#now if I could tick a box somewhere to turn off all the political ads that'd be rad

[badgopher]

here be dragons

My nephew went to a sleep away camp and marched in some parade and now he’s a sailor. Something like that. I’m not going to pretend I understand how one goes about joining the navy.

I was right a couple months ago when I said the concerts in October would heal me. I’m running on not enough sleep and things at work aren’t ideal and [unnamed other things that I’m not super jazzed about], but I’m rolling with it. Tired, but good.

""Stealing the election""

I set my camera to shoot raw+jpeg for Griff last night and the processed raws turned out so much better than the jpegs and I hate it because I reallllly don’t want to get back into dealing with raws.

No book this week, but to follow up on Somewhere Beyond the Sea from the tags last week: it’s fine. If you loved The House in the Cerulean Sea, you’ll probably like Beyond the Sea. The dedication at the front of the book gave the story a very specific framing that made me think of terrible real world stuff whenever the villains joined the plot, instead of letting me stay in-world to interpret the allegory on my own terms, and I didn’t love that. (But that could just be a me thing.) It goes a little harder than it needs to on its key messages, but that’s the author’s prerogative, I suppose. Maybe not quite as whimsical as the first book, but the kids and their adventures get plenty of time, and I’m not mad that I read it. -1 star for my grievances and -½ star for some bad (but minor) production decisions on the audiobook.

[k-llama-llama]

Heartbeat P.3

BTS AU: 7th member

Sumi x BTS

A BTS AU based around their ‘Heartbeat’ MV

A/N: Check out the first two parts in the Sumi masterlist (link in bio)

Requests are CLOSED! But your feedback is still very important.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

"A milkshake?" Jimin seemed confused.

"Yeah." She smiled, double checking the contents of the box. "I've got five other guys in there, all drinking milkshakes. I figured I should at least offer you one."

"I...I should probably get back to the bakery."

Sumi shrugged. "Alright, then."

"Yah! Those are my fries!"

"You didn't pay for them, and I'm hungry."

"Boys!" Sumi shouted, before turning back to Jimin. He looked confused, to say the least.

"You sure you don't want to join them?" She asked. "I think I can manage to get you some fries, too."

He glanced at the clock ticking away on the wall of the kitchen, and then sighed. "I don't really want to go back there anyways."

Sumi smiled. "Follow me then." She started to lead him through the kitchen. "You said you're from the Busan branch? Why are you making deliveries in Seoul?"

Jimin rolled his eyes. "Because they want to model our branch more after the Seoul one. Make it more modern and everything, so they've started sending employees up here for a few weeks at a time so we can get trained."

"And what do you think?" She asked, holding open the door to the dining area. "Does Seoul live up to your expectations?"

"Sure. It's awesome." He hesitated at seeing the other guys, two of whom were bleeding. "Is this some sort of gang thing?"

"Milkshake gang." Hoseok held up his cup in greeting.

"I thought you were closed, why do you keep bringing people in here?" Yoongi asked.

"Because I'm lonely." She said with an exaggerated pout. "What kind of milkshake do you want, Jimin?"

"Ah...Chocolate?"

"Sure thing." She turned to skip away. "Jungkook?"

"Yeah?" He said, still pinching his nose.

"Has it stopped bleeding?"

He pulled back the tissue, and then nodded. "I think so."

She beamed. "Then I'll make you a milkshake too."

She returned with the two shakes, setting them in front of the boys, and then got a basket of fries for Jimin, and topped off Taehyung's.

"Thank you." He said quietly.

"Where are you staying?" She asked him, resting a hand on his shoulder and leaning against the booth. "You know, if you just got into town."

"Ah, I have a reservation. At...this hotel." He held out a crumpled piece of paper.

Sumi raised an eyebrow. "Fancy place. Do you know how to get there?"

He shook his head.

"Well, it's right on my way home. If you boys make friends, I'll change and then I can actually close the shop."

"I'm almost done." Taehyung promised.

Sumi scurried into the back and took off her dress, donning a pair of skinny jeans and a striped turtleneck. Once satisfied, she locked the back door and turned off the lights, before returning to the diner.

All of the boys were chatting, with Jungkook stealing fries from Taehyung and Jimin and dipping them in his milkshake. Namjoon seemed to be mediating a discussion between Hoseok and Yoongi, who at least looked past the point of hitting someone.

"Everyone done?"

Jimin snatched the last fry away. "Yup."

"Dishes." She grabbed a tray, and everyone piled the dishes on. She set them in the sink, giving them a quick rinse and deciding to actually wash them tomorrow.

Namjoon held open the door, and she gave him a smile as she set the alarm and turned off the lights, before they all stepped out onto the street.

"You work again tomorrow?" Yoongi asked, trying to seem disinterested.

"Every single day, except for Tuesdays." She responded with a smile. "Why? Will you miss me?"

He snorted. "Not a chance." At her prodding look, he added. "But the milkshakes were pretty good."

"I'll see you around!" She said with a wave, as he turned to walk off.

"I should get going too." Hoseok said sheepishly. "I have an actual job to get to."

"Good luck!" Sumi said cheerfully. "You're welcome back anytime."

"I'm sure I'll be back." He said with a bright smile, before he disappeared around the corner as well.

She heard someone clear his throat, and turned around. "Your break almost over, Detective?"

"Just about." He sighed. "I have a feeling I'll be working on the case in this area for a while. If I stop in, you think I can get another one of those milkshakes?"

Sumi beamed. "I don't know. If you try hard enough, you might just get yourself a muffin, too."

He smiled. "Thank you, for your hospitality. I'll see you another time."

"See you."

He turned to walk away, and Sumi turned back to the remaining boys, smiling at one in particular. "I can walk you to your hotel , Taehyung. It's on the way to my apartment."

"Really?" He tried not to sound too eager. "I don't want to inconvenience you."

"Not at all." She promised. "I guess you two will be leaving us, now?"

Jimin and Jungkook shook their heads almost in sync.

"The bakery is kind of in that direction too." Jimin answered.

Jungkook wiped at his nose with a tissue. "My academy is over there too."

Sumi smirked. "What a coincidence."

They started walking in amicable silence, Sumi not hiding the fact that she was happy to have some company. Usually her walks home were long, lonely, and boring. But with Taehyung periodically asking what a certain building was, and Jungkook jumping at the chance to play tour guide, she found the walk going much faster than normal.

"That's my stop." Jimin sighed, nodding towards the bakery on the opposite side of the street.

"Have fun at work." Sumi told him honestly. "And please, stop back in at the cafe before you go back to Busan."

"I will." He promised. "And I'll pay you back for the milkshake. Do you like eclaires?"

"I love them."

"You'll get a whole box, just to yourself." Jimin smiled cutely. "See you guys!"

"See ya!" They all shouted.

"And there's your hotel, Taehyung." Sumi pointed.

He pulled nervously at the bottom of his shirt.

"Can I go in with you?" She asked. "Just to the lobby. I don't think I've ever been inside of somewhere this fancy."

"Yes, please!" He grinned. "You can both come in."

Jungkook shook his head. "I'd rather not bleed on their floors. I'll see you guys later."

"Be good!" Sumi told him, with a playful nudge on the shoulder.

She followed Taehyung up the steps, entering what had to be the fanciest hotel in Seoul. She was instantly insecure about her outfit, but she decided not to let it show as she nudged Taehyung towards the reception desk. She waited in the middle of the lobby, marvelling at the chandelier hanging right above her head.

"YAH! I told you it had to be done by three. Why can you not do anything right?"

"I'm sorry sir." An employee was getting yelled at. "There was a guest-"

"Now there are no tablecloths for a banquet beginning in an hour. What are we-"

"Excuse me!" Sumi raised her hand, stepping forward before she lost her nerve.

Both of them completely changed. The employee bowing deeply, and the manager nodding his head politely.

"How can we help you, ma'am?" The manager asked, his tone of voice entirely different to what it had been moments ago.

"I'm really sorry, but I just wanted to say thank you to this employee here." She gestured to the man, who looked up in mild surprise.

"Thank you?" He mouthed, looking understandably confused considering he'd never seen her before.

"Yes!" She turned back to the manager. "It's a little embarrassing, but I had so many bags with me, I could barely lift them! This gentleman was kind enough to help me get all of my things to my room. But it took a few trips, because well...." She floundered to think of something a rich person would say. "I just got back from New York and the shopping over there is amazing! I wanted to say thank you for your help, and I'm sorry for taking so much of your time!"

"It's quite alright miss." The manager answered for him. "Our employees always strive to help our guests."

She nodded politely, and the manager strode off, seemingly finished with his yelling match.

"Were you always that good of an actress?" The employee asked, standing back up to his full height.

Sumi shook her head. "You haven't seen anything yet. But jeez, what a piece of work. I'm Sumi, by the way."

"Seokjin." He smiled. "Thanks for that. He could've gone on for a while, but now he'll probably forget about it by tomorrow."

"Well, I wish you good luck." She smiled, intending to go back to Taehyung.

"Are you staying here?" Seokjin asked curiously.

She shook her head. "Just dropping a friend off on my way back from work."

"Not from New York?" He winked.

She frowned. "Don't make fun of me. I just saved your butt."

"You did. I'd like to pay you back, if that's okay? Can I...I don't know, buy you a coffee or something?"

"Let me ask you a very important question mister..." She glanced at his nametag. "Kim Seokjin. Do you like milkshakes?"

"Milkshakes? Of course, who doesn't like milkshakes?" He seemed confused.

"Perfect. You know the diner off the town center?" At his nod, she continued. "Meet me there on your next day off."

"Are you so in love with me you're just going to wait forever until I show up?" He asked playfully.

She threw back her head and laughed. "As if. I'm always there, and I could use some company."

He shrugged. "See you there, then."

"Oh, and one more thing." She leaned closer. "See the boy at the reception desk?"

"The one who looks like he might cry? Yeah."

"Keep an eye out for him, will you? He's a little out of his element."

"You got it." He smiled at her. "I should get back to work. But thanks for the help."

"Anytime. See you someday."

"See you."

She hurried back to Taehyung, who had just received the key to his room.

"All set?" She asked.

He nodded. "I think I'm okay now."

"Awesome." Sumi rested a hand on his arm. "Don't be a stranger, okay? If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" He asked, tilting his head.

Sumi shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I just like being nice."

"I guess so. Thank you for your help today."

"No problem. You'll come visit me at the diner, right?"

"I promise." He nodded.

Sumi wrapped him in a hug, despite barely knowing him. "Take care. Until next time, okay?"

"Until next time." He agreed, waving at her as he headed for the elevators.

Sumi sighed and made her way out of the hotel, pausing when she saw a familiar figure sitting on the steps outside.

"Jungkook!" She exclaimed. "I thought you had academy?"

"I do." He pointed to the sky, which was getting dark. "But I wanted to walk you home." He said the last part nervously, as if afraid she would tell him to get lost.

Her heart melted instantly. "Well, if you insist. I'll walk fast. I really don't want you to be late."

"Okay." He laughed, hurrying alongside her.

"You'll come back and visit me at the diner, too, right?" She asked hopefully. "You guys are the best customers I've had in a while."

"I will." He promised. "But I'll bring nicer friends."

She laughed. "Sounds good. This is my stop."

"Oh, wow. It was really just around the corner." He looked embarrassed.

"It was getting dark. And you're like a taekwondo champion or something, so it's a good thing I had you there to protect me."

"I'm not  champion." He protested.

"You should go." She said. "Study hard, okay?"

"Okay, Noona. I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon." She smiled as he broke into a run and hurried away.

As she stepped into the lobby of her apartment building, Sumi felt a strange pang in her chest.  Like something was missing.

But what on earth could be missing?

[dragonstoravens]

Babylon Vol. 1: Pandora’s Box, Brotherly Interlude

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(We’re back!!! And OH BOY HERE WE GO!!!! We’re only a few chapters from posting all of book 1 now, just two more updates after this one. I hope you enjoy this ~romantically spicy~ update!)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

19. Pandora’s Box

    Something felt off.

    It wasn’t the same sort of off that came with glowering at entitled individuals to get them to give Trinity some space or the kind that came with feeling like she was in danger. No, it wasn’t unpleasant like that. It was a gentle, floaty sort of feeling, something sort of like fondness that she just couldn’t put her finger on because she wasn’t quite sure she’d felt it before. Azure looked up at her friend, that feeling in the back of her mind trying to present itself but lacking the vocabulary and clarity to make any headway. He was talking to her, saying something in that soft voice he used when he didn’t want anyone else to hear them or he was trying to reassure her that she had no need to be nervous. It was such a soothing tone, she realized with a small start, that she hadn’t even been paying attention to what he was actually saying. Her cheeks flared red and she coughed a little, looking guilty. 

    “Sorry, I didn’t hear that. The music’s a little loud, what did you say?”

    “I said, dinner’s over. Care for a dance?”

    Trinity was standing next to her, his hand out in offering. He was always so polite, even after months of… whatever this was, asking before each dance as if she was going to say no and sit in awkward silence while the other couples swirled around them. It was like some sappy romance novel she’d devoured growing up-- the handsome prince asking “may I have this dance,” taking the princess’ arm, pulling out her chair for her… and she had to admit Trinity looked the part, in his perfectly tailored waistcoat. For some reason, Crim had gone strangely old-fashioned for tonight’s style-- Trinity even looked a bit like the illustrations in those old books, with his long coat and silver embroidery and hair shining a soft gold in the false candlelight dancing from wall sconces scattered about the hall. He smiled at her, hand still outstretched, something oddly… hopeful, in his expression. Or was she imagining it? She’d never turned down a dance with him before, there was really nothing to hope for.

    “Right, of course. I’d love to.” She smiled up at him, crooked and even a little bashful, and set her work-toughened hand in his larger, softer one. He helped her up out of her seat and she tried to keep her internal voice down as she quelled whatever this feeling was in her stomach that had begun the moment their hands touched. She stepped carefully with him out to the dance floor, goosebumps covering her skin as he placed his hand on her waist. Something strange was happening, and it was really weirding her out. Maybe the food was bad? That was doubtful, someone’s head would be on a pike if any of the people at this event even thought for a minute the food wasn’t made properly. That took out drinking too, because she hadn’t had anything that wasn’t water today due to some maintenance she had coming up soon. The mystery deepened, layers of what it couldn’t be peeling away.

She’d been staring at his jawline for a full thirty seconds now, and she had been flushed red nearly the last forty-five minutes they’d been here. She was beginning to look feverish. As they began the lazy, spinning journey across the ballroom they’d taken so many times before, he leaned towards her, his lips centimeters from the curve of her ear. His breath was warm, ghosting across her cheek as he whispered.

    “You alright?”

    She shivered and nearly stopped breathing, her head a jumbled mess and eyes wide. Was she alright? She had no idea. She wasn’t dying, so she was probably alright. Her head bobbed up and down and she looked in his eyes, deep and green and pretty. Trinity’s eyes had always been pretty, she’d known that, but she didn’t remember them being so pretty. Maybe it was the candlelight? In the back of her mind, the single brain cell that WASN’T occupied with trying to figure out when his eyes had gotten so green reminded the rest that he’d asked her a question, and nodding alone wasn’t really going to cut it for an answer. She looked startled.

    “Oh yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a little warm, that’s all.” She’d always been a terrible liar, but she hoped against all hope he’d just take it at face value, just this once. She cast her eyes around the room, hoping to find something to talk about that wasn’t herself. Her eyes fell upon a couple in a dark corner, arms wrapped around each other and swaying off beat, smiling ear to ear and conversing quietly. She smiled and motioned with her head. “They look happy, ain’t that out of place here.”

    He followed her gaze, those eyes like a searchlight into her soul leaving her for a moment. His lips curled gently, a soft smile most people here wouldn’t believe was an expression in his repertoire. Sometimes even she couldn’t believe she got to see it. “I’m glad for them. You have to find happiness where it comes, in this kind of life, and too many of us forget how.”

    She nodded and smiled, humming her agreement as she looked back up at him. Then, a question surfaced, brought on by a conversation they’d had in a hallway a few months prior and the memory of a sad look in his eyes. Her brows knit together, and for a moment she was very concerned. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper as her heart pounded. “...Are you happy?” 

    Trinity turned his gaze on her once more, his face distant as he seemed to consider. “Right now?” Those eyes came back into focus, and his smile once again lit up their tiny corner of the world. “Yes, I’d say I am.”

    A wave of relief washed over her to see him smile, and then a memory tickled at the back of her mind. She was ten, and her mother was signing divorce papers.

    “Mama,” She asked from her seat across the table, a pencil in hand, “What is love anyway? How are you supposed to know how it feels?”

    Her mother had sighed and turned over a page, looking up at her with sorrowful eyes. “Mija, love is what you call it when there’s nothing more important to you than knowing someone is happy.”

    A second wave, this one of realization, hit her like a train. All Trinity heard in their shared comm was a quiet little “...oh”, before her left foot tried to step where her right foot already was. Her ankle twisted out from beneath her, sending her nearly crashing to the floor.

    Before she could hit the ground, or really before it was even obvious she was falling, Trinity’s strong arms around her shifted and tightened. Suddenly, her hand was clasped in his, the other firmly on the small of her back, arched gracefully in a way she wouldn’t have thought she was capable of. He was holding her in a perfect dip, as if it had all been intentional. Of course, she would realize all of that later. For now, time was lost to the two of them, lost as they seemed to be in each other’s eyes. 

    Time outside their tiny bubble ticked on, of course, the sudden change noted by curious eyes all around the ballroom. Couples shifted in their dance steps, eyes met eyes in conspiratorial glances-- were they about to see a proposal tonight? Others couldn’t help but falter in shock at this never before seen side of Trinity Jericho, known to be icy on the best of days. How many of them, or their children, had he turned down only to be transformed into the sort of man who romantically dipped women on the dance floor by one brash southerner? Two pairs of eyes, on opposite sides of the room, turned away in unified frustration and disappointment. Perhaps it was too late for them-- each of the people they’d been longing for at a distance seemed now even farther away.

    But then the moment had passed, barely an instant to the two who had been locked within it, and Trinity smoothly swung Azure back up into his arms. Their steps resumed. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to have recovered from their little mishap more easily than she.

    “And here I thought we were past you tripping over your own feet,” he murmured, thinly veiled amusement evident in his tone. She tried and failed to come up with something witty to say back, her head so clearly somewhere far away from where they were. Her cheeks darkened, the rosy hue stretching to her ears and shoulders, and she wouldn’t, couldn’t hold his gaze. 

    “Sorry, I was thinkin’ about somethin’ else.”

    Whatever it was, he hadn’t noticed it in the comms. Either she’d gotten better at keeping thoughts to herself, or he’d been a little distracted too. No further explanation seemed forthcoming, though, and the last thing he wanted was to push her when she already seemed a little… off. He nodded, allowing her to brush the topic aside, and pulled her close as the music shifted into something slow and sweet. Very close. After all, he wouldn’t want her to trip again.

20. Brotherly Interlude

    Three hours, some cybernetic tinkering, and three cups of black coffee later, Azure finally felt like her heart wasn’t about to leap out of her throat, but now it was instead hanging low in the pit of her stomach. Once the delighted high of her realization faded, the guilt had set in. It felt wrong to care for Trinity, something forbidden and foreign stripping the joyous feeling down to something upsetting. The entire purpose of her presence at these stupid events had been to keep potential suitors and their pushy families out of his hair. It felt like a violation of his trust, to develop these feelings he was avoiding from others, and she had worked so hard to gain that trust in the first place. She cared about him, about his well being and his happiness, and she couldn’t see how not only making him reject her, but making him then go to these things alone again to avoid her was in any way helpful. He’d be back at square one, but with the added issue of the only person he could ask for help now being part of the problem. Sure, he’d told her the first time that it only had to be a one time thing, but then she’d asked to keep going, and now this looked like the world’s worst ulterior motive to deny other women access to him so she could isolate him and keep him all to herself. It was a horrible concept, and she hated herself for even bringing the possibility to light.

    And she wasn’t even a good match for him, all number crunching and heavy boots. He deserved someone light on their feet and pretty and kind, so kind, just like he was.

    She was sipping at the beginnings of mug number four and wondering how she’d ended up in this mess and how the hell she was going to get out of it when her brother, shirtless and with a fresh coat of blue developing in his hair, entered the room. Her shoulders stiffened and then purposefully slumped, trying to look normal. Crimson tossed her what she found out was a scone once she’d mindlessly taken a bite. 

    “Put a shirt on, dumbass.”

    “Aw get a grip, where am I gonna be comfortably shirtless if not with family?”

    “Weirdo.”

    “Nah, you.”

    She smiled mechanically and dipped the sandy dry baked good in her cup. Sweet, with a little bitterness from the coffee. Crim sat himself on the edge of her workbench table, thoughtfully and carefully dropping every crumb onto her workspace. He looked at her with a measured gaze that she knew was trying to tell her something that she just didn’t want to listen to right now. He cleared his throat.

    “How’d your date go?”

    “Wasn’t a date. Just a favor.” It was a lot harder to hide the strain in her voice that she couldn’t get a lid on when it was her brother she was talking to. She didn’t want to want it to be a date, it’s messy and that meant it wasn’t going to be easy to solve and she hated things that weren’t easy to solve. Except she did want it to be a date. Really badly, actually. Which again, was the problem in the first place. She pulled on a wrench a little too hard and it went flying across the lab. Crim ducked and winced.

    “The eightieth favor, and ya came back redder’n a summer sunset.” Her beloved brother ignored it, like the loving family member he was. Look at him, pressing the initial issue. She wondered if she was like this to him when he got weird and locked himself in his little studio to do mountains of paperwork alone in between four minute naps and four AM meals with Perry. Maybe she should be nicer to him. He was all she had at the end of the day after all, it was just such a shame he was such a little shit. She brushed a few crumbs off her table.

    “Listen, ain’t my fault the rich and influential like blowin’ money just to gossip like they could at a knittin’ circle.”

    “You don’t have to go, you know. I know you hate these things, and any man worth his salt would tell ya you’re free to stay home.” He took another bite of his scone and avoided her eyes, like he knew the contact would make her jumpy and defensive. He was right of course, about men and the eye contact, but then she was already jumpy and defensive, so what was he doing other than mitigating damage like he always did for her. What a good twin.

    She hesitated a moment before responding. She definitely did hate the events, with the overdone glamour and the careful answers to thinly veiled questions about motive and expertise. It was like playing a game no one would tell her all the rules of. She was horrible at games, and she was even worse at talking to people when she knew they wanted to rip her apart. But she didn’t really have to, Trinity had her back, every step she took.

    “I know, but he’s alright, and he needs my help.”

    Her brother shifted to stop leaning on her desk and grabbed the small hand broom she kept nearby to start sweeping bits of scone off her table. She realized with disgust that he’d just been eating it dry. She held out her mug. He leveled her with a look as he sipped it. 

    “Your taste in hot beverages needs help.”

    “Not my fault you need forty packets of sugar minimum to power your ability to breathe.”

    For the first time in longer than she’d want to admit, she watched her brother laugh and try to force down some hot bean water in his least favorite form.

    “Touché.”

    “Backwater hick, speak Terran-English like you were meant to.” She smiled as she took her mug back and dunked into it one more time. She had hoped maybe the joke would change the subject, but damn if stubbornness didn’t run deep in the family. Crimson skipped right back to the topic originally at hand.

    “Azzy, you know that it’s a little outta character for you to keep doin’ somethin’ you don’t like when you don’t have to. What’s goin’ on? He blackmailin’ you? The dick’s bomb and you don’t wanna share, what is it?” He threw the joke in to keep the mood light, and she knew that, but she choked a little on her oversaturated scone anyway. Her brother, ever observant, laughed again, and she’d be happy to see him happy if it wasn’t at her expense. “Oh Azure, you dun caught the bug, huh?” He was still laughing as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and decided it was best to take his leave while he still had the last word. “Good luck with that, Kari. You’ll need it with a man like that, I’m sure.”

    She couldn’t formulate a response in time, so she drained the rest of her coffee and returned to her work, ears burning.

[rmtndew]

All I’ve Ever Known ~ Chapter 2

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

Tag list - @hollydaisy23​, @readings-of-a-cavill-lover​, @onlyhenrys​, @omgkatinka​, @speakerforthedead0-blog​, @gearhead66​

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know! 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Two weeks later, I was back at the police station with my delivery. Nick had gone on and on the week before about how much he’d loved covering for me and that two of the detectives had given him tips. He didn’t say how much they were, but emphasized that they were generous. I’d never been tipped before but I wasn’t jealous that Nick had been. He was good at small talk and being outgoing. That got noticed. And there was no ten or twenty dollar tip that was enticing enough for me to put myself through painfully awkward social interactions that I wasn’t good at. I wanted to do my job and do it well and Darcy didn’t hire me for my conversation skills. That was made quite clear when Officer Bates asked about Nick by name while still calling me Waverly. 

Upstairs in the break room, most of the detectives were waiting for me when I arrived. They moved around me, grabbing their boxes as I placed them on the table. When I was done packing up the dolly, only a single box was left. Out of every person who had claimed their order, only a couple had acknowledged me with a thank you. 

As I was leaving, I caught the wheel of my cart on the door frame. It yanked right out of my hands, falling over. I sighed and bent to pick it up. Before I could, a set of hands beat me to it. I swallowed thickly as my eyes followed the hands (with no wedding band) to their source: Detective Marshall. My mouth felt dry when I tried to speak and I had to clear my throat. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, setting it up straight with one hand like it weighed nothing. He looked at me, his brow raised slightly. “You weren’t here last week.” 

I blinked at him. “I’m sorry?” 

“Someone else delivered for you last week.” 

“Um, yeah. I had to take my mom to a doctor’s appointment. My co-worker Nick covered for me.” 

He nodded. “He talks a lot.”

I laughed. “Yes, he does,” I agreed. “It’s a talent that I don’t possess.” 

He gave me a half smile and my stomach flipped at the sight of it. “Me, either,” he said. “Is your mother okay?” 

“Yeah. It was just a check up with her oncologist. She has to go every few weeks.” 

“Does that mean she’s in remission?” 

“It does, yeah. She’s been clear for a few months now.”

“And you care for her?”

“I do. As much as she’ll let me, anyway. My dad died a couple of years back so she asked me to move in with her. She couldn’t bear to sell the house but she couldn’t handle being alone, either,” I said, then smiled. “She had a friend who offered to move in and pay rent but Mom said she was too noisy. Apparently I make a good housemate because I’m not overly talkative.” 

“My daughter thinks I’m a bad housemate because I’m not talkative enough,” he joked. 

I laughed. “How old is she?”

“Thirteen.” 

“You’re just on the cusp, then. My parents were amazing and they still couldn’t do anything right when I was a teenager. But if your daughter’s biggest complaint is that you’re not talkative enough, that’s pretty good.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and raised his eyebrows. “It’s not her biggest complaint, just one of several.” 

“Well, as long as she feels comfortable enough to voice her problems to you, it’s fixable. It’s when they shut down that’s the problem,” I said, then suddenly felt silly for sharing so much with him. The poor man was just being polite and I was keeping him hostage. He’d come for his lunch - not for my life story. “Um, anyway, I should get back to work. Thank you again for helping me.” 

“No problem.”

“Have a good week.”

“You, too.” 

That Saturday, despite every fiber of my being screaming for me to be somewhere else, I found myself at an overpriced bar with my friends Lena and Demi. Demi had gotten a promotion at her job and wanted us to go out to celebrate. I wanted to back out but they wouldn’t let me, so I tagged along knowing full well that it would be the same as always: I wouldn’t drink, I wouldn’t dance, they would get annoyed at me for being a ‘wet blanket’, then they’d meet some guys and ignore me for the rest of the night, except when they’d tell me how much fun I was missing out on. I knew what I was in for, and yet I still hated it when it happened. 

That particular evening, Lena and Demi zeroed in on two guys while we were still at the bar ordering. They introduced themselves and invited them to sit with us. While the four of them chatted, I sat, listening and watching the clock, counting the minutes until I felt I could call it a night without offending Demi. But despite being the third (fifth?) wheel, I was comfortable being on my own. Unfortunately that comfort was kicked square in the teeth when a friend joined the two guys Demi and Lena were talking to. He was a squirrely looking guy with a severely receding hairline and he was several inches shorter than me. But there was an unspoken rule that if your two friends were talking to someone else’s two friends, you were now obligated to talk to each other. I knew that rule well because I’d spent a good portion of my adult life as the quiet third friend to two far more outgoing women.The only time I’d been excused from the rule was when I’d been dating my ex-boyfriend Ezra.  So while they were chatting up guys they were genuinely interested in, I was usually left taking one for the team. I wondered how often they thought about talking to me in the same terms. 

A lot of the times I was lucky and the guy would carry the whole conversation, talking about himself, and I didn’t have to do much more than nod and pretend to be interested. Every once in a while I’d get a guy who was a bit pushy at the end of the night, practically demanding my phone number, or, on rare occasions, something a little more intimate. I was pretty good at turning them down in a way that didn’t escalate the situation, but there were still those few that slipped through that didn’t know that no meant no. That night, unfortunately, was one of those nights. The guy I’d gotten stuck talking to, Adam, had started out self absorbed but otherwise okay, but I guess he took my quiet nodding and occasional ‘Yeahs’ and ‘Wows’ as extreme interest and as time ticked on, he became more bold. His conversation took on a more...personal tone. That’s when I decided to try to wrap it up. I wasn’t spending time with Demi, she and Lena were both dancing, and I wasn’t going to let some guy make me uncomfortable. But when I tried to end the conversation, he wouldn’t let me. 

“Come on, we’re having fun,” he said. “You don’t have to leave yet.”

“I do, actually. I have to work tomorrow,” I lied.

“You could stay for another hour.”

I shook my head. “No, sorry.” 

I moved to stand up and he put his hand on my leg, holding me still. “I think you can.”

“But I’m not, so move your hand.”

Instead of letting go, he squeezed tighter. “You don’t have to play hard to get, you know? It’s not attractive.”

“And neither are you. Now move your hand.”

He swore, calling me a name, but kept gripping me. I was sure he’d leave a bruise. “You’re not pretty enough to be this difficult.” 

I felt a sudden surge of warmth behind me and could feel the presence of someone standing there.

“She told you to let go, I suggest you listen.”

My head snapped up at the sound of the voice. Detective Marshall was standing behind me. His pretty blue eyes were dark like an angry ocean as he glared at Adam, giving his already stern face a menacing look. 

“Who are you?” Adam asked, too stupid to give up.

“Someone who will gladly break your hand if you don’t move it like she asked.” 

Detective Marshall took a few steps forward, putting himself tight to my side. Adam was going to say something, he had his mouth open ready to do so, but Detective Marshall crossed his arms over his chest and Adam’s eyes went to his belt. His sweater had risen to show off his badge and gun clipped at his waist. The sight was enough to shut Adam up. He didn’t say another word. He let go of my leg and left. 

“Are you alright?” Detective Marshall asked.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

He looked at me, his face softened. “This doesn’t really look like your scene.” 

I shook my head. “It’s not. I’m here with my friends,” I said. His eyes glanced at the empty chairs around me. I nodded to the dance floor. “They’re over there.”

He looked to where Adam was talking to the two friends he’d come with. They were still with Lena and Demi, and were all staring at me. I was sure that Adam was telling them I was a frigid tease, and they were almost definitely confused by Detective Marshall standing next to me like a bodyguard. 

“What about you?” I asked. “You don’t really look like this is your scene, either.”

He looked down at me. “It’s not. I’m working a case. I was asking the manager about the victim.” He looked at my friends again before letting out a breath. “Are you staying here or would you like me to walk you to your car?”

“No, I’m not staying,” I said. “But I didn’t drive. I rode with them. I was going to get an Uber.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to get into a car with a stranger by yourself at night?”

I nodded as I stood. I liked that I had to look up at him slightly. “It’s usually what happens when I let myself get talked into these stupid nights.”

I watched his face. It was like he had a million thoughts running through his mind at once and his eyes shifted, like he was actively trying to sort through them. After a moment he said, “Would you let me drive you instead?”

“You don’t have to do that. I can usually get an Uber here in about ten minutes.” I gave a faint smile. “You could talk to them before I get in, if you want?”

He shook his head and rubbed his neck. “I’d feel a lot better if I knew you got home safely.” 

So much of me wanted to say no. I had a difficult time accepting help from people, even when I clearly needed it, because I hated the thought of being a burden on someone. But if he was there asking about a victim, there was a chance that they’d been at that bar, maybe even disappeared from there, maybe after taking a ride from someone they thought was legit and was later found dead. Maybe he didn’t want another case, especially with a familiar person, and that’s why he was offering me the ride. That’s what I told myself anyway. That was my excuse for wanting to accept his offer. It wasn’t that I was weirdly attracted to how protected he made me feel. 

“Okay,” I relented. 

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Let me tell my friends I’m leaving.” 

I started walking towards Lena and Demi. They’d been watching me ever since Adam had drawn their attention to me. But before I could reach them, they came to me, meeting me halfway. 

“What is going on, Fiona?” Demi demanded. “That guy you were talking to said you were having a good time and then you just started freaking out and making a scene. He said some guy heard you and threatened him if he didn’t leave you alone.” 

I shook my head. “That’s not how it happened. He was making me uncomfortable so I said I was going to leave. He put his hands on me and I told him to let me go. He wouldn’t and yes, someone did step in, but he wouldn’t have if that perv had just let me go.”

“Why do you do this?” Lena asked. “Anytime a guy shows interest in you, you find some reason to run away.”

“That’s not true. And even if it was, that’s not what happened here,” I said. 

“It is true. And I honestly don’t know why we invite you out anymore. You always make things awkward because you don’t know how to function like an adult woman. You’re like some little girl who’s afraid to even let a boy kiss her,” Demi said. “You need to grow up.”

I bit my tongue. I knew that she’d had a few drinks and that she always got catty right before she tipped over to drunk, but just because she was rude didn’t mean that I had to be, too. The evening had taken all the energy from me and I didn’t have the strength to try to be diplomatic. I chose to ignore her completely instead.

“I’m going home,” I finally said. 

“I’m not taking you,” Lena said. “Not right now.” 

“I don’t need you. Someone else is taking me”

Demi rolled her eyes. “Who?”

I looked at Detective Marshall. He was still standing by our table, waiting. “You guys think I need to get out of my comfort zone, so I am.”

“You’re going home with a man you just met? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Lena asked.

“First of all, you two do it all the time,” I said. “And secondly, I’m not going home with him, he’s taking me home.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Demi said.

“I don’t need you to believe me. I just need you to know that I’m leaving. Whoever I go with, or however I get home, doesn’t matter.”

I walked off, feeling angry heat licking my neck and ears. My hands kept clenching tightly, pushing my fingernails into the palms of my hands. Detective Marshall could obviously tell that something was wrong because he tilted his head at me, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. 

“I have horrible friends, but other than that, everything’s peachy,” I said dryly. 

He didn’t ask any follow up questions but I think he’d observed enough of the situation to not need to. He just nodded and waved for me to follow him.

The air outside was surprisingly cold and made my angrily flushed skin sting from the contrast. But the feeling worked like a grounding sensation, clearing my mind. I let out a breath and followed Detective Marshall to his truck. He went to the passenger’s side and unlocked it, then opened it for me. 

“Thank you,” I said, climbing in. 

He gave me a smile that somehow read more in his eyes than his mouth before closing the door. 

I took my crossbody purse off, holding it in my lap, before pulling on my seatbelt. I watched as he walked around the front of the truck, unlocking his own door and sliding in beside me. He started his truck with one hand while reaching for his seatbelt with the other. As the truck came to life, the radio came on. A ZZ Top song was playing. 

“Sorry,” he said, turning the volume down but leaving the radio itself on.

I noticed the station and smiled. “This is the same station I listen to in my car.” 

He looked over at me, giving me another one of his eye smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Shouting along to eighties rock music is a pretty good stress reliever.” 

“It doesn’t hurt, that’s for sure.” 

He asked where I lived and even though I was terrible at explaining directions, I finally gave him enough clues for him to piece it together. He said that his ex-wife had lived in the neighborhood just past mine when they were dating and he remembered seeing the sign for it. Once we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, I took my phone from my purse.

“Do you mind if I make a quick phone call?”

He shook his head. “No, go on.” 

I called Mom but she didn’t answer. I wasn’t worried. She was more than likely watching TV and had her phone in her room again. I decided to leave a message. “Hey Mom, it’s Fi. I was just letting you know that I’m on my way home. You don’t have to call me back when you get this, I’ll just see you when I get there. Love you. Bye.”

I hung up and put the phone away. A few moments passed before Detective Marshall asked, “Is Fi short for something?”

“Yeah. Fiona. When I was a kid my dad used to call me Fi-Fi Bird, then he shortened to Fi when I was a teenager.” 

“When did you lose him?”

“Two years ago. He was hit by a drunk driver.”

“Was your mum ill at the time?”

“No. I mean, she may have had her cancer then but we didn’t know anything about it. They found it at the beginning of the year.” I looked at him. “I’m a little surprised that you remember me telling you about them, to be honest.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve barely spoken and I assume your job is mentaly exhausting, so the fact that you remembered it… I don’t know, I’m just surprised.”

“It is mentally exhausting. But peanut butter cookies help.” He looked at me briefly, giving me a smile that showed his teeth. “And you bring those.”

I laughed and felt my cheeks heat back up, but it wasn’t from anger that time. “And that makes me memorable?” 

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

A few minutes passed quietly, but not uncomfortably, before I stole a glance at him. He really was gorgeous. I had no issues with Demi and Lena thinking that I was leaving with him for reasons other than an innocent ride home. They’d been more than snide about my lack of interest in men since my last boyfriend had broken up with me, never pausing to think that how he’d broken up with me - and more importantly when - had done a lot of damage. 

“I really do appreciate you giving me a ride home,” I said. “I, uh, I don’t have anyone else to call. An Uber would have been my only option.”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” he said. “But next time maybe think about driving your own car. I’m not just against Uber; I’m against any rides that require you to get into a car with a stranger. Particularly women. And particularly at that bar.” He pushed his hair back from his face and let out a frustrated breath. “Their security cameras have been down since May.” He swore under his breath. “Sort of defeats the purpose of security cameras.” 

“Does that stall your investigation?”

“Not necessarily. Other businesses in the area may have footage. It just delays things, at least for tonight.” 

“Can I ask how long you’ve been working on it?” 

“It’ll be two weeks tomorrow.”

“Is that long for a murder investigation?”

He didn’t say anything for a while and I thought I’d gone too far. Just as I was about to apologize he said, “They don’t really have typical timelines. It just depends on the case. Some are like a ripple effect and you just have to start in the center and work your way out.” He paused for a moment, licking his lips. “Others are like a pile of rope tangled up. You have to work your way through, trying to untangle it, but sometimes you’re working on a piece that’s a dead end, then you have to start all over again. Those take a bit longer.”

“And this case, it’s one of the tangled ones?”

He nodded. “Unfortunately.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He glanced at me again quickly, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “That’s the job.”

Another wave of silence filled the cab of his truck. I liked that he didn’t talk for the sake of it. He seemed to be at ease in the quiet and his ease spilled over to me. That was the only explanation for me being so calm sitting that close to a man as attractive as him and not having a total meltdown. And we were close enough that the body heat radiating off of him kept me from requesting that the actual heater be turned on, despite the chilly night. He was like a human space heater, but I was far from complaining. And I think the fact that he had been so protective of me fed that feeling of comfort. That night, he had stood up for me more than Ezra ever had in three and a half years. 

“I can’t remember if I thanked you earlier at the bar or not when you helped me with that guy, but  thank you for that, too,” I said. “I’m not usually such a damsel in distress, I promise.” 

“It doesn’t make you a damsel just because I stepped in.” We stopped at a red light and he looked at me. “But if it ever happens again, all you have to do is ask them to move their hand once and if they don’t, take one of their fingers and shove it back towards their wrist. Make sure to break it.” 

I smiled slightly. “Detective Marshall, are you giving me permission to assault someone?”

“It’s not assault if you’re protecting yourself, but yes, I’m giving you permission. Men have a hard time convincing police that their advances were wanted when it results in a broken finger,” he said. “And you don’t have to call me Detective, you can just call me Marshall.”

I smiled wider at that. “Well, Marshall,” I said, trying out the more personal feeling name, “I’ll keep that in mind. Although I think I’m done with nights like tonight. I’m too old to keep putting myself in situations that make me uncomfortable. But maybe I needed this to know that my friends and I really have grown apart. And maybe for the better.”

The light turned green and he looked back to the road again. “I take it you had a falling out over you leaving them?” he asked as we started moving. 

“Not really over me leaving. More like why I was leaving.” I sighed. “Their idea of fun is drinking and dancing and flirting, and at one point, I saw the appeal in that, even though I’ve never been as outgoing as them. But when I lost my dad…” I shook my head. “I’m sure you see people in grief all the time with your job. You see how it changes people. How it can create a division. They never understood that. They thought that there should be a grieving period and then I should get over it and go back to being the same old Fiona. But that’s never going to happen.”

“Grief does change people. It’s natural. And sometimes, it never goes away. You have to adapt to deal with it, but it always follows you,” he said. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I guess when you’ve never experienced it, it’s hard to really understand. I didn’t really understand it until my dad passed. And then when Mom got sick…” I trailed off. “Sorry, I told you that I wasn’t a big talker and I just keep going on about myself.” 

“You’re fine. I promise,” he said softly. 

I smiled at him. “Those peanut butter cookies really do buy me a lot of forgiveness, don’t they?”

He laughed. It was a low, beautiful sound. “They are very good.” 

The rest of the ride home was spent in slow, quiet conversation. I tried not to unload anymore of my personal issues on him, even if he said it was okay. I was a little sad when he pulled onto my street, but I directed him to my house and he stopped in front of the driveway, unable to pull in because of mine and my mom’s cars.

He put the truck in park and turned to me. “I’ll watch you in.”

“Okay.” I unbuckled and grabbed my purse from my lap, slipping it back on. I reached for the door handle but before opening it, I looked at him. “I really do appreciate all of this. You have no idea,” I said. “Is there anything I can do to thank you?”

He twisted his mouth to the side, his eyes doing the thing they’d done earlier where it looked like he was actively sorting through his thoughts. After a moment, he nodded, then gave me a smile that made my heart flutter. “There is, actually,” he said. “Next time you deliver lunch, if I’m not there to get mine before you leave, could you bring it to my office again?”

I smiled back. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I could do that,” I said. “If you’re not there, do you want me to leave it on your desk?”

“Please.”

“Okay.” I opened the door and stepped out into the cold air. I already missed the heat of being close to him. “Goodnight Det- Goodnight Marshall.”

“Goodnight Fiona.” 

Never in my life had someone saying my name given me instant butterflies until right then. I gave him a small wave and closed the door. I took my house keys from my purse as I walked to the front door, trying not to think about him watching me. After unlocking the door, I fought not to look back at Marshall one last time and slipped inside, closing and locking the door behind me. As I put the chain lock in place, I let my forehead fall against the door and let out a happy sigh. When I was able to gather myself, I went to find Mom. Just as I expected, she was in the living room watching some sort of Hallmark movie. 

“Hey Mom, I’m home,” I said. 

She turned her head to look at me. “Hey, sweetie. How was it? Did you have fun?”

“Not quite.” I joined her, sitting on the arm of the recliner. “I think things are done between Demi, Lena and me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Some things happened and some things were said and I don’t think there’s any going back.”

She patted my knee. “I’m sorry. I hate that for you.” 

“There was a bright side to the whole night, though,” I said, smiling. 

“And what was that?”

“You know the detective that I told you about, Detective Marshall?” I asked. She nodded. “He was there asking the manager about a case he’s working on and noticed that a guy was bothering me so he stepped in to help me. Then he gave me a ride home.”

She looked at me with big eyes. “You got into a car with someone you don’t know?”

“No, I got into a truck with a cop, who I’d met before,” I said. “Look, Lena refused to take me home. I would have had to call for a ride.”

I could tell she disapproved but didn’t say anything else about it. Instead she asked, “What’s this detective like?”

“He’s a little quiet, gentlemanly, has good taste in music, and extremely not married.”

She finally broke down and smiled. “Well, maybe this is the start of something, then. You deserve to be happy.”

“Maybe but I don’t think he’s interested. He offered me a ride to make sure I got home safely; he wasn’t flirting. I just feel less guilty about being attracted to him now that I know he’s single.”

“Your father and I started off as friends first, too, you know?”

“I wouldn’t say that Marshall and I are friends, Mom,” I said, standing up. “But I’m appreciative of him and his handsome face all the same.”

“Oh, so you call him Marshall now? No ‘Detective’?” she teased. “That seems pretty friendly to me.”

I laughed. “If I ever get on a first name basis with him, I might agree. Until then, he’s just an acquaintance. That’s all.”

“One who doesn’t mind you dropping a very earned title.”

“Well, he found out that you call me Fi-Fi, so he probably thought it was fair to let me call him something a little less formal, too.”

“How did he find that out?”

“Because I called and left you a voicemail letting you know that I was on my way home and he asked what Fi was short for. I told him that Dad used to call me Fi-Fi Bird.”

She tilted her head at me like she finally had her answer. “If you’re talking to him about your father, he’s far more than an acquaintance. You barely talk about him to anyone other than me.”

“He’s...it’s…” I sputtered, trying to find the right explanation. I sighed. “Death isn’t a topic that makes him uncomfortable, like other people. He’s a homicide detective. That’s sort of his business. Bringing Dad up didn’t feel weird.”

She held up her hands, almost defensively. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I think it’s great. I just hope I get to see this handsome Marshall at some point.”

“I’ll talk to Darcy about a Bring Your Mom to Work Day and see if I can’t get you to the station to check him out. And hey, he might not have been flirting with me but you’re a single lady now, maybe you can lock him down. I always wanted a sister and he has a daughter, so it would be kind of perfect.”

She laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Love you, Mom,” I said, walking away.

“Love you, too!”

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Final Bow (Inglourious Basterds Fic)

Requested by @baldwin-iv​ "Hello, hope you are well. If it isn't too much trouble, I was wondering if you could do Donny meeting an Italian nationalist who works with Hans Landa during operation Kino. Thank you!"

A/N: Changed it up a little, sorry luv, it just felt weird to make it xReader so I made an OC :)

@owba-chan​ @war-obsessed​ @inglourious-imagines​ @tealaquinn​ @struggling-bee​ @frozenhuntress67​ @kwyloz​ @sodapop182​

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

_____________________________ Renatta Castelluccio was Hans Landa's escort to the premiere of Nation's Pride. He pulled her away from the crowd, and led her to meet her counterparts. Bridget von Hammersmark's  escorts.

Renatta knew exactly who they were. How could she forget the man with the scar across his throat? He dropped into her town in Italy, just before she left for Germany. Her father was a high ranking officer under Mussolini, and used her as a pawn in negotiations. She'd grown up with that regime, and believed every word of every poster and incendiary reel until she left, and saw what fascism really meant, along with the innocent blood it shed. She was contacted by the OSS, and given a chance to be a spy, and help the allies, but she feared facing a firing squad, and quickly declined. She never spoke up, not at home, and not in Germany. Renatta spent every waking moment of her life drowning in guilt, knowing what she once stood for, and what it all had led to. Still, she was smothered in fear of what would happen if she ever said a word. She was a coward, and knew she was just as guilty as the killers. Years of silence, passive smiles, and polite nods led her to this point. She could cry, beg for forgiveness from the basterds themselves, but, for what? Ruin whatever plan they undoubtedly had? "Banwjor-no." She decided once again to stay silent. She knew Hans wanted to use her to humiliate their attempt to pass off as Italians. "Graht-see."

Her eyes welled up. Once again, a pawn in a plan to fuel hate filled speeches and regimes.  She tilted her head up, looking at the blood stained banners and stolen art  planted there by the nazis. She knew she was no better than them. Renatta Castelluccio, an accessory to crime against her own nation, and a  spineless, voiceless pit of shame and regret. Her eyes fell on Donny. He was trying his best, she knew, but his eyes were momentarily fixated on her leg, peeking through a slit in her emerald green dress. She glanced hurriedly at her escort, Hans Landa, who she despised with what was left of her soul. He'd repeatedly proposed to her, and she always politely refused, saying it was not right to marry during war. Secretly, she hoped he would die in the war, or would be charged with war crimes. He didn't notice Donny's wandering gaze, he was too busy being amused at the way they pronounced their fake names. "Margherittiiiiiiiii."

Renatta half smiled, though her heart beat in her throat, as she wished to find a way to help them, and for once do something right. Soon after Landa sent the basterds on their way. As he plotted his way into Operation Kino and a path to Nantucket Island, he sent Renatta to her seat as well. Donny lagged a little behind Omar, as a crowd of drinking nazis and half naked women merged between them. Donny couldn't take a chance and call out to Omar. It was unecessary attention. But, as he waited to make his way in, he felt a hand on his arm, pulling him back. Omar turned around, and saw. He raised an eyebrow, and cheekily smirked a little, before disappearing into the theater. He turned and saw Renatta, as she pulled Donny back, into an office away from the crowd. Donny grinned, trying to hide his nerves, "Buongio-" She shook her head, "I know who you are." "Uh... Sì...Antonio Marg-" "You're not Italian, I know..." She smiled softly, stepping closer to him, and touching the side of his cheek, "You're a basterd..." Before he could react, she said everything she had to amidst pleas and kisses. She told him all about Landa, how to go about it, "Whatever your plan is, he is the one you can not underestimate." Donny frowned, his hands around her waist, and pulled his head back a little, "Why are you telling me this?" Renatta looked down, and saw Donny pressing a gun against the bottom of her rib cage. She shook her head, "Because I have seen things that could've been pages from the Inferno." Donny had never read it, but it didn't sound good. "Things that should never be, sergeant..." Donny at that moment, looked into her eyes. If what people said about eyes being the window to the soul was true, then all he could see was a terrified one. "I once had the intention of being an informant for the allies, but I was a coward...Whenever I opened my mouth, no words came out. So all I've done for years is stand by. Stand by and-" Tears streamed down her cheek, and Donny tilted his head to the side, absolutely confused. He didn't feel sympathy. Not for a former fascist.  But he wanted to listen, and make sure he could trust her enough about Landa. "I've stood by and said nothing. Sometimes that's worse than actually pulling a trigger...just letting it happen. I never said..." She trailed off, looking away in shame, patting her eyes with  the back of her black satin covered hands. "Never said what?" "I never said no." He stared at her blankly, not knowing what to make of it at all, "No. Such a powerful word," She laughed softly, pathetically, as she wiped away a silent tear. "It gets you killed here, there, these day. 'No'...that could have saved at least one life. Just one..." "Why are you telling me this?" "You're a basterd, everyone that's someone to the nazis is here. You have a plan, and I want to make sure Hans doesn't stop you." "I got it.” He nodded, and reluctantly sighed,  “Go, now." "Wh...what are you talking about?" Never in her life had anyone given Renatta a second chance. "If what you say is true, this guy Landa's gonna be more worried about me and the boys than where you are. You have enough time to get out, and get far away without anyone here noticing." He fully stepped away from her, let go of her waist, and lowered his gun. He had all the information he needed. Kisses and bullets wouldn't be necessary. She shook her head. No one on either side of the war would show her any kind of mercy close to that. "I'll be shot for this, no matter how this turns out." Donny sighed, knowing the clock was ticking, and that she was right. She may have just betrayed Hans Landa, but it was not enough of a saving grace outside of Le Gamaar. He took one look at her, and saw a short, unlived life. Short enough to only have known regimes and gunfire. She looked directly into his eyes, "No matter how this turns out, what I do, I will die. Let me stay." "Stay?" "Let me watch these regimes burn," She pleaded softly, and whispered, "Senza gloria..." He shook his head, "No. Go. Get to somewhere safe..." He couldn't believe he'd just said that, but he couldn't take it back now. He looked at her, that cowardly mess, and thought if she saw Hans, she'd backtrack and fess up again. To stop that from happening, he needed her out of the theater.  "Don't go looking for Landa. Get it?" She smiled, for the first time in years, without her lips being pulled by strings of manipulation, "Grazie..." They went their ways, and Donny sat with Omar in the theater. Omar chuckled, and whispered, "Signorina?" Donny shook his head, trying to sound Italian as possible,  "Gone-o." Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Aldo and Bridget hadn't shown up, and it was almost show time. He eased his way back out, and stood at the top of the stairs, looking down over the balcony, searching for a sign of Aldo or Bridget. Instead, he saw Renatta again. She was in the lobby, speaking to Hans. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but he understood that she didn't listen to Donny. What's more, Donny couldn't trust her anymore.

By default, he had to believe she broke down and told Hans about their conversation. The clock was ticking.

Donny and Omar didn't have time for this. He turned his back, and made his way back to get Omar so they could go on with Operation Kino. With or without Aldo and Bridget, this had to be done. What Donny didn't see was Renatta taking a stand for the first time in her life. She slipped Hans' gun out of his pocket. He looked down at her, eyes wide in betrayal, but his lips twisted, "You wouldn't dare, my love. You've always been so pathetic." As tears streamed down her face, he smirked, his hand reaching over the barel of the gun, "You wouldn't, you cowar-" One single gunshot, drowned out by the crowd and the reel of propaganda. One single bullet, tearing through Landa's hand, and straight through his skull. He dropped to his knees, and looked up at her, blood pouring through his nose and mouth in a betrayed, final gargled breath. She looked down for a few moments, watching as blood pooled out slowly, and collected beneath her heels, staining the bottom of her trailing dress. This was the first and only blood she did not feel sorry for. Renatta walked back up the stairs, and made her way to the opera box, without her escort, and without an ounce of regret. In a moment, smoke appeared, along with a face on the screen, with a message and a plot for revenge.

  Renatta didn't understand what was happening. But she didn't mind. She leaned back, and smiled softly with a sigh, "Che spettacolo...." 'What a show...' She watched as regimes fell before her very eyes in a blaze, as she waited to meet her end. It came unexpectedly, in a suit, and a fit of rage.

Donny Donowitz stood before her, cornering her in the opera box, "I gave you a chance." She didn't know why he suddenly seemed to retract his mercy, but she didn't question it. Whatever anger Donny felt was justified in her eyes. So, when he shot her, she said nothing. 

She looked up at him, no blame or reproach in her eyes as her blood pooled through her dress and trickled down. She took a breath, and turned away from him, and for a moment, watched the war end before her eyes. In a few moments, the entire high command was gone. Donny joined Omar back on the stairs, and were on their way out of the theater, when Donny saw a body face down in the middle of the lobby. Omar panicked, "ALDO?!" Donny shook his head, "It's not a white suit..." He ran up, and turned the body over, revealing Hans Landa's cold, dead eyes, and twisted grin. Omar looked to Donny again, "Maybe Aldo did this." Aldo would have scalped or marked him. Donny knew that. "It wasn't him..." His eyes widened with realization. The last person he saw with Hans was Renatta. It had to be her. "Go. I'll meet you outside." "What?!" Donny pushed Omar toward the exit, "I forgot something. Go, now! That's a fucking order." Omar had no choice. He walked through the smoke and disappeared. Donny ran back to the opera box, the flames nearly reaching it. "Renatta." Her eyes were beginning to close, her breathing beginning to slow, and blood pooled beneath her.  Donny was about to step into the box, but she shot up with what was left of her breath, "No!" "You killed Hans. You...you didn’t lie to me, you-" He stepped onto the box, and heard a low, loud rumble as Renatta pleaded, "Stay back!" He stopped in his tracks. If he stepped over to get her, the opera box would collapse and fall into the fire below. He crouched down, "Ok, crawl to me, we still have time. We have four minutes." She shook her head, struggling to breathe. She could hardly move. There was no more time for her. "It's too late for me, s-sergeant. Don't w-wait for me." "You don't...you don't know that!" She lifted her eyes to look at him, and saw a shade of remorse. She shook her head slowly, trying to convince him, "I'll slow you down. You have time, I don't." "I'm...I'm sorry..." She shook her head again, smiling kindly at him. He could barely hear her voice over the roar of the fire, and the last few screams below, "Don't ever be sorry for what you've done here, soldier..." She gasped for a breath, "You're a g-good man." His head tilted to the side, as he spoke softly, "Renatta..." She pulled herself up, the balcony beginning to rumble lowly again. Renatta held on to the banister of the opera box, and looked over at the hellfire, watching the final few below writhe and scream, "Leave me here. There is no other place for a coward like me on this earth." "Don't..." She turned her head a little, not enough to meet him face to face again, just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye.

"Don't you understand? No matter what happened tonight, I was not going to survive the end of the war." She looked back out at the fire devouring the cinema and the high command, "Let me go," She shut her eyes and whispered, "Senza gloria... I deserve nothing more than this..."

"Renatta." "You have a minute left. Don't waste a lifetime for an inglourious moment with me." He nodded slowly and backed away from the creaking opera box. He reached the closest staircase, and looked back. All he could hear was the rumbling of the opera box, the roar of the fire, and Renatta whispering once again, “Senza gloria...” In her last moments, Renatta held her head up high, watching her impending inglourious fate approach her in silence. blood dripping down her dress, with one final smile, she watched the curtains close: The nazis' banners falling into the fire below. He left her, and made his way back outisde. He stood across the street with Omar, waiting for the grand finale. Omar broke the eerie silence as smoke began to rise above the street, "You let the Italian girl go, didn't you?" He didn’t see Donny shoot her. Donny nodded, "Yeah." Donny watched as the smoke rose, and knew that Renatta was right. No matter what he did, or she did, she was not going to live past the end of the war. No matter what happened, whether or not Operation Kino fell through, she would have been executed by the winner of the war. If the basterds failed, she would be killed as a traitor, and if they succeeded and she ran away, she’d be killed as a collaborator. She got out of it, and it was what she wanted most, to finally speak up. They watched as the cinema took its final bow, in a blaze of vengeance and ashes of atonement.

Donny nodded with a sigh, and a soft smile, hearing her voice one last time, as though it came with the wind that fueled the flames, "Senza gloria..."

[mldrgrl]

A Few Thousand Plus One

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: Written for the fic is medicine @xfficchallenges prompt 3 - Mulder tries to convince Scully to go on a date with him.

Even if they sat down and really thought about it, it would probably be impossible to count just how many diners they’d been to in how many different towns across America.  State to state, not much changes, from the greasy food to the haggard servers to the decadent chocolate milkshakes that Mulder pretends to order for himself, but passes them off to Scully after taking a skim off the top.  

They were somewhere outside Norfolk, on their way home, when they stopped for dinner at a promising-looking diner off the road.  It looked like it ticked Scully’s main boxes at least: clean and clean.

It was a Saturday night, so seating was limited, but they were able to snag a booth next to the front windows after a short wait.  Mulder grinned happily at the the straw dispenser at their table as he slid into the red vinyl seating.  It never failed to amuse him the way the straws would fan out for selection and then collapse when he lifted the lid up and down.  Kitschy vintage appliances were amongst some of his favorite toys.

Scully usually used the time spent at these dinners to go over her notes at the end of a case and Mulder used it to people watch and charm the waitresses into bottomless glasses of iced tea.  While they waited for their burgers, Scully’s pen moved furiously over the pages of her already carefully cultivated report and Mulder kept his eye on a couple of teenagers at the next booth over.

“Hey,” Mulder said.  “Scully.”

“Hm,” she answered, making a noise of acknowledgment without really paying attention.”

“Hey.”

“Hm.”

Mulder pulled a straw out from the dispenser and peeled the end of the paper cover off one side.  He put the exposed plastic end in his mouth and blew, sending the paper sailing towards Scully, which she easily deflected with the flick of her wrist.

“What do you want?” she asked.

He leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “I think those kids behind you are on a first date.”

Scully gave a subtle glance over her shoulder as she shook the pen in her hand and then hovered back over her notes.  “What makes you say that?”

“It’s awkward as hell.  They’re not even talking to each other, just looking at each other every so often, and then away.  The boy keeps pulling at the collar of his letterman jacket.”

“I suppose you were a regular casanova at what, 16, 17?”

Mulder shrugged.  “I pulled my share.”

“Mmhm.”

The teen facing Mulder had dirty blonde hair and cystic acne.  He spent a lot of time looking up at the ceiling or at the table.  Mulder couldn’t see much of his date, aside from her dark hair pulled back into a clip.  Scully blocked most of the view, but even the back of the girl’s head looked bored.

“I don’t even remember the last time I went on a date,” Scully said, a little off-handedly.  “It’d probably be just as awkward.”

“Why do you say that?”

“What would I even talk about at this point?  That time a man-sized flukeworm attacked the good citizens of New Jersey or the latest alien abduction data posted in our early edition of The Lone Gunmen?”

“Scully, I’m hurt you’d share alien abduction data with anyone but me.  That’s our thing.”

That earned him a bit of a smile as she turned a page in her notes.  His eyes bounced from the teens to Scully and the teens to her papers.

“What if I took you out?” he asked.

“We are out.”

“Out out.  Like a date, out.”

“Oh, that’s not what this is?”

“I’m serious.”

“Come on, Mulder.”

“I am!”

Three little creases formed above Scully’s right eyebrow as it arched upwards and she raised her eyes to him.  She stopped marking her paper, but didn’t put down her pen.  “That’s just ridiculous,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because we work together. We’re partners.”

“I think you’re just afraid of how good of a date I am.”

She suppressed a smile as she scoffed and then shook her head.  “Mulder, when was the last time you even went on a date?”

“Totally irrelevant.  I’ll have you know I am an excellent date.”

“On what do you base that?”

“I open doors, I bring flowers, I pull out chairs, the whole nine yards.”  Mulder cocked his head as Scully’s face wrinkled as though she’d smelled something bad.  “What’s that look?”

“Mulder, I think you’re confusing dating with being exceedingly polite.”

“It starts with being polite, but then you have to make good conversation. And I’m great at making conversation.”

“About Bigfoot and liver-eating mutants?”

“Hey, if that’s what you want to talk about, who am I to stop you?  Great conversation also includes being a good listener.”

Now, Scully laughed out loud.  “I might be tempted to take you up on your ridiculous offer just to see that.”

“It’s not a ridiculous offer, it’s just an offer.”

A moment passed where Scully’s expression turned from amusement to chagrin, almost as though she’d thought she hurt his feelings by rejecting him.  She nervously flicked her hair away from her face and made a false start to respond.

“Burger medium rare,” interrupted the waitress, sliding a plate in front of Mulder.  “Chicken sandwich for the lady.”

Scully quickly gathered her notes out of the way of the incoming plate and stuffed them into her satchel.

“Chocolate shake will be out in a minute,” the waitress added.  “Can I get you folks anything else?”

This was usually Mulder’s cue to say something like ‘Dolores, I know I probably shouldn’t ask, but if you could find a pitcher of iced tea behind the counter, I would be forever indebted to you.’  But, he didn’t say anything.

“He’ll have another iced tea,” Scully said.

“Coming right up.”

“Thanks,” Mulder said, as the waitress walked away.

“I got impatient waiting for you to turn on the charm and do it yourself.”

“I don’t flirt with other ladies on a date.”

“Mulder, this isn’t a date.”

“It could be like a dress rehearsal date.”

“Do I need to remind you that not five minutes ago you blew a straw at me?  That’s something you do in an elementary school cafeteria, not on a date.”

“We weren’t on our date yet, so it doesn’t count.”

“We’re not on a date now, so it doesn’t matter.”

Mulder brooded over his burger while Scully arranged her chicken sandwich to her liking, removing most of the lettuce and scraping off the excess of mayonnaise from the top bun.  Dolores came and went after dropping off the chocolate shake and iced tea.  Scully pushed the tall, frozen glass over to Mulder in offering, but he shook his head and pushed it back.  Silence prevailed, and so did awkwardness.

“Mulder, are you going to pout about this all night?”

“Give me one good reason why you won’t go on a date with me?”

“I already have.  We work together.”

“Workplace romances are so prevalent they’re cliche.  That’s not a good reason.”

“Yes, I know.  I’ve had my share of workplace romances and they’ve ended badly.  And I think you have as well.  I don’t want that for us.”

“One date.  What’s the worst that could happen?”

“We could enjoy ourselves.”

“Your worst case scenario is that we could have a good time?”

“Yes.  It would be.”

“That is like the epitome of cynicism.”

Scully put down the sandwich she was picking at and wiped her hands on a napkin.  She took a moment to finish chewing and swallowed.  Mulder stared at her, eating steak fries and waiting for whatever retort she was working up.

“Mulder, let’s say we go on this date, and you are exceedingly polite, and we talk and we laugh and you walk me to my door and maybe I even let you kiss me goodnight and then what?  Because what you’re offering is just one date, but what happens if we want more?  What happens if we go on a second date, and then a third?  What happens if we sleep together?  What happens when we can’t go back from what was only supposed to be one date?”

“Would it be so bad, Scully, to want more?”

“Would you risk the x-files over one date?”

“Why would I have to?”

“Because they could split us up or we could split ourselves up over this and...they’re my files too.”

Mulder smiled.  “You’re saying you’d fight me for custody?”

“It’s not funny.”

“It is funny, though.  Scully, I think you like werewolves and mothmen.”

Scully pulled her milkshake towards her with a little too much force and it spilled over the top onto her hand.  “Shut up, Mulder.”  He smiled around a steak fry as she licked her fingers clean before wiping them with a napkin.

“What is a date, really?” Mulder asked once she had her mouth full of chicken sandwich and couldn’t answer.  “It’s two people sharing a meal together, or their time, getting to know each other better.  By that logic, Scully, we’ve already been on a thousand dates.”

She shook her head in disagreement.  “We spend time as coworkers.”

“Never as friends?”

“Sometimes.  But, not lovers.”

“I know times have changed, but isn’t dating still a precursor to becoming lovers more often that not?”

“You’re not gonna win this argument, Mulder.”

“I already have.”

“When?”

“When you told me to shut up.”

Scully huffed in annoyance.  The teenagers caught Mulder’s eye again and he surreptitiously watched the boy turn about three shades of red as he splattered ketchup over his plate.  He could hear both kids laughing.  He hoped the girl was laughing with the boy and not at him.

Mostly finished with his burger, Mulder slid out from his side of the booth and moved to Scully’s side.  She paused, her mouth open for a bite of her sandwich, and watched him slide towards her.  The closer he got, she leaned away.

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

“One date.”

“You just said we’d already been on thousands of them.”

“Well, then, what’s one more?”

“Why now?”

“Why not?”

“Answer the question and maybe I’ll say yes.”

“Because I’ve shared thousands of meals with you and I know your shoe size, but I can’t tell you what your favorite color is.”

“We don’t need to go on a date for you to find that out.”

“Maybe not, but at the very least we could both say the last time we went out with someone wasn’t when Reagan was in office, if asked.  And who else are we gonna date?  I mean, you could take your pick of any of the lab guys that geek out over you every time we come down for analysis, or one of the stud detectives that watch you walk away from a crime scene with a little drool at the side of their mouths, or Frohike.  Let’s not forget Frohike.”

“None of that is true, Mulder.”

“It is.  You just don’t notice.”

“Well, I’m not interested in any of them.”

“Maybe all I can offer you is politeness and scintillating conversation about lake monsters and the chupacabra, but it has to be better than nothing, right?  I mean...I think I’m better than nothing.”

“Of course you are.”

“I’ll even wait until date three to bring up the Mongolian death worm.”

“Mongolian death worm?”

“Ah ah, have to buy the cow if you want the milk.”

Scully responded with a roll of her eyes.  She hadn’t rejected him again though.  Mulder stole a sip of her milkshake and then went back to his side of the booth.  Eventually, he flagged the waitress down to get their check and he paid for it with his own cash and not the bureau card, which didn’t go unnoticed by Scully.  He took her satchel and held the door open for her as they walked out, which wasn’t unusual, but it stood out to her.

Their rental car was at the far end of the parking lot.  Scully slipped her hand around Mulder’s bicep and held him loosely as they walked.  Strolled, really, as he almost came to a stop when she did it.

“No diners,” she said.  “Nothing too fancy either.  I like Italian and I like ambiance.  You can pick me up, but you don’t need to bring flowers.  My favorite color is green.”

“Got it.  Green, really?”

She shrugged, let go of him as they reached the car, and took her satchel back.  She went her way to the passenger side and he went ahead to the driver’s door.  The locks were automatic on the keyring and he held it up to open both sides with one click.  She opened her door.

“Hey,” he said to her over the roof of the car.

“Yes?”

“Just thought you should keep in mind, I’m a really good kisser too.”

Her eyebrow shot higher than he’d ever seen it and she took a glance down at his mouth.  “So am I,” she said, and got into the car.

The End

[sunsiac]

Can I request #4 with either Jeonghan from SVT or Mark from Got7?

Hi, of course! I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope you like this :)

#4: “letting you go was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

pairing: lawyer!jeonghan x prosecutor!reader

group: SEVENTEEN

word count: 2.1k

summary: everyone lives their life in black and white until they meet their soulmate. you, with possibly the shittiest luck on earth, have always had to be the one to sit back and listen to people ramble about the colours of the world. all you have is a small tint of colour in the bottom corner of your left eye, from a past court session, you think. but, you’ve given up on trying to figure out how that works at this point. and, you were planning on keeping it that way, at least until one particular trial gave you a reason not to.

–

“I never knew how bright blue was!”

You’d heard this sentence more times than you thought you could count, closely paired with things like ‘green is so nice to look at’ or ’pink is really cute, sort of frilly’ But, you’d always have to be the one to politely explain that you didn’t understand, because hadn’t found your soulmate; at least, not yet.

You were 24 years old when you’d finally decided that you’d had enough. You’d searched far and wide for your soulmate, but still had to listen to an eighteen year old tell you about how beautiful the colours of the world were with a smile on your face? You definitely enjoyed hearing the experiences at first, but after a while, it became similar to your own personal hell.

So, you decided to dedicate your life to a job that handled the misfortunes that came with soulmates. The greying vision, the cheating, everything that made you feel like maybe you weren’t exactly alone in your struggle after all.

He, however, was the opposite.

He liked the idea of soulmates, he liked what came with it, but he wasn’t in any rush to find them. ‘if they’re really my soulmate, they’ll find me first.’ he’d always thought. Besides, he figured that actually graduating law school first was much more important at that time, anyway.

So, after a while, he just learned to disregard the possibility of finding his soulmate, the monochromatic vision he possessed no longer bothering him.

At least, until they caught eyes years later, the pair acting as training officers standing behind their mentors in the courtroom. They were both just approaching 26 when they caught the slight glimpse of each other. But, unknowingly, they were both left with only fragments of colour afterwards. Hers in the bottom corner of her left eye, and his in the bottom corner of his right.

They both had failed to come up with an excuse to disregard the small colour of puddle that had appeared in their vision, and gave their all in trying to figure out just who in the world had put it there. But, when neither of them could figure it out, they had to give up.

They had both been in their respective fields now for at least a couple years, the both of them going on 29 already. But, this time, it was the both of them worrying about their soulmate.

'what in the world are they doing?’ was a consistent thought for both of you. You were dreading the day when you were truly out maxed by everyone around you, and with each passing day, you knew that reality was getting closer. And now, he was the same. He dreamed of his soulmate, his second sense of vision flooding with colour as he slept. But your face was always blocked out, leaving him to find out who you were for himself. It made him restless, ad even more eager to find out your identity.

But he was ready to take on the challenge. 

The both of you, even while being busy in your respective fields, barely spent time at home. Any time that you weren’t cooped up doing work was time to go out and enjoy yourselves with the potential of finding your soulmate. But you were too logical in that sense; fate doesn’t work like that.

But only until that day did you realise this.

It started out as any other case would; arriving ten minutes before starting point, your feet dragging slightly from the inevitable late night you’d spent overviewing your portion of the crime, and having a polite conversation with whoever else you happened to be seated with. Those ten minutes came and went as normal, until the sound of the gavel rang out, signifying that the trial was about to start.

So, with even looking up, you grabbed your notes and fixed your robe, ready to begin. You squinted across the room, trying to loosely size up your opponent. Having forgotten your glasses on the bathroom sink and neglected to put in your contacts before rushing out the door that morning, you couldn’t see much but the outline of a man with light blonde hair. But, you didn’t think much of your lapse in eyesight, seeing as you could argue all the same.

This trial was formed based on the accusations that a man had begun to abuse his soulmate, but she had no way to prove it. Your intel told you that she was a naturally muscular woman, being a kick boxer, so even if she did appear to have any bruises or physical damage of any kind, it was the type that could easily be played off. But, you weren’t there to pick sides; you never were, after all. 

But, seeing her sitting down from across the room, even being able to make out the faint purple and red marks on her face and arms, you didnt really know what to think. You turned your head to the crowd after a few seconds, curious. If her soulmate really had been abusing her, would they be in this crowd?

You did a once over of the crowd, but thanks to your lack of sight, couldn’t find much out of the ordinary. You would rather not be involved in a situation like that anyway. But as you looked back at your papers, you reminded yourself that even if they were somewhere in the crowd, it didn’t matter for you. After all, you were trying to prove the woman’s claims as false.

“Please rise,”

You finally looked up, your thoughts automatically clearing at the phrase that had been drilled into your head. Standing straight, you clasped your hands together and listened to the judge give a preliminary statement before telling each side to begin stating their cases.

The lawyer you were facing stood up first, seizing the opportunity to give his side of the story first.

“My client and her soulmate met 3 years ago,” He began, making his way around his portion of desk. “Since then, she has done 6 consecutive years of indoor kick boxing, and has even gone on to play in national competitions,”

You saw him turn to you, but he was still fuzzy, so you didn’t try to push yourself at all.

He looked down at the papers in his arms before turning to the jury. “A woman who has won first place in many of these competitions would be hard to put down by anyone that wasn’t her soulmate,”

A few people in the crowd let out uncomfortable sighs. You was having a hard time keeping one in yourself, as you saw his point.

“If you love someone, or if you have this kind of physical- no, mental connection with them, it’s hard to deny even things you aren’t comfortable doing,” The lawyer said, turning back to the judge.

“1 month ago she was admitted into the hospital with 3 broken ribs and assorted bruising on her neck. While meanwhile, she hadn’t taken part in any competitions in that past month nor had she attended any sort of practice or meeting regarding the sport,” He said, referring to the dates that were probably written on the papers he carried, “I am proposing that this man gets 2 years jail time, under part II of the soulmate act of 2034,”

The court room was silent, before the judge nodded.

“Thank you. Next, please,” He said, waving in your general direction. As you stood up, the lawyer went to sit back down. You caught a better view of his hair as you switched spots, though, finally able to clearly see a part of him for a moment.

he’s probably handsome.

“Her last official meet took place a month and a half ago, and while she had no injuries at that point, it’s a proven fact that rib injuries may take up to 2 months to fully appear.” You suggested, watching the lawyer’s eyebrow tick up as you took another few steps forward. “As for the bruises on her face – miss, is it okay if I ask you a question?”

You eyes moved to her, her face flushing slightly as she nodded.

“Do you happen to have any sort of condition, such as asthma, or eczema that you take medication for?”

She bit her lip, but nodded again.

“Do you use any type of skin treatment? Such as rollers, exfoliating brushes, things like that?”

Another nod.

You turned to the jury. “Medicines used to for particular things like these sometimes lead to blood thinning, which means, if she uses anything heavy on her face such as a roller, it would cause the skin to sink in slightly, and therefore bruise easily.”

The crowd shifted a bit, obviously uneasy. But before you could say anything else, the lawyer rang in.

“Objection, your honour, What means are backing up these facts? And, blood thinning only happens with certain medications, not necessarily the ones my client was using.”

The judge turned to you, so you quickly walked over, getting the message as you pulled a paper from the small stack you was holding and slipped it onto his desk. He put on his glasses and straightened out the paper, everyone in the room consecutively holding their breath as he scanned over it.

It was a few moments of silence before he nodded. “Overruled. Means and clarification of medication are stated,”

I fought back a sigh in relief. Thankfully, this was looking to be an easy case so far. I turned back around to take a look at the lawyer for a moment, and to my delight, he seemed speechless. His eyes were slightly wider now, a newfound panic underlying the deep brown colour.

wait.

You blinked again, and sure enough, his eyes were still brown. Then, upon your realization, other things began to change, too. The glasses that were on the tip of his nose began to fill in with a light silver colour, whilst everything around him filled in next. The deeper brown of the desks, the green of the carpet beneath your feet, it was all so sudden, but you felt like you didn’t ever want it to stop.

That small spot in the corner of your eye had expanded to the whole of your vision.

You met his eyes after a moment, and when you saw the familiar look in eyes, you wanted to jump in joy. Finally, you thought. You had finally found your soulmate, and at work of all places.

But, you figured that you had both spaced out, so you pulled your eyes off of him and begrudgingly turned back to the judge.

The rest of the trial had gone smoothly for you, the facts and points you’d given driving out until the end and giving you yet another win. Apparently, the woman had been having an affair and hadn’t reported her injuries from a kickboxing meet until they got so bad that she could blame her soulmate, whom she wanted to leave, for it.

To him normally, losing a case would be a huge deal. but this time, he considered it a win. He would always take meeting his soulmate over winning a case.

Everything had played out well, you thought, but you couldn’t exactly think of that for long. The only thing on your mind was the world around you; and the man that had put it all there. 

“Y/N?” You turned around in the lobby, and was met with the same man you’d been against just recently. You finally smiled, enjoying the sight of the one you could finally call your soulmate.

“Jeonghan,” You let out a name that you’d become familiarized with just minutes ago, and took happiness in watching the smile that spread across his face.

He undoubtedly looked as happy as you were.

“Gosh,” You mumbled, unable to help the tears that came to your eyes as you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “Do you realised how long I’ve been waiting for you?”

He just let out a soft chuckle, arms wrapping around you and pulling you into him. “The same amount of time I’ve spent waiting for you. It was really hard having just a small bit of colour, you know. Knowing that I’d briefly met my soulmate; it was torture. Letting you go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

You pulled back from the hug to look at his face, unable to wipe the grin off your own. 

“Then promise me you won’t do it again?”

“You can count on it,”

—

(lowkey pulled that entire court case out of my ass, but I think it worked out well enough??)

I hoped you liked it :)

[thewalkingdead-imagines]

TWD - Negan Imagine ~ “How it’s gotta be”

An imagine about the midseason finale of season 8

After they arrive at the gates, the reader’s position between Negan and her old friends gets challenged once again as she gets into serious danger for helping a familiar person escape Alexandria

the last part / all other previous parts (Side note: You don’t have to read any previous parts to understand the plot! I hope you all like it and enjoy reading)

The headlights of cars were faintly hitting the gates of your old home, the place where all your friends were, as you stood up from the bench in the truck. You could still feel Negan’s hand wrappend around yours as you tried to let his promise replay in your head. The promise that he’d consider ways where fewer people had to die or even ones where this whole thing could be stopped with, even if those ways came from the other side. And now it were just minutes separating you from knowing if this promise would be useful or if it was a complete waste. “You can stay in this fucker if you want”, you heard Negan say as your glance snapped away from the gates and darted at him. “No, it’s alright. I gotta come with you out there”, you said as Negan gave you quiet nod. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he looked one last time at you before he turned around and made his way out of the truck. The crispy cold air hit your skin as you followed him outside while his men were already putting themselves in position, two others were rushing back into the truck to get the boxes and the microphone outside. You pressed your nervously sweating palms against the fabric of your pants until everything around you stopped moving, expect for Negan. Your glance kept darting at him as he walked casually towards the gates and knocked Lucille against its metallic bars, just like he had done it the very first time he arrived at Alexandria. “Joe, get your watch ready”, you heard him say into the direction of one of the Savior as he walked back before he raised the microphone up to his lips. “You may be wondering why the hell your lookouts didn't sound the alarm. See, we are polite. I mean, I don't know when they're gonna wake up from that kinda shot, but they should wake up. So let's just cut through the cow shit”, Negan called out into the microphone while his voice sounded through the darkness. “You lose. It's over”, his voice boomed, while a shudder ran down your back. “So you're gonna line up in front of your little houses, and you're gonna work up some apologies, show me that you mean this shit, I’ll think of a fitting punishment and then we move on”, he called out while the only reason the tension in your body wasn’t rising, was that you could already somehow prepare yourself for those words. “You have three - Count 'em, three minutes to open this gate, or we start bombing the shit out of you!”, you heard his voice boom again, the microphone lowering. “Now, Joe”, Negan said with a quick finger moment into the Savior’s direction. Negan’s whistle sounded loudly through the microphone  air while his glance caught yours for a moment. 3 minutes. Only 3 damn minutes. Your jaw clenched as you stared with a stern glance in your eyes up to the lookout, waiting for someone to climb up and hopefully give Negan a reason, a way out or a new deal to not bomb this place to nothing but smoke and ashes. You could swear you heard somewhere in the back of your head a horribly monotone clock ticking as you could see from the corners of your eyes how Negan’s glance kept darting at you.

“Two minutes, Boss” You heard the man say as you gulped hard, but kept your stern face around Negan’s men even though you could already feel the tension tearing you apart. “Two minutes, people! Dig deep. I want these apologies to be memorable. Bonus points for creativity. Work up a poem, sing a song. I love that shit. Get going!”, Negan’s voice boomed as his words made you cringe before you slowly saw Negan walking around, looking up to the lookout as well, before back to his men and then to you. He kept walking until he stood next to you. He didn’t say a thing, he only let his fingers brush against yours, that unobtrusive that it was almost unrecognizable for anyone else than the both of you. Right now, you could feel the urge in you to just want back to the few and only hours in the last night in which you had found some sleep. In which you had stopped tossing and shifting in Negan’s arms and had instead turned around and had allowed yourself to nuzzle your face into his warm chest, ignoring the slight aching that still came from the wound on your hip as soon as you put too much pressure on it. How much you wanted back there now and just feel for a small bit lighthearted, just let his warmth give you some comfort while your hand rests on his chest, feel the fabric of his shirt and his chest hairs beneath it while the way his chest falls and rises and the sound of his steady heartbeat let you drift off into the sleep. But of course, that wasn’t how it worked now. “One minute”

“One minute!”, Negan called out as he left your side and walked back on the road. “One minute! Well, here we are”, he continued with a deep sigh. “I didn't want it to come to this. Much rather would've been at home tonight, have some nice ass dinner with my girl”, he said, popping the last two words with his lips in an even stronger provocative tone. Clenching your jaw slightly you watched him, of course he was doing that. Of course, he was going to use this opportunity to rub under their noses that you were with him instead of them in these moments. “But you folks wanted to order off the menu. And look at that! Now you have to eat shit. God knows I didn't want to be the one serving it up”, Negan called out before the microphone sunk a little and his whistle sounded back through the darkness. And while he was whistling, you were grasping at straws these final seconds, hoping dearly that you’d finally see someone coming up the damn stairs of the outlook and give Negan another way, another deal, another reason to stop him from doing what would happen if no one would do anything in these dying three minutes. “Zero”

Boomed through your head as the men’s voice stopped Negan’s whistle. And with that single word, it felt like a ton was pressing on your chest, pressing until no air was left in your lungs while the tension spread over your whole body. It was over. It was just a matter of seconds till Alexandria’s houses would flare up. You could feel Negan’s glance brushing over you before you heard his voice booming muffled through your clouded head. “Okeydokey. Brought this on yourself, Rick. See, was willing to work with you. All you had to do was follow a few very simple rules”, he called out as he walked towards closer towards the trucks on the road. “Now - Well, now I see that you got to go...Scorched earth, you dick!”, Negan called into the microphone as suddenly a familiar voice ripped your glance off of him. “He's not home”, you heard Carl’s voice say as your eyes immediately caught him standing on the lookout while his glance darted down to Negan. Within seconds, the small flame of hope in you that had been about to smother flared up again. Maybe this wasn’t the end after all. Maybe there really was a way. Maybe.

“Oh-ho-holy shit! Everybody hold your fire. It's Carl”, Negan said amusedly, suddenly with the grin back on his lips “Look at you. Answering the door like a big boy. I am so proud”, Negan added with a grin as he looked up to Carl and chuckled slightly. “Daddy's not home, huh? Well, I guess he's gonna get back to a big old smoky surprise”, Negan said as your jaw clenched, even though you knew that he would give Carl a chance to offer him another deal. “There's families in here. Kids. My little sister”, Carl growled as his glance caught yours for a moment. “Well, that shit just breaks my heart. There's kids at the Sanctuary. You must've seen 'em...Even had a little baby at one of the outposts. I wonder what happened to her”, Negan said, his voice darkening again as he took a few steps closer to Carl who still glared at him. “None of this shit's fair, kid. Hell, you know that. You had to kill your own mom. That is screwed up”, he continued, a small ounce of compassion sounding through his voice as you gulped, seeing the way Carl’s glance slightly changed. You could just imagine what simply these words were creating in him. You had been there. You had been there when he had to hear the last words his own mother was telling him before Maggie and you had to somehow get his little sister into the world while his mom was screaming in the deathly pain. You had been there when you had heard his shot that eventually prevented her from becoming a walker and lastly, you had been there when this little guy walked numb and empty through the pain the loss had created past Maggie and you. “Ergo, we need someone in charge who's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that shit doesn't happen”, you heard Negan’s voice again that ripped you away from the thoughts that had taken your mind over for a short moment and let your glance shoot to him again as he turned around and walked a few steps back. “Oh, wait...That's me”, Negan said as he turned with a smirk around again and slightly raised his arms. “Bad stuff does happen, but we can figure this out. We can stop this”, you heard Carl say while now the hope in you crew further, just as the tension that needed to know if it would work out, if his promise would pay off. For a short moment, Negan’s glance met yours, showing you with just a glimpse that he most definitely hadn’t forgot and that he knew what he was supposed to do now, even though you knew that he was about to do it in his very own way. “Oh, now you want to talk? See, your dad had it that I died no matter what. He gave my people a choice. Not me. So if you got some kinda way to stop this crap, tell me. Tell me now and here, I’m fucking listening but kid, let me tell you, it better be a good one”, Negan said as your glance stayed stuck on him and Carl, the second until you heard his voice again felt like an eternity. “Kill me.” “What did you say?”, you heard Negan’s voice say as the microphone sunk from his lips, his glance turning bewildered while he had with that sentence said what you were thinking. “There needs to be punishment, right? That’s what you always said. So if you have to kill someone, if there has to be punishment, then kill me”, Carl said while your stomach felt like it turned. That wasn’t the way out you had been thinking off when you had thought about a way to stop this, not in any damn way. This wasn’t what Negan’s promise had been supposed to lead to. “I'm serious”, Carl’s voice sounded through the air while your heart pumped harshly against your chest and your glance closely watched Negan. “You wanna die?”, Negan asked lowly and unbelieving as his glance and even voice filled with some kind of shock, maybe even pain. “No, I don't. But I will. It's gonna happen. And I- if me dying could stop this, if it can make things different...if that can be a way out of this - for us, for you, for all those other kids - it'd be worth it”, Carl said as his voice trembled all while your eyes widened with every word he said. A breathy gasp escaped your lips as Negan’s head turned towards you, his glance meeting yours while there were no words needed for you both to explain that neither of you had thought of this way. Of course you wanted fewer people to die, but for fuck’s sake, you didn’t want Carl to die, in no way. You knew him since the very beginning of this all, you had practically seen him grow up as he went and had to went through all the things the world threw at him. He couldn’t die. Especially not because of this. Negan’s glance turned questioning and even in some kind of way insecure as if he tried to ask you how to handle this, how to keep the promise even though this wasn’t the way you would ever want. “I mean, was this the plan? Was it supposed to be this way? Is this who you wanted to be?”, Carl’s voice asked that let Negan’s glance dart from you to him again while a sigh left his lips as his jaw clenched tightly. For seconds it seemed like the moment was frozen, the tension and the uncertainty swinging in an unbearable manner in the air before the sound of engines and the breaking of metal plates sounded loudly through the night. Your glance snapped up, catching from the corner of your eyes how Carl vanished from the overlook while the headlights of more garbage trucks and Cars enlightened the woods between the road you were standing on and the other not too far away. The loud thuds of the Savior’s cars that were pushed to the sides by the trucks sounded through the air while your eyes darted at Negan who looked bewildered and in confusion from the now empty lookout to the driving trucks and cars that were probably filled with all the Alexandrian’s the war had left over. “Son of a bitch, Carl! Was that just a play?! I thought we were havin' a moment, you little asshole!”, Negan’s voice yelled towards the gates, his booming voice drowning out the loud noises around you while you could see the anger in his face rising within seconds about the alleged betrayal. “Bombs away!” And with that you flinched, as the gunshots and then the flames they created within Alexandria's walls lit up the dark night. Your glance narrowed in pain, your jaw clenched tightly as the sound of the burning houses echoed through your head. That was your still your home that was burning there. “Well, shit. Solar panels? We coulda used those. That convoy, they got away, huh? All of 'em? Kid's still gotta be here. I think he wanted to go down with the ship”, was the first thing you heard Negan say as he walked through the torn up gates of Alexandria, his glance switching from the houses to you for a moment while a bunch of his men were still separating you from him. For something that seemed like a split second there was something apologizing in his glance before it switched back to his men and turned into the stern, even cold one again. “Search the place. Find him, tie him up. Don't kill him. Blow up every other house”, Negan called out as he pointed at the men, as you bit slightly into your lips as you heard his words. He wasn’t going to kill him but tying him up meant that this all wasn’t over by far. It would get worse. “I'm gonna go to Rick's, make a little spaghetti. When he shows up, send him my way”, you heard him say, swinging Lucille slightly as his men began to spread out into different directions before his glance met yours, a deep sigh left his lips before he began to walk. And as you saw him walking towards you, your glance caught how one of the first houses you stepped in when you first came to Alexandria with the others flared up in high flames. Deanna’s house.

”You don’t mind if I film this?”, Deanna asked as you slowly sat down on the armchair across from the couch she was standing next to. ”No, it’s fine”, you said shaking your head as you heard the beep of the camera as it turned on. Your glance fell for a short moment to your skin, your clothes, your hands that were for the first time in a long while completely clean. There were no mud or even blood stains on your clothes, your skin felt soft and your hands and nails finally looked normal again. You could still feel the hot water on your skin the shower had let pelt down on you while a bunch of the others have had their interviews. “(Y/N)?”, you heard Deanna’s voice ask as she ripped you out of your thoughts and let your glance shot up to her. “Sorry,...I was in thoughts”, you mumbled as you sat straight up and looked at her while she sat down on the couch. “I saw that”, she said with a small sympathetic chuckle. “But that’s no trouble, you’re not used to this anymore. For how long have you been outside?”, she asked again, mostly because she seemed to try to find a way to you than to find out how much time you’ve spent outside. It would be a wonder if she wouldn’t know after the interviews with Rick and some of the others. “Since the beginning,...well, we had some kind of place in-between, but it was nothing like this here”, you said as you leaned against the soft fabric of the armchair while your glance fell on the comfortable but mostly precious furniture in the whole room. “What was it like?”, she asked while you gulped slightly. “A prison, we managed to clear some blocks”, you said with a small smile as you looked back at her. “That’s impressing. Just as impressing as the things I’ve heard you all did as a team, the things you did that make you sit alive and well in front of me now”, she said with a small smile, as you bit your lip, trying to find out where she wanted to lead this conversation and even more, what she wanted to find out. Especially, because ‘impressive’ wasn’t by far the first word you thought of when you thought about your actions. “What I want to say is, this place needs people like you, who know the world outside. Now my question is, why do people like you need a place like this anymore?”, she continued as you didn’t directly answer. Of course, you didn’t trust her yet, but you wanted this here to work, you maybe even desperately wanted to have something like a home again, for all of you. So you gave her your honest opinion. “We were just on the run, we never had a home and at some point, you’re on the run for too long. I think...I think no matter how well you manage to survive, in the end...everybody needs a place to rest. That’s why we need this place.” Boom. Leaving your head and glance restless your eyes darted at one of the unfinished houses of Alexandria and exactly the one you had found yourself sitting in sometimes. And now, it was bursting into flames The happy chirping of the birds sounded through the air, just as the relaxing sound the wind made as it rustled through the trees’ leaves. Sometimes, you went outside into the woods to get a clear head, but this here, this house that was nothing more than a bare brickwork at the edge of Alexandria was a quicker escape, one you could just use for a small bit of time, maybe just a few minutes to shut a bit down and just relax. Your half closed eyes watched the swinging crowns of the trees through the hole in the wall that had been supposed to fit a big window as you leaned against the bricks and shifted slightly on the fluffy, warm pillow that separated you from the cold cemented floor. Letting out a deep but content sigh you closed your eyes again, truly enjoying the tranquility that made it seem like you didn't even need the knife that laid next to the pillow on the floor, like this world was nothing but completely peaceful. ”(Y/N)”, Negan’s voice ripped you away from the flames that had been keeping your eyes and thoughts busy. “Get inside”, he said, nodding to the truck as soon as your still narrowed glance darted at him. “Come on - please”, he said, before you slowly nodded and made your way inside the truck before your glance met his again as you turned back around again. ”I won’t kill the kid”, Negan said as he saw the tension that was still stuck in your eyes while you slowly nodded. “Would you have done it? With the deal?”, you asked, your brows slightly puckering before a deep sigh left Negan’s lips as he stroke stressed over his stubble. “Would you have wanted me to?”, he asked, his brows rising as a sigh left now your lips as you slightly shook your head, trying to find words. ”I-”, you began before you stopped, not knowing what to say before you heard his voice again. “I’m gonna say it again, I didn’t want this”, he added and even though he sounded genuine that didn’t change the situation. “It’s still burning now,...you’re still gonna try to kill Rick when you get to the house”, you mumbled tensed as your glance wandered for a moment to the front window of the truck that showed all the flames that were eating up Alexandria’s houses while the thought of those two men trying to kill one another let a shudder run through your body “No, not now”, Negan mumbled as he stressfully ran his palm over his stubble once again. “Wow, that really makes a big difference”, you responded with a sarcastic undertone, a bittersweet chuckle leaving your lips before you looked into his eyes again. “I was willing to make a fucking deal, alright? I was fucking willing to keep that damn promise, for fuck’s sake, I would’ve even tried to find a damn way past killing the kid. I don’t wanna kill him. I really fucking don’t. But they fucked up big time with this shit”, Negan said, his breath audibly quickening as he tensed up. “You’ve seen it. They bursted through the fucking wall, trying to fucking play my dick is fucking bigger than yours. So well, now I gotta show them how damn tiny their dick is compared to mine”, he added, the tension clearly audible in his voice before a moment of silence created between the both of you. Your eyes caught the flames again that bursted through the houses of the place you dared to call home after such a long time of being restless. Something ached in you as another house exploded and the feeling in you that you were losing this place, this home, got stronger. The feeling, that you were about to not have a real home anymore, just like the time when you were outside. The Sanctuary or rather Negan’s apartment, even though you hadn’t ever thought you’d say it, felt homey as well, but mostly because of the way you felt towards Negan. Either way, it still was something incomparable to Alexandria. The cozy, pretty and finally normal to before seeming Alexandria that had made even Negan swoon about its idyllic atmosphere whenever he had walked through the gates wouldn’t be the same after this night. Yes, you could understand Negan’s trail of thought after your friends had damaged his home, but that didn’t change the way you felt right now. You bit your lip, trying to prevent your emotions from taking over before you began to shove yourself past Negan, out of the truck. With a thud your feet met the cold ground before you took a few steps as you heard Negan moving inside before also his feet hit the road. You gulped as another explosion went off just as you felt his large, warm hand wrapping firmly around your wrist and made you turn around to him. “I tried, I really fucking did. Hope you saw that”, you heard him say with a gulp as you looked up at him. His eyes darted at you and within those few seconds you could swear that he could see that there still was some of the hope in you that there still was a way to stop this or rather anybody else from dying. You gulped as you heard a deep sigh leaving his lips once again as he looked at you one last time before he made his way down the road. Moments later you still stood outside the truck as your glance wandered over the scene that laid in front of you, everywhere you looked was either smoke or flames that bursted up into the air and began to heat up your skin. There was nothing you could do. The last bunch of men made their way past you, all of them holding their guns tightly as they began to walk along the wall, trying to catch Carl. Just the thought of seeing him tied up made your stomach turn. Sure, Negan wouldn’t kill him but he would use him against your old group for sure. A rough cough escaped your mouth as the smoke around you thickened for a moment as another bomb went off while your glance caught a figure with a hat running straight through it, into the direction of the wall. Your mind worked on full speed as you began to realize who this figure was and  in whose direction he was running. You couldn’t let them catch him, you couldn’t let this all become worse than it already was. With fast steps you began to run, trying to hold in more coughs the thick air was trying to urge out of your body until you were close enough. “Stop”, you tried to say loud enough for him to hear you, quiet enough for no one else to catch you. Within a second he flinched up and turned around to you, his eyes widened for a moment before he recognized your familiar face. Quickly you grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind a tall bush that stood luckily to you too far away from the burning houses to catch fire. “They’ve headed into that direction”, blustered out of you as soon as he looked at you. “They’re all over Alexandria”, you heard Carl pant, trying to control his breath. “If they catch me, then what?”, Carl continued to ask as some sweat the burning houses had seemed to urge onto his skin glistened in the light that shone through the bush. “They’ll tie you up...he’s not gonna kill you”, you mumbled as you adjusted your knife and looked between the branches of the bush, trying to find out if you both were as alone as before. “Why di-”, you heard Carl began to ask again as your eyes caught how two Saviors made their way into your direction. “We have to go, now” Heavy pants erupted your chest as you ran past the burning houses while you heard the two men shouting as more explosions went off, their quick footsteps trying to let them outrun you both. You ran while their voices boomed through your head that tried to focus on running and the boy next to you. And you ran until you felt like you had outpaced them and found yourselves back at the end of Alexandria that was already completely destroyed. Panting you let yourself fall next to Carl against a stone wall, trying to catch air before you lifted yourself slightly up, trying to see if the men were close again. And they were. They were far enough away to give the both of you a break of a few minutes, but with every second your eyes caught more of their bodies, their faces and their glances that looked determinedly for you, something got more clear to you. “Carl you need to leave, now”, you said as you let yourself slide down the wall again, your glance already wandering over the walls and the ground, searching for a way for him to escape. “I won’t leave you here with them”, he said determinedly, his breath still heavy as you shook your head, urging yourself to ignore his plea as your glance fell on the manhole cover close to the metallic wall. “Take the sewers, the gangway down there that leads outside should be just around the corner”, you muttered, trying to remember what you knew about the sewers from the plans you had seen in Deanna’s house and from the one time you had been down there. “You should come with me”, you heard Carl pant again as shook your head again as your glance locked with his for a moment. “No, Negan’s gonna search for me no matter what. If I go with you I’m just a threat”, you blustered out, looking up over the wall once again to check how close they were. Two minutes, maybe less left until they’d controlled everything in their way to you, especially because they seemed to split up now. “I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. I haven’t given up on a way out yet”, you said as you leaned back down, trying to persuade him that leaving you here was the best way. You weren’t a direct target for Negan’s men, the only thing that was a danger to you was actually Carl right in these moments. “Carl you gotta go now, really”, you began to plead, knowing that he had to go now or he’d really end up tied up and as a leverage. There was no other way for you both to escape now, running away would just directly lead you into the arms of the two heavily armed men. Carl’s face twisted in pain for a moment and something in you told you that there was something else that was bothering him than just leaving you here, you just had no idea what. “Go now. We’ll see each other again and we’ll both be fine. Hopefully this shit’s over by then”, you said with a small smile, trying to motivate him even more but even tough he began to lift himself up, the pain in his face as he heard your words grew again. “Thank you, for everything. You’ve been-”, he began but stopped stressfully and with a wrenched glance in his eyes as he urged himself to control himself while the tension all over him grew as he began to take steps away from you. “You’ve been-”, and just as he began to start again, you heard a chuckling male voice. “Jackpot!...Now look at that!” Within a second you found yourself laying on the ground, calling out for Carl to run while you let the man push you to the ground, hoping you’d be enough distraction to give Carl a way to escape. For a moment Carl seemed to stay, try to defend you until the man rose his run into Carl’s direction, aiming for his leg. ”No!”, you called out as your arm reached, up trying to hit the gun away before the sound of a gunshot echoed through your head. Your glance snapped towards your left just as you saw Carl, dust blowing up from the ground where the distracted Savior’s bullet had hit the ground. “Run”, you called out, seeing how Carl struggled before a bomb that went of between you and him separated the both of you and took the decision from him. “Goddamn bitch”, you heard the man curse as just as the metallic taste of blood spread through your mouth as the hard end of the gun hit your face. You groaned in pain as you felt the blood dripping from the corner of your lips further into your mouth. “Let go”, you growled, as you tried to free yourself from his grip on your upper arms that pressed you with all the force he had to the cold ground, your mind working at full speed. “Oh no, Sweetie. Don’t think I’m done with you”, he snapped, pressing you harder on the ground, a pain-filled gasp leaving your lips. “Just wait till Negan finds out that his girl’s still rooting for the other side”, he hissed as his fingers tightened around your arms. Oh, if he just knew. Your breath got even heavier as you tried to free yourself again before you used the only way you saw anymore. With all your strength you let your knee shoot up, hitting his groin while a loud pain filled groan left his mouth. His hands loosened for a second on your arms as you used your chance to lift your body up right before a his hands placed on your throat and pushed you right down again as more wrenched whimpers escaped your lips. “I said no”, his aggressive voice sounded through your head as you gasped for air, while your hands tried to reach out to his and get them off your throat. “Now look at you, Chickenshit. Don't act like you're still fighting...hell, I know people like you, you ain’t gonna do anything anymore”, he said with a chuckle, truly seeming to enjoy the way you were squirming while you didn’t even think about giving up. It was about time for you to prove him wrong. Your sight already began to get blurry as one of your hands still tried to push and hit him, distracting him from your hand that travelled to the waistband of your pants and eventually to the grasp of your knife. “Wha-”, began the man to say as your weak hand gripped your knife and dug it with trembling but fast hands into his side. Over and over again your knife buried into his flesh as you felt his hot blood pouring down your hand while he groaned in pain just as another bomb went off in Alexandria, drawing out his groans. Feeling how he tightened his hands around your throat with the very last strength he had you dug your knife deeper until you felt his grip loosening. “Mitch!”, he called out for the other man with the last bit of strength of life and strength he had left as you dug your knife again into his body as it slowly went limp. “Jonah? Where the hell are you?”, the other man called out as the still twitching body of his companion rolled off of you while you gasped desperately for breath, feeling how the skin where his fingers had grabbed you burned painfully. “Holy He-”, you heard the man gasp out before your blurry eyes saw him coming closer, grabbing you by the revere of your jacket as he lifted your upper body off the ground. “That was dumb bitch, so damn dumb”, you heard him growl as you were still gasping for air, unable to move your exhausted body much more while he quickly grabbed your knife and tugged it into his belt. “Look at me”, you heard him growl as you were trying to get yourself out of his tight grab. With a harsh movement he pushed you against the wall, your temple hitting the cold stone as a whimper escaped your lips while you felt the burning pain the small but painful new wound created as well as the aching headache it created. Still trying to get your breath completely back your glance caught his that gored through you as your shoulders pressed against the bricks. “There we go! Stop whining. As soon as I get you to Negan that little shit on your face is gonna be your smallest problem. Now get up”, he growled forcing you on your legs as his huffs got louder as soon as he saw the disgusted glance in your eyes. “You’re so gonna regret this”, he growled under his breath, his eyes wandering for a short moment to the dead Savior before you began to let him drag you with him, simply because you knew that he was gonna be the one who was about to regret what he had done. Negan wouldn’t be pleased with what you had done, of course not. He was probably gonna be everything else than that but that didn’t change the fact that the man who was pulling you with him in these moments was part of why thick, hot blood kept dripping down your injured face. Still on wobbly on your legs and with a headache that let your head pound harshly, you walked past the burning houses while the thick smoke the flames were creating fumed into the sky. For a short moment you saw yourself in a big shard of glass that belonged to a destroyed window. The blood that was dripping from the wound on your temple was creating a trail down to your chin, your lower lip was busted on the side and let another trail of blood draw on your face while the red marks the man’s hand had left boasted threateningly on your throat. Small huffs escaped your lips as you felt his grip tightening around your arm before you could see the one house from afar that wasn’t burning. Rick’s house. “Negan, got someone here for you”, the man called out, that loud that he drowned any sound the flames made as they ate the houses up. “You got Ricky Boy? That fucker is out on the fucking run again, want you all to search for him too”, you heard his voice still from inside. “No, not Rick, Sir”, you heard the man who was still gripping you tightly say as you heard how the door swung open and Negan’s glance darted right at you. The tension that had already been stuck in his face got embellished by a trail of blood on his stubble while this tension unbearably increased as his glance ran over your injured face and neck. “Get the hell away from her”, Negan snapped loudly as his jaw clenched dangerously while his eyes began to gleam up in the light the flames were shedding on his face as he paced down the porch, his hand wrapped tightly around Lucille. “Was that you?!”, Negan growled loudly again as his eyes glared with a death glare at the man whose grip on you began to loosen. “We...I-..yes-”, the man began but just as he had started to say ‘yes’, Lucille left Negan’s shoulder with a harsh motion and flipped forcefully against the man’s side. A loud groan escaped his mouth as he sunk to the ground, his face twisted in pain as more gasps left his mouth while you shifted away from him. For the split of a second you could look clearly into Negan’s eyes that were filled with an unstoppable anger that spread through his whole body and let the thick vein on his neck swell dangerously. Negan was furious, deathly furious and you knew exactly what that meant for the man. “W-We just did what we had to do, Sir...She-”, he began again, trying to explain himself as he looked up at Negan whose chest went up and down at an anger filled fast pace. “I fucking tell you what you had to fucking do: not fucking touch her!”, Negan roared loudly, Lucille hitting the man’s shoulder that hard that he sunk loudly groaning closer to the ground. “But Sir, I-...She helped the Kid...killed Jonah...I-”, he began in pain, but even as Negan heard what you had done, his anger about what those men had caused drowned out anything else. “You don’t touch her”, Negan yelled again, his breath growing even heavier as his stern glance gored through the man while Lucille hit his shoulder again, her barbed wire digging through the man’s jacket deeply into his skin, making sure he made the walk though hell he was putting the man through as painful and torturous as possible. You had seen him in pure anger already as Rosita had shot Lucille, but that was nothing compared to the rage that was filling his body in these moments. A deep growl escaped Negan’s lips as he raised Lucille up, his whole body under tension as he looked down to the man while you could feel your heart pounding harshly. “It is over Mitch, fuck yeah it is”, Negan growled as he stared for a second heavily breathing and with an almost possessed glance in his eyes at him before his bat crushed down onto the man’s head, the sound of the cracking skull sounded through the air as your eyes widened. Lucille rushed down on his head once again, blood beginning to splatter Negan’s jacket and face as he got more and more into the anger filled blood rush with every sound the dying man made before he suddenly stopped. Quickly, he grabbed the collar of the man’s jacket, an anger filled grunt leaving his lips as he began to drag the almost dead man over the street into the direction of the gates. ”Negan, What-”, you began before the sound of another bomb let you stop. He had heard you for sure, but instead of answering, his grip tightened around the fabric of the jacket as he dragged the body further, leaving a bloody trail behind.   ”Everybody to the fucking gates. Now”, Negan yelled that loud that the drowned out any other sound while your glance caught the twitches of the body that began to have more death than life in it. A small painful wince spread through your throat as you gulped harshly, letting you feel the wounds your attacker had given you while your eyes caught how more and more men streamed towards the gates that got closer with every second. “Everybody fucking listen up!”, Negan yelled as he tossed the body to the ground as his saviors began to gather around him. “You see that?!”, Negan asked loudly and almost breathless as he looked into the mass before he swung the bloody Lucille up again and let her rush down onto the man’s head once again, the skull cracking some more as the man’s blood formed a puddle on the road. “You see that fucker here?!”, Negan asked again with a shaking, anger filled breath and growl in his voice as he darted Lucille at the still twitching man before his brows puckered again as his jaw clenched tightly. Within seconds Lucille rushed down to the head again, bashing it in until nothing but a bloody mess of mush was left before he looked up again and his voice began to roar through the heated air, Lucille darting for a moment at you. “No matter what she does, no matter fucking what. That is fucking none of your fucking business. You don’t touch her, you don’t harm a single goddamn hair on her head, you don’t even fucking look at her the wrong fucking way!”, Negan yelled, his glance meeting yours for not longer than a second as you couldn’t even describe the rage that filled his eyes. “And if not, if you fucking dare to just fucking think about it, you fucking end up as fucked up as this motherfucking piece of goddamn shit here”, Negan roared, darting Lucille back at the corpse, his voice cracking at some point slightly from all the yelling he had put it through. “Is that understood?!”, he yelled again, turning to see into all of their faces that were filled with all kinds of different reactions to what they had just seen. ”Yes, Sir”, sounded through the air. “I really shouldn’t have to worry about this crap while we’re in a fucking war”, Negan called out, slowly coming down from his rage but still swinging in the blood rush he had gotten himself in. “And now, get back to work”, he called out, still heavily breathing as the Saviors began to stream back into all directions, leaving Negan, the corpse and you alone. Negan’s back was turned towards you as he still stared at the man, his shoulders still rising and falling harshly while you began to realize what he had just done for you. The last time you had caused the death of some of his men when this whole war had begun, you and him had spent your time till the day Rick and the rest arrived at the Sanctuary pretending that you had gotten a punishment for it and now, after everything that had happened between the both of you in this time but especially in those last bunch of days he had taken the complete other way. With what he had just done, he had put you in a position he probably wasn’t completely aware of himself. Somewhere you heard another house falling into pieces as the flames tore it apart while Negan’s heavy breath still didn’t seem to calm down. “What the hell did you think?”, you heard him growl, his glance slowly wandering from the corpse to you as you gulped harshly. “I didn’t want to let this get worse”, you mumbled calmly even a little cautious, while Negan got completely out of the bloody trance he had swayed in and stared bewildered at you. “Worse?! Fucking worse?! You got any damn idea what could’ve happened?! They could’ve fucking shot you through the damn smoke, that fucker could’ve fucking strangled you”, he called out as his heavy breath made his voice sound even raspier while you let out a huff. “This is not what this is about”, you said, tensed but still calm, especially because you had to do this the politic way. “Oh hell yes it is”, Negan hissed as he turned now completely around to you, his glance still darting at you before you heard his voice again. “I wouldn’t have killed the kid if they had caught him. So why the fuck do you risk your goddamn life to get him?!”, he called out again, his brows puckered while his jaw clenched tightly as you tensed harder up. “Not killed him, yes, but you would’ve used him in some kind of way against Rick”, you said, now with a growling undertone sneaking into in your voice. “You know that”, you added as Negan stared at you, his breath calming down oppositely to the anger, desperation and bewilderment that was lingering in his eyes. He breathed stress out, pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment as he turned slightly away, his glance falling on the blood covered man before he ran a hand with a scoff over his beard stubble. “Why do you have to be that goddamn stubborn?”, he asked with a growl while a small bittersweet chuckle left your lips as you heard these words coming out of the mouth of the man whose stubbornness could easily compete with yours. You gulped as some silent moments passed while Negan’s breath slowed down and he slowly got calmer again before your glance caught your knife that was still sticking in the waistband of the dead man, the small Lucille that was carved into the dark wood of its handle lightened slightly up in the light the flames behind the wall shed on it. With a small huff you reached down, grabbed the handle to let the blade slide out of his belt before you stood straight up again and saw Negan’s glance that was stuck on you and made you slightly gulp. ”I didn’t do this to go behind your back or damage you”, you mumbled as you didn’t look directly at him and leaned exhausted against the truck behind you before it got silent for a moment. ”I know”, you quietly heard him say without any of the anger in his voice from before as his hand ran over his jaw. After all what he knew about you, after all you had already gone through together, the trust he had build up to you seemed higher than the doubts that had for sure tried to sneak its way into his mind. He knew that you would protect them from his men if you had to, he had heard those words coming crystal clear out of your mouth even though the silence that was unfurling between you gave you an uncomfortable feeling. ”That’s not what I was mad about”, you heard him adding with a grumble, his glance filling with some pain as it caught your injuries again right before a deep sigh left his lips as he turned a bit away from you while his hand ran stressfully over his face. After all, you both knew that in all objectivity and as leader of the Saviors, he should be mad about what you had done to prevent his plan from becoming reality rather than being mad about the fact that you had risked your life for that. But if you’d see it that objective way, you in your position, should still deeply despise him and wish for his death than develop feelings for him. But that wasn’t the way it worked anymore. Of course you were aware of the things he had done and weren’t gonna justify them. Of course, you weren’t gonna blindly see past them and would still show him when you didn’t agree with what he did. And of course, you were mad about the things he had done to your friends. But probably exactly because you were aware of this all made this whole thing that fucked up. Hell, in all different kind of ways whatever you both had was fucked up. But after all what had happened and was still happening in this kind of world, what wasn’t fucked up? You quietly pressed your lips on one another before a sigh left your them as the flames were still the only thing that were sounding through the darkness. “I would have done the same thing for you”, you reluctantly mumbled as you played uneasily with the handle of your knife, still feeling like you had to fight off any doubt about you that could come up in his mind. “What? Fuck up one of those fuckers who’re living here?”, he asked almost unbelieving as he broke his silence while you could hear the gulp in his voice. Another sigh left your lips as your brows puckered by the thought what you were about to say. If your past self from a few months ago would stand before you now, you could swear it would stare unbelieving and bewildered at you before smacking you across your face. “If they’d try to hurt you-”, you began and gulped, thinking of the Alexandrians you knew since you had gotten here before you continued. “Yes,...yes, I would’ve done that”, you said, a part of you shocked by the truth that had just slipped out of your mouth as you saw how Negan now turned to look at you again while he gulped as he saw the genuine glance in your eyes. An unsteady breath left Negan’s lips as your glance wandered back to the handle of your knife and your blood stained hands that were holding it, while you could still feel how his glance was stuck on you. Gulping he made his way over to you before he leaned next to you against the truck and rolled Lucille’s bloody end over the blacktop. From the corner of your eyes you could see his glance wandering concerned over the red bruises on your neck before his glance darted back to the dead man with a deep sigh that left his lips. “Not gonna let any fucker do this again to you. Not in any damn motherfucking way. I promise”, he said with another deep sigh before his glance met yours again. “I’ll keep that one“, he added with a gulp, while your stubborn and maybe even hopeful mind still wasn’t completely done with the other promise. There still had to be a way to stop this, at least in some kind of way. There just had to be one. “And if I get the chance to, hell, I’ll fucking do my damn fucking best to still keep the other one too”, he said as he could see the glance in your eyes, before his large warm hand reached out to you, his fingers intertwining with yours as he squeezed your hand tightly. “’Cause you know what? That’s how it’s gotta be.”

part 24 / midseason premiere

(The gif isn’t mine/ it was originally posted by dancing-at-the-funeralparty) tagging: @agespenst @imaginesforthepeople @porgs-r-us @squidgy84 @toxic-ink @Nobodylastname @nice-shoes-nerd @thegirlwiththelyrics99 @tolieboy @writteninthestars288 @magical-spit @straightestgay-voice @xsnak-3x @myrabbitholetoneverland @dasani-saraai @negan–is–god @harry-titss@traumbruch @negans-network @theblankestostares @amysuemc @ashzombie13 @trashimaginezblog @jeffreydeanneganstrash  @sweetwittlebosco @futureofdestiel @bananakid42 @dragongirl420 @kalliewinchester-queenofhell @futureofdestiel @timeladyrikaofgallifrey @osakamilk @kattyshea20 @dinodiegos @missmotherhen @kinkygamertrash @beahippie23 @xabeautifultragedyx @negansmagic @starwarsandstufff @bdohe21@lovesjdm @vanilla-negan @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @roselover159 @mamarhee @the-writingdead @traumbruch @bellawindixon @dlb1999 @thelittlewolf45 @collette04 @ask-kakashihatake @princessbelgoof @adixon13 @botanicalthoughts @nijiru @cheyanhicks @jtklover123 @twentyonewalkers @originalwinchestervamp @readytourie​ @ijashanaa​ @i-am-lady-anarchy @marauderspads @humble-thumb (In case you want to be tagged or untagged for specific things or everything I write, just let me know)

[joo-heo-n]

Right Timing

Genre: Angst/Fluff (Soulmate Au)

Member: Wonho

Word Count: 1,464

a/n: Almost done! Please forgive me if there are any mistakes throughout the fic :( I’d appreciate it if you would let me know about them so I can go back and fix them! Enjoy!!

Summary: Everyone knows eventually they will meet their soulmate because it is fated, so their paths will cross and when the time is right, that person will come to you and you will go to them. Timing is the utmost important. Weirdly enough, the small locket watch you always carry around your neck continues to count down as your friends date approaches, does that mean you will also meet your own soulmate?

*Edit belongs to me, photos don’t*

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Somehow his watch had stopped counting down insanely like it had before, it only ticked like every other normal watch. He wondered if maybe he had just imagined everything, maybe he had created this idea of fated soulmates because it scared him, and somewhere deep down, he kind of wanted it.

He hadn’t met anyone who had been joined to their soulmate through a watch, and what he had thought also took part, tattoos.

He knew people met other people through different means, but maybe his watch had simply been coincidently malfunctioning at what happened to be the right timing. Regardless, it was over, he didn’t want to look for something that was going to happen eventually anyway, so he got rid of of the watch. Putting it back in the box where it had come from as another one replaced it.

He joked and drank with a few friends inside a club, careless enough about his surroundings to not have noticed your best friend dancing nearby. That was until she met his gaze and his grin faltered, almost entirely at that. He offered her a small nod of acknowledgement before turning back to his friends, taking a long chug from bis drink and chuckling at one of his friend’s comments.

Before he knew it, your best friend was standing next to him and ordering a drink herself, drinking it like it was water the moment she got it. “Hoseok” she said, tapping his shoulder and making him turn to her in perplexity. He stared at her expectantly, unable to start a conversation, to his luck though, she seemed to have noticed. “Haven’t seen much of you” she commented, a smile across her lips that seemed a little too strained.

“Likewise” he said, taking another chug from his drink. She quirked and eyebrow and ordered another drink. He wasn’t able to keep track of his own drinks and hers, but he knew for a fact they were far too many at this point. She rested her arm over his shoulders, “I swear I thought we’d get married or something- wait no, not get married, just like be in love” she slurred and cackled. He grinned a little himself, feeling a little dizzy as he turned to look for his friends and found them to be either dancing or gone.

“I still feel real sorry” he admitted and she waved her index finger in the air, “No, no, it's okay, i’m just dumb- my friend, y/n, remember her? She was telling me about the whole almost finding the love of her life and i guess i wanted that too” she confessed, making him knit his eyebrows in sympathy.

“I think I did too- what, no, no, no, let’s not be sad- don’t cry” he then rushed as she began to whimper at his side. He instantly sobered up and checked the time on his watch briefly, it was too late already. “Hey, let me take you home, i think you should go now” he said as she held on to his arm and nodded slowly, sniffling.

“Okay let's go” he said, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her out of the loud place. As he was about to call a cab, she waved her hands in front of him and frowned, “I’ll call y/n, she’ll pick me up” she then stated, clumsily taking out her phone and dialing your number as he waited before her. She brought the phone to her ear and swayed from side to side, nearly losing her balance a few times, “Hey I’m drunk c-could you come please, Hoseok is here” she rambled, her eyebrows furrowing as she nodded. “Well, the club, the one I came to last weekend” she continued, motioning with her arms her surroundings, making him chuckle a little as he watched her nod once more and end the call. “You can go, she’s coming” she stated confidently, waving him away. He shook his head slowly and sighed, “I’ll wait” he said, making her laugh loudly as she then patted his chest and looked away, “This is why I liked you so much” she admitted.

A sudden silence crept between the two of them and lasted until you had arrived, walking up to them and taking her arm gently, “Let’s go home, H-Hoseok, do you need a ride?” you asked politely, and he felt his heart flutter at the mention of his name escaping your lips.

He found himself licking his lips and clearing his throat to buy himself time and collect his thoughts in his drunken brain. “N-No, I’ll call a cab” he started but your friend cut him off, “Just come! Y/N’s already here” she blurted, taking Hoseok’s wrist and throwing her arm over you, making you let out a huff as you then began to walk towards your car. He wanted to protest, but he was barely able to shake his head slowly without nearly tripping over himself as everything spun.

After a few quiet minutes of the drive, you finally asked Hoseok where he lived, and by the sound of his response, you could assume he had probably sobered up a bit. Once in the parking lot of his apartment complex, you sighed and turned around to see him, “You good to go on your own?” you asked, watching him keep eye contact with you for a second too long before he was unlocking the door and nodding, “Yeah, sorry for having to drive me” he replied softly. You shook your head and chuckled lightly, “No don’t worry about it” you responded, catching a glimpse of your best friend who simply stared at her lap as if she were thinking very hard about something.

“Drive back safely, goodnight” Hoseok said, stepping out of the car and waving the two of you away before he turned around and made his way to his apartment.

You watched him go in safely before you began to drive away, letting out a loud sigh and glancing at your friend once more, “How are you feeling?” you asked, a small smile creeping upon your lips. She lifted her gaze momentarily and then looked away, “Sick” she confessed, earning a snigger from you, “I’ll take care of you” you stated, patting her arm gently as you looked at her once more. You frowned in concern as soon as you realized she looked more than just sick, “You look terrible, do you need me to stop so you can throw up or something?” you quickly asked, already slowing your driving. Your friend turned to you and hummed with a shake of her head, “I’m fine” she stated, letting her head rest against the seat. You eyed her once more before believing her and continuing on your way to her home.

“I think he likes you” she muttered, making you grin at her drunken state, “Who?” you asked, following along, earning a groan from her end. “Hoseok, he likes you, that’s why he broke up with me” she confessed, making your smile disappear, “What- that doesn’t even make sense, he doesn’t even know me… you just, still like him a lot” you said, taking a turn. “That’s why you think this” you then added reluctantly, afraid that maybe she’d cry because she was drunk and sentimental, or worse, that she’d want to fight you for saying these things to her face.

You heard her scoff and drop the conversation for the rest of the drive until you were inside her bedroom, helping her change into comfortable clothes. “I’m over him, okay? I’m just trying to help somebody, anybody here! He likes you, I know he does” she rambled nonstop until she was under the covers of her bed and you were laying besides her, watching her until she succumbed to sleep.

“I hate myself” she commented the next morning, drinking water one cup after the other like her life depended on it, “You should really take it easy before you hurl” you stated, staring at her in concern from across the couch as you munched on cereal from the bowl in your lap. She drank the last cup and let out a loud exhale, “Did Hoseok ride the car with us or did I dream that?” she asked, extending her legs. You swallowed your food and watched her, “What do you remember?” you asked curiously and she pursed her lips in thought then narrated whatever her memory could bring forth.

Never did she mention her last words to you before she fell asleep.

“Yeah that all sounds about right, I mean you missed several details but overall I guess you weren’t that drunk” you concluded, finishing up your cereal before getting up and washing the bowl.

[eirlithad]

Calling on Song//Chapter Thirty-One

Rating: M (subject to change)

Relationship: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan

Summary: Kasde Rhiannon Trevelyan was promised to the Chantry. Fate found her at the Conclave. The Maker saw her through it. As the world falls down around her, she decides to take a stand. With a little determination, and a fair amount of snark, she just might make a difference.

// Previous // Next //

Chapter Thirty-One: Pangs

          Dorian was silent as he worked, which should have been a statistical impossibility. He ushered the Herald into her small cottage, sat her on the bed, and set to gathering supplies. He hummed quietly to himself as he bustled about, adding this and that to the bundle in his arms. Satisfied, he deposited everything onto the bedspread, pulled up a chair, and began cutting away at the bandage at her throat.

          As he worked, the quiet snick of his scissors counted the minutes. He was calm, snipping away with an easy, carefree smile pulling at his mustache.

          “Dorian?”

          He hummed attentively, focused on his task. When she spoke again, he paused to avoid nicking her skin.

          “Why are you helping me?” Kasde asked quietly.

          The mage chuffed quietly, and tipped her head to allow for better access. “Because,” he replied, “you won’t let me heal this, and I won’t have you mangling the stitch work.”

          “That’s not what I meant.” Dutifully, Kasde pulled the loose strands of her hair out of harm’s way.

          The scissors snipped away for several long moments. Dorian was careful to cut away from the wound, and the blade dragged gently across her skin, almost tickling.

          “You meant,” he said, unwinding the soiled bandage with practiced care, “why haven’t I slit your throat?” His voice was light and amused, not offended in the least. “I am many things, solira, but a liar is not one of them. I would not earn your trust, only to take it away.”

          “Thank you.”

          He snorted inelegantly, placing the scissors on aside. “For a noble, you’re quite good at that.” He examined the wound, pinching at pulling tenderly at the edges. “Most I’ve known were greedy, self-righteous sycophants with no concern for those around them. What’s a peasant or two, so long as your belly is full and your name is on everyone’s lips?”

          “You…didn’t have slaves then?”

          “My family did,” Dorian replied, wetting a strip of linen with several drops from a healing potion. “And their friends’ families. I was close with one of their sons. They had this one slave. Elven boy, about our age. Not very smart, but what could we expect? No one had ever taught him to read, or write, or do anything more than obey. So, I taught him.” Gingerly, he swiped the grime and dried blood from her skin with the cloth.

          “What happened?”

          “My friend sold us out. His father caught the slave with one of my books.” His face fell. “I tried to explain – to tell him it was my fault – but… It didn’t matter. They had him beaten. My friend said, ‘good slaves aren’t smart, merely obedient.’ I could never truly look at him after that.”

          “What happened to the slave?”

          Dorian shrugged. “A few broken bones – none that would impact his daily work, mind you – and an impressive gash on the forehead. He needed stitches.”

          Kasde laughed lightly. “Explains you knowing how to do this.”

          “I never said I stitched him up,” the mage snapped.

          “You didn’t have to.”

          Dorian sighed, dropping his hands into his lap. He sat silently for a moment, lost in thought, shoulders slumped. Then, he grinned sadly, taking her chin between his thumb and index finger. “What an odd pair we make,” he whispered. “The rogue afraid of healers, and the Tevinter repulsed by slavery.”

          Kasde jerked back. “I’m not afraid of healers,” she insisted.

          “Then why—”

          “That’s not why I don’t want it healed.” Silently, she removed the glove from her unmarked hand and extended her open palm in his direction.

          Pale, thin scars riddled the skin between her fingers. Most were short and clean, neatly stitched by an expert hand. Slender, white lines in her flesh, with three small dots on each side from the needle. Between her thumb and index finger, a longer, jagged scar striped across the heel of her hand, ending just below the wrist. On the inside of her index finger, a thin, knotted line trailed from the joint to the topmost knuckle.

          Dorian twisted her hand over in his own, taking in every mark with a look of shocked wonder. “How did you get these?” he asked, as though her marred flesh was a treasure, rather than a flaw.

          “Teaching myself to fly.” With her free hand, she patted the dagger at her side. “That’s what my brother called it. Not fighting. Flying.”

          “Judging by these, you weren’t very good.”

          “Not at first.” She suppressed a laugh. “These are my wings,” she said. “I’m a bird, and the battlefield is my sky. With these, I can fly, and no one can take the sky from me.”

          “So,” he asked, swiping one last time across the wound, “why keep them?”

          Kasde shrugged dismissively. “Reminders. Each one was a mistake. If I see them, I’ll remember not to make them again.”

          “Redcliffe was not your mistake.”

          “Maybe not,” she allowed. “But there were things I saw that I don’t want to see again. If I keep this one, maybe I’ll remember what’s at stake.”

          Dorian motioned to a small blue vial beside her, and she passed it into his hands. Uncorking it with his teeth, drained it in a single gulp. “I won’t say this won’t hurt,” he said sympathetically. “Armor cuts are nasty business, and I’d rather not get kicked in the face.”

          “Is that why you…?” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought as a lump rose in her throat.

          The mage nodded. “He was going to kill you,” he explained. “Had I not intervened, he certainly would have. You’re lucky you weren’t infected.”

          “Yeah,” she replied glumly. “Lucky.”

          The wound was stiff, but that was unsurprising. As best she could, Kasde tilted her head, holding her hair out of his way, and did her best to sit still. Dorian was professional, lightly touching her shoulder before bringing his magic to bear.

          The sensation was strange, unlike any healing she had ever undergone. The spell was ever so slightly cold, whereas other healers had nearly scalded her skin.

          “Remember—”

          “Not all the way. Yes, I remember.” Dorian frowned thoughtfully. “I’m surprised you don’t want your man here for this,” he remarked.

          Kasde squinted at him. “My who?”

          “Self-conscious, are you? I would have never guessed,” he teased. “He’s got quite the fetching scar himself. Did you give it to him? A matching set, perhaps?”

          “Hold on. You think Cullen and I…?”

          The mage cringed. “You mean to say you two aren’t…?”

          “No!” Kasde blurted loudly. “No, no, no. Cullen and I – er, that is to say, the Commander and I – have a strictly professional relationship.”

          Dorian’s cheeks flushed, and he said, “My apologies, solira. You seemed very close in Alexius’s future; I assumed there was a…history, at the least.”

          “I would treat any of my friends that way, were they doomed to die.”

          “The way you look at him, I certainly hope not.” He winked slyly. “I think we both know that isn’t true.”

          It was Kasde’s turn to blush.

          The mage returned to his task, chuckling softly to himself. His teasing was strangely comforting; not anything like the cruel barbs her siblings had flung in her direction. It seemed innocent enough, and his apology appeared sincere. Nevertheless, Kasde found herself wondering why anyone – much less a Tevinter mage – would go out of their way to cheer her up.

          She must have made some face, for he laughed, “Don’t spend all day puzzling it out.” His eyes wrinkled when he smiled. “Did it ever occur to you that I might not fit all the horrible stereotypes of my homeland?”

          “I’m just not used to…” She fumbled for the words, gesturing helplessly with her free hand.

          Dorian, ever helpful, supplied an answer. “Friends?”

          She nodded.

          “Ah. Together, I’m certain we can do something about that.”

          At last, he pulled his hands away, expression patient and hopeful. Lifting a small mirror from the mattress, he motioned for her to inspect his handiwork. He had done a fine job. The main mass of the wound was sealed shut, just enough to prevent infection. Her body would do the rest of the work. All that remained was a thin, pale line, perhaps an inch or so long, that crossed from beneath her ear and just below her jaw.

          It wasn’t something likely to be missed.

          “Could you,” she asked, pointing across the room, “hand me that box, perhaps?”

          Dorian nodded dutifully, and rose to retrieve it. He paused a moment, inspecting the engraving. “It’s Trevelyan, isn’t it?”

          “Last I checked.”

          He hastily dropped the chest on her lap, and began rapidly ticking away on his fingers, muttering quietly to himself. Frowning, he started over, counting to at least thirty, by Kasde’s count.

          “My dear, would it surprise you to know we’re related?”

          The Herald sputtered wildly in surprise.

          “Not first cousins or anything like that,” he rambled on. “Could you imagine? But you are Trevelyan, and somewhere, in the dank nethers of my family tree, there was also a Trevelyan.” A sly smirk crossed his lips. “Perhaps he was even the one who ventured East to begin the branch. We are talking long ago, of course.”

          Kasde’s eyes narrowed. “You know this off the top of your head?” she asked doubtfully.

          “Not off the top, no. Maybe the lower-middle thereabouts. Bloodlines are serious business in Tevinter, you know. We’re taught lessons and tested…by very strict nannies. Can’t have every Quaestor from here to the Hundred Pillars claiming shared lineage now, can we?”

          “You’re certain?”

          “I had to go through the old mnemonics, but yes. There it is.” He held up eight fingers, waggling them for emphasis.

          “Wonderful,” she sighed. “More fame-grubbing relatives.”

          “Indeed. I, however, am content in my pariah-hood. I wouldn’t touch your level of political renown with a ten-yard pole.” He shivered. “Far too messy.”

          Kasde grumbled, “Thanks,” and lifted the lid.

          As she rifled through the contents of her footlocker, Dorian took to silently pacing the room, gently twirling one end of his mustache around a finger. There was a mischievous glint to his dark eyes that set every nerve in her body ablaze.

          With a pleased hum, she removed her prize from the chest. It was an exquisite, if not impractical, piece, made of polished gold and inlaid with Rivaini rubies. A gift, her mother had called it, though she had never once worn it in the span of Kasde’s memory. It sat for years, untouched, on the vanity, like an ugly vase from a distant aunt. What had compelled her to take it the day she left home, she could not say.

           “Back to our previous discussion.”

           The sudden sound of Dorian’s voice stilled her fingers on the clasp.

           “You and the Commander,” he went on, ignorant to the immediate reddening of her cheeks. “Cullen, was it? Horribly Ferelden name. Smacks of kilts and the distinct smell of wet dog. I digress. I find it very difficult to believe you two have never—”

           Kasde fixed him with a pointed glare. “We’ve never.”

           “Truly?” He sounded oddly impressed. “Life and death, the allure of command, not to mention you are both quite easy on the eyes—”

           She smacked the lid shut sharply.

           Dorian sulked. “Well,” he huffed, “you’re certainly no fun.”

           “What happens between Cullen and I is between Cullen and I,” she snapped, and set the box on the floor near her feet. Blushing, she added, “Also what doesn’t happen between us.”

           “I’m just trying to help.”

           “No,” Kasde corrected, “you’re meddling. Just like every other member of my family.”

           The mage grinned. “Oh, but solira, are any of them as charming as I?”

           “None so charming as you, Master Pavus, but I will still hit you if you insist on continuing this ridiculous conversation!”

           Dorian cackled gleefully, clutching his side. “See? It’s like we’re already family! A few idle threats, a few bloodstains… All we’re missing is good wine, a murder or two, and a carnival bear. It’ll be just like home!”

           “You’re gravely mistaken if you think that was an idle threat, cousin.”

           “Oh, I’m beginning to like you,” he purred. “Beautiful and feisty.”

           Kasde gave him a withering look and lifted the necklace to her throat. “Keep calling me feisty,” she warned. “See how far you get.”

           Dorian sniffed dismissively, confident in his relative safety. “Now, that,” he chirped, “is a splendid look. Daring, with a touch of class. Very posh.”

           “Oh, good. I have your approval.” The Herald rolled her eyes.

           “And just like that, the image is gone. Have you considered keeping your mouth closed when someone pays you a compliment?”

           “Ever consider keeping yours closed permanently?” she sneered.

           “Once, but the conversation was horribly dull.” His smile stretched up to the corners of his twinkling eyes. “Now, what say we grab a few horses and go tackle a few of those rifts, hmm?”

           “I’ll grab Bull,” she said, shoving the chest under the bed with the heel of her boot.

           Dorian stopped with his hand on the doorlatch. “I’m sorry. Did you say ‘bull’? Is that some crude manner of southern slang?”

          “Nope,” Kasde giggled, hopping to her feet. “The Iron Bull. You’ll like him.” She sashayed past, backing out into the cold with an impish wink, and said, “He’s a Qunari.” In the time it took to blink, she was gone, twirling through the snow and howling with laughter.

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