his seat as he prepared for the rough climb out of Pabu’s atmosphere, “Our family’s been through enough. None of us can handle another loss.”

“We’re not losing anyone this time. We’re bringing our lost brother home,” replied (Y/N), determination alight in her voice. One way or another, the small family unit was going to be reunited again, no matter how long it took.

“Remind me again,” started Crosshair, fiddling with Tech’s broken goggles; now they’d left Pabu’s atmosphere. A smirk appeared across his lips as he remembered Tech’s hobby of recording everything—even the little things. “What you told us before we went into our first battle.”

“No matter what, I’ve got your back. I’d take a bullet for you if it comes to that. In the bitter end, we’re gonna be the last one standing.”

The holoclip appeared before the two, glowing blue and fuzzy. Of course, Tech had recorded it. They were so young back then, naive to what would happen when the war ended, unprepared for the cruel galaxy they lived in.

“Looks like Tech knew you were going to ask,” commented (Y/N); the smallest of grins appeared across her lips as she launched them into hyperspace. “Do you think Omega knows it?” she asked, curious if the boys would have shared the almost promise with Omega, the brave little girl growing up far too quickly, growing up to be a fighter no less—the best of all of them.

“She knows. Hunter would have made sure of it,” replied Crosshair, hope flooding his voice despite the uncertainty they both faced. “No matter what, Shortfire, I’ve got your back until the end.”

KnightPrincess Masterlist

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part three

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret. 

Warnings: violence, descriptions of violence, death, minor injury, drinking

Word Count: ~5.3k

A/N: more rowaelin in the next chapter! coming late tonight/tomorrow if everything goes according to plan

series masterlist

True to their word, you didn’t see Aelin or Rowan before their departure yesterday. Fenrys came by once, letting you know they’d spoken to the future Emperor and Empress, and that they’d be keeping an eye out for you. You never saw them, but you sensed their presence. It brought a small bit of comfort. Not enough to let your guard down. 

Overwhelmed. That’s how you felt. Ceri and Ani seemed thrilled at the ‘new adventure,’ even more excited it was a secret, that they couldn’t tell anyone exactly when they were leaving and where they were going. Reya had been a mixture of contemplation and excitement but you - you were an anxious mess. 

New challenges, and more exposure you couldn't avoid. You were nervous for Ceri, above all. Nervous about how she’d be treated, about what this meant for her. At least she’d have her best friend with her. The vague plan was to visit a few different parts of Terrasen, starting with Orynth, and if the trial went well, it would be a group decision on where to settle. 

“You’re nervous.” Reya commented, you shot her a look and she held her hands up in a placating gesture. “Have you decided what to do with your home?” 

Home. A pleasant surprise in your mother’s will. A home you fully intended to keep in the family. But, Reya’s asking if you’ll rent it out or not. It would be easy to let magic seal it up, but if you rented it, you could deposit the money into a bank account and leave you with a fund if you ended up back here. 

The last week had been a gods-damned whirlwind, giving you barely a moment to rest. Liquidating your assets, downsizing, late nights finishing up projects, informing vendors you’d no longer have goods available, pulling the girls from school, and more. 

“Renting would be a good option,” you finally replied. Reya nodded, she was doing the same thing - and you trusted her sister to take care of both properties - for a fee of course. At least there was someone you could trust. 

“They’re going stir-crazy,” Reya commented. You could see it too, the frustration on their faces at being cooped up. “The park is right around the corner.” 

“It’s risky,” you hesitated. 

“We all need it.” 

You couldn’t argue with that, or with the excitement on their faces as you told them. Still, you slipped a trusted knife into a sheath under your dress. On the way, Reya reminded them to keep their ‘adventure’ secret. To answer ‘I don’t know,’ if anyone asks questions, and to inform the two of you. No chances. 

There were a few other women there you vaguely recognized, and children both Ani and Ceri sprinted towards. They climbed over the various obstacles, running around and making up different games. Ceri, of course, took the lead in organizing everyone, directing them like a general. What would Rowan think if he was here? Probably pride. And maybe alarm at just how wild his daughter ran. Her Fae heritage let run and climb faster, and it took away a certain sense of self-preservation.

“Will she be immortal as well?” Reya murmured quietly. 

“Most likely,” you admitted. Maybe in a selfish way, you really hoped she would. If you had to watch her grow old … you shoved the thought to the back of your mind. There was enough to worry about for now. 

Three hours later, the two of them exhausted enough energy to start asking for dinner, and agreed to leave. The break was good for you, the fresh air and walk in your city calming your nerves. Another chance to see it - your shelter and safe haven. 

Ceri held your hand on the twenty minute walk, chattering about the games she’d played, her enthusiasm and joy confectious. Ani was doing the same to Reya in front of you. 

Just around the corner, the hair on the back of your neck pricked. Something was wrong. 

“Reya,” you called, voice just drifting over the wind, laced with warning. Her head swirled, the whites around her eyes showing and you mouthed; act natural. Letting your senses take over, you listened in for movements, for heartbeats, for whatever the hell was out there. 

A magic you didn’t recognize was present, and probing at the wards on your home. A male, mortal, magic wielder. Across the street, but still too gods-damned close. You needed to get inside, to get into safety. 

Throwing up what you hoped was a discreet shield, you kept your pace and body language natural as you approached. First thing you learned; don’t let them know. But, Ceri had picked up on it, her hand tightening around yours, head on a swivel. Quickly, you spared a glance at her; trust me, you tried to say, and she gave you a small nod. You prayed you’d show yourself worthy of that trust in the next few minutes. Maybe some of the emperor and empresses ‘eyes’ were nearby. But, no sense in hoping or relying for something that might not be true. 

Thirty paces away, male disappeared, cloaked from your sight- but you could sense his location. Reya fell back with Ani to walk next to you.  It was Ceri they were after, and that brought lethal focus to your mind. Let those instincts rise, the instinct to protect your family and friends. 

Ten paces, Reya’s nerves were showing but she kept herself loose, putting her trust in you. 

Everything happened within a minute, but each second dragged on. You had the seconds to shove them back behind the gate, throwing the wards up. Reya knew to drag the girl’s inside - Ceri’s yells and shouts echoing in your ears. If you went in as well, there wasn’t anyone to stop him from trying to shatter the magic, and you couldn’t do shit from behind them. 

The bits of training you picked up over the years came into play, the glint of a knife in front of you, and you thanked the immortal reactions and senses you’d been born with - gifting you an advantage. A knife flew to your shoulder, you dodged, shifting again as he threw another - shallowly slicing across your cheek. You palmed your one fighting knife, the pain fading into the background, and slashed across his forearm, severing his tendons. The dagger clattered, metal echoing off the cobblestones, copper scent filling the air. 

He spat a curse, and you danced around each other, before landing another slice. Blood spurted from his arm in rivets - eerily like a fountain, and you heard the whistle. 

An archer on the opposite roof, gesturing to the side. They needed a shot that wouldn’t risk hitting you. You hoped they’d leave him alive - you had several questions for him. They got their shot a second later, and you watched as an arrow lodged through the man’s skull, his body flopping to the pavement in front of you. So much for your questions. 

You prayed Reya had shielded their view. 

A plain-clothed guard was there in seconds, and you let your back hit the wall behind you, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, and used your dress to clean the blood from your knife. It was ruined anyway, a little more blood wouldn’t make a difference. The strange sense and scent of death filled the air as slid it back into your sheath, focusing on one movement at a time, keeping yourself grounded. 

You tried, you really tried, not to hate Rowan in that moment. It’s not his fault, not his fault he’s the father. He’d mentioned the target, the risk and dangers, but it hadn’t quite set in until that moment. Stupid, you were stupid for leaving the house. If anything, it was your fault. By some miracle, none of your neighbors were peeking their nosy heads out. 

Reya’s muffled voice came from the garden. Gods, she must be screaming at the top of her lungs for you to hear her. You turned, giving her a ‘thumbs up.’ It felt childish, considering someone had just threatened your lives, but she returned with a tense smile, one arm barely holding back a furious Ceri. Ani tucked behind her, head just poking out. 

“I’m fine,” you mouthed to your daughter. She signed back - you were a bit surprised she remembered that language, it had been a while since you used it. 

You’re bleeding. 

Not my blood. I need you to keep Ani calm. 

Give her something to do, a task, and she’d focus on it. Sure enough, it worked and she tugged her friend back inside. 

The guards had multiplied, at least seven of them on the surrounding street now. And - a certain blonde haired male sprinting down the street. Fenrys stood by your side as you answered all of their questions. The magic shielding the house behind you didn’t waver, not for one second. 

“You should get that looked at,” Fenrys murmured, as the body was carted off, a small crowd dispersing, and one official-looking woman promising updates. 

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him. He gestured to your cheek, to the cut already healing.  

“It scarred.”  

The small sting had faded to the back of your mind. Frowning, you ran two fingers over your face, an angry raised red line. That shouldn’t be there, not unless … you crouched to the ground, snatching the same knife that cut you. 

“Iron,” you murmured. 

“Still shouldn’t leave a scar,” Fenrys took a step closer, eyeing the weapon. 

You twisted the blade in your hand, surprised the guards hadn’t already picked it up. Marks etched into the handle, marks you recognized. 

“He was a magic wielder,” you had his full attention now, “it’s not … cursed, but enchanted to leave a scar.”  

Your fist white-knuckled around the handle. He meant to mar your daughter. 

“Can you let us inside?” Fenrys requested, distracting you from the pure wrath filling every inch of your body. The guards had finished their questioning, some now obviously stationed down the street - another archer joining the previous one. 

You willed the magic to bend slightest bit, enough for the two of you to slip inside, before slamming it shut again. 

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” Fenrys’s voice was insistent. You had a feeling he’d drag you to the ship soon if he had to. 

“Aren’t we traveling with you?” 

Fenrys nodded, and paused for a moment. “Can you be ready tomorrow by dusk?” 

You’d wrapped up the last of the ‘official’ business this morning, intending to give you a week to sort things out at a leisurely pace. But, words were too much right now, everything was too gods-damned much, so you answered with a nod. By tomorrow would be stressful, but doable. 

“We’ll leave then. I’ll announce we’re leaving at dawn the day after.” Smart, giving a false departure. “Only us, the captain and the crew will know, and they won’t know who it is until we board,” Fenrys continued - maybe more to reassure himself than you. Part of you wondered why he was going through the effort but … Rowan was his bloodsworn brother, maybe he felt some kind of duty to the two of you. 

“How’d you get here so quickly?” You asked the question lingering in the back of your mind. 

“I didn’t. I was already on my way.” Fenrys’s mouth opened, and you could read the next word, 

“Say sorry and I’ll kick you in the balls.” 

He winced, and feigned sealing his mouth shut. 

The door slammed open, knocking into the wall, and Ceri sprinted out, silver hair flowing behind her. You braced yourself as she slammed into you, arms wrapping around your stomach. 

“I kept Ani calm,” she whispered, squeezing you tighter. 

“I’m proud of you,” you ran your non-bloody hand through her hair. 

After a few minutes, she released you. Her small hand reached up, and you stayed still as she ran a finger on the scar. “Why would he do that?” 

When you hesitated, Ceri turned to Fenrys, as if he might have the answer. Her green eyes nearly bore a hole through his head. 

“Sometimes people do bad things and we don’t know why,” he answered slowly, “but everyone’s safe now.” 

“What happened to him?” She turned back to you. 

“He died,” a small tension left your chest - she hadn’t seen it. 

“You killed him?” Her head tilted, no judgment - just curiosity and a desire to gather all of the facts. 

“No, I didn’t,” you anticipated the next question, “and neither did he. One of the royal guards did.” 

Ceri mumbled something suspiciously like; I wish I killed him, and grabbed your hand - dragging you back inside. You shot an alarmed glance at Fenrys, whose mouth curved up at the corners. Seven years old, and already bloodthirsty. Maybe you should’ve questioned what kind of bed-time story Rowan told. 

“Just like her father,” he murmured, quiet enough only you heard. 

An inelegant snort left you, “I was thinking the same thing.” 

Reya’s eyes scanned you from top to bottom, and you were aware of the blood staining your skin and clothes. 

“Ceri,” she called, gaining her attention, “can you help me run a bath for your mother?” She looked at you for permission, you forced a soft smile, watching her take off after your friend, Ani’s dark hair flashing as well, never one to be left out.

“Are you going to insist on spending the night?” You didn’t look at him. 

An edged chuckle, “I'm afraid I will.” 

“Males,” you muttered under your breath, but shot him a grateful smile. Another set of eyes, another person to watch out for Ceri. Not that you’d get any sleep tonight. Reya returned a minute later, shoving a bundle of clothes in your hands, ushering you off towards the bathing room. 

Ceri was proud of the rose scents she’d chosen. Once, you’d loved Lilac - but you shedded that when you left Wendlyn. It hadn’t felt right anymore, it felt like an old version of you. The female left behind. Plus, it made you nauseous during your pregnancy. 

Fenrys didn’t leave for the rest of the night, entertaining the girls as you and Reya cooked, helping with the dishes, a perfect guest. Even with a spare room available, he insisted he’d crash on the couch closest to the door. He didn’t comment as you exited your room each hour, traveling past the sitting room to peek into where Ani and Ceri slept, both sound asleep. 

You caught maybe two or three hours of sleep total, but pure adrenaline kept you going the next morning. It spurred you and Reya into near-frantic packing, listening to Fenrys’s request to stay put when he left for a few hours. One small trunk each, plus one extra for books - your personal ones and school books. Everything else ended up in the attic, sealed off by magic. The tears stayed at bay as you deactivated the wards, dropping off the keys to Reya’s sister - who was informed less than an hour before, and vowed herself to secrecy. Everything about this felt so … cloak and dagger. Ceri and Ani viewed it as some grand adventure, but you and Reya were tense, entire bodies taut with nerves. 

With twenty minutes to go, you closed the door to the bathroom, hands bracing on the counter. An angry red scar ran diagonally across your cheek, still slightly lifted from your skin. If you adjusted your hair, just a bit, it mostly cloaked it from sight. Another permanent reminder. 

A nondescript carriage, made less discreet by armed guards, picked up the five of you just after sunset and took the long way through the city. It gave you a chance to see everything gaze through the window, making out a few details by moonlight. There’s no telling how long it would be before you see it again. Maybe a year, maybe a decade, but one day you’d at least come back to visit. 

Not a permanent goodbye.

Fenrys ushered you onto the ship, joined by a few others you didn’t recognize. Soldiers, disguised as courtiers. Or maybe soldiers turned courtiers. 

“Did you send word ahead?” You murmured, the captain directing you to a spot still on deck, but out of the way. The girls bounced with excitement, barely managing to keep themselves still. 

“No sense in it,” Fenrys countered, “we’re on the fastest ship available. It would probably get there after us.” 

You learned quickly what fastest meant. Magic wielders were on board, the ‘soldier-courtiers.’

Most of the first day was spent holding back Reya and Ani’s hair, convincing them to take some of the nausea tonic you’d brought with you. 

The second day, Fenrys showed Ani and Ceri some more advanced self-defense. 

The third day, the girls had convinced the sailors to tell them stories. 

The fourth, you rolled dice and made bets - Fenrys sharing his liquor with you. 

The fifth, you thought you might lose your mind of boredom - until Fenrys dragged you out to see how much self defense you knew. According to him - better than expected. He quickly added a ‘not surprising,’ considering who your father was. That particular detail, you usually forgot about - or tried to. 

The next several days passed in similar fashion, interrupted on day eight by Ceri trying desperately to convince you to shift to your animal form - then to teach her to shift to her animal form. It’s too dangerous at sea, you told her. When it didn’t work with you - she moved to Fenrys, who repeated your words, adding that she needed to be a bit older. After that, she gave up, thank the Gods. The last thing you need is to rescue an adolescent bird from the water. 

On day twenty, you spotted land. The first look at Terrasen. Mountains, still snow-capped in the summer, green forest, a small city. Illium, according to the maps you’d acquired. Then, you’d cut into the Florine river, taking you right to Orynth. Where you’d reconnect with Rowan and Aelin, and figure out what comes next. 

According to Fenrys, it’s normally a two week journey, but they dragged it out enough that the five of you would arrive closer to the expected time, after the rest of their court did. He declined to inform you of that until a few days before. 

“Will they know we’re coming?” You asked, propped up against crates, Fenrys stretched out next to you, tan face tilted up towards the sun, Reya on your other side, Ceri and Ani a few paces away, playing a card game they learned the night before.  

A genuine friendship had formed between the three of you over the last few weeks. Fenrys could’ve easily ignored you, but instead he sought out both of your company. The girls attached to him as well, eagerly taking in all of his lessons, pestering him with questions about Terrasen, all of which he answered patiently and thoroughly.

“Depends,” he turned to shoot a lazy grin at the two of you, “on how much chaos Aelin decides to cause. It’s been a while since she surprised anyone, I wouldn’t be shocked if she convinced Rowan to keep it a secret.”

Gods, you tilted your head back this time, letting it rest against the top of the crate. There’s a chance you’d arrive to Orynth, the entire court with no fucking idea who you were, who Ceri was. It had the potential to be incredibly awkward, or hilarious. You refused to stress over it, it was out of your hands for now. 

-

Their court gathered to discuss the results of their visit to the southern continent, as planned, arriving earlier that afternoon. The scouts reported the ship carrying Fenrys and company would arrive tomorrow after dusk - perfect timing for a discreet entry. But … two days early. That unsettled both her and Rowan. There wasn’t a good reason for them to arrive early, especially without any kind of notice. Although, with the crew they had - any notice sent would likely arrive after them. Instincts told her something went wrong, and she saw it echoed in Rowan’s face. They tabled it for later. There wasn’t anything they could do until they saw them. Until they had a chance to launch questions at Fenrys. 

Aelin wouldn’t call it a fight, but she’d argued with Rowan over whether or not to tell their court about their surprise.

“At least before they arrive, Fireheart,” Rowan sounded exasperated. 

“At breakfast, then,” she wound her arms around his neck, tilting her head up to grin at him. Tomorrow, they’d be here, and she was looking forward to your company. Aelin thought she might feel jealous of the connection you shared with Rowan through Ceri, but she didn’t. Instead, she wanted to be your friend - there was something soothing about your company, and she saw why Rowan grew … close to you. Even before she met the two of you, he’d been upfront about how you traced the line between friends and lovers, how you both knew it was a temporary arrangement. 

Her mind tried to tell her it was wrong that she felt this comfortable with Rowan being near an ex-lover, that her Fae instincts should be rearing with territorial jealousy. Thankfully they weren’t - otherwise it could make their current situation very difficult. 

“Should I be the one to make the announcement?” Rowan pressed a kiss to her hair. 

“I’m much better at them,” Aelin gave a smile, honeyed with false innocence. 

“You’ve given us enough surprises for a lifetime,” he muttered - but she knew he’d follow her lead. As much as he denied it, Rowan didn’t mind shaking everything up once in a while. 

“Evangeline will be excited,” she pressed up on her toes, placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth. 

“She’s much older,” he murmured. 

“I imagine she’ll take them under her wing.” Aelin pulled back to watch Rowan’s face. Nervous, her mate was nervous, one of the few times she’d seen him like that. It was oddly endearing. She was nervous too, of course, but it was … refreshing to be nervous over something not quite life and death. 

She decided now was the wrong time to remind him they’d be able to explore different parts of Terrasen - to decide where they’d want to live after Ceri’s ‘trial.’ If they stayed in Terrasen. 

Rowan sensed her shift in mood, and tilted her chin up to look at her. “It’ll be fine.” Aelin forced air in and out of her lungs, and nodded. 

“Bed,” he muttered, and tugged her off towards their room. 

-

“What is it?” Aedion sat down his glass, looking between Rowan and Aelin. Rowan kept his mouth shut, sending a pointed look at Aelin. She wanted to make the announcement, she could do it. “Please tell me you’re not planning something,” Aedion groaned. 

“It wasn’t planned,” Rowan muttered before he could stop himself. 

Aelin’s foot stomped on his insole, and he pinched her thigh under the table. 

Aelin propped her forearms on the oak wood, and everyone’s attention turned to her. Their entire court was here - minus Fenrys. Ren, Aedion, Lysandra, Evangeline, Elide, and Lorcan - who wouldn’t let Elide go anywhere alone. 

“We have some guests arriving with Fenrys.”

“Who?” Lysandra asked, lifting a glass of water to her lips. 

Fuck it, Rowan could say this for himself.. 

“While we were in Antica, I ran into an old … friend,” Lorcan’s eyes dug a hole into his skull, and he avoided his former commander’s gaze. “I have a seven year old daughter.” 

Lysandra yelped and shot back as Aedion spewed water across the table, Elide’s eyes were wide, Lorcan looked contemplative, Ren and Elide blinked several times, Evangeline - as Aelin expected, looked thrilled. 

“Ceri, Rowan’s daughter, her mother - y/n, her friend Reya, and her daughter Ani will arrive this evening,” Aelin cut in. Rowan caught Lorcan’s gaze as soon as Aelin said your name. Dark eyes flashed in recognition. Interesting. 

Aelin continued to explain the deal they’d come to. His wife even asked if they’d be willing to let the group explore living in their respective lands, conveniently mentioning some of your skill sets and how you’d been open to working here. 

“Gods, Aelin.” Aedion sighed at the end. “And Rowan,” he added, ignoring his glare. “A little warning would’ve been nice.” 

Still, he had a contemplative look on his face. You’d done the same thing his mother had - to protect his daughter from Maeve. A silent understanding passed through them, that Rowan was getting the chance Gavriel didn’t, that he’d honor it. 

“How did she go … undiscovered, in Antica this long?” Ren asked cautiously. 

“Well, Sartaq suspected there was a Whitethorn relative living in the city, but as Fenrys said,” Aelin ignored the elbow he discreetly jabbed into her side, “Rowan has an army of cousins - there were plenty of possible sire’s.” That drew a few chuckles and eye rolls. 

“She wasn’t going to tell you?” Elide pushed. 

“We don’t know.” Aelin said honestly. It was luck … or fate, that he ran into you during that trip. He had a feeling your paths would’ve crossed eventually, but the timeline was pushed up. 

“I’m surprised she agreed that quickly,” Lorcan said.

“It wasn’t safe in Antica, anymore. There were already people gathering outside their home.” 

“It won’t be completely safe anywhere.” Lysandra replied, “but it’s safer here.” 

“Considering who her father was, I imagine she can handle herself,” Lorcan drawled. Aelin’s brow furrowed, and Rowan frowned. He hadn’t shared that, it hadn’t really struck him as particularly important. 

“Are you going to explain?” Elide pinned him with a look, and Lorcan - firmly on her leash, kept talking.

“Her father was a skilled warrior. He mated to a demi-Fae from Antica, met while visiting Varese, and finished out his military service not long after,” Lorcan said, adding “he declined the blood oath for centuries, eventually Maeve gave up on him,” as an afterthought. 

“Was?” Elide asked quietly. 

Lorcan looked at Rowan, almost asking for permission to share this part of your story - or giving him the chance to. He wondered how Lorcan knew, when it took him a lot of convincing to find out. 

“Her parents died when she was young,” he made a point to meet each of their eyes. “Don’t push her about it.” His warning tone was enough that nobody, even Aelin, pushed the question further. 

Rowan remembered enough to know how you locked up at any mention of their lives and deaths, how it took a decent amount of liquor to pull any personal details out of you. One night - after you’d had a good amount of particularly strong brew, you spilled.

For some reason, Rowan had a fixation on knowing your story. He wanted to know everything he could about you. A terrifying feeling, but he didn’t see the harm in learning, gathering information was a habit built over centuries. Even if this particular story wasn’t pleasant. If it involved you, he wanted to know. Learning your fathers name surprised him, and as soon as you said it - he didn’t know the story, but knew how it ended. 

“They bought me time. There must’ve been nearly three hundred of them - mortal soldiers,” one Fae warrior was as good as a hundred mortal soldiers, but against those odds, against three hundred …

“They hit them both with Iron first, and my mother made me promise to run for the hills - told me if I came back I would be dead, and then they would win.” Rowan kept his face neutral, but inside he winced. That was a harsh way to put it, but effective. “I made it to the hills, and hid in a tree. But … I could see everything. Eventually, they were overrun. I watched the whole thing. They spiked their heads on our fence posts, but left the house intact. For seven days, they waited to see if someone would come back. I still don’t know why.” 

He did, her father had built a reputation, and wiping out his entire family line would’ve been a prize to them. He didn’t tell you that. 

“After I was certain they were gone, I buried them, took what I could carry, and left. I’m still not certain what happened to the rest of the soldiers. Maybe twenty were left by the end.” 

Rowan knew. Lorcan hunted them down. Made a brutal example out of them. By the time he opened his mouth to tell you, you were already asleep. 

“We could use more women - and females, around here,” Lysandra switched the subject with a grin. 

“What’s she like?” Evangeline asked.

“We didn’t get to spend much time with her, but we’ll find out.” Aelin answered. 

Time. Rowan would take full advantage of every second he could spend with Ceri. He’d missed too much already. 

-

The ship steadily made its way up the river, your eyes glued on the surroundings. Terrasen was … absolutely beautiful and different than anywhere you’d seen before. Snow, that would be new to you. The sun was setting as you approached the city, steady but slow. 

“We’re going to arrive after dark,” Fenrys said, arms propped on the railing next to you. “More discreet.” 

You hummed in appreciation before your mood sobered. “Everything’s about to change, isn’t it?” 

“No need to be so dramatic,” he tutted, nudging you with his shoulder. “But yes, it is.” 

With three hours left, you all disappeared below decks to try and make yourself as … not stinky as possible. As you were making the final approach, Fenrys offered you a small flask. Alcohol - but the scent was barely detectable. Could easily be explained as time spent on a ship. You shot him an incredulous look. 

“Liquid courage, they won’t scent it on you.” You stared at him for a few moments, where had he gotten that? “If you don’t want it,” he reached a hand towards it, but you snatched it back - tipping a small bit down your throat. Just enough to take the edge off. You wiped the droplets off with the back of your hand. 

“Thank you,” you handed it back, and watched as he took a drink himself. 

“For solidarity,” and something else he wasn’t telling you. You decided it’s not your place to push. 

It certainly took the edge off as you pulled up to the docks - a carriage waiting to take you right to the castle. It was a comfortable fit with all of you. The two girls pressed their faces against each window, although with the sun already set - they couldn’t see too much. 

You knew they got closer, because Fenrys’s shoulders rolled back, his body tilting forward to look out the window. “A few more minutes,” he said. It felt like an hour, but it likely was less than a twenty minute ride. As you approached, each clop of the horse's feet, each turn of the wheel, each small murmur from a driver, all seemed to thunder in your ears. 

“Breathe,” Reya whispered next to you, and you forced air in and out of your lungs. You could do this, it would be fine. Ceri’s excited. For her, you reminded yourself. So she can have a father, so Rowan can be a father. For safety. Everything would work out, and you for her, it didn’t feel like a sacrifice. Since you felt her little life growing, you knew there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for her. This is no exception, a bit of discomfort you could survive. You’d adjusted before, and you would again now. 

Reya grabbed your hand in her own, for her comfort as much as yours, and the two girls squealed as the gates groaned, the carriage passing through. “A better world for us,” she whispered - so low you barely heard it, but squeezed her hand in reply. A safer place for Fae, a place for Reya to find some peace, new things for your daughters to experience.

A hand thumped on the carriage, and Fenrys swung the door open. You breathed in through your nose, out through your mouth. You could do this. 

[wannabespacesmuggler]

J.H. | The Duality of Jim Hopper

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Ever since Joyce introduced you to the local chief of police, Jim Hopper, you’ve thought maybe this town is a little too small. You’re certain that there is no truth behind the rumors until you take one hell of a beating and Hopper wants answers.

Pairing: Jim Hopper x Reader

Warnings: mentions of an injury, teenagers being punks, swearing, Hopper being Hopper

Word Count: 4.5k

“How are you settling in?”

The voice tears your attention away from one of the books piled up on the table in front of you. You glance toward the sound and see Marissa, the librarian, standing beside you. A part of you wants to groan at her question because you are acutely aware that you don’t share the same history as most of your friends in Hawkins. 

You didn’t approach another child on the playground during your first day of kindergarten and establish a once in a lifetime kind of friendship -- like Mike and Will. You didn’t share cigarettes under the bleachers of your local high school while attempting to not get busted by administration -- like Joyce and Hopper. You didn’t attend new mother classes and bond over the newfound joy of motherhood -- like Karen and Marsha.

No. You haven’t lived in this small town your entire life. You moved to Hawkins after everyone your age had settled into their lives -- with jobs, and spouses, and children. Meanwhile, you came to Hawkins from Indianapolis in an attempt to have a quieter life. No children, no spouse, and no job -- that is until you had an interview with Donald Melvald.

And Melvald’s is where you met Joyce Byers, who quickly became your lifeline in Hawkins. You remember your first day at work, when she took all day just to train you. Little did you know, Joyce was just as excited as you were to have some company throughout the day. She easily took you under her wing and brought you up to date with the history of Hawkins. Eventually, she invited you into her life and home. Dinners at the Byers’ home became more frequent as you continued working together. The Byers slowly became your family in Hawkins.

“I’m doing well. Thank you for checking in.”

She gives you a polite smile. You were hoping she’d leave the conversation at that, but she asks you another question.

“Are you still working over at Melvald’s with Joyce?”

You give her a nod in response and turn your attention back to the stack of books that Will had recommended to you. It’s not that you don’t like Marissa. She’s fantastic at her job and you enjoyed the few conversations you have had with her, but you know she’s also a gossip -- or at least that’s what Joyce told you when you asked why the local librarian started asking you so many personal questions during your first visit. 

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. So are the boys. I’m actually going over there for dinner tonight.”

You hope you’ve given her enough information to quench her thirst for details.

“Oh. With the Chief?”

Apparently not. 

Your brow furrows at her question and you shake your head. Ever since Joyce introduced you to the local chief of police, Jim Hopper, you’ve thought maybe this town is a little too small. 

The two of you became quick friends, but you weren’t aware of his reputation in town until after you had dinner with him. It wasn’t even supposed to be just the two of you at Benny’s; Joyce was actually the one who had planned the little outing, but Will ended up coming home from school early that day with a fever, so Joyce had to cancel last minute. Hopper ended up wandering into Melvald’s later that day after Joyce had called the two of you about her predicament. 

“We can still go tonight. If you want?”

Hopper will never tell you that he wants to take you out to dinner. Instead, he leaves the decision to you; afraid of the rejection that could come if he were to just blatantly ask you out. 

You shrug before giving him a verbal answer.

“I don’t have anything else going on tonight.”

Hopper smiles as he leans against the counter, watching as you continue restocking the shelves. 

“Meet you at Benny’s? 7:00 o’clock?”

You stop restocking and glance up at him. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was intimidating. He’s a large man and his presence practically demands your attention. Hell, his broad frame is taking up half the counter. But then his hands are anxiously fiddling with an unlit cigarette as he waits for your response. It almost makes you laugh -- the duality of Jim Hopper.

“Actually, can you pick me up? My car has been acting up.”

“I’ll be there at 7:00 and maybe I can take a look at your car?”

Jim watches you stand up. As you walk past him to get behind the counter, you gently place your hand on his bicep. It’s nothing you haven’t done before, but for some reason, every single fucking time you touch him, Hopper has to fight off the shiver that begs to journey down his spine. He doesn’t give it a second thought though. He can’t. He’s had his heart locked up tight for years. He isn’t sure if he could find the key even if he tried.

“You’re a lifesaver, Hop.”

You enjoyed dinner and Jim did end up fixing your car that night. You repaid him for the ride and a free tune-up with a case of beer, which the two of you powered through in the span of a few hours. At some point, you stole the keys to Hopper’s truck and convinced him the crash on your couch for the night. The next day, you two were the talk of the town after your neighbor told everyone she knew that the chief of police was leaving your house awfully early in the morning.

Since then, you’ve gotten quite a few questions about Hopper from the local citizens who didn’t know you too well -- assuming you were just another one of his many flings.

It takes everything in you to not roll your eyes at Marissa. Still, you offer her a polite response.

“Hopper’s working tonight.”

Marissa seems to be content in your answer and leaves you with your stack of books. You let out a sigh of relief and glance out the window. A small smile pulls at your lips as you spot Jonathan and Nancy talking to a group of boys in the parking lot, until you see one of the boys throw a punch a Jonathan.

You hastily push out your chair, turn on your heels, burst through the doors and sprint through the parking lot. You can hear Nancy begging for the boys to stop, but her protests fall on deaf ears as the boys continue to pummel Jonathan. Nancy turns toward you and relief washes over her features -- she doesn’t know you well, but Jonathan has always spoke highly of you and right now she’ll take any help offered.

“Get off of him!” 

Your voice gets one of the boys’ attention for just a moment.

“This has nothing to do with you!”

You furrow your brow at the comment. Jonathan may not be your child; however, you care for him as if he was your own and you’re not going to let this teenager lay another hand on him. Quickly, you try to get inbetween the two boys. You think you have the upperhand until the boy on top of Jonathan throws his elbow back in an attempt to get you off of him. His elbow cracks you in the nose and immediately sends you crashing to the ground. The sound of your body hitting the gravel stops the boy’s assault on Jonathan. He turns to you and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he did not mean to hurt you; he had been blinded by anger and made a stupid decision.

However, those stupid decisions seem to continue as you watch red and blue lights reflect off of Jonathan’s car. You can vaguely hear the sound of a police siren and someone yelling your name, as you watch the boy who had been pummeling Jonathan into the pavement run in the other direction. You take a moment to take in details about the boy, knowing that you’ll end up at the station giving a description of the boy to Hopper. 

As you try to get up, you’re met with the face of Officer Callahan. 

“Woah, there. Seems like you took quite a beating.”

“No, no, no. Jonathan. You need to check on Jonathan.”

Officer Callahan puts a gentle, but firm hand on your shoulder to keep you in place as you frantically search for the boy.

“It’s okay. Powell’s with him right now. We’re going to get you both to the hospital. Chief is already on his way.”

You give Callahan a nod and lay back down on the rough gravel. As the adrenaline begins to leave your system, the pounding in your head starts to take precedence. In an attempt to ease the pain, you close your eyes. You only mean for it to be a minute, but as you hear Callahan’s voice begging for you to just hold on, you feel yourself slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

When you open your eyes again, the pounding in your head has dulled and your ears are met with the rhythmic sound of your heart beat on the monitor next to you. You’re about to call for a nurse to get some information when you hear a woman yell from down the hall. 

“Sir, you can’t smoke in here!”

You hear a string of grumbled expletives before a familiar figure leans against the doorframe of your hospital room. 

“Hey, Hop.”

He’s disheveled. His uniform shirt is fully unbuttoned and falling off one shoulder, leaving his henley to be on full display. It looks as though he threw on the shirt hastily as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. Somewhere in the chaos he’s lost his hat as well, allowing you a glimpse at his unusually tousled hair -- he’s been running his hands through it in frustration since he got the call from Callahan that you were on your way to the hospital.

His eyes rake over your body, checking for injuries, before they settle on your face. The hardened anger in his gaze quickly fades to a tender concern as he studies your broken nose and two black eyes. 

Eventually, he moves from the doorframe and takes large strides toward you. He towers over your body as he stands beside your hospital bed. His jaw is clenched so hard that you begin to worry that the man might crack a tooth. The anger in the pit of his stomach begins boiling over once more as he gets a better look at your injuries -- they’re much worse upon closer inspection. Callahan was right -- you took one hell of a beating.

“Hop.”

Hopper lets out a solemn sigh as you slide your hand into his. Finally, he meets your gaze and his features soften. You swallow a string of emotions -- Hopper has never looked at you this tenderly before. It’s a lot to take in -- on one hand he’s got a warmth in his features that you’ve never witnessed before that only seemed to spark once he entered your hospital room and, on the otherhand, his body is so rigid that you fear he might snap if another goddamn thing happens today.

Keeping a tight grip on your hand, he takes a seat beside you on the small hospital bed. He reaches out and places his free hand on the side of your face. Your breath catches in your chest as his thumb gently traces over your wounds. His touch is careful, the softest whisper of contact. He’d stop if you asked him to, but you wouldn’t dare. You’d let him trace over the bridge of your nose over and over and over again, if it means that you’ll maintain Jim Hopper’s undivided attention. However, as he grazes over the area where the kid split your nose open, you flinch away from his touch. He pulls his hand back immediately and anger washes over his features once more. It was only for a second, but it was enough for you to recognize the festering rage stewing in the back of Hopper’s mind. 

“Who did this to you?”

His voice is low and he ducks his head down to your level, maintaining eye contact with you as he speaks. You open your mouth but no words come out. You’re entirely enamored in the duality of Jim Hopper once again -- fierce and rageful, while simultaneously gentle and kind. A protector in every sense of the word. He moves cautiously, placing his hands on either side of your face. He’s cradling your face like a coveted prize jewel. He takes a moment and then asks you again.

“Sweetheart, who hurt you?”

You finally let out the breath that got caught in your throat. His voice is somehow sweet as honey while simultaneously laced with venom. 

“It was just some punk kid that was giving Jonathan trouble.”

His brow furrows immediately at your response.

“What kid? I’ll make sure he never touches you again. And Jonathan.”

There’s a beat before he says the last two words. He rushes to add Jonathan into the equation in an attempt to make it seem like he’s sitting here with you because it’s his job, and not because his heart dropped into his stomach when he got the call from Callahan. He didn’t even both listening to the rest of Callahan’s message over the walkie. He knew someone hurt you and that you were being escorted by an ambulance -- that was more than enough to get him racing to his truck and speeding to the hospital. But now, in this moment, where it is just you and Hopper, he tries to cover up the fact that he’s here solely because he cares for you. 

“He didn’t mean to hurt me.”

He looks at you with an incredulous expression. Where Jim is harsh, you are forgiving. He’s always appreciated the ways you’ve challenged him since you moved to Hawkins. But, right now, he wishes you were as angry as he was. But, instead, you’re sitting here with your infinite grace and it’s just pissing him off more. He retracts his hands from your face and stands up, before raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Oh, he didn’t mean to hurt you? Sorry, sweetheart, Callahan didn’t relay that to me that in his message -- you know the one where he let me know you were unconscious! I should go find him then, right? So I can check in on him?”

The honey is long gone from his voice, it is all venom. And the way he says ‘sweetheart’ this time is almost condescending. You’ve heard Hopper raise his voice before, his anger is no stranger to you; however, this is the first time he has risen his voice at you. It startles you for a moment. You let out a frustrated breath and furrow your brow.

“Hey, don’t take this out on me. That isn’t fair.”

“You scared the shit out of me!”

And then there is a painful silence between the two of you. Hopper is practically panting as he tries to regain his composure. Against his better judgment, he glances in your direction. Guilt immediately blooms where anger had previously resided. Deciding he’s done enough damage, he turns and begins to walk toward the door in an attempt to find Jonathan’s room. 

“Hey, Hop. Wait.”

Hopper stops as he hears your voice. It sounds smaller than normal -- almost as if you were scared that he’d cast your plea aside and leave you in this room alone. Don’t you know by now he would do anything you asked of him? He lets out a sigh before turning back to you. 

“Please don’t go.”

Hopper nods at your request before slowly making his way back over to you. This time, instead of sitting beside you on the small hospital bed, he pulls a chair up to your bedside and slumps into it. He no longer looks angry or concerned or soft. No, he just looks exhausted and the sight causes a sharp pain in your heart. The two of you sit in silence for a few moment before Hopper notices your hands wringing anxiously. He decides then to break the silence.

“How did you even get caught up in this mess?”

You let out a laugh before answering, catching Hopper off guard.

“I was actually at the library.”

Hopper raises an eyebrow at your confession and looks at you in disbelief. 

“You’re joking.”

The two of you laugh together at your absolute dumb luck. You’re glad that the tension in the room has dissipated. Now, the silence is comfortable.

“You know Marissa?”

Hopper raises a brow at you once more.

“The librarian?”

“Yes, the librarian. I think she likes you.”

Hopper lets out a half-hearted laugh at your comment. A part of him wishes you were around when he was a younger man -- when he was less bitter. Before the war totured the boyish charmisa out of him. Yet another is glad that you weren’t there to witness his past. That unlike everyone else, you don’t assume that he’s already slept with the local librarian -- even if it’s true.

“Trust me. I know.”

You stare at him with a look of naive confusion. Eventually, you put the pieces together and your eyes light up. You roll your eyes and laugh before covering you face with your hands.

“This explains so much.”

Now it’s Hopper’s turn to be confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“She asks about you all the time.”

If Hopper were a few years younger, that comment would fuel his ego; however, those days are behind him.

“And that explains why she doesn’t like me.”

Hopper is taken aback by that comment. He can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t like you.

“Why wouldn’t she like you?”

“Because she believes what everyone else does.”

Hopper looks at you as if you’re speaking a different language. You let out a laugh at his oblivious nature which only seems to confuse him more. It makes sense that the comments were directed toward you and not the intimidating chief of police; however, you can’t believe he hasn’t overheard anyone talking about it at this point.

“People talked after you crashed on my couch that night.”

“Oh.”

You don’t have to get into details about what they said. Hopper knows. He knows his reputation proceeds him. And he should have known that spending more time with you would raise a few eyebrows in town. Sometimes he hates this stupid small town and the fact that someone is always watching.

“Did you think about it?”

Hopper looks at you for a moment before he furrows his brow. God, this oblivious man is going to kill you. Deciding that it’s too late to back out now, you decide to double down. 

“Did you think about me that night like you thought about Marissa?”

“How hard did that kid hit you?”

He attempts to lighten the mood and brush off the question, but you won’t have it. He’s avoiding your eye contact, deciding instead to fiddle with the pack of cigarettes that he pulled out from his pocket.

“Jim.”

It knocks the breath out of his lungs. You’ve only called him that one other time -- the same night you’re asking about. Hopper was already one too many beers in when you fell beside him, onto the couch. He let out a loud laugh while throwing an arm behind you, on the back of the couch. You laugh along with him and lean your head back into his arm. You turn your head to face him and you’re suddenly aware of how close you are to Hopper. He’s looking at you like you’re a goddamn dream. And you’re not sure what time it is but Hopper looks softer in the moonlight. And you know you’re not thinking straight; however, leaning into the sudden intimacy between you and Hopper doesn’t seem like a terrible idea.

And then you say his name. And it sounds like a goddamn prayer. His mind is fuzzy and he swears you’ve never looked as stunning as you do right now -- he takes a moment to capture this memory and file it away into the back of his subconscious.

He watches as you lean into him. You move slowly, allowing him room to back away if he wanted; however, he doesn’t pull back. Instead, he takes your lead and leans in as well. Before any drunken, heat of the moment decisions can be made, your phone rings, cutting through the thick silence. Hopper emits a low growl, but allows you to pull away and leave the room. You answer the phone and he can hear your voice from the other room. He sets his beer down on your coffee table, deciding that he’s definitely had enough to drink. By the time you return to your living room, Hopper is snoring and the moment has passed.

He may not be drunk now; however, he’s just as enamored as he was that night as you say his name. 

“No.”

His answer hits you harder the elbow you took to the face. Your eyes fall to your hands and you nod. Hopper is immediately filled with regret. God, he’s an idiot. That’s not what he meant. Of course he’s thought about you. It’s just different and he’s not quite sure how to explain it to you, but he’s going to try because he cannot stand the sadness that has washed over your features.

“Sweetheart, you’re not Marissa. When I was with her, I wasn’t thinking about her; I was just thinking about me. Of course I thought about it that night -- you and I.  It’s just you could never be just a fling to me.”

Hopper avoids eye contact with you as he speaks, but it doesn’t matter. His honest words make your heart flutter and repair the heartbreak that his previous answer caused. A small smile spread across your face at the sudden realization that Hopper likes you. 

“I thought about it too, that night.”

Hopper’s head rises and he meets your gaze. 

“You know -- you and I.”

You repeat Hopper’s words back to him with a small smile on your face. Hopper can’t help the laugh that escapes him. The two of you have entered uncharted waters; however, Hopper has never felt more comfortable than he does right nwo, wading into the deep end with you. He moves his chair closer to your bedside and takes your hand in his once again. When he meets your eyes, your breath is once again trapped in your lungs. It’s like you’ve transported right back to that night and you’re Jim Hopper’s answered prayer. 

“You know, the kid hit you pretty fucking hard. Are you sure you’re thinking straight?”

You roll your eyes; however, Hopper still manages to get a good laugh out of you. Even when he’s flirting, he’s still a goddamn smartass.

“Just kiss me, Jim.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. In a moment, he’s out of his seat -- towering over you once again. If you were any other person in Hawkins, you would probably perceive Jim’s presence so close to you as formidable, but, right now, you just feel safe. And you can’t help but lost in the duality of Jim Hopper. 

He moves his hands and gently cradles your face. Your eyes close as you lean into his touch. You allow yourself to just enjoy the feeling of Jim’s skin on your own, until he traces his thumb over your bottom lip. As you open your eyes, you’re met with Jim only a breath away from you. You lean into him and then his lips meet yours and it just feels right - like everything has finally fallen into place; Hawkins, Melvald’s, the Byer’s family, Jim.

Jim’s movements are gentle and slow, until you grab a fistful of his open sheriff’s uniform and pull him closer. The guttural growl that reverberates in Jim’s chest as he moves his hands down your body, sends a shiver down your spine. The sweet, lazy kiss has now turned into something more passionate and desperate. Seemingly lost in the moment, Jim nudges his nose against yours which makes you involuntarily let out a pained hiss. Jim pulls away instantly and his eyes fill with panic, until he realizes what he’s done. A soft chuckle escapes him as he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Sorry. Got a little carried away.”

His voice is low and sultry. You’ve never heard anything so heavenly before. And then you're laughing with him. Today has been overwhelming, to say the least, and it’s comical to you. Jim leans back again and meets your eyes. There’s a new fierceness in his gaze that isn’t quite so rageful. He moves his hand to gently tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by footsteps stopping just outside your hospital room and a surprised gasp. Jim’s eyes close and he shakes his head. He should have known -- there is no such thing as privacy in this small town. He opens his eyes and you’re smiling at him. You’re fucking smiling at him and it takes everything in him to not kiss you again. 

“It’s Joyce isn’t it?”

You peek over his shoulder and spot Joyce standing in the doorway with both of her hands over her mouth. The sight makes your smile grow and you nod your head to answer Jim’s question. He lets out an annoyed sigh and finally moves away from you. Jim doesn’t go too far though, he simply sits on the edge of your hospital bed and keeps a protective hand on your thigh.

“Joyce.”

Jim’s voice is stern. The dramatic change in tone almost gives you whiplash. Joyce seems to be at a loss for words as she just moves her gaze between you both. Jim finally throws both of his hands up in front of him, exasperatedly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Jim rolls his eyes at her apology, but there’s a small smile plastered on his face. He might be impatient and uncordial with almost everyone in this small town; however, Jim Hopper has always had a soft spot for Joyce Byers. And right now, Jim feels like he’s back in high school. Joyce has never been nonchalant, so every time Jim included her in his extracurricular activities, it always seemed to bite him in the ass; however, no amount of detentions ever stopped him from inviting her into his life. 

“It’s fine, Joyce. How’s Jonathan?”

Your nerves dissipate once Joyce lets you both know that Jonathan is perfectly fine -- a little bruised and battered, but ultimately okay. She attempts to make some awkward small talk with you both, before excusing herself from the conversation so that she can go check on Jonathan. 

With that, Jim’s attention is once again focused solely on you. He moves to kiss you again, but stops once his forehead meets yours.

“I swear to God, if a nurse barges in next.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Hopper.”

A content smile spreads across his face at your words. He could get used to hearing those words -- he could get used to all of this. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

[oftenwantedafton]

the new hire | steve raglan x female reader

rating | explicit

part 4/?

words | 4.5k

cw | dom/sub, spanking

ao3 link

You drink every drop of that coffee.

Still not sweet enough, but you savor it anyway, because he’d given it to you. You sip it and watch the monitors which hold no further surprises that second evening and when the shift ends and the cup is empty you feel that wanting void in yourself, warm and aching.

Night three, Friday evening, and you have Raglan’s home phone number memorized. You’re so, so tempted to call. It would be worth risking his ire, just to have him beside you again. Touching you. Kissing you.

The shift passes peacefully and you exit the pizzeria, surprised to see the object of your desire right there waiting for you. You blink, no longer trusting your eyes to relay accurate information. Was he a mirage? Was he really there?

He is. Steve is leaning against his car, that dated luxury sedan of his, with his arms folded. He’s wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans. He looks…different in regular clothing. Perhaps a tiny bit less intimidating than he does without the office attire. You’re caught between a mix of wanting to rush over to him and afraid to approach, in the end managing a pace you think is somewhere in between the two.

“Hi,” you greet him softly.

“Any more visits from the rabbit?”

“N..no,” you stammer. It’s only been seconds and he’s already got you feeling awkward, blushing furiously.

“Good. Get in the car.”

“Where are we going?”

His lips thin. He doesn’t like being interrogated, even when the question is an innocent one. “You’ll see when we get there.”

You reach for the chrome handle of the passenger door. It lifts, but the door doesn’t open. “You forgot to unlock it.”

“I didn’t forget.” He tugs the driver’s side door open, letting his hand rest on the frame. Waiting.

Oh. The game was beginning already. “Can you please unlock it?”

Wordlessly he slides inside the car and leans over to unlock the door. You murmur your gratitude, settling beside the older man.

The social worker makes no move to start the engine. He looks at you, the glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose so he’s viewing you without their aid, peering over the tops of the frames. “I halfway expected another phone call last night.”

“Oh. Well, nothing happened, so…”

“Nothing happened the night before, and you still called.”

You open your mouth to protest and then your jaw snaps shut. You’d already embarassed yourself once. No need to repeat the mistake again.

“Well? You were so adamant you saw something. Now you’ve changed your mind?”

“I…I thought I did. But I think you’re right. I was tired. Saw something that couldn’t possibly be there.”

“Hmmm.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. It’s a narrow thing, with deep molded finger grips on the reverse side. “You have a vivid imagination, don’t you? It makes one wonder what other fantasies you envision.”

Your cheeks are on fire. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“But not sorry I came here, were you?”

“No.”

“Not sorry I’m here now either, I’d wager.” He smirks and you want to wipe that smug look right off of him. Just swipe it right away with your lips, your tongue. One kiss. One single kiss is all you’d exchanged and it’s become all you can think about.

“So…where are we going?” You can’t resist inquiring again.

“I’ll give you two options. You can either find out where I’m taking you right now, or…you can ask me something.”

“You’ll answer me? No matter what I ask?”

“I didn’t say that. I only said you could ask. But, for what it’s worth, I will attempt to accommodate you.” His teeth flash in a grin.

“Okay, I choose the question.”

“Smart decision. Ask.”

Your mind races. What should you ask? There was one thing you wanted more than anything else.

“Can you kiss me again?”

Silence. You can’t read the expression on Raglan’s face.

“Later, maybe,” he finally replies, turning the key in the ignition. There’s a white rabbit’s foot dangling from the keyring, your eyes first studying the lucky charm—you’re surprised by that, Steve doesn’t seem the type to leave anything to chance, to subscribe to some superstitious notion that having such a memento would grant him favor—before being drawn back to the older man’s face. He looks at you with those soul piercing, pale blue eyes and you feel as if you’re in church, all sins laid bare. Kneel, grovel, worship, you’d do it all, and he knows it. He knows the effect he has on you, the approval you crave. He’s got an entire file on you—your wretched employment history and your poor performances at every job you’d attempted, the education you hadn’t finished and the scattered locations you’d tried and failed to make feel like home—and you can sum up what you know about him with a few short sentences. Almost nothing. He’s still a virtual stranger, and that somehow makes him, this terrible, controlling entity, even more appealing.

Even sitting like this, on these vinyl padded seats that put you level with one another and in close proximity, you still feel the yawning chasm between you, that sharp disparity reinforcing that he is so, so far from reach.

Steve finally turns his attention to the center console, and you feel the break in that gaze, a sharp snap of that virtual tether, leaving you free to let your eyes wander where they wished while the bearded man shifts gears and guides the vehicle out of the parking lot. You stare sightlessly at the passing scenery, your body still hyper aware of where you are and who you’re with.

You reach your destination shortly after. He’s brought you to a diner, something that looks like it’s been stuck in the 1950’s for the last five decades, with vintage chrome and formica tables and a checkerboard floor that reminds you of the linoleum back in the restaurant. The parking lot is already crowded, even though it’s half past six. There are a lot of big rigs, truckers stopping for a bite en route, or perhaps catching a nap. You don’t normally eat when you get home from work. It just feels like it’s too much effort to make anything. By the time you’re done your shower, you just want your bed.

You’re seated at a booth near one of the windows lining the front of the diner, a laminated menu placed before each of you by a waitress that looks as tired as you feel. Maybe a fellow third shifter. The sign outside had boasted the place was open twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.

You briefly peruse the extensive list of choices. The breakfast section alone takes up the entire front of the sheet. You have no idea what to order, but you feel certain Raglan will be displeased if you shun his offer. In the end, you decide you’ll have whatever he is, just to make things easier. You can’t tell if you’ve chosen correctly or not. He stares at you, remaining silent until the waitress returns, and then he orders for the both of you.

The silence returns after the woman departs, lengthens. Your eyes dart to the window. There’s a young family walking toward the entrance. Mother, father, daughter between them, holding each of her parent’s hands. Out for an early Saturday morning breakfast. They look so happy, so content. You smile softly.

“This is for you.”

Steve’s voice pulls your gaze back towards him. There is cash on the table, sitting directly in the middle, the currency folded neatly in half. You frown, puzzled.

“Your wages for the week,” he elaborates.

“What about filling out a W-2?”

“You’re being paid under the table. No deductions. This is kept off the books. More money for you.”

“But, when I file taxes…”

“Is there a problem?” The question feels like a slap, sharp and abrupt. Daring you to voice a grievance. Warning you there will be consequences if you do.

“No. No problem.”

“Good. Put the money away, before someone gets the wrong idea.”

Wait. Did he mean…? Yes, yes he did, judging by his expression. You hardly think you look like a prostitute. Not with what you’re wearing, as ill fitting as your uniform might be. And whose fault was that, anyway? You wish you could exchange it for a different size, but that would be complaining. Questioning the judgment of the man seated across from you. You don’t dare.

“So did the owner just hand this to you or…?”

“You don’t need to worry about the owner.”

“Isn’t that who’s employing me?”

“You work for me,” Steve replies. You feel something touch your knee under the table. His palm, settling over the joint of your lower extremity. He does not stroke, does not apply pressure, merely lets his hand seat there, warm and possessive. A reminder.

Breakfast arrives but his hand does not shift. It remains there while both of you eat. The career counselor has decided on omelettes with cheese and vegetables. Hash browns. Orange juice. The obligatory coffee. He works his way steadily through the meal, the fork wielded with one hand neatly cleaving off pieces of fluffy egg and spearing fried wedges of potato. You know he expects you to clear your own plate. That’s how you had been raised. Food wasn’t to be wasted. So you swallow every bite. Methodically cutting, using the aid of a butter knife. Chewing and swallowing. At last you’ve finished. Stuffed full. Oh, if only that. Mind in the gutter again.

You save the coffee for last. Hesitating. Do you drink it black? Use the little containers of cream tucked beside the mug on the saucer the waitress had supplied? Do you dare to reach for the sugar packets nestled into their plastic bin next to the salt and pepper shakers?

Your eyes meet his. Asking permission. The fingers on your knee squeeze and you feel that touch link straight to the place between your thighs.

“Take one.”

Less than the previous day. But maybe he’s taking the size of the cup into consideration. Less volume. Or maybe he just doesn’t think you deserve it. You have asked a lot of questions today.

You select one and tear the packet open, tipping it over, watching as the granules disappear into the dark liquid, then stir it with a spoon. You take a sip. Not as hot as the previous offerings, or maybe you’re adjusting, getting accustomed to the elevated temperature. It’s still not as sweet as you think you’d prefer.

You finish the entire cup, then begin fiddling with the empty packet, folding it into tiny squares, then smoothing out the creases and starting the project again.

The hand finally lifts from your knee and you feel its absence keenly. Raglan needs two hands to extract money from his wallet. You don’t dare to contribute towards the bill, certain he’d refuse such an offer, would likely be displeased with it.

He holds the door for you on the way out, but only briefly, so that you’re forced to scramble to catch it. You ask him to unlock the car door without any prompting this time, thanking him for breakfast when you’re delivered back to your automobile. The pizzeria looks different during the day. Less menancing when it’s bathed in full sunlight.

You wonder what Steve will do for the rest of the day. How he will spend his weekend. You cannot picture him performing mundane, routine tasks like mowing the lawn or shopping for groceries. Curious if he lives in a house or an apartment like yourself. If you’ll ever see the inside of that living space, a reward for good behavior further down the road.

You think perhaps the later, maybe he’d hinted at earlier is not to be presented at this time. Leaning more towards the latter and less on the former. You wish he would touch you. Any part of you, you don’t even care which it is. Remembering the heat of his hand at the diner. You want to touch him, but you’re afraid he will shake your fingers free, berate you for making such a daring gesture.

“Go home and get some sleep.” He’s dismissing you. No reward today. You exit the car and slink into your own. Raglan’s already driving away, leaving you behind. What was the point of any of it? Why take you to eat a breakfast you didn’t want?

You mull the question over en route to your apartment; while you’re standing in the shower; as you dress in pajamas and brush your teeth and sink into bed. Because he can, you conclude. For that very simple, solitary reason. He can do whatever he wants, and you have no choice but to obey, his willing puppet, his obedient slave.

You turn on your side, knees drawn up, and rest a hand on the one his had lingered on, pretending it was still your employer touching you until you finally fall asleep.

***

The rabbit returns Monday evening.

You’d felt good, more rested with the aid of the weekend’s extra hours of sleep when you’d entered Freddy’s that night. Prepared for your overnight shift.

But that buoyant, charged feeling crumbles the instant you see the animatronic moving on the monitor. This time it hovers just inside the storage bay. Still keeping to the shadows, only affording you a brief glimpse of its outline.

You’re seeing things. It’s not really there.

Perhaps if you hadn’t been so well rested, you might have believed that silent internal reprimand that issues in a certain career counselor’s voice. But not tonight. Not when your eyes are bright and alert and clearly focused on the decaying mascot that lumbers around the room, now gifting you several views of the different rents in the fur covered frame. It pauses and turns to face the camera, looking directly at it. It knows where they are. It knows it’s looking at you.

You shut your eyes tightly. You don’t want to see it anymore, wishing it away. You keep the security room door locked as a routine habit, now. There’s nothing else you can do, except make a phone call.

It never occurs to you to call the police. You’d been instructed not to, and that command had been ingrained in you. So the real decision is whether or not to contact Raglan. You can only imagine his response. Insisting you’re seeing an animatronic wandering the pizzeria again, this time rummaging around in the storage area. You’d seen what’s in there, when you’d investigated with Steve. A lot of equipment that might have had value at one time, but now looked like nothing more than a miniature indoor landfill overflowing the shelves and tables and piling on the floor. Animatronic parts. Creepy endoskeletons and headless bodies. Spare limbs and circuitry and steel innards. Was that what the rabbit wanted? Replacement parts for its own ruined form?

It doesn’t matter, you decide. Let it rummage all it wants. It’s not like it had ever done anything to threaten you or harm you. You’re supposed to be keeping human intruders out. There was nothing about rogue robots in the job description.

You reopen your eyes. The rabbit is gone again. You stare so hard at the monitor your eyes begin to water. Nothing. Nothing there at all. Maybe you were delusional. Maybe you had a vivid imagination, just like the social worker had suggested. It was creepy, being in this derelict building, all alone, in the middle of the night. You’re dreading the moment when someone human, someone real, does decide to show up to poke around or steal something or whatever else Steve had implied drives them inside.

A knock on the door makes you jump to your feet, the office chair careening to the opposite side of the room. You hear Steve’s voice. He’s here? Why? You hastily unlock the door and find the bearded man standing there empty handed. No coffee today.

His eyes narrow immediately when he sees the look on your face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I…nothing. I wasn’t expecting you to come here. Got a little startled. I didn’t see you on the monitors…”

“I came in through the rear entrance in the garage.”

“Oh.” It seemed odd that there were no cameras to capture footage of that point of entry or egress. Come to think of it, a lot of the cameras seemed to be pointed at useless places that made little sense. No wonder the place got broken into. “You didn’t see anything there, did you?” You regret the words the moment they leave your mouth.

His gaze sharpens. “What do you mean? Did you see something?”

“No. I didn’t see anything.” You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. You know you don’t sound convincing.

“Are you lying?”

You struggle to keep your breathing regulated at a normal rate, trying out a smile, fairly certain it’s a strained rictus. “No, of course not. What brings you here at,” you glance at the clock on the wall, “three in the morning?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come by to see if everything is okay.” It sounds casual and innocent, but you��re beginning to think Steve is a consummate liar. What kind of a person working in a government led office encourages you to cheat on your taxes? “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine.” You don’t attempt the smile again.

He grunts, apparently satisfied, walking across the room to retrieve the chair from where it had rolled to, wheeling it back into place, leaving just enough space to sit in it. He drops into it and you stare, open mouthed, not comprehending what’s happening.

“Come here.”

His tone has shifted again. Not accusatory, not deceiving, this one demanding in a way that reminds you of just how subservient this man makes you feel. You shuffle forward until you’re beside him.

“Bend over.”

“Um…what?”

“It’s a simple enough instruction. Only two words. Bend over.”

You turn your head, eyeing the desk, and you hear the older man cluck his tongue impatiently.

“Not there. Here.” He pats one thigh invitingly.

Oh, God. “It will be too much weight, if I lean on you, it will break…” It’s a flimsy excuse and you both know it. You’re stalling.

“Nonsense. It will hold. Don’t worry. If I’m wrong, it won’t come out of your wages.” He grins at you, then the smile slips. It’s like watching someone peel off a mask, exposing their true identity underneath. “Bend over,” he says again, the words issuing in a dangerously quiet voice. “Or we’ll be doing this with the additional step of your pants down around your ankles.”

Your heart pounds wildly. Too much, it was all too much. First the rabbit, now this. You survey the long limb being offered as a cushion for your upper body, still hesitating.

“Don’t make me ask you a fourth time.”

You gasp and abruptly surrender, planting yourself down, letting your forearms sink into the seated man’s thighs. The chair creaks but holds as promised. You doubt you’ve really added that much to the grand total.

“Relax. Unlock your arms. Move over further.”

You shift, letting yourself fully drape over his lap, the bottom of your breasts now mashed down at one end, your hips grinding down at the other. Surrendering a little more control, making yourself a little more helpless. And yet he somehow makes it sound like he’s doing you a favor, allowing you to be spread over his legs like a sack of potatoes.

“Do you understand why you’re being punished?”

Because you’re a sadistic fuck who gets off on this? You’re hardly any better. Your pussy had started leaking the minute he’d walked through the door. “No.”

“Punishment without awareness is pointless, so I will explain. You lied to me.”

“I didn’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s awkward, having a conversation like this. You can’t really crane your neck to see him. Your ass is in the air. He hasn’t put a hand on you yet, but you know that it’s only a matter of time before he does.

“Don’t make this worse.”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“You know,” he insists with a soft rasp.

“No, I—”

You’d sensed, in some distant way, what was coming. It still doesn’t prepare you. His hand slaps one cheek, and even through the layers of clothing it sounds meaty, soft, fleshy. Lewd. It stings already and you gasp and another follows swiftly, on the same unfortunate side.

“What did you see earlier?”

Your stomach drops. Oh. This was what he meant. Another slap, this time gifted on the opposite cheek. Each blow delivered with the same force. What are you supposed to do? If you tell him what you thought you’d seen, he’ll insist you’re wrong and make you doubt yourself once again. If you tell him what you think he wants to hear, if you stick to your story…but he already knows you’d lied…

“I’m still waiting for an answer.” One more slap, and then he pauses, giving you a chance to respond.

“I thought I saw the rabbit again, in the storage room this time, but I know I didn’t. I know it wasn’t really there.”

“I’m not convinced. And neither are you, I think. You’re lying again.” Four more slaps, two on each cheek. At least he was consistent, keeping things even. Your buttocks stings, your entrance waters more. You wonder how different it would feel without the barrier of your security uniform. God, the two of you deserved each other. You’re as fucked up as he is.

“Please, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you lying to me. Ever. Is that really so difficult a concept?” A half dozen more blows now. There are tears in your eyes. You bite your lip.

“I won’t lie to you ever again.”

“That is a very serious promise. Do you think you can keep it?”

“Yes, I will. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

His hand makes contact with your buttocks again, but this time the touch is gentle, soothing. He caresses each cheek, fingers dipping between them to graze your crotch and freezing—he’s undoubtedly felt how wet you are—and then he removes his hand completely.

“Stand up.”

You push yourself upright, your fingers sinking into the bearded man at random places, whatever is in reach—thigh, arm, shoulder—until you manage the task.

Steve rises to his feet, looking down at you, and you feel those blown pupils pressing you so firmly you nearly fall to your knees. He’s got ahold of your hair again, wrenching your head back, and you wonder if you’re finally, finally going to get that kiss you’d requested the other morning.

“Ask me.”

You try but the words won’t come out.

“Beg me,” he says, leaning closer, “and maybe, just maybe, I’ll indulge you.”

“Please kiss me.”

The smirk returns. He relaxes his grip in your hair and thrusts you back, your hip colliding with the edge of the desk. There’s no way you’re getting through this shift without some kind of mark being left on you.

Raglan turns, aiming towards the door, and the injustice, the unfairness of it all overwhelms you. You’ve done everything he asked. Subjugated yourself. What more could he possibly want?

Your fingers reach out, closing over his arm and you find yourself swiftly grabbed and shoved against the door.

His hands brace on either side of you, somewhere near your head. You’re effectively trapped, with that tall form leaning so close, so close and yet not close enough, still denying you what you want. You’re reaching for him again, not even certain of where your hand will end up until the very last moment, when it rests over his chest and you can feel his heart bounding beneath the surface, rabbit fast.

“Why did you come here tonight?” The words are faint, whispered, cautiously asked. You shouldn’t risk it and yet you have to know, have to hear it said out loud.

“You know why.” Gravel words, ground together, unsatisfying. He finally closes the distance between you, his lips brushing the side of your throat. Your eyes flutter closed and you find yourself clutching the nape of his neck, his waist, holding him against you, keeping him in place.

“Steve…”

A little sound from him—you don’t know what it means, exactly, but it seems to bear a tinge of regret—before his lips brush the corner of your jaw, still calm and gentle.

“I don’t know what to call you, if you don’t like Steve or Mr. Raglan or…”

“Not yet. It’s too soon for that, much too soon for him, later…” His voice trails off. You don’t understand, can make no sense of the words or this sudden shift of mood.

At last, at last, his mouth finds yours. You melt into that kiss, let your lips part and welcome him inside, and the discovery feels new, different from the previous encounter. Controlled, soft, no frenzy, as if you have all the time in the world for this. One of his hands moves from the door and sinks into your hair again but he does not pull on those tresses, merely seeding his fingers between the strands. His tongue caresses yours, his lips sucking in careful bursts, tugging, drawing the rosy flesh in and then eventually releasing you.

“I have to go.” Now you hear the regret clearly, feel a knot of it echoing in your chest. You cling to him even as he pulls back. “Go watch the monitors. Be a good girl.” Speaking to you as if you are a child, his child, father and daughter, Daddy—no, don’t go there, you’re wet and throbbing enough as it is.

“What if…what if I think I see the rabbit again?”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know? How can you be so certain?”

“I know,” he says, his voice firmer, bearing more of a resemblance to its usual tone. “Monitors. Watch. Now.” He points and you reluctantly return to the seat behind the desk. He opens the door, turning back to you. “And stop locking this. Keep the door open.”

“But…”

“Open.” Whatever mood had struck him earlier has clearly dissolved, his brisk, impatient demeanor returning.

“I’ll leave it open. When am I going to see you again?”

“Soon.”

He leaves and your eyes focus back on the screens. You wonder, if you knew how to rewind and play back the footage, if you would indeed have proof that the rabbit was real and not just a figment of your imagination.

But Steve had instructed you to not to touch the controls. And you always obey his instructions. He was right about the rabbit, in any case.

You don’t see it again that morning.

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter iii

⟶ Chapter summary | After your father announced his decision to send you away, the surprises don’t end there. But fate seems to be on your side this time, however, as the moment you set your mind to follow your father’s will, fate gives you its signs to show you that there is something more waiting for you at the other end.

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale retelling au ⟶ Word count | 5,5k words ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; nothing much for this chapter, may contain classism, threats of assassination, fantasy typical violence, usage of dark magic, a dream sequence ⟶ Story Masterlist | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

chapter iii. dreamers

Last night, right the moment Yijeong saw you for the first time and had his curiosity drawn to you, the first thing that he thought of doing was to go straight back to Yoongi the first chance he could get and tell him everything that he was seeing—or, in this case, who he was seeing.

Once he shared his story and finally managed to voice out all the thoughts and doubts that came running through his head the whole night, he felt relieved. Seeing that Yoongi wasn’t making fun of him or dismissing his discovery, Yijeong also felt validated.

But the feeling didn’t last long.

Because Yoongi has become restless ever since. After hearing what Yijeong had to say, Yoongi rose from his seat and has been pacing back and forth since. His reaction is making Yijeong feels bothered. He begins worrying for Yoongi, and wondering if he should have found out more about you before sharing this information with his close friend.

“There was another man who joined us drinking last night, Hadi’s old friend. He’s the shopkeeper working for the town’s blacksmith in the southwest side of town, known as San,” Yijeong adds when Yoongi still hasn’t said anything after a moment has passed. Hearing this though, Yoongi immediately stops to listen. “I saw him chasing after her before she left the pub and they briefly talked. He was the one who spoke to her the most, so maybe he can tell you more about her.”

The entire time Yoongi is listening to Yijeong speak, he has his eyebrows furrowed, a sign that his mind is still working hard to comprehend all of this new information. He slips his hand into his pocket afterwards, reaching to find something that he can hold onto while he tries to gain back his composure.  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yoongi says, almost absentmindedly. He then turns away, making his way to his writing desk without giving Yijeong another look when he dismisses him. “You should probably go back to your tent. We don’t want the other men wondering if something is going on after I called you in.”

The couch creaks as Yijeong pushes himself up, readying himself to leave. But he doesn’t step out before sharing his one last thought. “How much longer are you going to keep this disguise?” he suddenly asks Yoongi. He has been questioning the same thing for the past week, but never once had he gotten any reaction or answer from the other. “You know that you’re not supposed to be away for a long time. Not this long. Isn’t that why you couldn’t leave camp once the sun is out? I assume that you are slowly losing control of your mana flow and being out in the open at night would have made it worse.”

“I’m doing fine,” Yoongi snaps, though he quickly stops and calms himself down with a sigh. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’m not done here,” he says again once he is calmer. He tightens his grip on the object hidden inside his pocket, as if he is in desperate need for clarity as he whispers, “Not yet.”

Shaking his head, Yijeong shows displeasure to the answer given to him. “It wouldn’t hurt just to return home for a while to recover while you have the chance to. I’m sure your mother would love to see you back home again.”

“Would she?” Yoongi asks with a bitter chuckle, not even turning around to look at his friend when he says all of this. “I highly doubt it.”

“Well, you never know,” he hears Yijeong says. “If you really do want to keep this disguise longer, you need to get at least somewhere close to home, get your mana under control before you can carry on with whatever it is you’ve been doing out here in the human realm. Just think about it. I’m talking as a friend who have known you since we were kids to know when you’re the weakest, not as your subordinate who only sees you as a regular Captain of a rebel army.”

“Yijeong,” Yoongi suddenly turns and calls him out just as Yijeong is making his exit. Still with his hand hidden in his pocket, Yoongi stares at him deeply, saying, “Find out more about this lone traveller. Ask around and maybe pay this guy, San, a quick visit before the end of the day. And try to see if you can find other locals who might have seen her too while you’re out there.”

Yijeong grits his teeth and holds back from calling him out on his lack of response to his suggestion. “Is that all?”

“That is all.”

Noticing how Yoongi has chosen to disregard his advice about going home to recover his mana control, Yijeong can only exhale a deep sigh. “Got it,” he bitterly says, before bowing his head to mock a salute at Yoongi, “Captain.”

Once he is left all alone in his tent, Yoongi pulls out his hand, retrieving the amulet necklace that he has been holding tightly earlier to calm himself down. The amulet has been in his possession for as long as he can remember. A token that was handed to him when he went through the Culling, a stage that is much similar to what most humans go through when they reach adulthood. His coming of age. It is the most important part of his life when he finally reached his adult stage and gained his full powers.

It was said that the amulet would serve its owner by guiding them through life and to find what their soul truly need. Once Yoongi figured out what he was supposed to do, that he had something to find, he used his magic to activate the amulet to help lead him the way.  

For many years, the amulet had rarely ever shown him its true powers, only reacting to mana energies that were similar to his own, when he had been searching for another. It wasn’t until he started following all the traces and hints which had him landed here in Smotia, when the amulet finally started showing some reactions, letting him know that there were magic existed here, hidden among humans without them realising its presence.

It was the moment that Yoongi initially came so close to The Citadel when the black crystal in his amulet started glimmering for the first time, its magic began vibrating to let him know about the magic that was present there. Then last night, when he felt the burst of energy flowing from downtown, it had been his amulet which confirmed that what he felt had been real.

Not only had it been awakened by the energy’s movements, but the black crystal had given him its strongest reaction, as it kept glimmering and vibrating as if it was telling him that he was so close to finding what he had been looking for.

It had become the sign that he was so desperately waiting for to see. To finally confirm that somewhere here in Smotia, hidden behind all the magic and the spells that have been placed to conceal its secret, he would finally be able to retrieve what had been taken away from him a long time ago.

His missing soulmate.

“Where is he? Where is my father?”

On any normal day, when the sun is setting down at dusk, you would find your father sitting in his study room as he does his last minute work before dinner is to be served. That was what you had expected when you barged into the study room, ignoring the guards standing by the door who tried to stop you from forcing your way in.

Instead of your father, the only one sitting by the massive desk in the middle of the room, wearing a startled look on his face when he saw you rushing in was none other than Advisor Kim. Standing right beside him, looking just as startled as he watches you with his eyes widened in fear is your father’s loyal aide, Marc, who seemed to be in the middle of helping the advisor with his work.

“Your Highness?” Advisor Kim rises from his seat once he snaps out of his shock, inquiring you, “Is there something wrong?”

With a deep inhale of breath, you calm yourself down, which is quite taxing when you have just run across the palace to get here until you were near out of breath. “Where has my father gone? I need to talk to him,” you ask the advisor, who suddenly appears a bit too nervous to answer your question.

“I’m, well—forgive me, Your Highness. But His Majesty is currently unavailable,” he tries to explain. “His Majesty is out handling a few business matters.”

That makes you stop. “When? Where?” you question him, wondering how you could have missed it, seeing that you had never seen any sign of His Majesty leaving the palace the whole day.

It might not have been uncommon for the King to be away during the day when he has important matters to deal with, but that couldn’t have been the case today. Not with all the security issues and the news that you had just gotten earlier. And after spending a lot of time outdoors in the palace’s property for your extra lessons and errands, you know that you would have seen it if he was to leave The Citadel.

Be it as it may, from the day until dusk comes, his royal carriage remained to be parked at its intended spot, while the guards showed no signs of tending to His Majesty’s departure, something that would have been easy to notice even under normal circumstances before all of these issues started coming up.

Advisor Kim appears flustered for a moment to hear your question. “I’m afraid I don’t have the liberty to say—”

Gritting your teeth, you refuse to back down. There was a purpose for you to rush through the palace to get here, and you are not leaving until you get an answer. With or without your father being present to give it to you. “Then tell me this,” you say to Advisor Kim, keeping a firm gaze on his face as you walk closer to him, denying him a chance of slipping away from you and ignoring your question. “Is it true? Have we received war declarations from the enemy’s kingdom?”

Advisor Kim draws back. His face looks a bit pale when he hears you talking about the declaration of war that may or may not have come from the enemy. Deciding that he has no way to escape from this conversation, and that the information he is holding must remain confidential, Advisor Kim instructs the aide and the guards who had followed you to leave the two of you alone in the room.

The advisor waits until the aide slips out of the room at the very last, gently closing the door behind him in his exit. Only then does Advisor Kim begin to relax a little, even if you can see the distress appearing on his face when he is answering your question. “Nothing is confirmed yet, but our informants have sent us emergency warnings about the enemies getting ready to attack. However, they can’t do anything yet until at least one of us declare war publicly while stating our demands from the other. So far, nothing has yet to be heard, but we are preparing ourselves for it in case they really are ready to make a move.”

You take a sharp inhale of breath, right before asking him again, “And the direct threat against my father?”

You watch as his eyes grow wide, showing you how surprised he is that you would hear anything about the incident. You had suspected that your father and his advisors had deliberately been keeping everything from you. The look in Advisor Kim’s eyes and the way he grows visibly defeated now only confirms it for you.

“There had been…an attempt.”

Hearing this, it almost feels like the air is being forcefully pulled out of your chest, more so than earlier when you first heard the rumours about it.

An assassination attempt was said to have been done just a few nights ago, when the palace was infiltrated by unidentified warriors who managed to make their way into the King’s chamber. That was the news that were spread among the guards, and it was all being kept as a secret under His Majesty’s direct commands. If it wasn’t for the fact that you had kept your word to Nanny Abigail about taking more lessons out in the gardens today, you probably wouldn’t have gone passed the courtyard by dusk—which was around the time for the palace guards to be exchanging shifts—and heard them mentioning the incident in the middle of their briefing.

You came here with nothing but denial, hoping that it would not be true. As you are now standing here in the King’s study room, listening to Advisor Kim as he not only confirms the news, but is now also explaining to you all the details about what had happened, it feels as if your world is being tilted around its axis, and you are being forced to wake up from your blissful dream where life remains calm and peaceful within the palace.  

“Did my father get hurt? How about the culprit? Had any of them been apprehended?”

“The attempt failed because His Majesty managed to defend himself. Unfortunately, we had no witnesses from the incident aside from the guards who came in to assist His Majesty once they caught wind of the attack.” The way the advisor is telling you this, with a grim look on his face yet his eyes are glowing with pride, you can almost hear the words that he is not saying to you.

His Majesty King Aneas had slaughtered them all.

“But…do you have any suspects on who may have been the one behind it?”

“We don’t have any proof to help us in identifying the culprits, as the intruders had worn no markings or symbols that would have allowed us to track down where they were coming from,” Advisor Kim regretfully says. “We have been watching closely at the rebel army, observing their movements, as they were the last ones who were identified to make efforts to infiltrate the palace just before the incident. You may have seen them posing as the traveling mercenary soldiers who call themselves as the Brotherhood of Jorn. But aside from their sketchy movements around the capital, we are unable to tie them with the recent attack made to the King.”

The advisor stops for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Our only other suspect would be none other than our rival, Kosha Empire, seeing that despite all the rumours and prognosis that they might be launching an attack on us in the near future, their kingdom has been showing no movements and has kept themselves silent until the night His Majesty was attacked.”

While you are pleased to have gained enough detail from Advisor Kim, who is mostly known to be the more reserved one among the other advisors working for your father, all of this information is a bit too much for you to comprehend. With a nod, you slowly step away from him, needing some space to allow you to breathe some air, and perhaps clear your mind from all of this.

“I see…” you find yourself whispering, drawing a concerned look from the advisor.

“Your Highness, please understand. It was under His Majesty’s orders not to divulge to you anything regarding the situation,” Advisor Kim gently explains, thinking that you are disappointed or hurt for being kept in the dark about the dangers that the King has been facing. He is not entirely wrong, but those feelings have faded quite some time ago already. “The King—he didn’t want you to worry.”

“No, I understand,” you immediately say to him, even if it is partially a lie just to appease the poor advisor. You turn away and nod at the desk, where some papers that he seemed to have been studying when you barged in are spread. “I know that you still have matters to handle with while His Majesty is away. I should get out of your way, then.”

You leave behind Advisor Kim in the study room with an invisible weight on your shoulders and a painful pinch in your chest. It turns out that your suspicious were right, after all, that the situation has been way more dire than what they had all made you to believe.  

Now, you can finally understand about your father’s odd demeanour—the way he always seemed tense and how he would appear to be so lost in deep thoughts since before the royal dinner—and also why your father and his men had been so adamant in finding the perfect solution to keep the peace, to handle all the political tension without giving a chance for an unwanted war to erupt.

Deep down, you silently wish that you can do something, instead of simply wallowing in your thoughts like this. Perhaps you can help him find a better solution, or maybe even fight alongside him when the time comes. You know what you are capable of, and you know that you would be able to do both of these things for your father and the kingdom.

As the Crown Princess, you have learned not only all the knowledge that you would ever need to take the King’s place and rule a kingdom, but you have also learned how to wield a weapon. A few of them, in fact, as King Aneas himself has always believed that in order to keep yourself safe from harm, you would need to be able to defend yourself against any threat that may come your way.

But how would you be able to do anything to help, when your father had chosen to keep things from you, keeping you in the dark and choosing to send you away when the empire is having its major crisis. It makes you feel powerless, not knowing what you can offer when you are made to feel as if your movements are restricted with the King’s final decision of taking you away from the palace.

Throughout the day, you had continued to feel apprehensive about leaving. Now, it seems like you have no other choice but to follow your father’s will.

At least, for now. Until you can find a way to come back stronger, and ready to stand side by side with the King when the time comes.

Nearly three days have passed since the morning King Aneas dropped the news about your departure, and much to your surprise, you haven’t been able to see him again since.

Nobody knew where the King has gone to, except perhaps for the royal aide and senior advisors who would often work closely with His Majesty, yet they all kept their mouths shut. The only thing that they could ever tell you was to remain patient, while advising you to focus on your daily lessons until His Majesty’s return.

It wasn’t until earlier during dinner when you finally saw the King again. His Majesty has made it yet another private affair, allowing the two of you to speak alone without the presence of his acolytes. Seeing him at the dining room after days of his absence left you feeling completely dumbfounded, so much so that all the questions that came running through your head the entire time he was away simply evaporated.  

‘Are you hurt?’

‘Where have you gone to? Was it something serious?’

‘Is there anything else that you are hiding from me?’

You had wanted some answers, but the words just wouldn’t come out. And then you lost all the chance to speak when His Majesty questioned you first, “The carriage is ready, and I have prepared a team of guards to take you to the home castle tomorrow by dusk. Have you decided who you are going to choose to be your travel companion?”

Obviously, you had not gotten the chance to actually think about it, when your mind had been preoccupied with other matters. You may have surprised both the King and yourself when you told him, “Will it be okay if I ask Lady Abigail to accompany me on this trip?”

Despite being caught off guard with your choice, His Majesty had immediately agreed to your demands. He might even seem a bit relieved at your choice of companion, though it is heavily concealed by his astonishment. Then, later in the night, you quickly learn that your father hadn’t been the only one who was surprised at your decision.

“You could’ve chosen someone younger to join you on this trip. I’m afraid I won’t be as much help once I’m exhausted by the journey. You have three different lady-in-waiting to choose from who would’ve loved to accompany you,” Nanny Abigail comments once she arrives at your bedchamber after receiving the news. Yet, despite her grievance, she still lends out a hand to assist you when she sees that you are in the middle of packing your essentials for the trip.

“I couldn’t think of anyone else to ask,” you simply tell her with a shrug. “And I’ve sent all the lady-in-waiting who have been working with me back home to their families this afternoon.”

You aren’t lying when you say this. Earlier today, before you met your father, you had somehow decided to inform all the lady-in-waiting who have been assisting you during your lessons and royal duties to return back to their noble homes. With all the conflicts happening in The Citadel and your future absence, there would be no need for them to stay at the palace. Of course, you had kept all the recent incidents a secret from them, only letting them think that you had relieved them all from their duties simply because you had wanted to give them a short vacation so they could enjoy the Lemmus Rising events.

But there was another reason why you had decided to choose Nanny Abigail to come with you.  

Lady Abigail was once your mother’s closest friend and attendant ever since before you were born, and remained your mother’s most trusted person until the day she passed on. It was the reason why Lady Abigail became the one who was entrusted to foresee your education and royal training, and even to assist you in your daily duties before you acquired your own aides after your coming of age. So it wouldn’t be wrong for you to choose her, your personal guardian, to come with you on this journey. There was also your worries about the threats and the assassination attempt that you heard the other day. Knowing how dangerous it would be to remain at the palace, and that Lady Abigail has no family to come home to in Smotia, you figured that it would be best to have her come with you to make sure that she would be safe.

Something that you know for sure that your mother would have done if she was still here.

“Did you come here to try and change my mind about inviting you to join me in this trip?” you ask her teasingly once you are done packing your luggage.

“Not really. His Majesty was the one who sent me here,” she admits. “His Majesty requested that I make sure you are to rest early tonight.”

You raise your brows at this. “But the trip won’t be until tomorrow evening.”

Nanny Abigail nods. “Indeed, but you will need the strength for the long journey tomorrow, and to not have you risk getting into trouble or injured before you are to depart.”

There is something in her words that gets you thinking deeply. You have wondered if your father had somehow found out about your night escapades or if she had informed him about the night she found you slipping out into the night and went missing until dawn. But you had never gotten the chance to confirm it. “Are we talking about the other night? Did my father really told you this, or you’re just worried that I’ll go crazy and decide to jump out of the window and disappear again tonight?”

Nanny Abigail turns, giving you a grim smile. “It is His Majesty’s formal request, made under my personal advice,” she firmly says to you, without confirming anything. “Which I also think would make perfect sense. You are about to embark on a journey which is meant to send you towards a safe place where no harm can reach you. It would be foolish if you should get yourself sick or let alone injured before that can happen, wouldn’t you think?”

You cannot deny that there is some truth in her words. But it isn’t like you were planning to escape tonight to have a stroll while there are a lot of questionable things going on at the palace.

“How far is this journey going to be?” you ask her, turning the conversation around when you find no answer to respond to her with.

“I won’t be able to tell, to be honest. I’ve never traveled that far, let alone going anywhere across Elcester Forest.”

You look out the window just then. Even if you cannot get a good view of the Elcester Forest from here, you can still picture it through your memory—the widespread of dense trees that seems to never end when you look at it from above. You have always wondered what you might be able to find on the other side, and it still sounds surreal to imagine that you are finally going to have a chance to figure out the answer soon. “I never knew that there would be a place so far out there that would still be under the empire’s rein, or that my father would own a property hidden somewhere beyond the forest,” you mutter softly, almost as if you are wondering out loud.

You turn away from the window before Nanny Abigail can say anything, and you give her a smile as you promise her, “Fine, then. I’ll go to bed. You don’t have to watch over me tonight. I have no plans on touring the towns tonight, after all.”

Hearing this brings a smile to Nanny Abigail’s face, showing you that she really did worry about you slipping out in the night to have your little adventure. “I’ve requested a sleeping remedy from the healer to help you sleep better tonight. Make use of it if you have any trouble sleeping,” she says as she turns away to leave, but not before she playfully adds, “Or if you are suddenly overcome with any urge to step out.”

Once she is gone, you take a small portion of the remedy to help you sleep. Not because you are afraid of giving into the urge to leave like what Nanny Abigail suspected you would, but only because you are worried that your thoughts would be much too loud once you are left alone to prevent you from getting a good sleep. You cannot deny that you have been feeling anxious ever since you found out that you are leaving so soon, so you are hopeful that the remedy may help calm your nerves so you can rest.

It doesn’t take long for the remedy to take effect once you slip into bed. But while it manages to calm the rapid thoughts that have been bothering your sleep at night, it only sends you towards a different kind of waking world, with vivid images coming to you in your sleep.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing on top of a cliff. The rocks around you seem almost as menacing as the rocky walls atop Mount Orrum, yet with patches of green grass and sand appearing here and there on the ground you are walking on. Before you can stop yourself, you walk up to the edge, and you are presented with a stunning look of the wide spread ocean opening up before you.

Steady water appears as far as your eyes can see, though you can see and hear the rapid waves hitting the sandy beach and the rocks below. For a moment, you hear nothing but the waves and the passing breeze, until a soft hum begins to reverberate through the air, passing together with the breeze flowing around you.

Like an enchantment, it calls out to you, luring you towards the rocky walls formed on the other side of the cliff. It isn’t until the moment you start walking towards the voice when you realise that you are completely barefoot. Looking down, you see the sand slipping between your toes, mud soiling the ends of your dress as you keep advancing forward steadily, yet you cannot feel a thing. Nothing except for the warm breeze falling on your skin and the invisible fingers brushing through your hair as you keep on walking.

You look up once you reach the cliff’s wall, and your heartbeat starts racing.

Right there, leaning against the rocky wall where the standing grey slate of rock roughly splits, appears a man standing with his back leaning against the rocks. He is wearing an all black attire with a robe hanging from his shoulders. Both the robe and his hair are dancing with the breeze, while his eyes appear as if they are glowing under the sunlight. An amulet necklace with a shimmering black crystal is seen hanging from around his neck, and your necklace seems to be oddly vibrating the more the glow appears before your eyes.

With unwavering gaze, the man steps away from the rock and makes his way towards you. Even his movements seem to captivate you, keeping you frozen right where you are standing, unable to move or to look away from his handsome face.

“It’s you,” he whispers to you as he stands right before you. His voice sounds like a spell as it drifts around you, enveloping you with its warmth.

“Do you know who I am?”

Instead of answering your question, the man simply smiles. His eyes drift down to your collarbone, understanding gleams through his gaze when he sees the necklace you are wearing. “The necklace,” he murmurs while reaching out to brush gently across the engravings on the golden framed pendant without touching your skin. There is a glint in his eyes which shows how astounded he is at the sight of your mother’s necklace hanging around your neck, as if he had just gotten an answer to a riddle that he could never solve. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

“What do you mean?”

He looks up to meet your gaze and slowly pulls his hand away. Instead of answering you, he merely speaks in riddles when he talks again, “I’ve been searching for you for a very long time. But you were kept hidden from me, even when you were so close to find.”

His words confuses you. “I’m right here,” is all you can say, and for some reason, it draws another smile to his face.

“Yes, here you are,” he says, though the expression on his face suddenly changes, and he looks crestfallen once his smile is gone. “But you cannot stay. I wish I could make you stay just a bit longer.”

But, why? You find yourself wondering, but the words refuse to come out. You suddenly feel yourself drifting away. As if he can feel it too, he reaches out to you one last time, touching the strand of hair that has fallen on the side of your face. You can feel the tip of his fingers brushing against your cheek, and you find yourself closing your eyes and leaning into his touch to embrace it.

“We will see each other soon, though. I can feel it,” he whispers, then all of a sudden, his touch disappears. You open your eyes as he pulls his hand away, and you fall silent as you watch him bending down, taking your hand in his before pressing his lips on the back of your hand. The touch of his lips leaves a tingle on your skin, one which lingers even after he releases you. And then, together with the loss of his touch, the world around you begins to fade. “I’ll come find you, Princess. I promise. This time, I’ll be able to catch up with you.”

“Wait!” you try to call out to him, but to no avail. Because everything vanishes all so suddenly.

The cliff and the ocean, and the captivating man who had just made both your hollow heart and your lonely soul come alive, all fade together as you are brought back to the familiar waking world just when the dawn comes.  

— © 2023 @yoonia​, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[inkedroplets]

The vague similarities between Katie's Continental character and Doctor Poison had me imagining a Supercorp AU where Kara is raised on Themiscyra instead of Midvale. I'm thinking Clark thinks it's the best place to be raised when she has trouble controlling her strength and Diana offers to take her in to both give her a home and to train her. Kara is mostly happy on the island. It's not Krypton but it's a home that she slowly acclimates to over the years. But she longs to see what lies beyond the island. To see where Kal has made his home. Whenever she hints at wanting to leave the island, she's rebuffed gently. Man's world is not just dangerous but as Amazons are not meant to set foot off the island, she would risk banishment if she left. It's a discussion for another time. An opportune moment when Diana can convince Hippolyta that she should be allowed to leave. "You just need to be a little bit more patient, Kara," Diana assures her during a training session. And Kara is... for a time. Until Diana returns one day with grim news. Clark has been injured. Hurt. Something that they thought impossible. (His weakness to kryptonite isn't common knowledge). He's in a coma. Something that Diana considers keeping from Kara but in the end can't bear to do so. "Lena Luthor," Diana says and hands Kara the remnants of what looks like a spent canister. "She's made many weapons like this... We've been trying to track her down for ages... Her brother has tried assisting in her capture but..." She shakes her head. "I never imagined she would create something capable of hurting Kal."

The attack on Superman makes Hippolyta put her foot down. Kara is not to leave the island until the threat has passed. A decision that Kara can't abide. She doesn't try to hide that she plans to leave the island. To hunt down whoever hurt Kal, knowing that whoever did is a danger to everyone else. "If nothing will dissuade you from your course," Hippolyta says with a heavy heart, knowing she can't waver when Kara has made her declaration to leave in front of so many. "If you set foot off the island, you are to never return." The prospect of leaving another home is enough to give her pause, to consider her options but when she sneaks from her chambers in the dead of night she's surprised to see her armor and her weapons waiting for her. A parting gift from Hippolyta. It doesn't take Kara long to track down a lead. She's made no efforts to hide what she's doing, being reckless in her pursuit only to come back to her modest apartment to a note that tells her they know how to find Lena Luthor. "It's too easy," Diana warns when Kara tells her that someone might have information about Lena. "We've never been able to track her down in all the time we've spent searching for her. Trusting that a stranger might be able to do that..." She shakes her head again. "We need to be cautious. Make sure it's not a trap." "Of course," Kara replies and while she understands Diana's trepidation, she can't help but go alone to the meeting. An abandoned warehouse. She has time to scope out the place, seeing only one person inside, her guard still up. She forces her way through a rusted door to get inside and spots the lone figure standing in a nest of shadows. "You're looking for Lena Luthor?" Barely even a question but Kara answers affirmatively anyway and that's when the figure steps out of the darkness. It's Lena. Kara rushes forward without thinking and has her hand on her throat, lifting her easily. "You!" she seethes and her eyes glow a violent red for only a moment. She expects to see hatred, maybe fear on the woman's face but sees nothing of the sort. If anything, she looks almost relieved at the prospect Kara might unleash all her rage upon her. "I didn't hurt Superman," she whispers hoarsely and a solitary tear rolls down the side of her face and down her mask. "I didn't hurt anybody." Kara knows better than to believe her but she drops her, lets her tumble to the ground. "You did," Kara whispers and reaches for the spent canister that Diana brought to her. "This is yours," she hisses and sees red when Lena nods.

"My research," Lena pleads. "I never wanted to turn it into a weapon. That was my brother's doing..." And it all comes out. Lex's facade as a humanitarian that he has carefully crafted. The one sane Luthor that has tried time and time again to stop his sister's more sinister inclinations have been nothing but smoke and mirrors. Even her mask is nothing more than a prop she's been forced to wear. 'To look the part' "Why do it then?" Kara asks, unsure of whether or not she should believe her. "Why help him, why let him pin all the blame onto you?" And that's when Lena pulls out a polaroid from her back pocket. "If I don't," she says and holds the photo up to the light. "He'll kill my best friend." When Kara leans closer, she sees a man tied to a chair, looking ragged, looking weak but relatively unharmed. "Jack," Lena murmurs. "I want to save him," she says, getting straight to the point. "I want to stop my brother, and I need your help."

[violetsaffron5]

12 Days of Christmas (2022)

| Masterlist | Taglist | Ao3 | Social Media | Discord 18+ | Chapter 7 |

6 | Six Geese-a-Laying

Pairing: Geto Suguru x f!Reader x Toji Fushiguro

Prompt: You’re new in town, and I’m your neighbor. We throw a Christmas party every year, why don’t you come and celebrate with us?

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: spitroasting, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal, oral sex, kind of voyeurism

It’s Christmas eve, and there’s a knock on your door. Eerie since you don’t know anyone in town yet, and you certainly aren’t expecting company.

So you wait, hoping it stops. It doesn’t. Rather, the knocks become more forceful.

Taking a deep breath, you look through the peephole of your apartment door only to be met with the image of a shirtless man, long black hair and what looks like red Santa pants on.

You’ve never opened a door so quickly in your life.

You greet him with a smile, only to remember you’re in the shortest shorts you own and a tank top since you’ve been lounging around your home putting boxes of belongings away all day.

“Hi,” he says with a smile, eyes roaming over your body immediately. Your cheeks flush instantaneously at the sight of him. “We have a Christmas party every year, why don’t you come celebrate with us?”

You stand, stunned at the offer for a moment. He’s patient. Smiles while waiting for a response, giving you a chance to look him over. He’s lean, toned, has a dragon tattoo that starts on the left side of his chest, the body wraps around his shoulders and comes down by his hip. The tail ends in the waistband of his black briefs that you can clearly see.

You lick your lips at the sight, wondering just exactly where it ends.

The dragon is traditional. Obvious. He’s bold to show up to a stranger's place and knock on the door with it exposed.

But his eyes are kind, and he has a nice smile, so you agree.

The thought of changing your clothes before leaving with this stranger didn’t occur to you until you were in the hall to his apartment, hearing the loud music through the walls.

All thought of that disappears though, as you step inside. In fact, you were overdressed to some degree.

Men and women alike were topless, many of them hanging on the arms of the person sitting next to them.

A man with white hair and round glasses is spread out on the couch, taking up most of the space with his long legs. He has a woman on either side of him, caressing his chest and kissing his neck.

He smacks the ass of the blonde as he grins to you, “Sasa, get me a drink babe,” he says as the two women stand to leave the room.

You nod your head and purse your lips as you continue looking around the living room, until you spot a man talking with a gorgeous brunette in lemon colored shorts. He has raven hair, a scar over his lip and matching tattoos with the man you’ve come here with.

The woman he’s talking to gets mad, folding her arms over her chest as he walks away, towards you.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” He questions, his voice gruff.

“Oh, I came here with…” You trail off, not having gotten the name of the man you followed. You make a note to remind yourself to make better decisions tomorrow.

“Suguru,” he answers, “and this is Toji.”

“Hi,” you smile at both of them, and give your name. Suguru wraps an arm around your shoulder as Toji watches closely. “I’m, um, your new neighbor. Just moved here, and I don’t really know anyone yet.” You chuckle nervously, not sure why you felt like you had to provide that much information about yourself.

The two men exchange looks before Suguru leads you into the living room to one of the couches. You sit in the middle, between Suguru and Toji, practically on top of them with how close they’ve moved themselves in.

Their bodies are warm next to yours, and their muscles are hard. And they're both incredibly attractive.

You’re not sure what to do or say, so you look around the room again, awkwardly. The white haired man tips his glasses down, exposing the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen before winking, placing them at the top of his nose once again.

Someone hands you a drink, you’re not sure who. And if you were making better choices tonight, you would have questioned what it was, or if it had anything in it. But you’re feeling awkward, so you drink it in one gulp.

It’s whiskey, and it makes you gag, but fuck if you didn’t need it to loosen your nerves.

You lean back on the couch, head resting on Toji’s shoulder, quickly feeling the effects as Suguru rests his hand on your knee, softly drawing random shapes into your skin.

“If you keep laying on me like this, I’m gonna think you like me.” Toji says, voice smooth, quiet and right next to your ear.

You giggle at his comment, moving your arm up to caress Suguru’s bicep as he continues to stroke your leg, moving up to your thigh. Your body reacts to his touch, reacts to Toji’s voice. Slowly, Suguru leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your neck.

“Want to go somewhere a little more private?” He asks curiously.

Is there any part of you that’s willing to pass up a potential threeway with two attractive, potentially dangerous men?

No. Not tonight at least.

You’ll definitely work on making better decisions tomorrow.

“Have fuuun~,” the white haired man sings as both men grab you by the hand, leading you down the hall to one of the bedrooms.

It’s a spacious room. More importantly, there’s a large bed in the center with silky purple sheets.

The men waste no time in putting you between them, Toji at your front, Suguru at your back, both kissing and nipping down your neck and shoulders, removing your tank top and pushing you into one another until you can feel both of their hard lengths against you.

You mewl at the feeling, skin hot and body throbbing, begging to be ravished by them.

Wrapping your arms around Toji’s neck, you kiss along his jaw until you meet his lips in a series of messy kisses. Suguru lifts you, so you wrap your legs around Toji’s waist, where he carries you off to the bed, and lays you down gently.

You watch as both men disrobe quickly, and you follow suit, losing your own shorts in the process.

They grin at you, when your eyes widen at the sight of their cocks. Both incredibly long and hard. Both thicker than anyone you’ve ever been with before. But you’re also drooling, licking your lips, ready to take them however they please.

“Come here,” Suguru says, pulling you by the leg and adjusting you so you're angled in a way your head is leaning off the side of the bed, while your ass is off the other. 

“Wanna make you both feel good,” you whine, watching them from the edge of the bed, Toji smirks while Suguru strokes his length.

“Mm, really?” Suguru asks, walking towards you and you hum.

He takes his cock and taps your cheek with it a few times. He groans, when you take over, grabbing him by the base, swirling your tongue around the tip as you stroke him, gently.

He moves his hips, slowly at first, watching as you swallow inch by inch until his balls are grazing the tip of your nose, and your throat is bulging, full of him.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good,” he groans as you hallow your cheeks and swallow around him.

“She looks so good like this,” Toji murmurs, grabbing your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. He runs the tip of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing your clit several times before he grows impatient with his own antics and lines himself up to your entrance.

Suguru pulls back, as Toji slams his hips forward, and you cry out. It hurts, not having been properly prepared to accept him, but it feels so good at the same time.

Toji holds onto your thighs as he rolls his hips, and gives short shallow pumps of his own until you’ve adjusted to having both your pussy and mouth filled by them. And then they really start fucking into you.

It’s clear, with the way they time their thrusts with one another, they’ve shared before. The way Suguru plays with your clit as Toji leans forward, tugging and tweaking your nipples in his mouth.

You’re a moaning mess against Suguru, the vibrations making his dick twitch every so often.

They both praise you, tell you how good you’re taking them, about how they want to keep doing this with you. And you might just let them if they can keep making you feel this good.

Making good decisions can wait a week. Maybe even a month.

Toji stops pumping in and out of you when your orgasm rips through you, he lets out a loud groan at the way your body squeezes him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

“God damn,” he grunts, “so fucking tight.”

Suguru doesn’t stop. He pistons his hips back and forth as you choke and gag on his length. It hits the back of your throat with each thrust. When Toji picks back up, tears form in the corner of your eyes.

Suguru places his hand on your throat, feeling his cock each time he fully sheaths himself. Precum and spit are dripping out of the sides of your mouth, down your cheek and into your eye as he continues his assault.

“Fucking shit,” Suguru groans, pulling out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ once he gets too close to the edge. He grabs the tip of his cock to prevent himself from bursting all over your face, though he would like to see that. Next time.

“Wanna switch?” Toji asks between thrusts. Suguru nods his head, and Toji pulls out with a grunt. You whine at the loss of sensation, the loss of being filled so perfectly from the two men.

“Don’t worry, baby, we’re gonna make sure you feel good.” Suguru reassures.

They try to swap positions, but you sit up and shake your head, “want you both.”

Toji’s eyebrow quirks, along with the corner of his scarred lip in understanding. Suguru’s lifting you off the bed, taking your place as he sits down, lining his cock up with your entrance. Gripping onto his shoulders, you slowly sink down, keening into him as your ass meets his lap.

Toji’s behind you, the tip of his cock teasing your other hole, “You’re fucking filthy, princess,” he rasps, letting a trail of spit fall to your tight hole before pushing in.

You both hiss, feeling the stretch from him as he fully sheaths himself, pressing his hips to your ass. They’re kind, considerate, giving you several moments to adjust, moving slowly up and down their lengths before pistoning their hips in tandem.

Both of your hands are tangled in two sets of raven hair, both men thrusting into you with reckless abandon. Suguru has his arms around your waist, holding you in place, your back arched against Toji, head resting on his shoulder with your eyes closed.

You’re just taking what they give you at this point, and it’s never felt better. Freeing. Letting these two men fuck into you, use you however they want.

When you feel both men lean forward, you assume they’ll be focusing on your body, but you feel nothing.

Opening your eyes, you see the two men sharing a heated, passionate kiss. Teeth on teeth, watching the way their tongues glide against one another. There’s no helping the wave of pleasure that immediately crashes through your body at the sight, both men moaning into one another as you clench and spasm around both of their thick cocks.

It’s too much, for either man to take, feeling your body squeeze the life out of them, feeling their cocks so nearly rubbing against one another. They’re both cumming, hard into you, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you.

Both men tense, groaning into the crooks of your neck leaving searing kisses in their wake as they come down from their respective highs. You fall limp into Suguru’s arms, resting your head against his shoulder as Toji gently traces a line down your back causing you to shiver.

“I’d say she liked that,” Suguru chuckles while Toji’s pulling out before hearing a soft clap from the doorway.

Just barely, you’re able to make out the figure of the white-haired man leaning against the frame of the door, one leg crossed over the other.

“That was quite the performance,” he sounds amused, walking closer, Suguru’s cock still buried deep inside you. He grabs your chin, forcing your attention on him, as if it wasn’t already. “Next time, it’s my turn.”

You give a goofy grin back in return, before resting your head against Suguru’s chest once again, eyes heavy, drifting off to sleep. Turns out, this was the best decision you could have made this Christmas.

Taglist: @z33sblog @thisbicc @septembersums @septembersummer @nothisispatrick300 @km7474 @missyasma @arisucat @watyousayin @khadeejarh

[adashoflavendermelancholy]

Summer and Mafia AU

Hot, that was all anyone could think about. the sun was blazing and there was no where to hide. Even the pool water was warm thanks to the sun beating down on them. Most of the Whitebeards were hiding in the house. Trying to get away from the heat the best they could. Most, not all.

There was Ace outside, training. His shirt was off and he was sweating. No one knew why he was doing something that stupid. It wasn’t like they couldn’t train after the heat wave left. Ace didn’t seem to care about it.

“It’s been a hour. How long is he going to train for?” Jozu asked, looking out at the boy.

Ace was a new recruit that shot up the ranks thanks to that strength of his. That and his ability to learn quickly. It also helped that he was in charge of a little thug group that thought they were tough shit. Making his decision skills well learned and used.

“Who knows,” Thatch whined. He might be in charge of watching out for the brat, but he wasn’t dying in the heat for him.

That was the moment that Ace decided to finally stop and come inside. He skipped past the others. They pulled away a little from the young man. Heat radiating off his skin Making it hotter.

“Pop’s I finished my sets can I go home early?” The boy asked, making everyone sit up. There wasn’t a place in the city, other than a government building, that had a better cool system. Just where did Ace want to go?

Pops sat up a little, “You want to go home?”

“Yeah, my little brother wanted to see the river today since it’ll be hot.” Ace said, and that peaked everyone’s interest.

The Whitebeard Mafia wasn’t just some small time gang. They didn’t just let anyone join without looking into them. Ace was no different. They had his background and had been stalking him for two months before even letting the boy join. Though it did take several months and 100 attempts on their pops life. The boy was worth keeping around, after all that. The thing is, Ace’s files were buried under lock and key. None of their plugs had high enough clearance to see them, let alone take a look. That and following him home, didn’t work out. They would lose him for a while. Until he showed up on the other side of the city.

“You have a brother?” Thatch asked, sitting up. The heat couldn’t beat that kind of information. Nothing would, but a dead family member.

Haruta took that moment to share the bit they caught on to. Yelling, “WAIT! YOU’RE THE OLDER SIBLING?”

Ace just blinked while looking at them. “Yeah.”He turned back to pops. “So, am I good to go?”

“I would like to meet your Little brother. Perhaps he would like to swim in the pool here?” Pops said, happy to learn of more children. He always wanted a big family. Not they were getting a new child so easily. None of their other methods needed.

Ace shifted his weight from the right foot to left. Thatch had been watching the boy long enough to know he was nervous. That little move was the first step before the boy lashed out. “Or we could meet you at the river. It would be easy, and we could reserve the place so no one take’s your spot.” Thatch said, hoping to easy the tension for Ace. They didn’t need him storming out just because of a comment.

“Uh…My brother can be a lot. He’s 15 so his friends will want to be there too…” Ace said, looking a bit to the side. That wasn’t a bad sign just Ace weighing the options.

Of course, their savor showed up then. “Are you taking Luffy to the river?” Deuce asked, walking into the room. He was dressed the least out of everyone in the house. With only a tank top and shorts on. Deuce was living in the building after his parents threatened to throw him into a medical ward to ‘fix him’ of his gayness. Pops wasn’t too happy about that.

“Yeah, pop’s said he wants to meet Luffy though… And the others will be going…” Ace said, not really answering anyone’s questions.

Deuce tilted his head. “Hmm, Is you’re grandfather going to show up?”

“No he’s dealing with something over seas last I heard. Stupid old man.” Ace said, muttering the last part.

“Then it will probably be fine. If you’re going to the usual place, I can guide them.” Deuce said, and every felt a bit excited about this. Meeting new family and friends was always a celebration. Thatch already planning on how much food to bring. If it was Ace’s brother they would need to pack triple what they usually do.

Ace shifted his weight again thinking about this. He must really worry about his family to be this worried about it. “Okay.” Ace relented. Everyone cheered, as they got moving. Thatch ran to the store and Ace went home to talk to his brother.

Deuce waited for them to get back before taking them deep into the mountains. So far that their cell service didn’t work. Having to stick rather close together. Deuce had them turn off into a nature walk parking. “We’re almost there. You have to walk the rest of the way.” He told them. How hard could it be to walk?

Two hours. Off trails. they were beginning to wonder if Deuce was going to kill them out here. No one would find them. Might be a good place for leaving a few things they didn’t want found. That is until a small house appeared in the trees. the house looked to be falling a part a little bit.

“ACE! WHEN ARE YOU’RE FRIENDS GETTING HERE?” A voice called. It sounded young, and was a little worrying.

“LUFFY! GET OFF THE TABLE! I JUST CLEANED IT!” Ace yelled. There was a crash and other loud noises.

“BUT IM BORED!” The fist voice yelled again. Deuce walked over to the door and opened it. Just in time for a teen to rush out of the house. Followed by an angry Ace. Ace skidded to a stop as he saw them.

“Pops! guys! you made it. You didn’t get lost did you?” Ace asked, his brother stopping running, and cringed to Ace. Climbing onto his back putting his head on Aces. The boy looking head a them.

“Ace, Ace are these your friends? They’re old though.” The air froze. No one knew what to say to that.

Ace on the other hand seemed to know what to say.“I’m gonna hit you.”

Just like that the two were off. Ace chasing the other down. Laughter had them looking back to the house. “Hello again, Deuce. It has been a while.”

Deuce stood up straight. “Ah, Hello, Sabo. I didn’t know you would be home today.” If they didn’t know better they would think Deuce was scared of this person.

The blond turned to them. “Hello, My name is Sabo. I’m Ace’s brother. It’s nice to meet you. Especially you Edward Newgate.” he said, his tone cold. It sounded more like a threat then a welcome to our part of the world.

“SABO! DON’T YOU DARE SCARE THEM OFF!” Ace yelled, jumping out of the trees.

Sabo looked at him a little hurt. “Me? Scare big bad Mafia bosses? Never.” Ace just glared at him. When Sabo laughed a little more brightly than before. “Well, shall we all get to the river.”

Thatch about had a heart attack as the youngest jumped out from behind them, leaping onto Pop’s back. “YEAH! I WANNA GO SWIM!” Just what was with this family and scaring them? Was it a wright of passage for them to try killing people before friending them?