#so i imagine he felt unwanted in the server

[postmanlinksbootyshorts]

really funny seeing someone who is the problem commenting on how and why the server died... lol

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

Watching u <3

I've been working on this for a while. Off and on since late June. Believe it or not, I have actually been having ideas throughout my entire hiatus, it was just a case of not being able to really write anything down...

This is probably darker than some of my other stuff, I just feel like I should say. Please do not read this if you're uncomfortable with this. Thank you, and have a good day/afternooon/night.

Warning(s): yandere behaviors, explicitly fem reader, death, some sexist stuff (it's not as bad as it probably could be but it's there), incel Idia I know he isn't in canon please don't be mad at me for making him one in this fic, delusional yandere Idia, non consentual kiss, blood hemorrhage mention, unwanted comments about reader's body, implied past trauma, doxxing, breaking and entering

It was a long day of boring classes for Idia. Today was one of those days he was forced to actually attend class in person... ew. He hated it, being around people for that long. But he had a test today, and apparently the professor didn't trust him enough to do it remotely from his dorm room.

Luckily though, Idia had something to look forward to. At the end of the day, when he gets back to his dorm room, almost exactly... something he looks forward to all week will finally start.

What is this thing he is so looking forward to?

Well, what other than your weekly livestream, of course!

He loved everything about you.

He knew everything there was to know about you. He even knew your name, despite you hiding your identity behind a fictitious catgirl persona~

(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). He loved that name of yours. It felt like honey in his mouth as the words spilled out of him... calling you by your real name without you knowing~

Idia considered you a friend- no, even MORE. He wasn't friends with you, no no no no no! You were his lovely little girlfriend! Cute and submissive and everything... ohhh, he loved you so much. Hearing your voice... listening to you... answering you like you were right next to him... donating to you every time you streamed, copious amounts of money... participating in chat every now and again, to have an actual dialogue with you... he didn't like talking with other people, oh, but he ALWAYS made an exception for you.

You two have even started chatting outside just your streams. He's a mod for your streams now, as well as on your personal server... you were a bit apprehensive about that at first, but don't worry, he convinced you!

One time, you confided in him about some... serious issues you went through irl. It was so cute, imagining you in that situation.

Oh, you've been through so much together... you're practically dating at this point! Oh... but maybe he should actually ask you, just to make sure you know you're dating him. Just in case. Just in case.

Idia happily logged onto your stream, anxious to watch you... and to pop the question later~

But as he logged on... he... he heard you... say... something...

"Sorry I wasn't able to stream last week... something came up in my real life!" He saw your semi-3d avatar smile, responding to your real expression, no doubt. "I know it sounds crazy, but somehow... I'm dating someone!"

At first, Idia decided to optimistically think about how, maybe you're referring to him... but, as the pre-stream chitchat continued... it became obvious you weren't.

...

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM?!

In a fit of anger, Idia unsubscribed and blocked you on absolutely everything.

...but then, he thought of something. A nice plan... one that would hopefully make you dependent on him... you'd dump whatever loser you're dating right now... and he would be your only source of comfort.

He unblocked your accounts on his main... and then, he logged onto an alternate account, one that doesn't connect back to him in any way; sorta like what you tried to do with your stream persona, but actually unconnected, unlike yours.

He sent you a message from his sock puppet...

Your stream ended for the day, and... you were confused to see a message from an account you didn't recognize. You thought that maybe it was just a fan deciding to message you, as you get that a lot, but once you accepted the message request to see what they sent...

[xNDRWRLDx] : this u?

...you saw... a picture of yourself... one a family member of yours posted a few years ago... you tried your best to make sure that your online persona didn't connect back to your real life at all, so... how... how did this person get this picture?!

As terrified as you were, you chose to ignore this message. About an hour later, you received another.

Despite your thoughts, screaming at you to not give this person the time of day... that last message just set you off. You decided to respond.

[xNDRWRLDx] : ignoring ppl is rude

[xNDRWRLDx] : u know that, right?

[xNDRWRLDx] : or is ur thick skull not able to comprehend that

[xNDRWRLDx] : lmao yeah, thats prob the case

[xNDRWRLDx] : u could get a much higher paying job if u quit streaming & decided 2 use ur tits & ass 2 ur advantage

[xNDRWRLDx] : getting railed all day would b easier than streaming. u wouldnt have 2 pretend u have a personality beyond "uwu im a girl who plays video games arent i cute??"

You suddenly saw a string of numbers appear on your screen in the next message from this person. Is that your IP?!

[n3k0-ebi] : who tf are you??

[xNDRWRLDx] : o right, u said smth abt not being comfortable w/ talking abt stuff like that

[xNDRWRLDx] : lmfao weak much??? cant even take a joke

[xNDRWRLDx] : wat a pathetic excuse of a human

[n3k0-ebi] : whats your angle dude

[n3k0-ebi] : are you just trying to make me mad on purpose? it wont work, so just leave me alone.

What could this person know? Just what you look like in real life?? As much as you don't want people to know, it... it isn't that bad. You're not going to pose like that. You're not even going to give this person the time of day anymore.

[xNDRWRLDx] : look familiar?

[xNDRWRLDx] : just saying u would look adorable laying under me w/ ur mouth agape & drooling w/ ur eyes half shut <3

[xNDRWRLDx] : maybe if u send me a pic of u looking like that i might consider not sharing wat i know w/ ur entire audience

[xNDRWRLDx] : ur choice bitch

You log off for the night, not giving any more thought to this person's likely hollow threats.

The next day, you woke up, not realizing what happened over night.

You took a nice, relaxing, early morning shower...

Strangely enough, as you left your washroom, you could have sworn you'd seen a strange, blue light outside your hallway window. Probably just your eyes playing tricks on you... or light reflecting off something...

You make your way to your living room, and sit yourself down on the couch, comfy in your bathrobe and hair towel. You turn on the tv so you can half watch whatever comes on, and focus the rest of your attention on browsing Magicam.

...

...that's a lot of notifications.

You decide to look through your mentions first, and... you see a post from that account that was messaging you last night. It details your full legal name, your address, your partner's name, your parent's names, your homeland, every personal detail you could think of was listed in this post.

In a sudden moment of not thinking, you decide to message them.

They... they just sent you... a picture of you coming out of your shower... and then another, of you sitting here on the couch-?!

[n3k0-ebi] : what the hell is wrong with you?!

[n3k0-ebi] : you fucking doxxed me?!

[xNDRWRLDx] : i told u it was ur choice didnt i

[xNDRWRLDx] : u chose 2 not send me that pic i wanted

[xNDRWRLDx] : so really its ur own fault <3

You look out your living room window... but you don't see anybody.

[xNDRWRLDx] : ur not responding?

[xNDRWRLDx] : rude

[xNDRWRLDx] : little missy cant think of anything to say huh

[xNDRWRLDx] : idk wat i expected lmfao

[xNDRWRLDx] : typical 4 a female pretending 2 know stuff cant even hide ur identity properly

[xNDRWRLDx] : wat an idiotttt

The next month is a chaotic one.

Being stalked by so-called "fans"... yourself and your family members being sent weird letters and death threats... your regular workplace firing you... your family and friends cutting ties with you... your partner breaking up with you...

...why did this all have to happen...?

Is this your fault...? Maybe if you had just sent that picture... no, no don't even think about it. That person probably would have done this to you anyways...

...oh...

Oh, you... you have a notification. Since what happened last night, you haven't checked any of your notifications, but... this one... it's from someone you trust...

Idia was absolutely enraged. He could barely even believe what just happened. You have nothing. He is the only person in the world offering you comfort and support, and you just... YOU JUST WRITE HIM OFF LIKE HE'S NOTHING?!

[Gloomurai_] : hey, is everything OK w/ you?

[Gloomurai_] : i just saw you havent rlly been online since what happened

[Gloomurai_] : not that i blame you obv

[n3k0-ebi] : hi gloomy

[n3k0-ebi] : things haven't been great... lol.

[Gloomurai_] : i heard youre single again btw

[Gloomurai_] : that must suck

[Gloomurai_] : i hope this doesnt sound too forward but uh

[Gloomurai_] : is there anything i could do to help?

[n3k0-ebi] : definitely not, but thx for offering

[n3k0-ebi] : it's enough to just know you're there :)

...but, all of a sudden, the anger leaves him. Everything leaves him. All rational thought is gone from his head... and he smiles.

"Ortho... tell the vice leader he'll be in charge of Ignihyde for a while."

"What-? Big brother, why would you-"

"I need to go home for a bit." Idia closes the chat log, and stands up from his chair. "I won't be gone long. I just need to... make a copy of a file on my pc back home and bring it back here. That's all."

Ortho didn't entirely believe his brother...

...it's raining.

It's dark, stormy, the dead of night...

And most importantly, you're alone.

You used to like being alone. Not so much now, now you just feel... unsafe.

What with all the death threats, general threats, your home address and real face now being known... you don't feel safe in your own home anymore.

It's not a pleasant feeling, yet it is one you've felt before. One you never hoped to feel again. It's such a terrible feeling, knowing you might not be safe, in the place that you very well should be...

...

There's a knock at the door.

You are NOT going to answer it.

There are a lot of things that can happen in the exact moment of danger. Time feels like it slows down, and you have to make a choice... fight or flight, your natural instincts.

The door is kicked open and you drop down to at least somewhat hide yourself thanks to your couch. Maybe that pepper spray you lost last month is under there??? Hopefully...

And then... you hear a voice. A strangely familiar, sickly sweet voice.

"Ohh (Y/N)~" It calls out... "Where are youuuu~???"

That voice... you know that voice... you've been in a voice call with that voice before... that voice...

It's Gloomy... someone you thought was your friend...

"(Y/N), I know you're in here. Just show me where you are already. I-I won't hurt you~!!"

You frantically run your hand along the floor under your couch, looking for your pepper spray. You can't help but hope it's under there...

You hit something that rolls out from under your couch... it's exactly what you're looking for, but it also shows him exactly where you are.

A blue glow comes closer as the long, flaming hair drapes over your couch, the tips barely touching you as you lay on the ground. Then you see his face... piercing yellow eyes, and a terrifying, sickening smile full of sharp teeth...

"There you are!"

You scramble away from him in a panic, taking short glances at where the small canister rolled...

"There's no need to look so scared, (Y/N)." He smiles. "It's me, Gloomurai, Gloomy, Idia, your boyfriend."

"W...w-what... the hell... are you talking about...?"

"Are you fucking stupid? I think it's really clear what I said, isn't it?" He scowls at you... not just any scowl, it looks like he completely despised you... before quickly returning to a sickly sweet, and clearly fake smile. "I'm your boyfriend. You're my girlfriend. We've been dating for a long time, and I'm going to be taking you home with me now! I love you so much!"

"W-we've talked a few times... a-and I guess we're friends, but... but we aren't dating!!" You yell, clenching your fists tightly. You're absolutely terrified, but you don't want to just agree with him. There's no way in hell you're going to validate this...

"Yes we are. Do you not remember? Is your single braincell working overtime trying to understand what you already know? Aww, cute kitty..." The intruder suddenly pulls something out from his pocket.

He thrusts the object at you as you avoid it by crawling on your hands and knees as fast as you can towards your small canister. You stand up in the best defensive position you can, being sure to hide your spray from this creep.

"Ugh. Why are you so stubborn?? It won't hurt as much if you just stay still!!" He rushes towards you with the object, it's clear to you now that it is a syringe...

You spray him directly in the eyes as he screeches out in pain.

You run for your front door, hoping you can get away while he writhes in pain... but you feel something prick into your neck... and being flushed into your veins...

"YOU BITCH. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH!!" He screams at you as you collapse. What is this... what in the world would work this fast...?

"...wh..." You try to ask what this is, before you feel a sudden metallic taste in your mouth, and blood begins to pour out...

"You don't need to know what it is. It's better if you don't know." The intruder shushes you. "I love you so much. I love you. We'll be happy together... me and a better version of you... I'll recreate you perfectly."

...he kisses you on the lips. He wipes your blood off of his face as he pulls away... when you realize he's wearing gloves.

"It won't be long before you hemorrhage all your blood... this stuff works really fast~" He smiles. "At least you'll look pretty as you die."

Idia's life entirely went back to normal after that. In fact, it's been a year since what he did.

Your body was found, but evidence to his crime was not.

Idia is a model student at NRC, despite almost never attending class in person. His grades are phenomenal, he hands in all his assignments in time, and he's going to get a good job when he graduates...

And... in his spare time... he's programming.

Idia is programming an artificial intelligence, based on a certain someone he used to know.

His lovely girlfriend.

"Don't worry... we'll be seeing each other again soon... I'm sure of it. I'll do everything I can to make it true... I love you, (Y/N)."

[rocorambles]

Trapped

Pairing: Sakusa x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Toxic Relationship, NSFW, Fantasy AU, Sorcerer Sakusa, Rape/Non-Con, Mind Control, Manipulation, Obsessive and Posessive Behavior, Degradation

Summary: You should have trusted your gut instincts, the lessons you had learned the hard way about just how cruel powerful men could be. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Friday, October 30th 11:00pm U.K. time!)  

You splutter awake, laughing, but also groaning as a wet tongue slobbers all over your face and you lightly shove the fox that’s currently standing beside your resting head, intent on waking you up to play. Blearily you blink your eyes, trying to gauge what time it is based on the light seeping into the cave you’ve come to call your home. Judging by the bright rays of sunlight, it’s already mid-morning and you stretch your arms above your head, petting your furry companion behind its ears before standing up and treading out into the forest, your friend walking right beside you, its tail brushing against your leg. 

The familiar peace and quiet of the wind rustling past branches and the faint chirping of birds wafts through the air and you smile as you continue making your way to the nearby waterfall, various four-legged animals that have come to be your family and friends popping their heads out of grassy patches and from behind trees in greeting. You can’t even remember the last time you’d seen another human being and you grimace at the thought of your last encounter. 

Orphans, especially female orphans like you, rarely survive for long and you bitterly remember the years of being a street urchin, never knowing when your next bite of food would come, never knowing who to trust in a world full of both humans and magical creatures who’d do horrible things to an unclaimed child and you shiver at the thought of possibly being eaten or harvested for ingredients for countless dark magic spells. But life had only gotten harder the older you became and as a single, vulnerable woman, you began to attract a different attention, no longer able to blend as seamlessly as you once had with predatory eyes trailing after you, resting too long on parts of your body that you desperately wanted to hide from the world. 

You tried sticking it out, finding ad hoc jobs here and there as a maid, as a seamstress, as a waitress. But corruption ran deep wherever you went and disgust makes you recoil when you remember all the times you’d been cornered by all types of men and creatures, received unwanted touches in hidden corners and degrading remarks of what your only purpose in life was. And after being left to sob, pain lancing between your legs, your clothes ripped to shreds, knowing no one would ever take your side, knowing that this would just continue happening over and over again, you vowed to never have anything to do with another sentient being ever again. 

You’d heard rumors of the forest, about its enchantment, about the stories of terrible things hiding away in its heart, but you couldn’t imagine any monster worse than the ones you’ve already encountered and you determinedly march forward, never turning back to look at the city you’re leaving behind. And as you step past the border of trees, even you, someone who’s never had anything to do with magic, can feel the surge of power, feel the crackling energy as you delve deeper and deeper. But maybe the forest could sense that you meant it no harm, maybe it knew that you were just a lonely, helpless soul, maybe it felt generous, felt pity for the damaged woman seeking refuge. Whatever the case was, it left you alone and in all the years you’d made a home in its lush vegetation, not once had you met any of the ghastly creatures you’d heard so many horror stories of. And maybe that’s why you let your guard down when you meet him, finding a false security in the wood and grass-filled world you now live in. 

You don’t bother being quiet or stealthy as you walk. Why would you when there’s never been anyone else around? So imagine your shock when black human eyes are staring at you as you round the corner and reach the water’s edge and panic laces through you when you see how masculine and strong he looks, overwhelming fear making you tremble when you take in the staff you see laying next to him. 

A sorcerer. 

You’d learned the hard way that men were never to be trusted and that men with power and wealth were the ones to be even more wary of. Fortunately you’d only dealt with vile wealthy men and as awful as they had been, you know men gifted with an affinity for magic make those nobles seem as harmless as kittens in comparison. You’d seen firsthand the havoc sorcerors could wreak, seen the charred, mutilated, disfigured bodies put on display at the city gates as an example of the fate for anyone who rebels against the crown. To your knowledge, all sorcerors worked for the royal family, rarely leaving the walled fortress unless sent on a mission or task, but never in a place like this so-called cursed forest. So what was he doing here? 

The urge to flee thrums through your veins, but when he makes no move to stand or get any closer to you, curiosity gets the better of you and you stay rooted to your spot and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself asking the first question that comes to mind. 

“Who are you?” 

When Sakusa had ventured outside of the castle walls for a break from the irritating humans inside the cramped corridors and bustling courtrooms, he had purposefully chosen a place where no other soul would be. His hand had immediately wrapped around his staff as the sound of approaching rustling interrupted his thoughts, but when you had made your presence known, he could only stare in awe, staff forgotten as he took you in. 

You’re different from the usual noble women he sees on a daily basis. For one, you’re barely wearing anything, a makeshift dress of strung together leaves, flowers, and grass the only thing covering you and he can feel his face grow hot as he tries not to blatantly stare at your bare legs and arms. But as he really regards you, he can’t help but feel something wild, something primal in you and he blinks in shock when he realizes that you have the same energy as the forest, as if the forest has claimed you as one of its own and he’s so entranced by his realization that he’s startled by the sound of your voice.

From anyone else, he would have scowled at the forwardness and bluntness of the question, but for some reason, coming from you, he finds himself easily answering. 

“Sakusa Kiyoomi” 

People, conversations, human interaction. Those are all things Sakusa abhors and yet, as you tentatively draw closer to him, staring at him in wide eyed curiosity while the two of you exchange words, he thinks he doesn’t mind any of those things when you’re involved. He comes to visit you as often as he can, something warm blooming inside of him as he sees your hackles relax, notices how you inch closer and closer to him every time he arrives, and he can’t help but compare you to a wild animal and behind the warmth in his chest, something darker lurks, and he wonders what it would be like to tame you, claim you back from the wooded forest that had taken you in, mark you as his own. 

And that thought festers and grows inside of him. 

He does his best to keep it at bay, play it off as just a fleeting idea, but when your eyes and body begin to seep into his dreams, into his every waking thought, he can’t keep the desire down any longer and when he strides towards you once more, he drops to one knee in front of you, asking for your hand in marriage. 

In hindsight it probably was foolish to think that you were as smitten with him, foolish to think that someone who had been scarred enough to escape from civilization would easily just return to the place full of painful memories, and yet red hot anger blazes through him when you turn him down. It doesn’t matter how sweet and kind you are about it, gently letting him down and telling him you’re sure he’d find someone much better suited to being his wife, someone prim and proper, someone educated and knowledgeable of court intricacies. 

Humiliation only fuels his rage as he rises back to his feet and he can feel his magic churning, waiting to be used, dancing at his fingertips, and he has half a mind to forcefully drag you back with him, but he retracts it, pushes it down deep inside of him as he takes a deep breath. No, he wants you to come back and grovel at his feet, beg him to take you in, to help you. He wants you to feel the same need for him that he feels for you and he bites his tongue and restrains himself as his mind begins to plan and strategize. 

He tries to remain as normal as possible, still going to visit you as often as before, but his nails dig into the palm of his hands at the pity in your eyes and he clenches his teeth at the way that you tread around him like he’s a wounded animal. But he takes those feelings and lets them drive him late through the night as he chants strange words, flips through old scrolls, experiments with different spells and ingredients and a rare smile stretches across his face when the pieces finally come together. 

It’s time to take set his plan in motion and in the middle of the night while most of the city is fast asleep, there’s a strange flashing light, a rush of something sinister in the air, and the murmurs of masculine chanting swirling in the air, lingering, and foreshadowing the dark days ahead. But you remain asleep, peacefully ignorant of the shift in the atmosphere, naive to just how much your life will change.  

 You wake up, surprised by the lack of a warm furry body or tongue lapping at your face, and you vaguely wonder if you’d woken up in the middle of the night, but the sunlight filtering through tells you a different story. You feel strange, warning bells beginning to faintly clamor in your head, and you gingerly step outside of your lair only to freeze at the dead silence surrounding you. It’s always quiet and calm in the forest, but where there is usually the sound of nature and creatures, now there is only a deathly silence and you stare in horror as the forest seems to decay right in front of your eyes. What used to be green grass is wilting and brown. The trees you’d spent years climbing and picking fruit from are completely bare. But what makes a choked sob get caught in your throat is the corpses of the animals who’d you come to be so fond of littered around you and your slow stuttered amble becomes a frenzied run, as you race through your dying home, hoping to see any sign of life left. 

But days pass and the state of your home only gets worse. Your throat is parched without clean water to drink, all the water sources near you murky and littered with fish corpses indicating just how toxic they’ve become. Your stomach aches with hunger, no vegetation, fruits, or animals nearby for you to ingest. And a deep loneliness churns inside of you and once again you feel as alone as you did when you were just a dirty street urchin trying to scrape together a living off the streets. 

So when Sakusa comes for his regular visit and finds your weakened body slumped on the floor of your cave, it just makes sense to you, survival instincts kicking in, to drag yourself over to his feet, fling your arms around him when he finally bends down, and sob into his chest. You don’t question the way he’s slow to crouch down to your level and comfort you. You don’t see the cruel smile on his face when he sees you pathetically laying at his feet. You don’t notice the glee in his eyes as you beg him to take you with him. And when he asks you if you’d like to come and be his assistant, you eagerly nod your head and cling tighter to him, burying your face in his comforting and familiar presence as he teleports the two of you back to his living quarters. 

Months pass and despite your initial wariness of returning to live among other beings, you find that Sakusa seems to dislike being around others just as much as you, and the two of you find a comfortable way of life mostly holed up in his living quarters with only the other as company. You’d never really been exposed or taught anything about magic growing up, so you’re genuinely fascinated as you watch Sakusa chant, attentively listening as he tells you what each ingredient is, eagerly following his every step as he shows you firsthand how to mix different potions. And Sakusa thinks that your aptitude for learning, the perfect synchronization the two of you have as you seamlessly work your way into his rhythm, preparing and setting things up before he even needs to tell you, speaks volumes of just how perfect the two of you are together, speaks volumes of how you were meant to be together. 

He continues strategizing, gaining your trust, letting you grow accustomed to his presence, smiling at the way you don’t even bat an eye when his hands linger on yours a bit longer than normal when he hands you something, at the way you don’t tense up anymore when he presses his body against you from behind as he physically guides and shows you how to do something. And he knows he’s on the right track when you take the initiative to swipe a strand of his hair behind his ear as he concentrates on a task at hand, when you perch your chin on his shoulder, peeking over his shoulder as he jots down notes. 

But even the greatest minds make mistakes and when he sends you off to find a certain piece of text for him from the bookshelf in the corner of his room, he forgets to clarify where on the shelf to look and not wanting to bother him, you meticulously comb through every book, forehead scrunching in curiosity when you find a notebook tucked behind, as if it was meant to be hidden. You consider just passing it over, not wanting to intrude on Sakusa’s privacy, but having gone through most of the books and not finding what you need, you wonder if perhaps the thing he’s looking for is in here and that this had just been misplaced or accidentally pushed towards the back of the shelf. 

As you flip through the pages you quickly realize this is a book of Sakusa’s own spells and you stare in awe at how much work he’d done, how extensive his own self-created spell repertoire is, but suddenly your heart freezes when you flip to the last few filled pages. You’re not as fluent as Sakusa is when it comes to the ancient magical language, but you know enough after the time you’ve spent with him, the lessons he’s taught you, to recognize ‘plague’ and ‘forest’ and your throat and heart feel both heavy and panicked when you realize the implication of what you’d found. And suddenly you remember the day he had proposed to you vividly, ice cold shock and realization making you shudder when you remember a flash of something dark in his eyes when you had rejected him. And your hands tremble when you see the very last page, taking note of the phrase ‘mind control’. But before you can dwell on it, you squeal in surprise when the book is plucked from your hands and you’re rooted to the spot by dark eyes pinning you down. 

You want to scream angry words at him. You want to escape. And yet, you do neither, frozen with fear when you remember exactly what happened to the victims who’d defied sorcerers.

“Hmm. This spell’s not quite ready yet, but I guess we can test it out early.” 

And before you can even register what’s happening, a firm hand is placed on the top of your head, the other wrapped around your throat to keep you still as magic surges through the air and you vaguely hear yourself pleading for him to stop, until suddenly you feel trapped in your own body, the connection between your conscience and physical figure severed and you stare in horror as your body goes limp and docile in his arms. 

Sakusa peers into your eyes in interest, humming in thought as he scrawls a few more notes in his notebook. 

“The end goal of this spell is for me to be able to completely control your mind, but right now it looks like I only have control of the section that handles your physical functions if that ugly hate-filled look in your eyes is any indication. But let’s test my theory shall we?”

And it feels like a bad dream as your body submissively makes its way to his bed, seductively swaying your hips as you sprawl out on his bedsheets, eagerly wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he joins you, bringing him down for a kiss. He’s rough and invasive as he tears your clothes off, calloused hands touching and contaminating every inch of you and you feel disgust as he examines you like you’re a piece of prime meat he’s purchased, coldly and meticulously pinching and prodding you as he observes what makes your body react. And for once, you hate how observant he is, how in tune to your smallest shifts he is, how sensitive your body is as your nipples perk up, as little moans escape past your traitorous lips when he pinpoints your weak spots. 

But what you hate most is the triumphant grin on his face when his dexterous fingers swipe against your lower lips and you internally flinch at the glistening slick that coats his fingers when he holds it to your face, evidence of the heavy arousal mixing with your humiliation and hate. And you try to think of anything else, imagine you’re anywhere but here as he begins to wonder out loud while his fingers twist and turn inside of you, reaching and touching places you’d never been able to explore yourself, if he even needs to tweak his spell anymore seeing how you’re a slave to your body’s natural desire for pleasure. Maybe there wasn't a need to completely control your thoughts and emotions as well.

He hadn’t realized what a slut you are, getting off to anyone using your body, and he leers down at you while he continues questioning you, knowing full well you can’t answer or retort to his crude remarks. And he idly wonders if your mind would naturally break without additional magic if he pleasured you enough, transformed you into a warm body that constantly seeks and craves his touch.

The fear in your eyes at his words only fuels his need to completely dominate you and he grits his teeth as he slides into your drenched hole, eyes closing shut as he just stays still and revels in how tight you are, how perfectly you wrap around him. And when he opens his eyes and sees the glassy-eyed lustful look on your face from being filled, he finally releases himself from the controlled facade he so carefully always wears and lets himself dive headfirst into the sultry, dizzying, primal embrace of lust as he pistons his hips in and out of you at a brutal pace, dark eyes never straying from your face as your eyes begin to roll back and your wanton mewls fill the air. 

He can feel his end approaching, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make you fall apart with him, drown you in inescapable pleasure, and his hand slips between the two of you, fingers finding your aroused clit and all it takes is a few rubs and thrusts before your body is tensing up, back arching, mouth opening in a silent scream, body convulsing and writhing underneath him, your cunt milking him as you’re forcefully brought to your peak. And he joins you over that edge, thick white spurts coating your twitching walls. 

You pray that he’s done, that he’ll release you now that he’s thoroughly tasted and had you, now that you’re just sloppy seconds, used goods. But you’re startled when he lovingly kisses you and tenderly strokes your hair, and your stomach churns at the genuine affection you see in his eyes. And your heart drops, any last bit of hope you had extinguished as he holds your body close to him in a mockery of a loving embrace and whispers in your ear about the future he has planned for both of you, a future where you stay by his side as an obedient, submissive housewife, a future where you’re willing and eager to please him, to love him. 

That was always his goal for the both of you, he insists, and a flame of anger burns inside of you at the exasperated and patronizing sigh he directs your way as he blames you for forcing his hands, for forcing him to do this the hard way, for forcing him to resort to magic when you could have saved everyone the hassle by just accepting his proposal all those months ago. 

Hate and anger twist and coil inside of you and yet, when he kisses you once more, your body instinctively leans into the soft touch before obediently going lax as he tells you to sleep, eyes automatically closing at the command, and Sakusa smiles at your slumbering figure. It’s not exactly how he had planned to go about this, the mind control spell being more of a back-up option he had been trying to avoid, but you’re finally irrevocably his and that’s all that matters.  

[condorclaw]

Waiting.

It's what Sam Nook was the best at.

The large mechanical creeper spent his days standing outside the towering structure of the Big Innit Hotel, keeping watch for potential customers, or potential troublemakers.

"Don't you ever get tired of standing here?" Jack Manifold had asked one day after a hostile confrontation between the two employees.

The answer was always no. Sam Nook never got tired of guarding the hotel. The task was never as boring as his peers made it seem. In fact, it was an exciting experience.

Sam Nook had been downloaded with the basic information of every server member, learning their names, heights, and basic personality traits with ease. However, the simple information couldn't compare to all he had noticed while speaking with them himself.

They all had their own stories to tell, and their own experiences to share. While standing guard, sometimes somebody would stop to speak with Sam Nook. Regardless if it was out of pity or for a genuine conversation, Sam Nook appreciated the gesture.

Captain Puffy would tell Sam Nook tales of her adventures, going into great detail when describing the scenery. It gave Sam Nook a thirst of adventure, making him feel like he was actually experiencing the harsh waves of the sea or the burning rays of the sun.

Eret regaled Sam Nook with history stories of their home. They would especially emphasize the horrible bits, including their traitorous actions as a leading cause for so much pain. Sam Nook could tell Eret still felt guilt after all this time, so as soon as Eret would finish their stories, Sam Nook offered the king a hug, which was gladly accepted.

Ranboo and Tubbo didn't have as many stories to share about the past, preferring to discuss what was happening in current moments. It was how Sam Nook became so fine-tuned to the social dynamic occurring, able to recognize specific actions relating to specific causes.

Even Sam himself would stop by frequently, checking up on his creation and making sure that Sam Nook was at tip-top shape. Sam Nook appreciated these check-ups, wanting to perform at his very best for his tasks. As Sam would make adjustments, he would tell Sam Nook small things about his life, and revealed quite a bit that he kept hidden to his other friends. Sam Nook swore to never tell anybody else unless Sam gave him permission. It was the least he could do for his creator.

Even though he was surrounded by such a colorful cast of characters, Sam Nook always looked forward to one in particular:

The big man himself, TommyInnit.

Tommy was loud and brash. He was young, yet experienced with conflict and war, masking it behind crude jokes and fragile confidence.

According to most others, Tommy was annoying and often unwanted. He was the source of problems and too impulsive for his own good. Sam Nook had occasionally heard mutterings of people wanting to ignore him or just shut him away somewhere. To an outsider, it sounded like Tommy was just some rabid stray animal who couldn't be caught.

But Tommy was more than that, and Sam Nook could see it firsthand. Tommy was passionate, loving to show off his accomplishments to his friends and being proud that he was the one able to do them. He took pride in the little things, and would frequently hype himself up when requested to perform tasks. Sam Nook was surprised at how quickly Tommy was able to get hotel materials, the boy being quite passionate to finish the build.

Outside of hotel work, the two had nice conversations. Tommy would curl up at Sam Nook's side, watching the stars in the sky and venting about his feelings. Tommy would always deny it whenever Sam Nook would bring his words up after that point, but it did warm Sam Nook's circuits to know how much Tommy trusted him to tell the robot these things in the first place.

After all, Sam Nook was built to be Tommy's guardian, and he took pride in that.

So Sam Nook was fine to wait.

--

Waiting.

It was a lovely day, with animals gathering in groups to scrounge for food. The sun was shining as bright as ever, and the few clouds in the sky twisted into funny shapes.

Sam Nook activated his cameras, taking a couple shots of the gorgeous scenery. He mentally stashed the photos away in a specific directory, one meant for Tommy.

Ever since Tommy had become trapped in Pandora's Vault, Sam Nook found himself recording his surroundings every minute of every day. Tommy was missing so much being trapped in a gloomy place, so Sam Nook was determined to show him everything he missed.

As Sam Nook stashed away his last photo, he heard the faint sound of arguing. Turning his head 90° to the left, Sam Nook spotted Jack Manifold speaking to Tubbo, the two deep in some sort of conflict. Ranboo was towering over the two, but remained quiet, listening. The enderman spotted Sam Nook gazing in their direction, giving a nervous wave and a shrug of confusion. Sam Nook returned the wave before shifting his head back forward.

It felt like there was a lot more aggression since Tommy was gone. Normally the kid was so blunt that it made it hard to argue against him. He wasn't always right, but he could end conversations quickly when they weren't worth having.

The heated discussion only got worse as minutes stretched on, Sam Nook catching bits of it, but remained still. It was only the final shout of "FINE!" that caused Sam Nook to look over once more.

Jack Manifold passed in front of Sam Nook, his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed as he made his way to the entrance of the hotel.

"WHAT BUSINESS DO YOU HAVE HERE, JACK MANIFOLD." Sam Nook questioned as the hotel cats started gathering by the robot's feet.

"Relax," Jack Manifold snarled, rolling his eyes. "I'm just doing a bit of redecorating. If Tommy doesn't like that, then he can tell me himself." Before Sam Nook could formulate a response, Jack Manifold had gone up the ladders in a hurry.

Sam Nook let out a huff of steam, focusing his attention on some of the cats that wandered around the hotel. Jack Manifold wasn't a good employee. He was only focused on keeping the hotel to himself, which didn't belong to him. It belonged to TommyInnit, as much as Jack Manifold tried to deny that.

Thankfully, Tommy was scheduled to be released in a few days. The news had initially made Sam Nook upset when Sam had told him, but Sam Nook immediately cheered up at the thought of Sam being with Tommy. Sam liked Tommy a lot, Tommy wouldn't be alone!

So Sam Nook was fine to wait.

--

Waiting.

It was a stormy day, rain pouring down from the sky, almost as if the clouds were crying. Sam Nook didn't understand why it had to be such a gloomy day. After all, Tommy's first days out of prison should be happy!

Sam Nook hadn't seen Tommy once since the boy was scheduled for release, but that didn't worry him. Tommy was probably very busy reconnecting with all his friends. Eventually he'd come see Sam Nook.

The sound of Sam Nook's own shuttering cameras snapped the robot out of the slight daze he was in. The image was lovely, with red and white flowers spread all along the grass at the side of the path. Sam Nook didn't understand where these flowers were coming from, but they were very beautiful. He could only imagine Tommy's reaction to the gorgeous plants. Tommy would pretend to hate it at first, but would later go and water them all himself.

Out of the darkness of the rain, Sam Nook saw Ranboo and Jack Manifold emerge from one of the buildings. The two didn't appear to be engaging in conversation, and appeared rather sad. They continued walking until they stopped at the gates to the Big Innit Hotel, Jack Manifold opening them slowly.

Ranboo gave a slow wave to Sam Nook, who gave one in return. Ranboo had changed over the last few days. His normally colored eyes were slightly duller, and in his jacket pocket, a purple flower peaked out. Sometimes the enderman's hand would go to it, lighting stroking the flower's petals as if it were a pet.

Sam Nook was very curious about it, but there was still time to ask Ranboo about it in the future.

The more urgent concern was Jack Manifold, who was approaching the front of the hotel. Sam let out a few clicks, shifting his trident in his hands threateningly. Jack Manifold had been vandalizing the hotel lately, and Sam Nook wouldn't allow him to do it again.

Despite all the other times Sam Nook had threatened him however, Jack Manifold looked up at Sam Nook, looking weaker than ever. His eyes were glazed over too, and his form was drenched with rain. When he spoke, his words were soft. "Sorry, Sam Nook. I broke something yesterday. I'm just here to fix it."

In shock, Sam Nook didn't even reply to Jack Manifold as he climbed up the ladders. Jack Manifold was a liar sometimes, but that there had been the honest truth. It didn't make sense. Why now?

"Sam Nook."

The robot turned quickly, coming face-to-face with his creator. Sam's green had paled, and his armor no longer looked as shiny as it once had. It worried Sam Nook too, but Sam knew what he was doing. He could take care of it easily.

"HELLO, AWESAMDUDE. WELCOME TO THE BIG INNIT HOTEL."

Sam flinched at the hotel's title, perplexing Sam Nook even more. Did he not like the name? He was the one who chose it, though.

"Don't you get tired, standing here?" Sam asked softly, his voice hoarse. "What if Tommy-"

"I COULD NEVER GET TIRED OF MY JOB, AWESAMDUDE. IT IS A GREAT PLEASURE TO WORK ALONGSIDE TOMMYINNIT AT HIS AMAZING HOTEL. WHEN TOMMY COMES BACK, HE WILL BE VERY HAPPY."

Sam shut his eyes, his fists clenched at his side as if he was in pain. There was silence between the two for a couple of seconds.

"Yeah," Sam croaked out, tears starting to well up in his eyes. "He'll be very happy with this. Thank you, Sam Nook."

Sam Nook had never felt happier. Tommy would be very happy with his hotel, and together they could beat out the competition! Sam was right!

"THANK YOU, AWESAMDUDE. PREPARE FOR THE BIG INNIT HOTEL TO RULE THIS SERVER."

Sam nodded slowly, his mouth open, with only short puffs of breath coming out. Exhaling, he looked up, gave a polite bow to Sam Nook, and departed. Jack Manifold left shortly after Sam as well, only giving a quick farewell to the robot.

The sky may have looked like it was crying, but that didn't change Sam Nook's mood. The sky was crying out of joy, surely! The server couldn't wait for TommyInnit to return to his hotel, and neither could Sam Nook.

So Sam Nook was fine to wait. 

[tracybirds]

Paper Dreams

John receives a prestigious invite and he’s not sure how to respond.

Many thanks to @gumnut-logic for the encouragement because I am nerves!!

*                      *                      *

The crisp white envelope was heavy in his hands as he hurried from the room. Paper was a formality, a mark of distinction that would surely draw his brothers’ unwanted attention. Letters didn’t just arrive unannounced in this era of high-speed data connections and quantum supercomputers. In fact, they didn’t arrive at all.

So, John was more than a little apprehensive when Grandma Tracy silently handed him the sealed envelope and walked away.

It took only a few short minutes to read through the contents and he sat back against the window in his room, the words whirling in his mind.

Mars Colonisation Project. Distinguished candidate. Invited to apply.

An opportunity of a lifetime.

A way to prove for once and for all that he was more than his father’s famous name.

John clutched at the letter, the paper crinkling in his grasp. He mouthed the words as he read them, over and over.

He looked up at the sound of a loud yell calling his name, hurriedly shoving the letter into the envelope and dropping it at his side. Snatching up a nearby tablet, his flushed ears were the only hint of the letter that remained when Gordon shoved open the door.

“John, dinner, hurry up.”

His brother tore out of the room before he could respond.

*                      *                      *

John slipped into his seat, mouthing an apology to Grandma Tracy as he did.

“Finally!” cried Alan. He wriggled back in his seat, staring hopefully at the food. “Grandma said we had to wait for you, you took forever!”

“Is Dad not eating?” asked Virgil. “I heard him come in.”

“He’s taking it in the study tonight,” said Grandma Tracy, shaking her head slightly. “Brains dropped by and they’re holing up together on that project of theirs.”

John glanced over at the conspicuously empty seat at the head of table. They all knew what ‘that project’ meant.

In the heady rush of excitement, he’d all but forgotten the silent expectation that accompanied his studies and extra-curriculars for the past five years. A pet project alone wouldn’t have been enough to deter him from his own ambitions, but the Thunderbirds, they offered something different, something more than the office politics of academia, squabbling over research grants.

He’d never known anything that could compete.

Until now.

“Hey,” said Virgil in a low tone, nudging him from his thoughts. “You okay?”

John pulled himself back into the present with a slight grimace.

“Fine. Just thinking about an assignment.”

Virgil nodded slowly, looking him up and down with a critical eye.

“Are you going to eat anything, or just push it around?”

John automatically lifted his fork, blinking as the peas fell back to the plate and landed in a pile of mushy, grey potatoes.

“Actually, I’m not that hungry.”

“Can I have yours?” asked Alan, already reaching over to grab at his plate.

“Not hungry, John?” asked Grandma Tracy. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

She examined the pinched look in his face and the nervous twist of one hand inside the other.

“No,” said John, wishing he hadn’t said anything. The last thing he wanted was any level of scrutiny. “I’m fine, Grandma, honest.”

He let Alan scrape his leftovers from his plate, realising with a pang than he’d had another growth spurt over the previous semester at his boarding school.

If he left for Mars, he’d return to a brother he’d hardly recognise.

Colonisation was a long-term project, the result of years in planning and decades of dreams. Countless people would put their life’s work into its development and they had every right to expect the same of their astronauts. The application process alone was heavily involved and would severely limit time with his family, to say nothing of the many years ahead for him on Mars if he made it all the way into space. He’d be travelling millions of miles from home, only to find himself living with a group of strangers that he couldn’t escape without logging an external environment report.

He didn’t even like sharing a bathroom at the university housing that much.

Still the piece of paper called to him.

“Can I be excused?”

Grandma Tracy nodded and he hurried from the room, not noticing her troubled look.

The warmth of the room followed him into the hallway and he shut the door firmly behind him. He thrust his hand into his pocket, searching for the reassuring touch of cool paper.

It was real.

It was real and if he let the opportunity pass by, he might regret it for the rest of his life.

Or he might be wasting his time, pinning his hopes on something that would only serve to distract him in the long run. He could only imagine what Scott would say, who’d never once taken his eye off a prize once he’d decided to aim for it.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what he wanted, and found himself climbing into the cramped space under the roof that had generously called a playroom, then a study, then an attic.

He blinked as the bare bulb overhead lit the small room, filling it with old memories and dust.

His first telescope was still standing in the corner, pointing high in the sky and he lifted the edge of his T-shirt to wipe the dust away. Surrounding it, lay stacks of books that his mom had picked up from the local thrift store, that Mrs Delaney, the owner, put them aside just for him.

John walked carefully among them, tugging the small window open and staring out into the night. The stars shone bright in the clear, crisp air.

Crouching down, he peered through the eye piece, adjusting the focus with a practiced hand. The little reflector was nothing like the giant telescopes available at the college department, and he had to hold his breath to stop the stand from wobbling. But the universe was still out there, the same as it was when he was a kid, still holding an infinite number of mysteries despite the years he had spent uncovering the rules that held it together.

He looked up, eyes darting through the familiar patterns, searching for the anomaly he knew was wandering between Gemini and Taurus.

And there it was.

Mars.

A planet with so much to offer the world they lived on. Where he could work with a team of people who loved space just like him, where he could devote his life to researching astronomy from a new perspective and developing technology for interplanetary life for generations to come.

Where he could leave his mark alongside all the heroes of his childhood. Alongside his dad.

“After all, why shouldn’t I go?” he said, scowling up at Mars.

“Go where?”

John spun around with a start.

“Kayo! When did you get in?”

She shrugged, propping up her head with her hand.

“Long enough to see you come up here,” she said. “I waited for you, but then Mrs Tracy said you hadn’t eaten. Figured something was wrong.”

She looked him up and down with a piercing eye. John tried not to squirm. He’d always felt Kayo had something of a sixth sense when it came to knowing things that should have been a secret.

“Seems like I was right,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Then where are you planning on going?”

“Nowhere. I don’t think, that is…”

He flopped down and tilted his head back with a huff.

“Not right now, at any rate.”

Kayo pulled herself up onto the floor and drew the ladder upwards.

Neither spoke as the trapdoor shut with a small ‘click’.

The dust swirled in the air, dancing in the shafts of light above them.

“Is it a graduate program?”

“No.”

“An international program?”

“No.”

“A long-term space colonisation program for specially selected candidates who have already proven themselves in the fields of communications, astrophysics and astrotechnology?”

John stared at her.

She shrugged.

“It’s my job to know.”

“So, why even ask?”

“I’m trying to get you to lower your guard.”

She smiled at the dumbfounded look on his face.

“You’ve met Brains, right? He’s got some server tracker that flags your name. They asked your advisor for academic and personal references months ago.”

“Oh God,” said John, dropping his head in his ands and staring wildly at the floor. “Does Dad already know?”

Kayo shook her head.

“Dad and I do. Security details and all. But we don’t tell him that kind of stuff, you know, he’s not spying on you.”

“You’re right, that’s a real comfort,” said John, drily.

Kayo tossed her head.

“I’m just saying.”

Her eyes softened as she watched him draw his knees close to his chest.

“He doesn’t know.” She hesitated, still watching him. “Would it be all that bad if he did though?”

John huffed a little, still staring at his knees.

“International Rescue’s all we’ve ever talked about,” he said. “I didn’t think there’d be anything else I wanted. What if I let him down?”

“He’s already proud of you, John.”

“But we’ve been working towards it for so long now. This would change everything. Delay the full scope of the project for months, or years even.”

Kayo snorted.

“You really think Jeff Tracy, resident billionaire and with access to the best tech in the world, wouldn’t be able to find another genius astrotechnician and communication expert?”

John shot her a withering look.

“Okay, so maybe he’d have to find two super geniuses.”

She easily dodged the picture book he threw in her direction.

“Leave off,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Kayo spotted the slight smile though, and grinned broadly in return.

“Can I?” she asked, nodding at the space between him and the wall.

John nodded and shuffled over as best he could, trying not to topple the book stacks around them.

Kayo wriggled into the gap, and John paid her no mind.

He hadn’t thought of who would take his place because, of course, someone must. He’d been preparing for an International Rescue without him, one where his family diverted communications for a few years and focused their efforts on establishing themselves on land and sea until Alan stepped into his role on Thunderbird Five.

He hadn’t imagined an International Rescue where he wasn’t even needed.

Kayo seemed to sense the turn in his thoughts, nudging him gently to pull him from them.

“He wouldn’t trust them half as much as you, you know.”

John shrugged.

“I don’t want to disappoint him,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t want that to be the only reason I don’t go.”

He took a deep breath, and glanced back up at the slowly setting planet.

“And I want to go,” he admitted. “I do. I need to tell him.”

Kayo nodded, a sad look in her eyes. They sat in silence together, lost in their own thoughts. The bustle of the house downstairs filtered upwards. Muffled bangs and indistinct shouts of Gordon and Alan playing some ridiculous game, loud music from Virgil’s room – the kind he put on to drown out any interruption to his painting. Grandma Tracy seemed to be having some kind of one-sided conversation with herself, until John remembered, with a pang, that it was Saturday morning out in Guam and she was likely speaking to Scott at that very moment.

Kayo sighed and dropped her head on John’s shoulder.

“I’d miss you though.”

John swallowed carefully past the sudden lump in his throat.

“I’d miss you too.”

*                      *                      *

John was too old to be summoned to his father’s study, but somehow deliberately interrupting him felt worse. Nausea sat like a rock in his stomach, his voice box left in tatters as he knocked on the solid oak door.

“Who is it?”

He couldn’t reply.

His eyes flitted across the family photos that littered the hallway, landing finally on the image of his father and crewmates waving to the masses as they entered the Herschel-VI.

The photograph didn’t show the way his father was blind to the crowd, his farewell only for the woman who stood half a mile from the launchpad, proud, so proud, and sick with worry too. She held tight to her eldest son with one hand, and rested her other on the stroller she was rocking back and forth. She didn’t see the way he had wriggled out of his restraints nor how he was preparing to drop to the ground and run away, already intent on chasing after his father at three years old.

Jeff Tracy, first man on Mars, opened the door with a frown and a touch of impatience, and John knew there would be no escape this time.

“John.”

“Dad.”

His throat closed around his words and his hand closed around the letter in a fist.

Jeff looked down at the sound, and looked back at John, an assessing look in his eye. He stepped back wordlessly and John entered the severe room.

“What’s happened, son?” he asked, holding his hand out for the letter.

He smoothed down the crumpled edges as he read, his eyes leaping from phrase to phrase on the page.

“Well, it seems congratulations are in order. I assume you intend to accept?”

The knot in John’s chest loosened and he collapsed into the chair opposite Jeff.

“I intend to apply,” he corrected, staring down at the desk between them.

“John, they don’t reach out like this unless they want you onboard. They intend you to be on that shuttle, regardless of the formalities the bureaucrats put in place.”

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the blueprints, Brains’ small, neat handwriting annotating each design and his father’s looping comments scrawled liberally across them.

Jeff followed his line of sight and smiled.

“Five won’t be operational for a few more years, you know that. Don’t let her be what holds you back.”

“But this was always it, this is why I’m getting space rated. And the satellite network still needs to be launched, and the orbital mechanics calculated.”

“An opportunity like this doesn’t come your way twice, son.”

John stopped.

“You think I should accept. If they say yes.”

“Don’t you?”

There it was. His father’s blessing laid out in front of him, just waiting to be taken up like a pennant.

Everything they’d worked for, everything they’d sacrificed, gone. In its place, a single shining achievement, a global community on their sister planet. The first of its kind.

It had been a long time since John had allowed himself to dream his own dreams.

“Alright,” he said, a giddy rush spinning his head so that he hardly knew what he was saying. “I’m gonna do it.”

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 11 “VoiceFarting” [Episode List] Tim and Adam are hanging out on... Liscord, playing some stuff together, waiting for Dave to join them for a game. When Adam unexpectedly has to leave however, Dave decides to do some… microphone testing.

VoiceFarting

“I’m going in as a mage ‘cause you fuckers can’t cast for shit” I heard Adam say right into my ears.

This was one of our usual game nights. We’d voice chat on Liscord on our own server and all that stuff. Adam was being, for the lack of a better term, kind of bitchy, ‘cause he thinks as himself as the most skilled gamer around even though we’re always reviving his ass. In the end it’s all in good fun of course, but we’d all happily mute him during a match if we could.

“Yes, Adam. Have fun with the ‘easy mode’ character.” I said, deliberately baiting him.

“Listen here you little shit” he immediately blurted “I can accept that you’re gay but I’m not going to accept the fact that you’re a scrub.” he said, obviously joking, though he did take skills seriously during a match.

“Yeah yeah but I’m the one using the axe, fighting enemies face-to-face like a man.” I kept teasing him. “How’s going up there? Still casting light arrows from your safe space?” I cackled.

“Excuse me???” his icon lighting up, the audio clipping “Why don’t we check your stats instead? Too afraid of looking like the scrub you are??? I literally made no mistakes last time.”

“Of course you didn’t: the chance of making mistakes is like 0% when you stand still and far from the battle.”

There was a moment of silence, then I heard Adam’s breath into the mic “You know I know where you live, right?”

I laughed but before I could continue this very deep and mature battle of wits, we both heard the sound notifying us that our bud Dave joined the voice chat. Now, whenever Dave joins, we usually hear every sound except for his voice, so we were ready to have our ears busted because of the noi-

“Hey noobs!” Dave greeted us, with a voice that was instead crystal clear.

“What the hell” both me and Adam said, our avatars lighting up at the same time.

“I see you noticed that you can now hear my beautiful voice perfectly.” he bragged, and rightfully so.

Normally we could hear his PC’s fans, what was going on down the street, cars passing by, atoms crashing into each others… farts. But now it was just Dave with his now-soothing voice calling us names.

“Are you finished?” Adam said.

But there was no response from Dave.

“Did he finally die?” Adam continued.

I heard a faint sigh of relief from Dave and then he went “Yeah, now I’m finished.”

I kind of suspected what happened but I didn’t say a word.

“Wait. You didn’t hear a thing?” Dave asked, puzzled.

Both me and Adam shrugged as if he could see us, but then said that no, we didn’t.

My detective skills told me that my gassy straight bud ripped one of his classic loud farts, but the new microphone had that “background noise reduction” feature (which my friend seriously needed) so it didn’t register his ass-blast as the old one usually did, so much so that Dave’s frequent farts would eventually turn into white noise for the rest of us. But now, his new headset was actually worth the price and all we could hear was indeed his voice.

“Can we just get into the game befo-“ Adam blurted, but was cut off mid-sentence by a loud, ear-piercing sound coming from Dave, though that wasn’t him speaking or screaming.

My fartbro really didn’t want us to miss what his ass is capable of, so we were both startled by a powerful, audio-clipping fart that completely overwhelmed our voice begging him to stop. And he did stop, but only after like 12 seconds. The rip was followed by the sound of Dave re-adjusting his microphone and laughing. “Hopefully you heard that now.” he chuckled.

I did hear it. I was very familiar with it. Truth is that Dave farting during our game sessions wasn’t anything new however. Even I was used to it, though that did pitch a tent in my shorts. I started wondering whether Dave was in jeans, shorts or boxers. Probably the latter, and shirtless, given that it was a warm evening. I tried to not to let my usual simp-ness over my bro take over me but apparently it was already too late, as I didn’t even notice Adam begin pissed off about an unwanted phone call.

“I’m sorry guys, I gotta take this one.” he said, annoyed. “Do not wait for me. Cya tomorrow I guess.”

And logged off, another sound notifying us that he went into the terrible real world realm.

“Alone at last, bro.” Dave said, in a flirty tone, just as Adam left.

I laughed and mindlessly switched to a different, this time single-player game as we needed at least 3 guys to play, one of those brutal action games that I suck at but I have to beat.

Dave did the same, with a similar game, and we both started gaming on our own but keeping each other company, like we usually do, occasionally exchanging opinions on what we were playing and so on.

“It’s probably his ex-girlfriend” Dave said.

“Yeah. I figured.” I simply answered.

Adam wasn’t really talkative about his personal stuff like me or even Dave, so neither us really knew what was going on. But if our bud didn’t want us to know, not fully know at least, then we respect this decision.

After a couple of more minutes of silence, I heard some sounds coming from Dave. Not a fart, this time though.

“Did you say something?” I asked.

I heard some muffled noises and then Dave’s voice, lower than usual though “I’m just messing with the settings here. I feel like sometimes the volume gets messed up.” and he was right.

“Yeah the audio is kind of low now.” I warned him.

I heard some more noises (keyboard tapping, mouse clicking, etc.) and then I heard him speak again.

Or, to be more precise, he did make a sound with his mouth, though those weren’t words; a loud belch, actually, right into my ears. Dave was more of a farter, but he wasn’t new to wild, incredible burps. I honestly prefer the more disgusting butt explosion, but I still tip my hat at my bro being a masterful air-bender from both ends.

“Yes, I did hear that.” I said, anticipating his question.

He laughed. “Thank you.” he answered, belching both word with care.

A couples of minutes of silence followed, with just me and Dave occasionally chatting but overall trying to be focused on our respective games. My straight bro was however not done with the “testing”.

“Are you hearing this bro?” he suddenly asked, trying not to laugh.

“No…?” I was puzzled.

“Wait. Let me just…”

I heard Dave removing his headset and as it got farther away from his head, a familiar sound got louder and louder instead, until it became unbearable.

“Are you hearing this now?” he shouted, though I could heard him over that sound.

The sound of yet another loud blast of gas, so loud it was glitching the audio. It was long and proud, dry as some of his best rips, and it just wouldn’t stop. The boss I was fighting somehow felt how distracted I was and one-shotted me with a swipe of his flaming sword but I couldn’t even hear any in-game sound ‘cause my straight gassy bro was basically farting right into my ears, albeit indirectly.

I instinctively reached for the pitched tent between my legs as the fart kept going strong and loud, so loud in fact that I had to lower the volume ‘cause my hears were starting to hurt.

After a grand total of 18 seconds, I once again heard Dave putting his headphones back on his head, wondering whether they were radioactive or melting at this point, due to all that poisonous gas.

“I gotta say… the sound quality is pretty spot-on. What headset are you using?” I joked.

Dave chuckled. “The same as yours actually. Thanks for the advice.”

We kept chatting a bit more as if he wasn’t a gassy teasing bastard but since he *is* a gassy teasing bastard I once again heard him, with no warning nor request from me, removing his headphones again and putting them (I assume) closer to the source of his underwear-clad ass.

Unsurprisingly, yet another manly, loud rip blasted through my own headphones right into my eardrums, renewing the hard-on I had only moments before. It sounded like a motorcycle passing by and I could only imagine how badly the stench was in Dave’s room. Lasting around 11 seconds, this time it got dangerously wet-ish towards the end, which I found hilarious but also made me rightfully worried about my bro maybe going a bit too far even for both of our standards.

“Dude.” I said, laughing a bit “You might want to go easy. That sounded risky.”

Dave, being the chill guy he is, just laughed about it. “Don’t worry, dude. I’m an expert.” and he ripped a short toot that was so loud I could even hear it without the microphone going straight into his butt this time.

We then kept gaming a bit more on our own. Dying over and over to that same boss made me think about how chill Dave was being -as usual- about my kink. I mean don’t get me wrong he always farted a lot while voice chatting but this time it was different, as he was now aware of my fetish. And, as always, I really appreciated that, just as I appreciated yet another thunderous blast, one that actually startled me, making me lose YET AGAIN.

“FUCK!” I blurted.

As the fart kept going, Dave moved the microphone closer to his face (but I still could hear the fart going) just to laugh at my gaming skills, completely aware however that his farts were a huge distraction on its own. He then planted the microphone once again in front of his butt and the blast went loud and proud.

“It’s just too easy.” he then chuckled, after finishing ripping that monstrous fart.

It was. I had to pause the game for a couple of minutes to calm down, the tent between my legs going harder and harder. Was Dave aware of this part as well? Of course he was, but he didn’t care. It was just a game for him, and he was constantly proving me how much of a pro gamer he was.

I hope he never gets nerfed.

End of Episode 11

[theonlygamergost]

My enemy, ally and friend

Technoblade deeply misses Wilbur and Phil, to a point where he thinks their friendship and the SleepyBoisInc was based on a lie, fortunately, he now has by his side an enemy, now teammate, and most definitely a new friend. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reviewed by the amazing @im-default

Enjoy~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes it was hard recollecting your thoughts, maybe it was the sleepiness, maybe it was the quantity of thoughts, either way, sometimes the only thing Techno could do to stop the storm inside his head was to sit down on the edge of a cliff and watch the world silently.

It was still, yet bursting with life… it was silent, yet full of all kinds of sounds.

Techno took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds: he had found a monster he could not slay with a sword and shield… neither with arrows and potions.

The thought of abandonment was something brute force couldn’t defeat.

Let’s address the elephant in the room, shall we?

Since Techno had been split apart from the SleepyBoisInc in Minecraft Championship, Techno could not shake off the feeling of getting abandoned… no… left out?.. no… he felt like an immovable burden was lifting off of Wilbur’s and Phil’s shoulders… and that burden… was him.

He had begged them to always team together because he was uncomfortable teaming up with unknown players… yes, they agreed but…

What if they were doing it only to please him? What if they didn’t care about him?

What if they were happy he couldn’t team with them anymore?

A shiver went down Techno’s spine, he didn’t think that was true… wasn’t it?

He sighed and took his head between his hands, shaking lightly.

There was no way that was right… They were the SleepyBois! Three great friends that always had each others backs… right?

Techno had recently gotten out of the potato war, meaning that he didn’t have a lot of time to talk to them, they supported him, listening to his rambles for hours… But what if Tommy was a better friend than him?

Tommy was energetic and played way more with Phil and Wilbur than Techno ever did.

What if?.. no… there’s no way…

…

But what if?

Techno looked at the valley underneath him, the Minecraft Champions server wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing one, but it served its purpose: It helped Youtubers and Streamers alike to practice for the next competitions, Techno didn’t spend a lot of time in here, but when he did it was always pretty full, allowing players to get in a discord call and talk without the eyes of viewers and fans on them.

DIstracting himself from his thoughts by looking around was working quite well… but he couldn’t ignore it anymore…

What if Tommy was slowly taking his place in the SleepyBoisInc?

A shiver went down his spine. He desperately hoped he was wrong…

But this feeling was more real than he liked to admit.

Oh so many times he had seen the three of them in a call, oh so many times he had seen them playing till morning together…

“Lost in thoughts, Technoblade?”

He snapped his head in the direction of the unexpected voice. He wasn’t expecting to see the blonde boy with the green hoodie to be honest, but they didn’t have to pretend to be enemies anymore, he didn’t have to be alarmed of his presence anymore…  so he relaxed the shoulders he didn’t know he tensed up.

“Yeah… something like that…”

It was a reflect of his to always place a hand on his sword when he heard movements behind him, so he moved it back to his lap, spine curved and head looking down.

“Chin up king, your crown is falling”

Dream quickly caught Techno’s crown which was slowly threatening to slip off the head it was placed on.

Techno couldn’t help but flinch at that comment… they always said that to him… Phil and Wilbur always said those words to cheer him up when he wasn’t feeling too well or his anxiety had taken over… Wilbur and Phil…

Dream noticed how sad Techno looked, and how trapped in his own mind he was, it was a common recurrence lately, but Dream had never had the guts to ask him since Techno could be… aggressive and over-protective without realizing it, and Dream was scared to bother him, so he never asked.

But it’s now or never, right?

“What’s going on Techno? You look lost”

In a way, you aren’t wrong, he thought, but said nothing, fidgeting with the soft fur of his cape.

The blonde boy stiffly sat down next to him, admiring the view as well, legs dangling off the cliff.

“Look Techno,” the crowned pig turned his head so he could see the green hoodie, but not his face, “I-I know we haven’t talked much… and we were… quote on quote rivals ‘till recently… but if anything is on your mind, a-anything at all… I’ll be here to listen”

Dream was stuttering more in his brain than he actually was, talking to Techno as a friend was something he never imagined and it took him time to get used to it… but he cared for Techno… even if they had the same age, to him, Techno knew way more and he looked up at him like some sort of… idol… even if he had more subscribers than him.

The pig-skinned man still wasn’t looking at him, Dream felt like he messed up, like he wasn’t supposed to be there, so they sat in silence next to each other, one freaking out, the other debating with himself.

Did Dream need to know about his theory of the Sbi? Did he need to know that he missed them dearly and was scared to confront them, even if it was just a casual greet?

No… he didn’t need to… he thought to himself, but Phil always told him that keeping his thoughts to himself wasn’t going to make a difference so…

“Are you sad that the Dream team got split up in Mcc?”

Dream was so surprised to hear Techno’s voice he jumped, he was even more surprised that the question was addressed to him.

“Uh… uhm… well… y-yeah? I guess I’m kinda sad that I c-can’t play with th-them? They are my best friends after a-all… “

Dream was taken off guard and his stuttering was inevitable.

He never stuttered when they were live or recording since Dream told himself that Techno was talking to him to make content and entertain, so he was able to act cocky in front of him since he was “better than Technoblade”... he knew that statement wasn’t wrong, but if Techno would set his mind to it, he could easily surpass him.

“Well… I’m… very sad I can’t play with Phil and Will but… “

Was he ready to expose himself? Was he ready to get judged by Dream? No… not really… Techno was one to keep his burdens all to himself, placing a smile as a curtain to avoid everyone seeing what was hiding inside.

Wilbur and Phil could see straight through his act and they would annoy him until he let out everything… but they weren’t there right now, they weren’t there for him… but Dream was.

“I honestly miss them very much… I know I was the first one to find myself a team without them... yet… something is bothering me-”

“You’re afraid to get replaced?”

Techno’s eyes widened as he turned to face the blonde boy with a white mask, in complete shock.

“H-how did you..?”

Dream smirked, collecting his legs and squeezing them into his chest.

“I was afraid of that too… Have you ever watched a manhunt video with BadBoyHalo in it?”

Techno nodded, imitating Dream by bringing his right leg to his chest.

“The synergy between George Sapnap and BBH is amazing, Bad is an amazing leader and while I was being silent not to give myself away… They laughed, joked and had tons of fun together… and as much as I tried to join in… They even ignored me from time to time… hell, they even called themself the “Three Muffinteers”... I honestly was scared they were replacing me with Bad…”

Techno looked at the server in front of them, the players looked like ants from where he was standing.

“And what did you do?”

Dream looked at Techno and sighed, his stuttering went away in a heartbeat, Techno was vulnerable. He was asking him help, Dream, his enemy, from the eyes of the fanbase… Dream had a hard time not to freak out like a fanboy, but this was serious, Techno was serious, and so was going to be his attempt to help him.

“Nothing, I was actually very sad for the entire night…”

Techno looked down, already hopeless.

“But the next day, as I joined a call, George and Sapnap were there, happy to hear from me… acting like the day before never happened.”

Techno tilted his head in confusion, Dream took a deep breath and turned to face him, “Look Techno, they can’t replace you, everyone is their own person, with their own personality, quality and flaws, even if it looks like Tommy is taking your place, he can’t replace you because he isn’t you!”

Techno was astonished by Dream’s words, he had recently watched a couple of his videos to understand what type of players he was and all he had seen was a confident, solitary player who thought almost always two steps ahead and never went in without a plan. Realizing these kind words were coming from him, they definitely made him look more human… same with himself showing Dream this insecurity of his, made him look human too.

“C’mere Techno, you look like you need a hug”

Techno was pulled in an embrace he didn’t expect nor want, his whole body was stiff because of the unwanted human touch, but he wasn’t a robot, he wasn’t perfect, and as he looked at the green of Dream’s hoodie and the blonde of his hair, the memories poured in.

Phil…

He couldn't hold in the sobs at this point and broke down.

Dream imagined how hard for his pride this had to be, crying on a shoulder of someone he barely knew, he just remained silent, trying his hardest not to move to break this moment.

~~~~~

After the hiccups calmed down, Techno’s weight shifted and Dream took it as a sign to let him go, his eyes were red from the tears and his cheeks were still full of tears, so was Dream shoulder.

“S-sorry about that…”

Techno apologized while looking at the wet spots on the other man’s hoodie, turning away from him to blow his nose.

“Don’t worry, we all need to cry sometimes, I’m happy I was able to help you… as a teammate… and a friend”

Dream cringed instantly, thinking he pushed his luck too far by calling him friend, but Techno just smiled at the comment, wiping the remaining tears away with his sleeve.

“I might not be Wilbur or Philza but… if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask, I promise i won’t judge”

Techno was looking beneath him, he smiled again before he placed a hand on Dream’s shoulder to help himself get up.

“Thank you, I'll’ keep that in mind... Now, I’m kinda hungry, I know a place that makes good burgers, want to go get something to eat? it’s on me” he extended his arm to Dream, pointing at it with his eyes.

It was Dream’s turn to smile, he took Techno’s hand to help him get up, “I can’t refuse, can I? Well then, lead the way” he gestured Techno to go first, when he started walking, Dream following right after.

“Want to 1v1 later? I could teach you some tricks about 1.9 combat if you’d like”

“What a nerd, always thinking about practicing… sure, why not? But don’t complain if you get destroyed, I’m better than you think I am”

They both laughed, hands in pockets and diamond sword strapped on their back.

Maybe opening up to him wasn’t such a bad idea.

[blue-bird-on-a-wire]

Vercopa (Hope)

gif credit: @coredrive​

Part 1 of the Gar Cuyir Yaim series

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,620

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x (Y/n) with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Jabba’s slave culture, violence, threat of unwanted sexual harassment. This takes place in a universe where Jabba never died in Return of The Jedi (maybe he passed out or something).

Summary: All (Y/n) can remember is being sold to Jabba at a young age. She has grown up within his palace walls, hears tales of great warriors called Mandalorians. Just as she faces what may be her last few days alive, a big blue Mandalorian shows up.

A/N: Hi! This is my first time posting a fic on Tumblr. You can also find this on Ao3 under B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire. Please feel free to give feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. Or if you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me! I don’t bite 😊. Enjoy!

The room was always full and loud, bustling with music from the band and conversation between various criminals. It was a place full of sleemos making deals, only to backstab each other when the twin suns set. The smell of sweat left a foul taste in your mouth, but it was easier to ignore the longer you stayed. One might say this palace was full of life if not for the giant slug who controlled everyone within it. All who stayed there were either a slave through debt or in chains.

I was not so lucky as to be a slave through debt. I could not work my way out of slavery, for I was in chains.

Sold to Jabba as a girl, almost all of my life had been within his palace walls. I had been a server while growing up. Hardly anyone ever paid attention to me as I scrambled around the place. I served and refilled drinks, or cleaned up after “guests” who died by the hand of Jabba's goons.

My biggest fear, aside from the rancor pit beneath my feet, was being turned into one of Jabba’s dancers. He went through them faster than a womp rat could scurry through an alleyway at night. If Jabba’s rancor wasn’t fed by someone who failed to pay back their debt, it was fed by a dancer after Jabba grew tired of them. A pretty face would only last so long.

I had learned a lot from listening to bounty hunters tell stories about their travels. My favorites were the stories about the Mandalorians. They were warriors who lived by a strict code and valued family just as much as they valued their weapons or beskar armor.  

As a child, I would dream of these Mandalorians coming to Jabba’s palace, and taking me away. They would raise me to be one of them like I was a foundling. I wanted to be strong like a Mandalorian too, in how they could strike fear into even the most dangerous criminals with only a tilt of their head.

Although I had never seen one before, I knew they wore what was called beskar armor, and were not allowed to take off their helmets. Some people said they would paint their armor a different color from the shiny silver of beskar metal. I remember overhearing a conversation about Mandalorian traditions in regards to their loyalty and the love for their children. I painted a picture in my head of these great warriors and idolized them as the heroes in my daydreams. I never thought I would meet a real one.

~ ~ ~

“‘Nother round o’ spotchka!” a bounty hunter called as I walked past his table. “An’ ‘Urry it up, Babe!”

I did my best to refrain from rolling my eyes as I quickly made my way to the bar.

The thin metal collar around my neck rubbed at my skin as I turned my head to look up at the bartender. It was a constant reminder of my place within this hierarchy, though after so long I had nearly grown numb to the pain. 

“Spotchka please, for table six,” I said, watching as the bartender took a glance behind me to make sure there was actually someone at that table.

There were no true friends here. It was almost a rule to expect lies coming from everyone's mouth. Besides, Jabba had issues with his slaves and alcohol consumption in the past, hence the unease for my honesty (not that I had ever been dishonest with this bartender before). The bartender turned around and pulled a glass from off the shelf. He filled it with the glowing blue alcohol and slid it across the bar table.

I smiled at him, picked up the glass, and gave a nod in thanks.

Though I did my best to ignore it, my neck burned at the gesture. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a little bit of bacta gel from one of the closets downstairs. I planned to sneak in there while no one was watching. Maybe I could find a few moments to myself as well, away from the hustle and bustle of the people in the throne room.

“Took ya long enough, Babe. I was startin’ to think ya ‘ad forgotten abou’ me,” the bounty hunter said as I returned with his alcohol. He stroked his patchy beard and eyed me up and down while I set his drink on the table.

I kept my gaze cast downward with my lips tightly pressed together. All I wanted was to get in and out without being noticed, but as I have grown older that had become much harder to do.

Just as I turned to leave, I saw the bounty hunter pick up the glass and dump its contents on the floor.

“Oops,” he said. “Guess ya gotta clean that up, Babe.”

I could feel my face heating up, knowing full well what game he was playing at. I wasn’t stupid. I had seen guests do this to other slave girls before. It never ended well for one or the other person.

I pulled a rag hanging from my belt, as it was common for me to be cleaning up spills. Instead of bending over, I chose to keep my front facing the bounty hunter and squat in order to wipe up the blue alcohol.

“‘Ome on now, Babe! Don’ be tha’ way,” the bounty hunter wined, banging his fist on the table as I stood up.

“Would you like another drink?” I asked, plucking the now empty glass from the table.

“Betta’ watch ya tone with me, ‘ittle one. I’m sure Jabba woulden’ wanna ‘ear abou’ trouble comin’ fro’ ya.”

I smiled, though it did not reach my eyes. “I’ll take that as a no,” I said and walked away to dispose of the rag and fetch a new one. I felt proud of myself, though the feeling did not last very long.

“Jabba!”

The throne room grew quiet with the bounty hunters' booming voice.

My blood ran cold and I froze in place.

Jabba finished chewing on a roasted frog before grumbling out in huttese.

“The great and powerful Jabba demands to know what you want, bounty hunter,” translated the crime lord’s red protocol droid.

The middle-aged man stood from his seat, drunkenly staggering up to Jabba’s throne.

“Don’ ya think tha’ pretty ‘ittle server ovah there,” the bounty hunter pointed at me. “Odda make a good danca?”

I thought my knees were going to collapse. I could feel my fingers twitching around the glass, and my eyes widened as I watched him.

Jabba paused for a moment before speaking.

“The all mighty Jabba wants to know what makes you say this,” droned the protocol droid.

The man looped his fingers through his belt while he turned to look at me. “She’s been ‘ere for a long time, Jabba. She’s experienced with this crowd. I’d imagine she’d make herself more useful to ya in tha’ way before her expiration date.”

My heartbeat was picking up speed with every second this dragged on. My expiration date? What, were they planning to kill me once I reached a certain age or something?

Jabba spoke again, his tone was much harsher than before.

“The great and powerful Jabba says you should not be telling him what to do.”

“Oh! Bu’ o’ course not! Look, Jabba, all I’m askin’ is tha’ ya-”

Jabba cut the bounty hunter off and spoke more aggressively.

Everyone in the room flinched back at his tone, even the protocol droid.

“The all mighty Jabba says you are in no position to be making deals, bounty hunter.”

“Jabba! Jabba! Now, wait a minute and jus’ liste-”

The overgrown slug slammed his fist down on a button on his throne, opening the rancor pit.

Gasps could be heard through the room as the bounty hunter fell into the beast’s layer.

The crowd quickly swarmed around the grates on the floor, subsequently pushing me forward as well. They laughed and jeered as the rancor was released from its cage.

I felt my stomach churn as I listened to the bounty hunter screaming and pleading for his life. I would never understand the appeal of watching a monster devour people.

At least that man would never pray on anyone ever again.

As the rancor picked up the helpless bounty hunter and swallowed him whole, the crowd let out a big cheer.

I was nearly elbowed in the face with all the commotion before the crowd pulled back and dispersed to where they had been before.

I shuffled backward with everyone, the breath I had been holding was finally released.

This must have meant I would remain a server after all.

Jabba finished laughing, and I began to leave and fetch another towel when I heard my name leave his slimy lips.

Oh boy.

I halted in my steps, dread shooting back down to the pit of my belly. I turned on my heels, knowing one should never leave Jabba waiting.

“Yes, great and powerful Jabba?” I squeaked out, quiet enough that I wasn’t sure I had been heard at all.

Jabba hummed before he spoke.

“The all mighty Jabba says the bounty hunter was stupid, but made a good point,” explained the protocol droid. “You are getting old, and your youth will not last for much longer.”

I didn't think I was that old. I must have been in my 20′s at least. If I wasn't so terrified, I might have been offended.

I tried to control my trembling but my muscles ached with the effort. Was it hot in that room, or was it just me?

Jabba gestured to some of his goons as he continued to speak.

“He says you have one rotation to learn the dances.”

One of Jabba’s goons grabbed me by my upper arm, dragging me away into the back of the Palace while the music resumed and chatter once again filled the palace.

I had no words, but my thoughts were running a mile a minute. This was it. This would be my death. Within a week I would be eaten by the seething monster below if I wasn’t sold off to a bounty hunter as payment or reward for a job well done.

I couldn't even dance! How was I supposed to learn to dance in twenty-four hours? I could probably wiggle like a Hutt, but nothing more elaborate than that!

Who was I kidding? With my only skills as a scurrying little waitress, my lack of grace when it comes to moving my body in any fashion, and my definitely-not-as-beautiful-as-a-twi'lek’-body there was no way I would survive even an hour on that throne.

Before I could register what was happening, I was being fitted into royal blue undergarments underneath a black fishnet jumpsuit. The outfit left hardly anything to the imagination. This was something I had once seen a green twi'lek girl wearing several years ago. Oola, I believe was her name. It seemed as though Jabba had someone fish her outfit from the inside of his pet’s belly. Maybe it was worth more than it looked, but I would not want to be the one assigned the task of retrieving it.

I was shoved into a secluded room, where a holo-vid with a skinny-looking rodian was showing demonstrations for various dance moves.

As soon as Jabba’s goon left, I began to watch the rodian. I stood and tried to copy his gestures and from, but ultimately I stumbled over myself and was left winded.

Late into the night, I continued to practice until the soles of my bare feet hurt. I could already feel the blisters I would have in a few hours, and I had grown frustrated.

I was about ready to completely give up, curl into a ball on the floor, and cry myself to sleep. It felt useless anyhow. The rancor probably already knew my name, and was just waiting for me down below.

I felt hopeless, at least until I began to think about those Mandalorian stories.

I was sure a Mandalorian would never give up. They probably fought until their very last breath even when they knew the end was staring them straight in the eyes.

I took a deep breath, grounded myself, and did the best that I could to fight through the pain, tiredness, and hopelessness that threatened to break me.

Keeping track of my feet while also making sure to move my arms and put on a smile was difficult. It was like juggling glasses of spotchka while walking on a tightrope over a Sarlacc pit. However, I was determined to figure it out.

I would not be a pathetic little thing who laid down at death's door. I was going to fight with everything I had, even though I felt like I was attacking a Krayt Dragon with a spoon.

Come morning, my muscles were stiff and ached. I was covered in layers of sweat, but I knew I had done all I could to prepare myself to go out with a bang.

I was led to the sonic showers, where I cleaned myself up before donning that same dancer's outfit as before. It was as though the whole outfit screamed my designation as a slave, with the revealing design meant for the pleasure of anyone but the wearer.

No matter, I fixed my hair and kept my chin up as I was escorted back to the throne room.

Sure enough, Jabba was waiting with a heavy-looking chain in hand.

He said something in huttese that the protocol droid did not translate before he clasped the chain to a loop in the front of my collar.

I had never been this close to the crime lord before, but I swore his breath could kill alone. That must have been how he had risen to power, as I just could not imagine Jabba as a fighter who won his way to victory through blaster fire or skill with a vibroblade. No, he most defiantly must only need to burp to murder everyone within the room. If I didn’t know any better, I would say the entire palace only smelled so badly because of him.

"The great and powerful Jabba commands you to sit," says the protocol droid.

It was only then that I realized Jabba had addressed me, as he gestured to a spot on his throne beside his tail.

I moved to that spot and crossed my legs as I sat there, the chain swaying heavily with my movements.

I lifted a hand to rub the irritated skin around my neck, only to flinch away as the touch of my fingers stung my skin. Perhaps touching my wounds was worse in the long run. Disappointment filled me knowing there would be no way to get ahold of that batch gel now.

I wondered how difficult it would be to dance with the giant chain connected to my collar because of the extra weight it put on my neck.

Soon enough, the crowd in the throne room was as lively as ever, with the band playing their repetitive upbeat melodies.

For a few hours, not once did Jabba command me to dance, and for that I was grateful. My bare feet were allowed a few hours of rest, while my mind was allowed to wander.

Would it hurt to die? Would I feel my soul slipping from my body? What would happen in death? Would everything go black or would there be something waiting beyond it? My mind was spiraling and all I could focus on was my inevitable doom.

That was until a new bounty hunter entered the palace.

Thud. Thud. Thud. His steps were heavy.

He was huge, dressed from head to toe in blue armor. Easily 6’6”, this man could command the room with his size alone.

I struggled to find what he was looking at, as the dark visor on his helmet left no clues as to where his eyes wandered.

Jabba laughed as he spotted the bounty hunter. He raised his arms in welcome.

"The all mighty Jaba wonders what you are doing here, Mandalorian," translated the protocol droid.

Mandalorian? Wait a minute. This was a Mandalorian?

I felt my face heat up in embarrassment while my spine straightened a little. I had been waiting for a Mandalorian my whole life, but it occurred to me at that moment I was dressed in something so revealing when one finally showed up. I hoped he wouldn’t notice me, but I was right beside Jabba which made that very unlikely.

He looked so much more powerful than I had imagined those of his creed to be. This man would be able to take on a rancor just by barreling into it, given how much he looked like a tank. There was no doubt in my mind anymore about how Mandalorians were able to tame the great Mythasaures on their homeworld.

There was something about him that was also familiar. Perhaps it was the black visor which hid his eyes, or simply the general design of his armor. I felt like I had seen those of his kind before, though I swore I had never met a Mandalorian before. Surely I must have been creating false memories for myself.

The Mandalorian paused in front of Jabba's throne, and it became apparent he made sure not to stand above the entrance to the rancor pit.

"I mean you no trouble, Jabba. I am only seeking out a bounty said to be hiding within your palace," the Mandalorian said. His voice was deep and raspy, like the rumbling of a generator just before it reaches full power.

As Jabba again spoke in his native language, I noticed the Mandalorian’s helmet tilt in my direction and his shoulders tensed.

There was no way he was looking at me, right! It had to of been someone behind me.

He was definitely looking at me, and I was trembling from both fear and excitement under his gaze. He could shoot everyone in this room if he wanted to and not suffer a scratch from it.

From the bottom of my heart, I hoped he was here for me, though I knew those thoughts to be childhood fantasies. I had lost hope long ago of seeing the stars one last time before I would die in this place.

"The wise Jaba asks who you are looking for."

The Mandalorian’s focus snapped back to Jabba. He unclipped a bounty puck from his belt. "I am here for someone that owes a debt to the crime lord, Twene Shias, here on Tatooine."

Jabba, as well as the crowd gasped. He pulled back and began to gesture wildly, which caused my chain to be inconsiderately tugged.

I tried not to choke at the movement while I scooted closer to the giant slug in an attempt to ease the pressure on my neck.

Jabba hummed before his protocol droid said, "The great and powerful Jabba, though shocked, wants to make a deal. He says he will hand over whoever you are looking for, in return for the murder of this Twene Shias."

The Mandalorian paused for a moment. "This bounty I am after is worth much less than the head of this other crime lord. Surely, as a part of one of the most powerful and wealthy crime syndicates, you can offer me a little bit more than this."

Jabba considered the Mandalorian’s words with small nods of his head.

"Jabba the Hutt says that although this is already a generous offer, he wants to know what else you might want."

The big blue Mandalorian nodded while he gestured with his helmet in my direction.

"How about her?"

Me? Was he serious?

Jabba burst into laughter, the crowd within the palace following suit.

I felt my face heat up and my heart jumped into my throat. I turned my head away from the Mandalorian, fiddling with my skimpy outfit.

I must have been dreaming. There was no way this mandalorian was referring to me. If he was, he had no clue just how useless I would be to him.

Once Jabba was able to get a hold of his laughter, he spoke again.

"The all mighty Jabba says this girl is not worth anything. She is a servant in this palace with no skill sets of value to a Mandalorian such as yourself," explained the droid. "That is, unless you are a Mandalorian with other needs."

The blue armored man scoffed. “Then Jabba can spare one measly dancer in exchange for the murder of a rivaling crime lord.”

Jabba, whose pride was easily wounded, wasted no time to correct his words.

“The great and powerful Jabba says that if this is what you wish, he will gladly transfer ownership of the girl to you after you bring back this crime lord’s head.”

I felt my heart skip a beat as my head shot up to look at the Mandalorian.

Oh my gosh, he was serious. I would belong to a Mandalorian? What would this mean? What would he want with me?

The Mandalorian puffed out his chest, “You have a deal. Now, where is the toydarian, Drob Tufme?”

Jabba gestured to some of his goons behind him, who quickly entered the crowd.

Yelling could be heard from near the bar before a hunched-over toydarian was shoved onto the floor at the Mandalorian’s feet. “Hey! Hey!” Drob Tufme shouted, scrambling to stand up. “I didn’t do nothin’! I don’t got no debt!”

The Mandalorian quickly shoved Drob to his knees, running the blinking red fob over his head before clipping it back onto his belt.

“Doesn't matter,” said the Mandalorian while he cuffed Drob.

The Mandalorian pulled Drop to his feet and gave Jabba a nod before he turned and dragged the squirming toydarian out of the palace.

There was a pause before the quiet throne room burst back to life with the Mandalorian now gone. It was as though a weight had been lifted from everyone’s shoulders.

It was at that moment a new realization came over me. I wasn’t going to die in this horribly smelly place. I wouldn't be eaten by the monster below, nor shot by stray blaster fire. I refused to allow myself to think about what my life would be like in the hands of this Mandalorian. I did not want to believe my circumstances could get any worse than they already were. Perhaps it was simply for the preservation of my sanity, but I felt giddy inside that my childhood fantasy of being taken away by a Mandalorian was sort of coming true. One should never give up on childish hopes.

(Part 2 coming soon!)

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[kingkatara]

Girl Meets Waitress: Opening Up

Disclaimer: I don’t own Waitress. I don’t own Girl Meets World. This is a fanfiction written just funsies.

Looking around, seeing the same things every day brings

          Maya woke up to darkness every morning. Her eyes peeled open after a mere six hours of sleep and were met with nothing. For a split second, there was only darkness in front of her, around her, within her. It was then that she and the world had their daily battle of wills, the war over who would break the stillness first and stir the other into motion. And always it was Maya who surrendered. Her eyes would adjust to the low light and a hot puff of breath would warm her face, still partly under the covers to avoid that first shiver of a New York morning that was always chilly no matter the season. She sat up in bed and surveyed the smoking battlefield of her bedroom, taking in her losses from the night before and wondering which of them would show on her face for the rest of the day. Beside her, the world’s weapon lay dormant, harmless unless she were to challenge the demands for peace. If she came quietly as the world beckoned her, he would slumber on. She didn’t look at him as she swung her legs over the bed and tapped her toes against the smooth hardwood floor beneath her. Her white flag of surrender was the tug on the long curtains that shielded the sunlight from shining into the apartment through the wide window on her side of the bed. This was her cry out into the world that she would not fight. And then the day would begin.

           Wake up, use the toilet, brush the teeth, comb the hair. Put the hair up. Makeup over the dark circles and fading yellow-green lump above the eyebrow. Panties, bra, uniform. Socks, then shoes. Purse. Nametag out of the purse and on the uniform. Every day, the routine was the same. There was ease to it, but it would be a lie not to admit that it was also repetitive. She didn’t know what her life was supposed to be like, but she couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was as though there was some missing ingredient that she had long ago forgotten to include in the recipe, which always left the dish edible, but unsatisfying. A ritual she had not shared with anyone in the six years of living in her Lower East Side apartment was that the last thing she did before giving in to the reality of her life was standing at her window and waiting for the first rays of light to peek over the buildings in her neighborhood. She never watched the sun fully rise up into the sky. She simply waited for it to appear and then raced it to work. She never won.

           The ride across town on the subway would have been daunting at best for a tourist, but for a born New Yorker like Maya, the odd little scenes playing out right before her eyes, even as early as six in the morning, were just as natural to the routine as tying her shoelaces. On the way to work, swaying gently along with the subway car, Maya would pull out her sketchbook (which wasn’t a sketchbook at all, but a pathetic server’s pad on which she took down her orders) and mimic the likeness of what she saw and sometimes, on her lowest days, what she felt. Today, there was a particularly amusing picture of an eccentric woman with some sort of hat, though Maya couldn’t quite bring herself to call it that. It was tall, a violent shade of purple, and topped with hot pink feathers. These feathers were of great interest to a small little girl, whose mother, wearing the scrubs of a nurse, was snoozing against the window of the subway car. The little girl was standing up on her seat, using the handrail for balance, and blowing on the feathers of the woman’s hat. The woman gave no indication of noticing this invasion of personal space and was instead muttering to herself about some sort of building with her name on it. The two of them were immediately transcribed into her notepad in short, quick lines of ink.

           From the subway, she made her way through the streets of the Lower East Side, weaving in and out of passerby with an expression that was as equally bored as it was underground. She didn’t look up at anyone and instead chose to keep her eyes down on her white sneakers. The less she looked open to communication or interest, the greater chance she had of making it to work having avoided any unwanted attention—because yes, some men really were in the mood before seven in the morning. Then finally, there was the diner. Where her life played out day by day, where the routine really began and always finished; the diner was more of a home to her than her own apartment, which, of course, wasn’t really hers at all. But the diner? It was the closest thing to belonging that she felt since being held in the arms of her mother so many years ago. She entered through the door in the back of the building that led to the kitchen.

           “Is it a woman thing?”

           “Excuse me?”

           “The being late. Every damn day. Is it a woman thing?”

           “Oh, shove it up your—”

           “Good morning! Who’s ready to start the day?”

           Of course, no home was complete without its inhabitants. Maya supposed she could have had it much worse when it came down to the universe selecting her partners for this life thing. She didn’t hate the people she worked with every day and she guessed that they didn’t hate her either. With that being said, however…These partners were no picnic either.

           There was Zay Babineaux, the cook. All Maya knew about him was that he was from a small town in Texas and he came to New York when he was a teenager. He still had a slight drawl to his snarky voice, the stubborn southern streak within him that refused to be beaten down by the hustle and bustle of the north. He never offered any detail into his personal life, like why he chose to be a cook or how he ended up at the diner, and Maya never asked. When he wasn’t flipping pancakes on the griddle, he could be found grumbling to anyone who would listen (and that was exactly no one) about how nothing in his life made sense and why women were the reason for that. Though he was technically her boss, he and Maya had an ongoing feud over who should be giving who orders within the unhallowed walls of their place of employment.

           Riley Lawrence was a young woman of thirty who was made up of sunshine and daisies. She married her high school sweetheart right on the heels of graduation and went to NYU for a degree in political science. A year into law school, she dropped out to start working at the diner in order to care for her husband, Charlie, who had suffered severe brain injuries in a freak bus accident. Though all of her dreams were now wasted, she still smiled like sunshine in the rain and danced like a daisy in the wind. It was for Riley’s sake that squabbles between Maya and Zay were quickly put to bed—neither of them had the gumption to disappoint a soul like Riley’s, who had endured so much already and never uttered a single complaint.

           “Me. Thirty minutes ago. Why are you women always late?”

           “Perhaps it’s because we know you can’t afford to fire us.” The newest addition to their band of misfits was Isadora, who for some reason allowed them all to address her by her ridiculous surname: Smackle. Even her nametag introduced her as such to the customers. She was a twenty-three year old grad student living the dream that Riley had once chased and for that reason, Maya and Zay tolerated her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t likable; she was nice enough. It was just that Maya had never met anyone who was more tightly wound. Smackle had a particular way of doing things and though the diner had never been cleaner, more organized, and more efficient than when Zay took her on, Maya simply didn’t appreciate changing her way of doing things just to fit Smackle’s compulsive need for order.

           “Actually, I can. I don’t own the place. I just run it. I wouldn’t lose anything but the weight of carrying this business if I had it my way and kicked you three to the—"

           “Business? It’s a diner. And it didn’t miss us for the fifteen minutes that we were late. But it will miss us for thirty if you keep us from actually doing our jobs with your whining.”

           “Alright, you know what? Get out of my kitchen. Get out.”

           Snickering, Maya led Riley and Smackle through the swinging door that led into the dining area. Though Riley sighed unhappily as they left Zay to his dramatics, the girls easily fell into their habitual duties for opening up. Riley got to work on the register, counting bills and setting up the front desk. Smackle wiped down each table and sorted the condiments in whatever order made sense to her otherworldly brain. Maya got to work on the pastry display case. The first thing she did every shift was rearrange it so she could display her creation of the day, which was dreamt up sometime before going to bed every night and arriving at work each morning. What made all the elbow grease she put into the job worthwhile was found underneath the diner in its basement: the bakery. Each dessert, particularly the pies, was made from the imagination of her mother. Every dressing coating its recipe, particularly the cakes, was designed from Maya’s. Serving the sacred combination to the diner’s patrons, who had no idea that they were seeing into the very essence of her being with every bite, was the most gratifying thing Maya got to experience in a montage of diner meals that left her secretly hungry for something more. In another life, perhaps Maya would have liked to be an artist. But she was living in this life and if she couldn’t be that, she supposed being a waitress that got to bake the cakes was the next best thing.

           “What’s the special today?”

           Maya’s fingers twitched towards her apron’s pocket where the sketch of her subway ride lived frozen in time between the pages of her server’s pad. She was planning on using it as inspiration for some kind of cake resembling that crazy old woman’s hat, but Riley’s hopeful expression was especially sweet this morning. Her brows lifted in the direction of her hairline ever so slightly, creating the barest traces of wrinkles that were not yet etched into the still youthful skin across her forehead. Her lips parted in a preciously premature smile of delight. Maya never wanted Riley to know the harsh truth that she did, that hope was for suckers, and so she never let Zay put Riley’s pie on the menu even though it was continuously requested by the regulars. As long as it wasn’t on the menu, Riley still got to hope every morning, for just a minute or two, that that would be the day that her pie was the special of the day.

         “Why, Aren’t You a Peach Polka-Dot Peach Pie, of course.” Maya painted on an indulgent smile and admired how Riley beamed sunlight at her.

         “Peaches, you shouldn’t!”

         “Too late, I already did. Today’s a good day to serve everyone a little Riley, I think. I know I could use a little of whatever it is you got.”

         “Well, I’m happy to share.”

         “Go check the stock downstairs and make sure we have enough kosher salt. We were running a little low the last I checked and I don’t think Zay is ordering new stock until tomorrow.” Riley abandoned the hostess station where she was organizing the trio’s sections as if they ever changed and raced downstairs into Maya’s sanctuary.

         “When am I going to get a pie made for me, Maya?” Smackle asked without accusation, just curiosity.

         “Maybe it’s not a pie. Maybe it’s a cake. Or a cookie.” The blonde answered thoughtfully, to which Smackle snorted and shot her a grin from across the room.

         “I am at least a brownie by now, thank you very much. How did Riley end up with a peach pie anyway? Because she calls you Peaches?”

         “Nah, she calls me peaches because that’s what the pie is.” Maya explained, “I don’t know, she’s just so nice. It kind of threw me off when we first met, being New Yorkers and all. When she learned about how I make the desserts and dress them up, a peach pie is the first thing I thought of when she asked me what kind of dessert she would be. The polka-dots came later when I thought about how she dresses out of uniform. That’s what makes it Riley.”

         Smackle hummed in understanding. “And what makes it yours, with that kind of personal touch. No one can bake like you can, huh?”

         “No one but my mother. I just try to do it like she would.” Maya answered with a casual shrug and brushed her hands against her apron as she finished up with the display case. Smackle was obviously done with the condiments as she had moved on to adjusting the number of napkins at each table. Maya regarded her for a moment. She wasn’t sure how to say so, but the spectacled girl had unwittingly stirred a feeling of warmth in her chest at the astute (and the very gracious, at that) compliment—the kind of warmth that spread slowly, like a pie crust in the heat of an oven. So she said nothing at all. Maya got through each day by watching the people she saw and jotting her notes down into her art, be it on the dish or on paper. She had never considered that Smackle might do the same. Dimly, she wondered where her coworker took her observations. Perhaps a scholarly notebook; that was presumably what a good NYU student like Smackle would use in her classes at school. Or maybe she just kept it all in that great big brain of hers. It probably was time for Smackle to get her own dessert by now, wasn’t it?

         Without Riley around to peer over her shoulder and ask questions, Maya pulled out the server’s pad from her pocket and flicked through its pages until she found her sketch from the subway ride. Some of her glimpses into inspiration never quite revealed their whole picture and without that, she couldn’t transcribe their stories into a cake. Maya had a gnawing ache deep in her gut that this lady and her crazy hat were one of those torturously brief peeks into something special that she would only ever wonder about for the rest of her life. Sighing, she walked over to the hostess stand, tore the sheet from the pad’s binding, and slid the sketch between the thick cardstock page of a menu and its plastic cover. This was the eulogy of all the subway sketches that never went on to become something more. The idea of one of the diner’s patrons finding it out of the blue and seeing what Maya saw, even if it was only for an instant, was exactly what Crazy Hat deserved. She deserved the chance to connect with a stranger who was not looking for her and make them wonder just like Maya did; if she was lucky, that stranger could do something to tell her story more truthfully than Maya ever could.

         Riley had returned from the bakery downstairs. “I think we should have enough to get through the day!” She announced joyously, waving a carton of the last of the kosher salt they had left over her head just to show them she was sure.

         “Great, but why did you bring it up here?” Maya chuckled, sliding the menu back into the stacks that would be passed around to the customers throughout the day. Riley’s smile faltered for just a second as realization came to her. As quickly as it left, her smile sprung back into place as if it was never gone, albeit the accompaniment of sheepish awkwardness was an endearing new factor in Riley’s sunshine.

         “I…I just…I’ll go put this back.”

         “No need.” Maya offered her a gentle look of reassurance, the expression well-rehearsed for the times that Riley, feeling especially Riley, looked to her for permission to go on exactly as she was. She did this as though Maya would ever want her to change. “I should probably get started anyway before the morning rush gets in. There’s some crust defrosting in the fridge, but I’ll have to make the filling from scratch. I’ll just bring it back down myself.”

         “Well, then get to it! I want my pie!” Riley pitched her the kosher salt that was not even in the same vicinity as her direction, which Maya had to scramble to catch in an almost cat-like maneuver. Smackle made a move to shoo her away in jest, but she was already hurrying along down the narrow spaces between tables to get a move on. She skipped the stairwell leading to the bakery and headed straight for the single bathroom in the back of the building.

         She couldn’t get the door open fast enough and she still had to find the dexterity in fingers that were not so nimble as they were when baking to lock it. The kosher salt was forgotten, carelessly thrown to the floor and forced open upon impact with the ground. Hard flakes of it dug into her bare knees as she dropped and flung her head into the waiting toilet bowl. It was the fourth time this week that Maya had emptied her insides at work. She didn’t think that anyone had noticed this theatrical display of her stomach’s hysterics, but if it went on, it would be impossible to keep hidden. She didn’t want to deal with that intervention, because that’s exactly what it would be with those two goofballs for coworkers, and she certainly didn’t want to have to deal with Zay. She didn’t want to deal with any of this, not at all. She didn’t know how. All she knew was the diner, the customers, the girls and the cook. The desserts. All she knew was being a waitress. If Maya added anything more to her plate, it would not be a matter of whether she would break, but when.

[sebthesnipe]

Campfire and Mulled Sweets

First // Previously // Next

My Dearest Procyon

Masterpost

MDP Discord Server

Chapter 37

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

TW: Major Character Death, blood and cursing.

The blackness ebbed away slowly...

Patton’s brows furrowed. Why did Roman look so shocked? Patton always liked it better when he smiled. Roman had the third best smile among them. The first was Logan and then followed closely by Virgil,mainly because he didn’t show it often. Either way, Patton definitely liked Roman’s smile. 

He should definitely tell him this.

Patton opened his mouth to do just that, but the only sound that escaped him was a gurgled cough as blood ran down his chin. 

Roman’s horrified gaze lifted from the hilt of his sword.

Patton’s knees gave out.

He fell, body leaning forward. 

The hilt of the sword struck first, the polished pommel catching in the dirt, embedding the blade further inside him.

Patton’s gaze lowered to the intruding metal, a hand lifting to touch the shining material. 

Huh…

That’s right… He’d been stabbed….

He had expected it to hurt more….

………………………………………………………………………….

“NO!” Noname cried, turning to catch sight of his brother collapsing.

His gaze lifted towards the prince, the anger and pain of his loss swirling inside him. 

“What have you done?!” he demanded voice raising as his words shifted into a monstrous roar. “I’ll kill you, myself! You bastard!!!” 

Scales began protruding from Noname’s skin. The yellow of his gloves tearing away to reveal the same sickly color beneath him as Noname shifted into the oversized reptilian creature. 

Unlike his brother’s dragon form, Noname was sleek and snakelike, muscles expanding and retracting to allow him to move. His wings extended out of the middle of his back, large white feathers covering the thin membrane that Roman had seen on Patton’s. 

The dragon twisted in on himself, his movements far too quick for the prince to have time to react. The beast’s tail whipped around, smacking Roman across his midsection and sending him flying. 

The prince’s body struck one of the remaining walls, the impact causing a loud thud before he crumbled unmoving to the ground. 

“Roman!” Remus cried, already rushing to his side. 

………………………………………………………………………….

Virgil could smell the earthy scent of freshly bruised grass.

Everything hurt. 

All he wanted to do was go back to sleep. 

No. He needed to open his eyes. 

He needed to help...

Slowly, he forced open his gaze, eyes slitting just enough that he could peer through his lashes. 

Light flickered before him...

The fire must still be going... 

He could hear someone yelling? 

Noname?

Why did he sound so pained? 

Had they won?

“What have you done?!” he heard the vile man cry. “I’ll kill you, myself! You bastard!!!”

Who was he talking to? 

Did it matter?

He had to get up...

He had to help fight...

He forced his eyes open wider, groaning at the amount of energy it took. He shifted, his hands moving to brace under his shoulders before pushing and...

He collapsed once more, muscles weak and giving out.

“Roman!” Remus cried.

Virgil’s gaze shot up just in time to watch as the prince smacked against a wall, the impact hard enough to send dust raining down as he fell to the ground below. 

“Ro-” Virgil tried to call out, voice cut off by his own hacking cough. 

He had to get to him...

He had to save him...

He braced himself once more…

...he took a breath….

...then another….

He shoved against the earth beneath him, crying out in pain as he shifted into a kneel.

….another breath...

...two mor-

A pained cry!

…………………………………………………………..

Logan couldn’t move.

He couldn’t breathe.

The pain was too much.

Slowly, however, ever so slowly it began to fade. 

He didn’t hesitate to push to his feet as Patton collapsed, praying they would move faster... 

He had to get to him... 

He had to save him...

A cold feeling slipped through the bond. It was like he was slowly marching into a lake during early spring when the water hadn’t quite turned yet. 

His toes were icy, but the rest of him was still warming in the sun. 

The events unfolding around the two men were distant as Logan slid to a halt, gaze shifting frantically, hands lifted as he tried to figure out how to help. 

“There you are…” Patton breathed weakly, offering a small smile, lips painted the deepest red.

“P-patton,” Logan stuttered, trying to blink back tears as he tried to pull power from the man. “Y-you shouldn’t talk. I’m going to fix this! Everything’s going to be okay-”

The usually abundant power flickered briefly before disintegrating. 

He tried again. 

Nothing. 

Patton’s power was as unstable as he was, both quickly dying. 

The witch tried again.

“DAMNIT!” he snapped, slamming his fist against the ground painfully. 

“I’m sorry,” Patton attempted, giving another small gurgling cough. “I’m so s-sorry, Lo-lo. I-”

“Shh shh…” Logan hushed, forcing his anger away and lifting his hands to the other man’s cheeks. “It’s okay, Patton. It’s okay…” he lied, the tears starting to fall without his consent. 

Silence fell between them for a moment as Patton’s usually piercing blue gaze grew foggier.

“Hey!” Logan demanded. “Hey! Stay with me!” 

Patton gave a small wheeze the witch assumed was supposed to be a laugh. 

“Two w…” the dragon began, breath hitching for a moment. “Two weeks… Six and a half days.” 

“What?” Logan mumbled, wiping away his tears. 

“Two w-”

“Two weeks and six and half days, yes?” the witch rushed, causing the dragon to incline his head, a motion Logan assumed was a nod. “I don’t understand.”

“I… I forgot how old I was…” Patton explained, confusing the witch further.

“Patton-”

“I.. forgot… because it didn’t matter,” the dragon continued, He shifted, his gaze sluggish, palm turning outwards. Logan’s eyes followed the movement before he quickly placed his hand in the smaller man’s. 

“I still don’t understand, Patton,” Logan repeated, voice cracking. 

“Y-you…” Patton breathed, voice growing weaker. “You matter… T-two w… weeks… six-”

“-days!” Logan laughed wetly, finally realizing the significance behind the words.“Two weeks, six days, fourteen hours, and approximately fifteen minutes, judging from the position of the moon.” The witch’s tears returned as he reduced all their moments, all of their banter, all of their bickering, all of their laughter into the inadequate measurement of time. 

Patton’s smile blossomed as he stared vaguely down at their intertwined hands. 

Logan could feel him slipping. 

The cold had gone, replaced by…

nothing.

Their bond was no longer there to annoy him, to make him feel all those unwanted emotions. The only feeling he had left was the emptiness of his sudden solitude. 

It was just him again.

“Tell me…” Patton began in a hoarse whisper. “Tell me about the baby and its brother again… I-I… I can’t see it…. I can’t see the stars…” his voice began to sound panicked. “Logan… I can’t see the sky!”

“S-shh!” Logan urged, breath hitching in a small gasp as he failed to control his tears. “It’s okay… It's okay, P-Pat… I’ll be your eyes,” he reassured, his other hand dropping to sandwich Patton’s between them. He shifted to sit next to him, glancing at his face once more, and trying to imagine it how it usually was…. Always smiling…full of life… not this cold pale blankness now adorning his usually soft features.

He turned his face upwards. 

“L-Lo?” Patton asked.

“I’m still here!” Logan reassured with a sniffle. “Can you feel me? Feel our bond?”

“You… You feel…” Patton whispered. “Happy.”

A broken sob escaped the witch.

Patton couldn’t feel his depression…. That was good. 

“That’s because I am…” Logan lied. “I’m so happy I get to tell you about all my favorite things,” he reassured. 

He waited for a response, but none came. 

He could feel the numbness still there, still on the other side of their bond, but it was closing in. 

Patton was fading fast.

“T-the sky… The sky is a bit cloudy tonight,” Logan began, gaze turned upwards. “B-but if you… if you look t-toward the constellation of Canis Minor,” he managed, giving a small sniffle before continuing. 

The numbness drew closer. 

He pressed closer against his dying partner, leaning a cheek against the top of Patton’s soft pink curls. Yet another one of Logan’s mistakes. 

Patton smelled of campfire and mulled sweets, just as he had that night so long ago. 

“N-nestled next to the constellations of…” another sob escaped Logan.

The darkness was closing in on him.

 The bond was snapping.

Patton was already gone.

“Of Cancer a-and Gemini,” Logan went on, his sobs intensifying.

Death closing in on him. 

“The brighter star is Procyon A, which is a spectral class.”

He felt dizzy.

“Which means… which means it’s a … it’s a baby star…” he cried, barely managing the words. 

“T-though the human eye can not perceive it….” 

His tears stopped.

Why had they stopped?

“There is a white dwarf… just beyond Procyon A, known as Procyon B…” 

His voice was soft… 

Barely a whisper…

“A..” he fought to keep his eyes open. “A tiny b-baby friend for…” 

What had he been saying?

He collapsed against Patton’s side…

Huh…

At least it wasn't cold anymore…

Good…

He never really liked the cold…

To be continued....

Taglist:

@nightashes @hiddendreamer67 @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Boundaries (Liam x MC)

Summary: Kendall and Liam have a heart to heart about the pressures of the throne and the duties that come with being queen.

A/N: Umm......I am a major TRR fangirl, but the writing for The Royal Heir is a bit...intense. So I just had to write something. My MC’s name is Kendall Mason.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of fertility issues/pregnancy loss. Readers discretion advised.

Kendall knew being the Queen was going to be difficult. Dealing with the people at court, the citizens of Valtoria, all of the people of Cordonia, and foreign royalty and dignitaries was a lot, but she handled it well. After a photo leaking scandal, a conspiracy plot orchestrated by the former king, and multiple kidnapping and assassination attempts, there wasn’t much that could rattle her.

Except the pressure of producing an heir to the throne.

Kendall knew she and Liam were expected to have a baby as soon as possible, but the pressure to conceive started on their honeymoon. And the pressure only got worse. Everyone in Cordonia became so invasive and acted as if they were her OB/GYN, giving unnecessary and unwanted advice and opinions. But she took it all in stride, smiling enthusiastically and thanking everyone nonetheless.

Three months into their marriage, they found out that she was 6 weeks pregnant. To say they were excited was a complete understatement. Kendall was afraid Liam’s heart would actually explode from too much happiness. They agreed to keep it a secret for a while, with only Kendall’s obstetrician being privy to the news. They wanted to have some time to themselves, before the rest of Cordonia found out.

But a few short weeks later, Kendall awoke to a pool of blood in their bed, and unbearable stomach pain. After discreetly making their way to the hospital and running a few tests, Dr. Ramirez came back with the sad news: they lost the baby.

She was very sweet and said all the right things. “It wasn’t your fault, Your Majesty, sometimes these things are predetermined at conception. You’re in perfect health, you and King Liam can start trying again as soon as next month.”

Kendall only knew about the pregnancy for less than a month, but that didn’t ease the hurt. It was her baby and she wanted it so badly.

She and Liam didn’t spend much time grieving though. They were the king and queen, the country needed them to be strong and united. They threw themselves into work and decided that they would just keep trying once the doctor gave them the go-ahead.

That was a year ago, and Kendall still wasn’t pregnant.

It didn’t help that everyone was constantly reminding her of that. Every time she drank or didn’t drink at a party, every time she wore a loose fitting blouse, every time she ate sushi, people were whispering and staring. The faux-sympathetic frowns and sugary sweet tones people took on as they said, “So you still aren’t pregnant?” It was all annoying. 

And tonight was no exception. Kendall was hosting a grand party at her home in Valtoria to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Olivia and Drake. And while she usually loved hosting a big party and being lauded for her impressive hostess skills, she didn’t like being gossip fodder. But she was trying to stay positive and above the fray, because the night wasn’t about her, it was about Olivia and Drake.

“I gotta hand it to you, Mason, you know how to throw a party,” Drake said enthusiastically. He and Kendall were standing next to the bar that had been set up in one of the far corners of the ballroom.

“You aren’t that hard to please,” Kendall said with a laugh. “A Drake Walker party only needs two things: whiskey and red meat.”

Drake gestured to the plate of ribs he was holding, “And you nailed it on both accounts! You even managed to make Olivia happy, a rare feat.”

Olivia had been overjoyed when Kendall set up an axe-throwing area on the back grounds of the estate. Drake had to pull her away after a solid 45 minutes.

“She’s not that hard to read either.”

“Well thank you,” Drake said. “This party is amazing.”

“It’s missing a sword sharpening station, but I suppose it’s okay,” another voice cut in. Drake and Kendall turned around and saw Olivia standing behind them.

Kendall rolled her eyes. “You know you love it.”

Olivia opened her mouth to retort, but she nodded. “I do. Thank you.”

“Well, who would’ve thought that you two would ever get together, much less engaged? I had to go all out.”

Drake sling his arm around Olivia’s waist and pulled her into his side, dropping a kiss on her temple. Olivia tried to break away, but Drake held on tight. He knew she secretly loved the PDA, despite how much she pretended to protest.

A server walked by, holding a tray of wine. It was the same sparkling wine Kendall and Liam served at their wedding. Plucking a glass off of the tray, Kendall lifted it to the couple in salute. “If you two will excuse me, I should go mingle. Enjoy the rest of your party!”

On the other side of the ballroom, Kendall spotted Hana, Bertrand, and Liam talking. Sending her presence, Liam looked up and locked eyes with Kendall. He gave her a small wink. Before she could make a beeline to where they were, she was stopped by an elderly woman. She was short, wore a bright red shawl and chunky jewelry, and had her hair wrapped into a tight bun at the base of her neck. The woman grabbed Kendall by the wrist, catching her by surprise.

“Hello,” Kendall greeted. “Can I help you with something?”

“No, but I think I can help you, Your Majesty.”

“I don’t–”

“My name is Calista, and I’m a local herbalist.”

“Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Calista.”

“You’re so pretty, dearie,” Calista complimented, gently patting the young queen on her hand.

“Thank you, you’re too kind.”

“I’m sure the king can’t keep his hands off of you most of the time.”

Kendall was taken aback by the older woman’s brazenness. A few people standing around not-so-subtly lowered their voices or stopped talking altogether, hoping to be able to catch a snippet of the conversation.

She stammered for a bit, at a total loss for words. Did this woman, a stranger, really attempt to strike up a conversation about her sex life with Liam? In public?

“Now, I’ve noticed that you and the King are still not with child. Not even just me, everyone has.”

Kendall dug her nails into the palm of her hand, trying to keep herself calm. “Well yes but–”

“I have the perfect solution for you!” Calista cut in, excitedly. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out two tiny tin cans and handed them to Kendall.

“What is this?” Kendall asked, confused.

“This one,” Calista tapped on the tin can in Kendall’s right hand, “is a detox tea. You probably can’t get pregnant because lord only knows what kind of toxins and impurities are in your system right now.”

“Excuse me?”

“This will clean you right out, and get your body into optimal baby making help,” Calista continued, completely oblivious to the fact that Kendall was not enjoying this conversation at all. “And this one is my own special fertility tea. I’ve been making it for over 40 years, and have had nothing but success. It has raspberry, cinnamon, chamomile, and a few other secret ingredients I can’t give out. It's a fool-proof combination. If this doesn’t get you pregnant within a month, then you might be a lost cause.”

She could hear a few ladies in the background gasp and snicker at the dig. In that moment, she became acutely aware of the people around her. The way she was being openly mocked, the way a random noblewoman whispering to her friend.

“God, how tragically embarrassing is this scene? This crazy old bat accosting Kendall like this?”

“Hell, I’m all for it if it can make Kendall actually do her job and get pregnant.”

Kendall wanted to turn around and tell those women to address her by her proper title and to get the fuck out of her house, but she didn’t even have to time gather her thoughts because they started talking again.

“He should’ve just stayed with Madeleine.”

“Karina, you’re horrible!

“What? You and I both know she’s an overachiever and would’ve been pregnant by now. With twins!”

The women dissolved into a fit of giggles and Kendall felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. Trying not to cause a scene and give the people more of a reason to talk, she simply turned around and walked out of the ballroom, ignoring her guests. 

Across the ballroom, Liam looked through the crowd of people, expecting to see his wife walk towards him. Instead he saw her hastily turn to leave and practically run out of the room.

“Where’s Kendall going?” He asked, watching her leave.

“Who knows,” Hana said with a shrug. “She’s the hostess, she’s probably being pulled in a million different directions.”

“Oh yes,” Bertrand agreed. “I remember the days of throwing extravagant balls at that Beaumont estate. No matter how much you do, there’s always more to be done. You never get the chance to actually enjoy the party. And I can’t imagine the pressure of having to throw a party in Olivia’s honor.”

Liam nodded. That made sense, but he still wanted to see for himself. He smiled at his two friends. “If you two will excuse me, I’ll go find her and see if I can be of any assistance.”

He quickly weaved through the throngs of people, trying to keep up Kendall. She was moving a lot faster than he anticipated. “Kendall?”

She just ignored him and kept walking. She walked into their master suite, slamming the door behind her.

He opened the door to their bedroom, but he didn’t see Kendall anywhere. “Kendall?” Scanning the bedroom, he saw the double doors leading to the balcony were open.

After closing and locking the door, he stepped out onto the balcony. Kendall was out there, leaning over the edge, overlooking the view.

“Kendall, darling, I’ve been following and calling out for you. You didn’t notice?” Kendall turned around and saw tears streaming down her face. “Kendall! Why are you crying, my love?”

Kendall shook her head, as if she was willing herself to not cry. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Clearly it’s something,” Liam argued. He closed the gap between them and cradled her face between his hands. “What’s wrong?”

“I was heading over to talk to you in the ballroom over and some lady stopped me, and segwayed into a very inappropriate conversation about our lack of children. She all but told me that my body is some sort of toxic wasteland and that I was a lost cause, and she gave me some of her shitty laxative tea.”

“She said that to you?”

“Not in those exact words, no. I was paraphrasing. I probably could’ve handled it if she wasn’t so public and obnoxious. I could see everyone around us laughing at me. Someone even said you should’ve stayed with Madeleine because she would’ve produced an heir by now.”

Liam’s eyes darkened. “Who said that?”

“I don’t know, some aristocrat. It doesn’t matter, because I’m sure she’s not the only one who’s thinking about it.”

“Surely you aren’t buying into such ridiculous drivel.” Kendall didn’t reply. “Kendall…”

“You have no idea what it’s like, Liam, the pressure isn’t on you, it’s on me. It’s hard to stay above the fray and not buy into the drivel as you do put it. The invasiveness, the entitlement, it’s overwhelming. These people don’t even see me as a human being anymore, I’m just an incubator. My “duty” is to give you an heir, and I haven’t done it yet, so the respect for me is at an all time low. They see me as worthless, as a bad investment. Never mind the fact that I’ve already been pregnant and lost a baby. Never mind the fact that I’ve completely changed my diet and exercise routine, and I don’t drink caffeine anymore, and I’ve made my doctor test every reproductive organ that I have. And on top of all of that, I still have to be the queen. I still attend every council meeting, every gala, every royal tour. But hell, they probably wouldn’t even care if they knew. They’d still see me as a failure. I’m doing the best that I can, but my best is good enough.”

Liam wrapped his arms around Kendall’s waist and pulled her into a tight embrace. He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt, but he didn’t care. “I’m so sorry you feel like that.”

“Trust, no one is more aware than me of the fact that I haven’t successfully produced an heir,” Kendall continued. “I don’t need to be beat over the head with it.”

Liam pulled away from the hug, and instead grabbed Kendall’s small hand in his larger one. He gently tugged until they were walking back into their room. Once they made it to the bed, he sat down. “Lay down.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lay down,” Liam repeated.

“Liam, we have over 150 guests in our ballroom right now, I’m not going to bed.”

“I don’t care about the guests. I don’t care about you being the hostess, the duchess, or the queen right now. So can you please get in bed?”

After a mini stare down, Kendall humored her husband and got in the bed. He took her feet and gently placed them into his lap, unbuckling the strappy heels and tossing them to the floor.

“Hey, those are Jimmy Choo!”

Liam lifted one of her legs and dropped a kiss onto her ankle. “If they’re ruined, I’ll buy you another pair, my love.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Liam carefully moved her feet out of his lap. He crawled to the top of the bed where Kendall was laying and pulled her in to him, her head landing on his chest. He gently threaded his fingers through her long dark hair, stopping at the base of her head to massage her scalp.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, not saying anything, just enjoying each other’s company.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said, breaking the silence. “I hate that you’ve been under such stress and that you don’t feel supported by the people around us.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I do. In theory, I know how difficult the first year is for a new queen. And even though you’re doing a brilliant job, I should’ve made you feel more comfortable, especially after the miscarriage. I should’ve eased the pressure because you were thrown into the deep end and you’re feeling it from every angle right now.”

“It’s not your fault. I wanted to throw myself into work. I didn’t want to dwell on that.”

“I love you, Kendall Juliette Mason. I love you more than anything else, more than anyone else. You are my entire world, and there’s nothing you can do that will ever change that.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Liam confirmed. “You’re the love of my life. And if you ever feel overwhelmed or pressured by anyone, come to me. But I’ll also check in more. Does that sound fair?”

Kendall nodded. “Yes.”

“And we’re taking a break, from this whole baby making thing.”

“What?” Kendall propped herself up by her elbows and looked at her husband. “We can do that?”

“We’re the king and queen.”

“Exactly.”

“I love you, and your health and well-being are my only priority. I don’t need you running yourself into the ground because Cordonia is demanding an heir. And if it’s meant to happen, we will have them when the time is right. You need to take the pressure off of yourself.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know. But I’ll help you in whatever way I can. So for six months, how about we just be a regular newlywed couple. No more of you eating a diet you clearly hate, no more ovulation calendars, no more extremely regulated sex.”

“You’d really be okay with that? With putting a pause on the family planning?”

“Yes,” Liam answered, not a hint of hesitation in his voice. 

Kendall couldn’t even begin to describe the relief that rolled through her body at her husband’s words. If felt like a 50 pound weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on Liam’s lips. “I love you,” she said after pulling away.

“I love you more, my queen,” Liam replied with a warm smile. “Now, I say we end this party, send everyone on their way, and curl into bed and watch one of those silly American reality tv-shows you love so much.”

Kendall broke out into a grin. “That sounds perfect.”

~~/~~

The next morning, Kendall woke up to the soft sunlight streaming through the windows and not her usual alarm clock. Rolling over, instead of finding Liam beside her, she was met with the cold sheets. Sitting up, she noticed that his side of the bed was fully made up and he was nowhere to be found.

She did notice a fresh newspaper sitting on her bedside table. Picking it up, the first thing she noticed was a picture of Liam. The headline read: King Liam Issues Warning About Privacy

From the communications office of His Majesty, King Liam:

Hello my fellow Cordonians. 

I know this is a bit unorthodox, but I thought writing my thoughts down would be better than struggling to speak about them.

First off, I just want to say thank you for all of the support regarding my ascension to the throne and subsequent marriage to my beautiful wife, Her Majesty, Queen Kendall. The support of our people means more to us than you could possibly know.

But it has become increasingly apparent that lines have been crossed and boundaries have been disrespected. As public figures and public people, Queen Kendall and I know all too well that our lives require a certain level of give and take between ourselves and the public. And we fully understand that the Cordonian people are eagerly awaiting the news of an heir to the throne. While the eagerness is respected and reciprocated on our part as well, some things have gone too far. The excitement has turned into gossip and downright bullying. Above all else, the Queen is a human being who deserves the same basic decency and right to privacy that is awarded to all Cordonian citizens. The decision to start a family is a deeply personal one, no matter your station in life, and the Queen has been unjustly stripped of that, even more so than I. 

Let it be known, that I will absolutely not tolerate the continued disrespect and harassment of my wife, be it from our courtiers, nobles, the press, or the general public. And until we make a formal announcement ourselves, the topic of whether or not Queen Kendall and I are expecting a baby is no longer up for public discussion, and it is non negotiable.  

Thank you for taking the time to read my open letter, and I hope my warning is heeded in the immediate future.

Sincerely,

Liam, King of Cordonia

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Kendall looked up from the newspaper and saw Liam standing in their doorway, leaning against the frame.

She held up the newspaper. “You did this?”

“I did.”

“When?”

“After all of our guests left and you fell asleep,” Liam answered. “And the editor of the Cordonian Times wasn’t going to say no to an exclusive from the King.”

“You really did all of that for me?”

Liam stepped fully into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Kendall, I’d bring you the stars in the sky if I could. I hope what I wrote was okay. I should’ve consulted you on it first, but I was so worked up last night I just needed to–”

Kendall jumped out of the bed and practically flung herself at Liam, wrapping her legs around his waist. She pulled him into a searing kiss, her fingers interlocking at the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” Kendall said sincerely. “What you wrote is more than okay, it’s perfect.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, I have one more surprise for you.”

“You’re just spoiling me.”

“You deserve to be spoiled.”

“Okay, what's this new surprise?”

“It took a lot of maneuvering, but you and I are going to spend one glorious week on the island where we spent our honeymoon.”

“What? Are you serious?”

Liam chuckled. Whenever Kendall got too excited, her New York accent came out. He thought it was adorable. “Yes. Our amazing council will hold down the fort in our absence, as will Regina, if they need any additional assistance. Everyone is under strict instructions to not contact us unless this country is burning to the ground.”

Kendall smiled. “What did I do to deserve such an amazing husband?”

“You’re the amazing one. I’m just following your lead.”

“When do we leave?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight? Oh my goodness, you really don’t give a girl much notice!”

Liam watched in amusement as Kendall ran to their spacious walk-in closet, gathering clothes to pack.

“Hey, Kendall?” He called, causing her to stop in her tracks.

She looked up. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” Kendall said softly.

“Not possible.”

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP - 41: Don’t Let Me Go

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38; Chapter 39; Chapter 40; Interlude 5

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Yay, we're back again! Thank you all for your patience.

This chapter... I'm going to say a little more at the end, but just this: It didn't turn out as I imagined it since last summer. But due to reasons, I had to change things, leave things out, or right out ignore entire points, so, yeah... I just hope it's still good enough.

As for the title... This too changed many times over the past year. I was never in a situation where I wouldn't have a title, it was more like I have too many that would fit. Up until last week, I was sure it would be  Your Arms Are My Castle from Cascada's Every Time We Touch. But, well, things changes. A lot! So now it's from Don't Let Me Go - Acoustic by RAIGN. With the theme I Only Want You from the Castle TV-show as the underlying soundtrack... probably...

. o O o .

Hiccup reacted without even a heartbeat's hesitation. Without a doubt, that scream had come from Markor, and there were few reasons why he would scream like that. And none of them meant anything good.

Before anything else around registered in his mind, Hiccup rode Cassie to the side. A nudge of his heels and she was galloping freely past the general chaos of frightened horses and confused men, and towards the direction of the scream. He was so focused on getting there as quickly as he could that it took him a moment to notice Eret riding directly in front of him, and then to remember that him rushing to the Princess's aid like this might draw unwanted attention. But right now, none of that mattered, not when Astrid was in possible danger – and with Eret around, he even had a valid excuse anyway.

The sounds were coming from a small copse of aspen trees, and Hiccup directed Cassie to it.  As they approached, he spotted Astrid quickly, her colourful dress standing out starkly against the muted browns and greens of the forest, even though she was covered in dirt, grass, leaves, and twigs. Thankfully no reds, though. She wasn’t moving as if injured, just impeded by her dress, as she crawled over the ground in a hurry towards– 

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes followed her path and instantly took in what had happened. Markor was lying on the ground as well, and as Hiccup watched, was trying to get back on his feet, even as more cries of pain came from him. But Hiccup didn’t even need to take a closer look to know that, with an injured leg like that, the gelding would never stand again...

The realisation made new pain shoot into his heart, and not just for Astrid's sake but also for his own. Behind his mind’s eye, the months Hiccup had spent with the horse rushed past him in a heartbeat; how he’d first met the late yearling upon his arriving at the stud farm, how they’d built a bond of trust and friendship that had only grown stronger when Hiccup had trained him to be gifted to the Princess, and that first meeting in the stables months ago where rubbing down the gelding together had brought him and Astrid closer. All that were happy memories, memories Hiccup treasured – and now, there was no way to save Markor...

"Swanja, don't," cut Eret's voice into his mind. He'd dismounted Crusher and was already at her side, holding her back from the reeling horse. "Don't get any closer, he might hurt you."

"B-but I have t-to help him," she sobbed. "Please, I... let me..." She was fighting against Eret's arms around her, trying to get past him, but he wouldn't let her.

"We can't help him anymore," he implored. "Not with an injury like that. You know that, Swanja. All we can do now is end his suffering. Please, let me–"

"No! No, please no! You can't do that, please!" she wailed. However, she stopped fighting Eret, and as Hiccup dismounted, she turned and clutched at Eret’s tunic, her knuckles standing out white against the dark red fabric, and as he wrapped his arms around her, she sagged into his embrace and started to weep.

Hiccup just stood next to Cassie, watching it all with a sense of painful hollowness in his chest. He wanted to push his cousin away, to be the one to comfort her. He wanted her pain to go away, to distract her or offer her something to make it easier. But none of that was possible. It wasn't his place to hold her in his arms, not anymore, and there was no way to lessen her pain. His eyes flickered back toward the injured horse, and the lump in his throat grew even bigger. He knew what they had to do, and the sooner the better. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Hiccup glanced back at Eret just as his cousin cleared his throat and gave him an indicative nod. He knew that Eret would have done it himself, having spent his entire life around horses. But with Astrid still holding on to him as if he was all that kept her together he couldn't move, and they both knew that Hiccup knew what to do well enough, too.

With a curt nod, he took a dagger from his riding pack, hid it in his boot, and approached Markor, humming and with his hands raised to calm him at least a little bit. "Shh, it's okay, boy. It's okay. Calm down." The words came automatically and without him even thinking about them. He couldn't think right now anyway, could only function. He had a task to do. With the soothing noises and the familiar hands on his head, Markor soon calmed down until he lay still with only the occasional low whinny. For a minute, Hiccup kept stroking his fur and talked in a low voice, further calming the large horse while his left hand reached for the hidden dagger. It was done quickly, just one well-placed movement, and only a few heartbeats later, Markor lay entirely still.

Behind him, he could hear Astrid cry out again and Eret's low whispering, but in that moment, neither of that truly reached him. Instead, the words from his dream suddenly echoed through his mind again.

“You can hold your beloved in your arms again. But first, you will end the life of someone dear to her.”

Hiccup's breath caught in his throat as he stared down into Markor's lifeless eye, at his own hands covered in blood. Could this be it? Was this what the Goddess had meant? But how? 

Slowly, he shook his head. He'd thought he'd have to kill someone who was in their way. He’d struggled for hours whether he could do that, whether he could become a murderer just to be with her again, and whether he'd even still be worthy of her if he did. His mind had conjured up one scenario after the other in which him killing someone who was about to stop them might be acceptable, self-defence, but they all had felt hollow and surreal. 

But now that he thought about it... that hadn't been what the Goddess had said. She hadn't said that he'd ‘have to kill someone to be with her’. No, she'd only said that ‘he would end a life before he could hold her again’.

A low sob escaped him and he slumped down until his head rested against Markor's. "I'm so sorry," he gasped into the still-warm fur. "You didn't deserve this." But none of this was about what anyone deserved, the slightly more practical part of him realised. Markor's death hadn't been a condition for their happiness, just something that would happen before they could hope again.

But still, he found himself wishing it had been something else. It wasn't that he wanted Eret or Daniel or anyone else to die – but he hadn't wanted Markor to die either, and even though he understood that it made no logical sense to blame himself, he felt guilty nonetheless. Foresight was a painful gift indeed...

Hiccup had no idea how long he'd knelt there next to Markor's still body. He wasn’t paying attention to what was happening around him beyond the assurance that Eret would care for Astrid, so he flinched when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

"Hey, you better get up," Dagur muttered in a gloomy voice. When Hiccup looked up, a hint of confusion in his empty eyes, he added, "We're all heading back. And Uncle Osmond decided that Swanja is to ride with you."

From one breath to the next, Hiccup's heartbeat accelerated from barely there to a stampede. "What?" he gasped, his eyes unerringly darting to where she was still hiding from everyone against Eret's chest.

"Don't ask me," Dagur replied with a shrug. "She was about to ride with Eret, but there was something about not giving advantages, and... I don't know, but this is what the King decided."

With his mind reeling, Hiccup struggled to stand back up onto his legs, and stumbled as his left cramped. Only Dagur's quick reaction kept him from falling again.

"Careful there. And... can I give you a bit of free advice?" He waited, and when Hiccup didn't object seemed to take that as agreement. "First, you should be careful. I know that she wouldn't mind the touch of a friend, but they’re all looking for something to discredit Eret with. You better make sure not to touch her more than absolutely necessary, or this all might turn into an even bigger mess. And second... well... you might want to clean up before you go over there."

Dagur gestured down at his hands, and when Hiccup’s followed the gesture, he found them still covered in red. Mechanically, he nodded.  "Yes… Yes, I'll..."

"There's a stream over there," Dagur pointed helpfully. "But you better hurry, we're all just waiting for you."

Hiccup nodded again, then staggered in the direction Dagur had indicated, quickly finding the stream. The water was cold, but it felt good after the heat of Markor’s blood, and he cleaned his hands as best he could, not wanting to upset Astrid further by letting her see any traces. That done, he headed to where the others were waiting for him. Upon Eret's sign, he mounted Cassie then made room for Eret to lift Astrid up until she sat in front of him. And only then did the full weight of what was happening truly hit him.

She was going to ride with him? The whole way back to the castle, the entire two hours? And he wasn't to interact with her in any way, let alone touch her? How was he supposed to do that, when all his heart, mind, body, and soul longed for was to hold her close and never let go of her again? 

With his entire body trembling, he led Cassie until they rode in the centre of the group of guards assigned to them. The stern looks the men gave them only reinforced Dagur’s warning – they wouldn’t treat any breach of decorum lightly, not in Astrid’s currently brittle state. So he was careful to keep his arms in an awkward half-bent and raised manner, holding Cassie’s reigns without touching Astrid – even as the mayweed scent wafting from her hair made him dizzy and he had to fight the urge and longing to hold her tight at every single second. Again and again, he kept reminding himself that this wasn’t the right place to do so, not with so many people watching them... 

–and not without knowing how she feels about me, he realised with a start. It was two weeks now since they’d last talked of some sort, one week since she’d at least moved on a little and had turned to Eret for comfort. For Hiccup, last night had been a turning point, the realisation that he couldn’t simply give up on them and the revelation that there still was hope… But that didn’t mean that she felt the same. 

“You can hold your beloved in your arms again.”

Holding her in his arms… Wasn’t that what he was doing right now, in a way at least? Was this all the Goddess had referred to? Had Markor died just for him to spend this last ride with her?

A shiver ran down his spine and he choked back a sob as a spark of desperation rose inside him. Was it possible that he’d deceived himself like this, that this ride was all they would ever get? But no, that couldn’t be. That hadn’t been all the Goddess had said. She’d also said that there was always hope, that he only had to do what came naturally to him, and that he would hold his prize in his arms if he did the Gods’ work – whatever that would be.

He would have to hold onto that thought, or he would lose his mind. 

However, the question about how she thought about him was burning at the front of his mind, especially as her face was nothing but a stony mask with rivulets of silent tears running down her cheeks. He wished he could ask her or even comfort her in any way... but that wasn’t possible. Not now, not when they were surrounded by so many people, with so many eyes watching them intently for any slip-ups. 

And thus went the ride; Hiccup felt every moment as they blurred together like grains of sharp glass under his bare feet, each one distinct and painful, yet identical to the others, as they stretched on and on... He didn’t even try to distract himself from the thought of how the only thing separating them was their clothes and a finger width's space between them, knowing that that would be futile anyway. With every step Cassie made, they swayed and shook, just a little but it was enough for her shoulders to brush against his arms or for her hair to tickle at his neck every now and then. It was wonderful and agonising at the same time, being so close to her and yet unable to do or say anything. All he could do to ward off the rising desperation in his heart was to focus on his love for her, on the warmth and tenderness and comfort, and try to send all those emotions through their bond, hoping that they might reach her…

… and to pray for a miracle, for a chance to talk to her – before it was too late.

. o O o .

Astrid felt as if she would break apart at any moment now. 

No, that wasn’t true. She’d already fallen apart. It was only her well-trained mask that followed Tuff through the corridors and to her rooms, while inside she'd already crumbled into a million tiny pieces. 

This day… she’d looked forward to and dreaded it at the same time. The ball tonight with her unofficial choice was supposed to give her comfort, stabilising her in the path she’d taken. But the closer the day had come the more simply thinking about it, about renouncing everything that had been between her and Hiccup, had seemed impossible. And the ride… The ride had been a gift from Eret to her. It had been meant to be at least a tiny bit of freedom, of doing what she loved amidst this entire mess. Contrary to what she’d told her father, she had been looking forward to spending a few hours on Markor’s back, even with knowing that the pace and the company would be annoying. 

But now, the ride had turned into her worst nightmare, and within only a few short moments everything had changed. Thuggory approaching her and his stallion snapping at Markor who'd already been skittish all day. Him shying away from any stallion had happened so often before and she’d always known how to rein him in again. But today, with her heart and mind being entirely somewhere else and with the cursed side-saddle having given her less control, she hadn’t been fast enough – hadn’t been good enough. She hadn’t been able to keep him calm, Markor had run away from his attacker, and the only thing Astrid had been able to do about it had been holding on to him as best she could. Then she’d lost her balance as the broad back beneath her had suddenly dropped. She’d fallen, landing painfully on the ground, and that scream… 

It had all happened so fast and she barely remembered anything of what had happened afterwards, but that sound… Never in her life would she be able to forget that scream.

When they reached her chambers, Astrid barely registered how Tuff warded off any questions his sister tried to ask her. Instead, she stumbled past her maidservant and… she didn’t even think about where to go. It seemed inevitable, like there was only one place to go, one object that could soothe her in her current state. 

Unable to hold herself on her legs any longer, she slumped down into the chair in front of her desk. Her fingers were trembling when she opened the lid to her treasure chest but still didn’t waver as they reached for her trusted music box. The familiar tune would help her, it always did. She just needed a few minutes to pull herself together again, just watching the tiny dancer for a few rounds. Surely, this would centre her enough to, somehow, survive the ball and everything attached to it. 

Taking the music box out of the coffer and getting it started happened without her even having to think about it. But even as she was doing that, her eyes had fallen on another object in her box, a simple object that was still able to stir up new emotions inside her whenever she looked at it: the wooden carving of a horse that looked so much like Markor and that Hiccup had given her – as a reminder.

Astrid’s entire body shook as she fought to keep her feelings locked deep inside her. She couldn't let them loose, not ever, or she wasn't sure whether she would be able to contain them again. But...

Markor – her beloved horse, Eret's gift, the witness to those first hours she'd spent with Hiccup, the tiny grasp of freedom her father had granted her – was dead! Nothing could return him to her. She would never see him again, never hear his happy snort when she came to visit him, never again feel the warmth of his fur beneath her hands or the simple comfort they could give each other when he playfully rubbed his nose against her chest. And she hadn't even been able to say goodbye. 

A desperate sob tore itself from her throat at that realisation, of how utterly insurmountable it was to retrieve what was lost forever. How was she supposed to pull herself together enough for the ball? It was only an hour or two before she would have to be presentable and face all those men again. It felt impossible, and she wasn't sure whether her soothing music box would be enough. 

On the pure reflex of having done the same motion countless times before,  she reached out to shake the music box as it approached the usual sticking point in the music – except that it didn't get stuck.

Because Hiccup had repaired it.

With wide eyes, Astrid gazed at the music box, at the tiny dancer as it twirled in time with the unfamiliar tune. She could feel it as the last dam insider her cracked at that moment. All she got out was a weak whimper before the flood wave of sorrow crashed down on her, drowning her in all those memories and emotions she'd tried to lock away forever.

Hiccup.

She'd forbidden herself to think about him. For roughly a week now, she'd tried to convince herself that she was okay, or would be at least. That she could be happy with Eret, could live a life other than at his side. But she'd been deceiving herself, she now realised – and probably had known it the entire time. 

Even when she'd tried to focus on talking to Eret or had found some form of comfort in his closeness, she'd still been so aware of Hiccup, of where exactly he stood or whether he was in the same room at all. Even without her help, her eyes had wandered through the room only to glide over him in passing, never lingering but unable to stay away from him either. Yes, she'd been a fool… but it had taken this day to realise it.

Losing Markor had hurt like nothing else – and still did – but in a strangely different way, the ride back to the castle had hurt just as much. Hiccup had been so close! His warmth had radiated toward her even without him touching her, and his breath on her neck had sent pleasant shivers down her spine. It could have been perfect; she'd just needed to lean back a tiny little bit then she could have basked in his embrace, could have imagined his love and comfort around her like a blanket. She could have imagined that there was still hope for them.

But there was no hope.

Hiccup had made it clear that, no matter how much they both might long for it, there was no way for them. He'd given up. And no matter how desperate she still might be for there to just be something, his behaviour today had proven that nothing had changed. He hadn't even made a single attempt at talking to her or holding her; not even a hug or the comforting words of a friend. Just silence and distance despite the longing she thought she'd felt thrumming through their bond. 

It was then when she broke down for real, half-draped across her desk and with the melody of the music box taunting her until it ran out. She cried, harder and more abundantly than even during the nights before. Markor was lost forever and so was Hiccup and their future. Over and over her mind circled around the same thoughts, unable to find a way out.

She couldn't go on any longer. Markor was dead. Her future with Hiccup was lost. And yet, every fibre of her being still longed for him, his warm embrace, his sweet kisses, and the ease and comfort of simply being with him. She needed him like she needed the air to breathe. She couldn't go on any longer…

. o O o .

Astrid stood at the head of the big ballroom, hidden from everyone by a thick curtain. She only dimly recalled how she’d gotten here; Ruff had eventually shaken her out of her stupor and whispered the only words that still held some meaning. 

For Eret. 

Her own life had no worth to her, not anymore. All she still could do was help to make her best friend's life easier. It was only a small comfort, but it would have to be enough. It was all that was left to her. So she'd let Ruff make her presentable; she'd gotten her hair and makeup in order and had dressed her in the most extravagant outfit Astrid had worn so far; the bust had a beautiful intricate pattern of different shades of blue, ranging from dark midnight to a rich sky blue, while the skirt was made of countless layers of the lightest silk she'd ever seen, floating around her like a cloud of nearly white light blue. Her silver swan coronet and a pair of silken dark-blue gloves that reached up to her elbows completed her appearance, and under different circumstances, she probably would have complimented the exquisite handiwork of the dressmaker.

Now though, she simply stood there behind her curtain, apathetically waiting for her sign to join the celebrating crowd. She could hear them talking and laughing, and there was music too, many couples certainly dancing already.  

A part of her wanted to charge into the room and scream at them all; how could they celebrate on a day like this? 

But, of course, to them, nothing bad had happened today. Nothing but a small accident with no casualties except for a dumb horse. Nothing serious. Nothing but exciting gossip on this day of socialising and forming bonds. There was a reason the invited guests had also brought their daughters, after all; with so many eligible noblemen looking for a bride, her unofficial choice tonight would certainly discourage some of those who'd been courting her, enough so that they might turn their attention to other young noblewomen instead. Hers wouldn't be the only betrothal that would soon be celebrated. 

Astrid was torn between hating having to wait here and dreading the moment she would have to step in front of the crowd. People would expect a decision from her – and she wasn't ready! How could she ever be ready to renounce their divine connection? But all too soon, the music paused and with a whispered "It's your turn now, milady. Make me proud," her governess shooed her out of her hiding place. If Astrid had possessed the energy, she would have wanted to scratch the woman’s eyes out for her words. But as it was, all she could do was mutely take her place at her father's side, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest, and she felt dizzy as all eyes in the room turned toward her. She was sure that the King said some important-sounding words, announcing the next dance to be ladies' choice with only implying the deeper meaning of her choice, but she didn't hear any of it. 

Slowly, as if in a trance, she took the couple of steps leading down from the dais to the dance floor. She couldn't hear anything over her blood rushing through her ears, could barely see more than blurry faces swimming in a sea of meaningless colours. And then, even those were gone, and even though she could feel her body moving on, the scene playing out behind her mind's eye was another.

“One day, we will dance together,” he promised, murmuring against her skin. “I’ll come to you, open and for everyone to see, and ask you for a dance. Maybe they would stare and wonder, but it won’t matter. There will be only you and me. Forever.”

Astrid chuckled at his mellow words, even as the picture they painted was a beautiful one. “What makes you think you’ll be the one to ask?” she replied, and turned her head to seek his skin with her lips. “Maybe it’ll be ladies’ choice. I’d walk along the line of waiting men, not seeing any of them, only you…”

A hiccupy sob tore itself from her chest before she could hold it back and recompose herself. Oh, how she wished those words from what seemed to be another life could become reality. 

Without her help, her eyes landed on his and for the first time in days stayed there as she kept walking along the line of watching people. And what she saw there nearly broke her all over again. She saw his longing that found its echo in her own heart, saw his love and warmth just like she felt it all thrumming in her chest. She had no doubt that he'd remembered their conversation about dancing together just now too, knew that he wanted it to be real just like she did.

But that was impossible. This wasn't about what they wanted anymore, and never had been. There was no hope for their dream of a shared future, and indulging in this wish of at least dancing with him this one time would only cause problems, possibly even his death. 

There was no hope...

She'd almost reached him before she managed to squelch those thoughts and turn her eyes away from him. It was lucky, really, that Eret would stand right next to him, or people would have wondered why she'd come here in the first place. With her last strength, she turned her head, her hollow eyes finding those of her friend. Her hand reaching out to him was only half asking him for the dance; the other half was seeking something to hold on to as the entire room started to spin around her. 

She felt as if she was falling; when Eret took her hand, when he led her back into the middle of the room, even when the music started and they began to move in time with the melody. She was falling, falling, falling, and not even Eret's arms around her were able to hold her anymore. The whole room around her was spinning faster and faster, and not just because of their dancing. Everything around her was nothing but a blur – except for one single face amidst the crowd, the only face she would always find, no matter what. He was moving, walking away from the dancefloor and the crowd and toward the large glass doors that led out into the garden. Before he left her sight, however, he turned and their eyes met once more.

And the way he looked at her… sadness and pain mixed with desperate longing, the same turmoil of emotions she was feeling too. But there was also something else, something more, another emotion she couldn’t quite name right away. It took her another moment or three, time in which he slipped out of the room, before she understood. And when she did, the sensation of falling and of the world around her spinning too fast became even worse. 

Hiccup had looked disappointed.

As if he’d hoped!

It was all too much... Astrid couldn’t take any more, and from one moment to the other, everything around her turned black...

. o O o .

Astrid awoke to a mild headache, a bitter taste on her tongue, and the room still spinning around her. It wasn’t as bad as before though, which was good. She blinked, trying to clear her head and remember what had happened. But after walking past the waiting men, there was nothing.

The room around her was only dimly lit by a small lamp somewhere to her side. It wasn't her bedroom that much was clear, but it took her a moment before she realised where she was: in one of the smaller parlours that were attached to the ballroom and that usually provided space for people to talk more privately. Someone must have brought her here, after…

"Are you feeling better, milady?"

Astrid flinched at those words – she'd thought she was alone – but it was just Ruff who leaned over her, concern clear on her face. Instead of an answer, Astrid tried to sit up, groaning, and only managed when Ruff took hold of her hand and shoulder to help her up.

"Careful, don’t rush it now. You’ve been out for about twenty minutes. Here, drink this and give yourself a few minutes before you get up." She handed her a glass of watered wine, but also placed her other hand on her shoulder to keep her from standing up.

Astrid accepted the glass gratefully and took a careful sip. She could practically feel how her body absorbed the liquid; had she eaten or drunk anything at all since breakfast? She couldn’t remember. After a minute or so of silence, she asked in a weak voice, “What happened?”

Ruff watched her with a concerned grimace. “You fainted during your opening dance with Eret. He caught you – which, granted, wasn’t too hard with you already being in his arms, I guess – and directly brought you here. I’m a little impressed, actually. Another man would have gotten annoyed at this grand moment – your first official dance as nearly-betrothed – getting interrupted. But he acted more like an apprehensive mother hen; it got so bad that I sent him away to fetch… whatever I was thinking about at that moment. Tuff is guarding the door, so you can rest here until you feel better. He won’t let anyone in for now.”

Astrid nodded mutely and slowly sipped her wine, her lips twitching into something like a faint smile at Ruff’s words. She wondered how Tuff would react if the King himself demanded entrance – not that that was very likely – and was fairly sure that her warder would even try to keep him away if he thought it necessary. 

As she drank, memories of what had happened before her blackout slowly came back to her though, even if only in fractions. The sensation of falling, and a single face in a sea of colours with an impossible expression on it. He’d made it clear that there was no hope left for them, no chance of ever being together. And yet, he’d been disconcerted when she turned to Eret after all. He still hoped!

“I need to talk to him,” she murmured, startling Ruff when her words broke the silence between them. She placed the glass on a low side table and pushed herself up onto shaky legs, her eyes darting to where another set of doors led into the gardens, before Ruff could hold her back. She couldn’t let anyone hold her back now! If there was even the tiniest bit of hope left for her and Hiccup, then she had to take it.

“Wait, wait,” Ruff tried to interfere hastily. “Who do you mean? Eret? I can tell Tuff to call him in, no problem. No need for you to–”

Astrid interrupted her. “No, I don’t mean Eret.” 

She didn’t elaborate, just threw her maidservant a desperate look. Ruff had witnessed her crying into her pillows night after night; she had to know who she was talking about. And she clearly did. Astrid could see the understanding dawn in her eyes. Her hand on Astrid’s shoulder tightened, and for a second, it seemed as if she would hold her back, would call Tuff back in and whoever else might be waiting for her to come back to her senses. One witness, and Astrid sneaking out into the night would become impossible. But then she drew her hand back and gave her a tight nod. 

“Go. Do what you have to; Tuff and I will buy you as much time as we can.”

Astrid swallowed, touched by Ruff’s words. She’d never doubted the twins’ loyalty to her, and after learning that they’d known about her sneaking away but hadn’t told anyone, Astrid had begun to understand that this loyalty was stronger than she’d thought. But only now did she realise just how deep in really went. She would have to find a way to thank them later. But for now, all she could do was breathe a heartfelt, “Thank you,” before slipping out into the night. The cool air bit into the skin of her bare upper arms; maybe it would have been more prudent to take some form of cloak with her, but she didn’t care. She had no idea how much time she would have; she wouldn’t waste what she had with something that trivial. 

Logically, she should have been worried whether Hiccup would even still be out here or how she was supposed to find him among the ample labyrinth of hedges and flower beds and bushes and trees. But somehow, she knew exactly where to find him; it was just like it had been in that first night, Eret’s accolade, when some inner sense had told her where he was at any moment. Maybe it was the separation that had let their bond intensify like this or it was the Gods’ interference that guided her, she didn’t know – but she also didn’t care. All she cared about was that she could feel how she got closer to him with every step or turn, that it would only be a matter of a few more heartbeats, until– 

She stopped dead in her tracks when she reached an opening amidst the hedges and spotted him standing at the other end, only a handful of steps away from her. So close and they were entirely alone out here. This was exactly what a part of her – the part that still was and always would be his Astrid – had longed for ever since he’d fled from the armoury almost two weeks ago; the chance to talk freely, to be just them again. 

But now that it was here, she didn’t know what to do or say. He’d clearly noticed her arrival; his shoulders had visibly tensed and, surely, he had felt her approach just like she had felt him, too. He didn’t react though, didn’t say or do anything, and for a moment, Astrid feared she might have read too much into that moment of shared desperate looks. What if she’d been wrong, if nothing had changed? She wasn’t sure whether either of them would be strong enough to live through another meeting like their last one. 

So she stood still, eyes fixed on his hunched-over figure and uncertain what to do, before she reminded herself of something she’d learned during the happy months she’d spend with him: that she could ask him everything, that with him, she didn’t need to hold back. She only hoped that was still true. 

“What just happened in there?” she blurted out before she could overthink again.

At first, she thought Hiccup wouldn’t respond though, his shoulders only growing even tenser. But eventually, he did react, if not as she’d hoped he would. 

“What do you mean?” he asked in a low, nearly inaudible whisper. His back was still turned toward her and with a breeze rustling the twigs around them, she shouldn’t have been able to understand him. But right now, she would’ve picked out his voice amidst a thunderstorm. 

“I mean… I mean the way you looked, right before you left. Wha-what was that supposed to mean?” 

Hiccup grunted out something like a harsh and unamused laugh before he finally turned his head to look at her. It was dark out here, the lights of the castle barely reaching them, but she could still see that his eyes were hollow and tired. “I know I suggested it,” he murmured. “But… it’s so hard to watch you two together. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough; I didn’t mean to let you see this. You… you should go back, I’m sure everyone is missing you already.” 

And what about you? she wanted to demand, but kept herself from blurting out those harsh words. They weren’t necessary, she didn’t doubt that he was missing her too. But that wasn’t the point. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she replied instead, her voice gentle and soothing, if a little weak. If he only felt half as brittle as she did, then harsh words wouldn’t help right now. “You looked… disappointed, as if you’d expected me to do something else. And I… I just…” she trailed off, again unsure of what to say. 

Hiccup turned a little more, eyeing her with the intensity she’d missed dearly. “You… what?”

“I… I need to know what you were thinking,” she added. “Please…”

There was an uncomfortable pause in which nothing but both their breathing was audible, his getting heavier by the second, as if he was struggling with some inner fight. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he gave a weak nod. “You’re right,” he murmured. “For a moment, I thought… I thought you’d come to me instead. I know how stupid that was, given everything that happened, but–” he paused, shrugging helplessly– “I guess I was hoping for a miracle, for this nightmare to end. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Astrid could do little but stare at him as her mind tried to work through his words. Oh, they were simple enough and she knew what he meant, had felt the same. But there was one thing he’d said, one single word that threatened to make everything around her fall apart again. 

“You’ve… You’ve been hoping?” she gasped, her knees going weak. 

Hiccup obviously understood the implication and met her eyes with a clear look. “Yes.”

For the second time this night, the whole world around her was spinning. Everything she’d done lately – giving up her dreams and giving in to the expectations placed on her, accepting the thought of becoming Eret’s wife and trying to find comfort in that fate – all that she’d done based on one single fact: that Hiccup had given up and that there was nothing she could do either. That there was no hope left for them. But if that wasn’t true, if Hiccup still hoped…

The feeling of spinning got worse, as if she might pass out again at any moment. This was too much. The day had been too much, worse than any before, and the thought that she might have given up too soon... She was falling again, idly wondering whether hitting the soft grass beneath her would hurt or whether she’d even still feel the impact – but it never came to that. 

From one heartbeat to the next, she was suddenly caught in an embrace she’d thought she would never feel again. His warmth and closeness washed through her like a healing wave that made her whimper helplessly. It felt so good. Weakly, she huddled closer against his chest, seeking more of what she’d missed so desperately: His warmth, his scent, his closeness, the feeling of rightness and security he always gave her. She didn’t say anything for a while, only basked in it all until the world stopped spinning and her mind became a little clearer again. 

“I thought there was no hope left for us,” she eventually mumbled against his chest. They were both back on their feet now, but still entangled in a tight embrace with one another. Her arms wrapped around his waist to hold on to him. She never wanted to let go of him again. 

“There is always hope,” he seemed to mumble into her hair.

Her mind went blank for a moment. No. She must have misheard him. Her mind was playing tricks on her, taunting her. “What?” she gasped out and turned her head until she could look up at him. She needed more than just words, needed to see it for herself.

Hiccup looked at her as well, a mixture of soft adoration and desperate longing in his eyes. “‘There is always hope’,” he repeated and loosened his hold around her to brush a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes. “That’s what the Goddess told me.” He paused, hesitantly licking his lips. “I… had another vision last night,” he explained upon her confused look. “She visited me in my dreams and, among other things, told me that there’s always hope. That… that I would only have to do what comes naturally for me and then we can be together.” He shrugged self-consciously.

Astrid leaned her forehead back against his chest as she tried to grasp what he’d just told her. She wanted to believe him, only the Gods knew how much she wanted. But did she dare to do so? She took a minute to try and make sense of it all, all whilst holding on to him as tightly as she could. She wanted it to be true, wanted to be with him for the rest of her life. But could she rebuild her hope based on nothing but this? Could she give in to the growing longing that was about to burst through her inner walls and tear down the brittle construct of another life she’d build over the last week? Did she even have a choice?

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a dream, just wishful thinking?” she asked, her voice close to breaking. His heartbeat was thrumming in her ear as her hands tightened in his tunic at his back, desperate to believe it as well but also afraid of renewed pain. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to endure that.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he eventually murmured, hesitantly, and when she looked up again, he had his face averted, chewing at his lip in thoughts. “It’s a… a long story. Not something to tell you now. But yes, I have enough reason to believe that it wasn’t just an ordinary dream. She told me things, knew things that…” 

He trailed off when she began to tremble uncontrollably, keening, and his arms around her tightened until he was almost crushing her. It still wasn’t enough. In that moment, as the emotional tide she’d tried to hold back burst through her and washed away every reasonable thought left, she only wanted him to hold her tighter, closer, until they were merged together, inseparably. 

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. For now, it was enough to just hold each other, to be this close again after a separation that had lasted for far too long. Again, Astrid was basking in it all, his warmth and comfort, in the reassurance and safety she felt radiating from him. But it was so much more intense now compared to earlier as it came with the hope that their suffering might be over. She was amazed at how simple it was, at how easily they clicked back together. The torn pieces of her heart slid back into place, the edges reconnecting as if nothing had ever happened. She was back in Hiccup’s arms and, for this moment, everything was perfect. 

But she knew that reality couldn’t be warded off forever. Even with how good and right it felt to be with him again, they couldn’t stay out here in the cool gardens forever. Sooner rather than later, she would have to get back. People would start to look for her, if they hadn’t already; Ruff wouldn’t be able to appease them for much longer. She had to get back to the ball before someone noticed her absence, had to get back to her mask, to playing her part. She had to get back to become Eret’s wife. 

She sobbed as this realisation hit her. She loved Eret, as her friend and her brother, she really did. But the idea of actually marrying him now that new hope for her being with her soulmate had taken root inside her…

“I can’t do this,” she whispered weakly. Hiccup tensed up and made attempts to pull away from her, but she wouldn’t let him and instead clung to him with all the strength she had left. “I can’t go back in there and pretend anymore,” she elaborated instead. “Not when this is still possible. Please, Hiccup. What can we do?”

“I-I don’t know.” He sounded incredibly brittle, vulnerable. “All I know is that there must be a way, but I don’t know what it is. Nothing has changed there. But… but I will find a way through this!” 

His words, muffled into her hair, did little to calm her. Without a doubt, it was soothing to know that they were on the same page again. But he was right; nothing had changed. There still was no way out for them, and their time to find one was limited. Not marrying Eret after tonight would cause some turmoil, but it would pass. Her choice at the ball hadn’t been binding, after all. But that left them only two more weeks until that choice would become official, until going back on her word would cause a great amount of trouble, no matter how close the Houses Hofferson and Jag’r were. But if they couldn’t find a way... 

“Take me away from here.” The words were out before she could think about it. It didn’t matter that they’d talked about that option before, didn’t matter that, logically, she knew it was insane. It was the only solution she could think of. 

“Astrid, that’s–”

But before Hiccup could say any more, object to her idea as she expected, she cut him off with a quick shake of her head. She wasn’t sure whether some part of her had thought this through before or whether she was making it up as she went, but from one second to the other, the idea was in her head, crystal clear and simple.

“Not right now,” she clarified. “We have a few days to plan ahead. When we choose the right moment, some busy time over a longer hunt, for example, it could take up to an entire day before someone notices I’m gone. We can pack provisions to last us a few days and then we can hunt and live off the forest until they give up. There’s no need for us to stick to taverns and inns where people can easily find us. We can stay away from the roads, travel through the forests and fields to avoid search parties, at least for a while. It’s possible, I know it is.” And if someone finds us, she added mentally. Then they will have to get through me to get to you. Out loud, she added, “And once we’re free of any hunters, we can go somewhere safe, build that simple home we saw. I’m sure you can find work wherever we go, be it working with livestock or as a mechanic, or maybe even as a blacksmith’s apprentice. And I can learn how to cook, I’ll take care of our home and raise our children. I know it won’t always be easy, but together we can do it. Please, at least consider it.”

Hiccup had listened to every word she’d said, quietly and without interrupting her. She had fully expected him to do so or to object now, to come up with some logical reasoning why that wouldn’t be possible. But nothing like that happened. Instead, he lifted one hand to cup her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheekbone. 

“I wasn’t going to turn that idea down,” he said in a low, hoarse whisper, his eyes fixed on hers. There was a sincerity in them, a determination that she hadn’t seen there before. “If I’ve learned one thing from these past weeks, then it’s that I’m ready to do everything to not lose you again. Even something as crazy as eloping with you.” His lips twitched into something of a smile despite his somewhat sad expression. “But you’re right, that won’t be easy. I’ve lived on the road for long enough to know how hard it can be, how cold the nights can get and how merciless hunger can become. And we wouldn’t even simply live on the road, but on the run; that would make everything so much harder. So let’s keep that as a last resort, okay?”

Smiling, Astrid relaxed a little more. “Okay,” she breathed, smiling. A ‘last resort’ was good, a backup plan, the assurance that nothing could separate them. It was hope. However, there was one thing she needed before she could go back, one more assurance. “Just... promise me one thing.” 

“Everything!” he replied without hesitation, a weak chuckle vibrating through his chest. “Whatever you want, Milady, the answer is yes.”

Oh, it was so good to see and hear and feel him like this again, so light and free, with at least a spark of confidence. Astrid wanted these minutes with him to never end. She knew that they only had a little time left though, and she didn’t want to waste that. This was important to her, important for her sanity. “Don’t let me go,” she pleaded. “Not ever again. Whatever happens, there’s no giving up anymore.”

Pain sparked up in his eyes at the reminder, but it disappeared almost instantly and got replaced by burning sincerity. “I won’t let go,” he vowed. “Not ever again. Whatever happens, I will fight for us.”

Him wording his reply exactly like her request before made her smile turn a few shades warmer and softer, and with a sighed, “Thank you!” she rested her head back against his chest. She would have to go back any minute now, but until then, she wanted to soak up as much of his warmth and closeness as she could. She was sure that she would need it. 

The minutes stretched though, and every time she felt as if the moment to part, at least for now, had come, she found another reason to stay just a tiny bit longer. Like how much she’d missed his scent of leather and sunshine, how good his fingers felt as they caressed her bare upper arms, or how much the even sound of his breathing calmed her. Gods, she’d missed him so much! Being here with him now after all the pain of the past weeks, it almost felt like a dream in itself, like it was too good to be true. But it was true; it had to be with the cool breeze slowly getting uncomfortable through the thin fabric of her dress and with the distant music of the ball echoing toward them no matter how hard she tried to tune it out. 

She was about to retreat, for real this time, when some unexpected sounds made them both flinch. No, not unexpected, not really, but… but… Astrid felt panic rise inside her as the noises, footsteps and the low whispering of clearly more than one person, came closer and closer to where they were ‘hiding’ – in a separate clearing, yes, but still in full view should someone enter. 

Shaking with the old fear of getting caught, Astrid’s eyes darted around over the hedges and scrubs. She was looking for a place to hide, making a step backwards – or tried to, at least. Hiccup’s arms around her didn’t loosen to let her move away; on the contrary, it felt as if he held her even tighter.

“Hiccup, what… Let me… I need to hide!” There was panic in her voice now as it was in her eyes as she looked up at him, pleading, begging him to– 

“I won’t let go,” he whispered urgently, something like frantic desperation gleaming in his eyes. “Not ever again…”

For a moment, her fear grew even stronger as she tried to struggle free. They mustn’t be found like this, in full view of whoever might happen upon them and tightly entangled, without leaving any doubt about the nature of this meeting. They had to part, to hide, had to pray and hope that whoever was coming in their direction wouldn’t spot them. It would only make everything worse. 

But then, she remembered her own thought from earlier. ‘Then they will have to get through me to get to you.’ In an instant, she stopped struggling and sought his eyes with her own, sought confirmation. Her hand landed on his chest, over his heart, at the same moment as he touched her in the same way, and they shared a short but decisive nod. If necessary, they would fight every battle for each other, for their right to be together. 

All of a sudden, she felt incredibly light, with all fear and worries having evaporated in a heartbeat. This was where she was supposed to be, where the Gods had placed her. Where she belonged. It wasn’t even a choice when she stretched then, her free hand moving up to curl around his neck, and pressed her lips to his. It was inevitable, the only logical thing to do. 

Hiccup didn’t even seem surprised, welcomed her even with a soft sigh that sounded as if an incredible weight had been lifted off his soul. And Astrid felt the same. The moment their lips met it was as if she could breathe freely for the first time in a long while, as if she’d been drowning and now had broken through the surface again. She’d meant for this to be a gentle kiss, one that spoke of reconciliation and reassurance. But after only one heartbeat, it became something else, something more. Reconciliation turned into reconnecting, reassurance into the promise that they would never deny their love again. Their lips and tongues moved together, more eager and demanding after the long break, just like their entire bodies thought more contact, clutching and pulling. Hiccup’s hand curled around the base of her head, and for once neither of them cared that he might ruin the intricate pattern of her braids. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to them except each other.

Maybe it wasn’t the powerful connecting of their first true kiss, not the meeting and melding of a thunderstorm and a flood wave. But it felt like so much more, like the force of nature brewing between them had finally reached its full power, ready to strike out at whoever dared to get too close. At that moment, with them clutching at each other and with their moans and their gasping breaths mingling between hungry mouths, she felt invincible.

And not even the footsteps behind her coming to an abrupt halt and the whispering turning into stunned silence could change that. 

 . o O o .

So, yeah... This last scene didn't turn out as I always imagined it. In my mind, it always was a highly emotional and tragic scene, still a reunion, but not as hopeful as it is now, but more one that happened by luck. Ah, well. It now is as it is. And I'm still kinda happy how it turned out, even with aaaall the things I had to cut out because they didn't fit to how the story had developed anymore or wouldn't work with these characters at all.

I hope it was still satisfying enough...

Next chapter

[son-of-skarmory]

@pkmnsdarkqueen continued from [x]

“A-ah! Terribly, sorry, ma’am.” The server offered with a look of surprise as he set the cup back down. “I suppose that I should have asked first.”

There was no name tag on his person, but that he could brush off as just being new. That’s the story he’d given most of the employees here, and the ones that saw right through him weren’t about to turn down a little extra help. While there were always ways to get in close to his target, an opportunity like this one was hard to turn down.

Blue eyes glanced over her papers, before he made a point of nervously turning away. There was nothing wrong with curiosity, but even a waiter could tell when something was none of his business, couldn’t he? It was long enough a look to confirm that she was, indeed, looking over one of his kills.

“I...I imagine your drink might be getting a little cold, though. Could I perhaps offer you a refill?” Sure, if she did accept the offer, it would be easy to slip something in it, but...that was a little out of place at a coffee shop. Unlike at a party, it would easily draw unwanted attention. Besides...that seemed cowardly.

So he would wait for now. Bide his time, even if it meant spacing out some ‘accidental’ run-ins over a week or two. He had his birds to show him where she was.

Still, something nagged at the back of his mind. As an assassin-for-hire, it wasn’t unheard of to receive a hit on an officer or other investigator who was looking into their work. But this felt...off. Calculated, maybe.

Was this a set up?

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

Humanity

My contribution to Project Green started by the CG server. Thanks to my nerds for getting me doing this. 

Takes place post-4x16.

AO3

              Gary was anxious as he made his way down the hall, clenching and unclenching his hands. Neron and Tabitha were gone now, which was good for the whole world. However, he was still here with the Legends despite everything that he had done. Sara and Ava had said he could stick around, but that was when they were defeating Neron. Gary had no idea what his future would be with the Bureau or interacting with the Legends now, but he needed to apologize for his actions at the very least.

              He had already apologized to Nate, and that had gone decent aside from the other man seeming distracted. Ava had been next, then Sara. They’d told him they should have treated him more professionally at the very least. There was probably truth in there, but he knew he was a nuisance to people. He was overeager and too passionate and awkward, all things that Neron had used to pull him into his influence. When he gave him just a scrap of validation, Gary had been so starved for it that he gave himself over to Neron. Just thinking about how pathetic he’d been made his stomach twist up more.

              Charlie was next on the list. If he hadn’t kept Tabitha closer, then she wouldn’t have pushed the fairy godmother curse on Nora and forced Charlie to shapeshift. Gary felt sick remembering everything that he had caused by siding with Neron instead of him working with John to send the demon back to hell. Self-hatred started to bubble up as he raised his hand to knock on the door. Hopefully, Charlie wouldn’t kill him until he finished making his rounds of apology.

It took two knocks before Charlie’s doors slid open. “What?”

“Hey, Charlie,” Gary grinned briefly before stopping. Tone it down, you dumbass. “Can we talk?”

The shapeshifter leaned against the door. “Yeah, sure.”

“I wanted to come by and say I’m sorry for what I did,” he explained. “I was stupid for siding with Neron. It was a huge mistake and I made things bad for everyone here. And I’m sorry that I didn’t keep Tabitha around and she caught you and forced you to shift on live television.”

Charlie tilted their head and studied him for a few minutes. Something about the gaze made him feel like he was being examined with a microscope. It was as if they could see everything about him, inside and out.

“You mean that?” Charlie inquired.

He nodded. “I do. I honestly do.”

“Come in here a sec.”

With a nervous gulp, he followed them into the room. Charlie gestured for him to sit on a little ottoman.

“Apologizing for the Neron stuff, I get that,” Charlie sighed. “Why apologize for Tabitha?”

“She was my fairy godmother until she transferred the curse to Nora,” Gary murmured, remembering he also owed Nora an apology for sending to her to hell. “If I kept her around longer, then you never would have gotten trapped.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Charlie told him. “I knew the risk I was taking when I went in to free the magical creatures. But the others got me out and I’m still here, so that worked out fine.”

They smiled, but Gary didn’t feel reassured just yet. He had still screwed up big time.

“I know that look,” Charlie leaned forward. “You don’t feel like forgiving yourself, do you?”

“Why should I? I sided with a demon over heroes.”

“From what I’ve seen and heard over the past few months, I can’t say I blame you. People walk all over you and treat you like a freak long enough? You’re bound to snap sooner or later.”

“I should have just kept it in,” he muttered.

Charlie scoffed. “You could have, but it’d just come out later. Everyone’s got a limit. You have to let it out a little sometimes. Otherwise, you just go and blow up and hurt people and yourself.”

“I know,” Gary groaned. “People always tell me to speak up. I should have done that instead of becoming a villain.”

“Gary,” the shapeshifter smiled a little. “I don’t see you as a villain. You were misguided, eager for someone who would listen to you. All you are is human.”

“Human?”

“Every human I’ve seen makes mistakes. From my perspective, you lot act on emotion so often, even when you claim it’s ‘logic’. You acted on emotion and frustration from feeling unwanted, and you feel remorse for the hurt you caused others. So yeah, you’re human. More human than most people. There’s nothing wrong with being human.”

Gary relaxed a little. “Thanks. You’re really human too, Charlie. Even though you are a shapeshifter, you’re human. As human as shapeshifters are, which I don’t know- I’m gonna stop now.”

A laugh escaped Charlie. “There you go. Human as they come. Stay human, Gary. And all this atoning stuff is well and good, but you also gotta learn from it. Don’t repeat your mistakes.”

“That’s…really wise.”

Charlie smirked. “There’s more to me than meets the eye.”

For a moment, Gary wondered if there was more to the shifter than they’d let on to the team. “Well, I’m gonna go talk to Nora, but thank you. For this talk.”

“Anytime,” Charlie leaned back in the chair and put in a pair of earpods.

              As Gary left the room, he nearly tripped over a few books haphazardly lying on the ground. He caught himself in time and peeked down at the titles. Some were new, others looked extremely old. All the books were on gods and deities in other cultures.

Well, everyone had to have their own interests. Still, given how Charlie had studied him earlier….

If Charlie had something to share, then that was their business and their choice whether or not to say it.

It was probably nothing though. Just his imagination being overactive.

[reluctantwrites]

Unwanted Reunion

In which an old enemy reappears and hasn’t changed a bit... (approx 2200 words). Post-Inquisition, Darren x Cyrus. 

Sometimes it was just nice to get out for a bit. Enjoy a nice meal. Drink some mead. Relax. For many people who had history with one another, such an outing would often lead to fond reminiscing, or anecdotes that are begun by one person and finished excitedly by the other. But for Darren and Cyrus, things were a bit different. They always had been.

And that was okay.

Smiling, Darren reached an arm up, waving for a server. It was one of the fanciest Inns in Glendess; a place Darren liked to bring Cyrus as often as he could. The prickly man would never admit it, but it was the only place that had his favourite wine; blueberry from the vineyards in south-east Orlais. He’d probably scowl and call it a guilty pleasure. Darren didn’t see anything to feel guilty about.

“It’s busy in here tonight, huh?” Craning his neck, Darren glanced around, trying to catch sight of one of the waitstaff. “I wonder if something’s on…”

Cyrus, chin planted in one hand, the other nursing an empty wine glass, snorted and rolled his eyes. “The harvest festival. Remember? We only passed, what, fifty notices for it on the way here?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right!” Darren grinned brightly. “I’m taking you to that. Don’t make that face! You’ll love it, I promise.” Still smiling, he cast his gaze around once more. “Maker, it reminds me of the Herald’s Nest. Remember how many soldiers used to squeeze into there?”

Cyrus wrinkled his nose. “Don’t remind me.” When Darren turned in his seat again, Cyrus groaned and stood sharply, chair skidding out behind him. “Forget the waitstaff. You want the same thing again?”

Surprised but not complaining, Darren nodded. His expression grew fond as he leaned an elbow on the table and watched Cyrus roll his eyes and head towards the barkeeper, sliding between tables and chairs, ignoring everyone he bumped into along the way. Chuckling to himself, Darren just shook his head slightly. It was probably better that Cyrus was the one to go. With Darren’s size and inability to not apologise for nudging people, he’d probably take all night to get there.

--

The bar was crowded too, already drunk men and women clamouring for the attention of one of the three staff manning the drink-stained counter. There were kegs lined up behind them, different ages and ingredients stamped on their front. Bottles lined three tiers of shelves, a ladder propped to the far left to provide access to the most expensive range. Often it was decorated by cobwebs and dust, but as Cyrus watched, one of the bartenders grabbed it and set it up against the wall, climbing the rungs tentatively, clearly unused to the journey upward. Odd, Cyrus thought, genuinely surprised. Who would have the coin to…?

“Cyrus? Maker’s arse, is that you?”

The voice was as familiar as it was infuriating; the mere sound of it forming the shape of his name set Cyrus’ teeth on edge. He made a conscious attempt to pretend he hadn’t heard the man over the din of the tavern, turning his head away as though observing something on the other side of the room.

Sadly, it was never that easy.

Not with Brenner.

“It is you!”

Cyrus turned slowly, as though every inch of movement was an immense feat of strength. “Brenner,” he said, jaw tight, “the fuck are you doing here?”

Part of Cyrus wondered if he should relax a bit. Give the man a chance. After all, it had been five years. People change. They—

“What a damn awful sight you are, eh?” Brenner tsked, his hazel eyes sweeping up and down Cyrus’ form. “I’m going to have to get in contact with Reynolt again.”

Cyrus’ eyes narrowed sharply. “Why?”

A smirk twisted the corner of Brenner’s lips. “Had a bit of a bet going, you see. I wagered you’d be dead in a ditch in a year. Yet… here you are. Breathing.” He sighed despondently, then glanced to the side, throwing a half-smile to the barmaid as she slid him his drink. The way she fluttered her lashes at the bastard made Cyrus’ blood boil. Brenner was the kind of person you could only wish was as grotesque as his personality.

“Well, I’m alive. Hope you lost a fortune on it, asshole. Not that Reynolt deserves any coin either.”

“Oh come now. So bitter!” Grinning, clearly already a few glasses deep in whatever top-shelf liquor he was drinking, Brenner draped an arm around Cyrus’ shoulders, tugging him in close. “We could be friends, you and I. Let bygones be bygones. I’ll forget the money you lost me, and you can stop being such a little Orlesian bitch.”

It was simple business to shove the noble prick away, but Brenner just laughed and ooh-ed for his little crowd of followers who were watching from a table by the hearth. “He’s a feisty one, that Cyrus,” he declared to anyone in his immediate proximity. Cyrus was already stalking away. “In more ways than one, if you ask around the barracks!”

--

Darren, who had been chatting with a merchant in town for the festival, startled when Cyrus sat stiffly in his chair, knuckles standing white against his skin. “Hey, are you okay?” Reaching out, Darren rested a hand over the Orlesian’s, worry evident in the gesture. “You look ready to hit someone – what happened?”

Cyrus took a tight breath, eyes flicking back towards the bar. “Just some dickhead,” he said simply, returning his gaze to Darren, “but we should probably get go—“

“Andraste’s flaming tits – what is this!”

Again, Darren started, turning, confused. Cyrus just closed his eyes, his fist seeming to curl even tighter beneath Darren’s hand. Emerging from the crowd, Brenner sauntered up to their table, his eyes bright with a kind of cruel, unbridled delight at the sight before him. “I don’t believe it,” he declared, gesturing with his cup to Cyrus, “the bastard,” he shifted the cup across to Darren, liquid splashing onto the table, “and the farmboy! How quaint.”

Recognition slowly dawned across Darren’s confused face. “Brenner?” He blinked, clearly as surprised as Cyrus was at the man’s appearance. “What are you doing in Glendess? I thought you lived in the north?”

Something in Brenner’s expression tightened at the question, even though Darren hadn’t meant it to be insulting. “None of your business, boy.” He swept an arm towards the wall, a notice pinned to it by a single gleaming nail. “If your curiosity so demands it, I was travelling south and heard about some festival nearby. I thought I might grace it with a bit of class. Perhaps pick up a peasant or two for a bit of a romp.” He raised up cup, taking a handful of long, deep gulps, clearly unconcerned that he was mid-conversation. Cyrus had no intention of waiting for him to finish.

“Great. How about you fuck off to your little fanclub over there and leave us alone? I’m sure they panic whenever your dick’s not in sucking range.”

“Cyrus,” Darren said, surprised mostly by the hostility from the other man. Brenner must have really brought back some bad memories.

The man scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yes, yes. Always the tough one, aren’t you? Tell me, what’s it like, shacking up with a farmer? Do you fuck on the hay like the cattle, or in the mud like the pigs?”

Cyrus looked about ready to murder. “Still obsessed with my sex life? I figured you would have gotten over that shit after five years.”

Another chuckle shook its way from Brenner’s chest, melodic and strangely infuriating. “Well, it always was eventful. We were just waiting for you to make your way around our barracks. I must say, your avoidance was rather hurtful.” He considered, then wrinkled his nose. “Then again, knowing where you had been, perhaps it was for the best.”

“You fucking—“

Cyrus made to get up, anger only spiking further at the man’s smug look of self-satisfaction at his reaction. But Darren reached out quickly, catching Cyrus by the arm, holding him still. “Don’t,” he implored. “He’s drunk and he’s not worth it, Cyrus.”

Brenner hummed, raising a hand to his lips as he regarded Darren. “Mmm, yes. Listen to your farmboy.” He cocked his head, an amused smile spreading across his face. “Tell me… Davin, right? Is he a screamer? I’ve been dying to know for far too long and simply must be put out of my misery.”

Darren felt Cyrus tense in his grasp. He was like a snake, coiling for a strike.

Only this time, so was Darren.

“You should leave,” Darren warned, the words hanging in the air between them. “Now.”

Brenner arched a brow. “Oh? Or what? There’s no Captain Lavellan to run to here, boy.” He laughed, already grinning in anticipation of his own joke. “Daddy’s not here to pull you out of trouble.” A sudden thought seemed to strike him and he glanced back at Cyrus. “I… Maker, did you ever call him that? With your, ah, issues, I imagine it likely.”

There was a loud, sharp thump as someone struck the tabletop. It echoed throughout the tavern like a canon shot, slapping the room into sudden silence. Only, it wasn’t Cyrus who had lost his temper.

It was Darren.

“I’m going to give you one more chance, Brenner,” Darren said quietly. Conversations began to stir uneasily back to life in the far corners, but nearby, there was nothing but tense silence. “Walk away.”

Never one to back down in front of a crowd, Brenner grinned lopsidedly and spread his arms. “Or what, kid? You’ll cry? Guilt me to death? Try to… to…”

Brenner’s cocksure front faltered as slowly, carefully, Darren stood, his chair grating across the floorboards as he rose and faced Brenner. Funny - he used to seem so much bigger, five years ago.

But five years was a long time.

People change.

“No. I won’t cry.” Darren’s voice was dangerously calm as he stared down at the man who had made their life a misery all those years ago. “I’ve grown up enough to know you’re not worth it.” He shifted, moving closer, the act causing Brenner to take an awkward half-step back. “You had your warning, Brenner. There’s a new deal now. You’re going to take your friends and your foul mouth and you’re going to leave Glendess.”

“B-But,” Brenner stammered, but Darren just shook his head sharply, the gesture apparently enough to cut the man off mid-protest.

“Listen. I haven’t got in a fight since I left the Inquisition. Never had to.” Reaching out, Darren placed a hand on Brenner’s shoulder, bearing down slightly – pointedly. “Don’t give me a reason. Please.”

--

All Cyrus could really do was watch in mute fascination as Brenner all but shed his outer layer of tanned skin, replacing it with something chalky-white. “R-Right. Yes. No, of course. Wouldn’t want that.” He swallowed thickly and glanced at his shoulder, where Darren’s hand remained. “I’ll just, ah… be off, then.” He gave an almost giddy laugh as he attempted to save face. “Not much to be done in a small town like this, after all. My time would be far better spent elsewhere.”

Darren smiled; a thin, false smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes. It would.” He released Brenner and the noble brat all but scurried like a rat back to his cronies at the other side of the tavern. Slowly, Darren breathed out, the tension in his posture melting away with it as he turned back to Cyrus. “I… um…”

All Cyrus managed was a shake of his head. “Shit… things really do change in five years, huh?”

It was meant to be a compliment, but Darren’s expression seemed almost mortified as he sat back down. “Not really. I mean, that’s not… that’s not me, I just…” His fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the table. “I didn’t like what he was saying about you. About us. And in public like that? He had no right.”

For the first time that evening, Cyrus felt a genuine smile drift across his lips. “Yeah. He didn’t.”

“Besides,” Darren added quickly, seeming strangely nervous, “you wanted things to be different here, remember? When you first came back. You said you didn’t want people thinking of you the way they did at Skyhold, always getting into fights and causing trouble.” He glanced over at Brenner, nose crinkling in distaste. “I know it wouldn’t’ve been your fault, but still… I’d rather be the one to do it, if it came down to a fight. Folks know me here. They’d know he deserved it.”

Cyrus hadn’t even thought about that. Perhaps that had been part of the reason he’s let it go in the first place, and he just hadn’t even realised it. “I…” Words escaped him for a time, and they sat in drinkless silence, the tavern bubbling back to life around them. It was only once the truth of it really sank in that Cyrus found the right words. “Thanks, Darren.”

The blond blinked, cocking his head, then a smile spread across his face. “Hey, any time. You know I’ve got your back. Now…” He cast one last bitter look towards Brenner then nodded towards the door. “You wanna get out of here? It’s a nice night. We could go for a walk?”

Cyrus snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

[silentwaters4]

For @michaelathewordsmith​…based on the songs “Begin Again” and “Clean…both by Taylor Swift…Enjoy!

You sucked in a breath as you entered the coffee shop. It had been…a long time since you had been here. It used to be a regular spot for you. The baristas and servers knew you by name. Hell, you even met some of your best friends from being a regular. The café was your spot, your corner to relax and be with your thoughts. You never thought you’d leave the place.

That was, until, your previous partner broke up with you.

You felt like dirt, to put kindly. You couldn’t face the world in your hurting state. There were days where your heart ached so much that you wouldn’t even leave your bed. Curling into yourself was a regular occurrence.

Of course your friends tried to help. They would stay on the phone listening to you cry. A few times, they came over to make sure you were eating. They were helping your through getting over him. They all knew how unexpected the break up had been for you.

Eventually, enough was enough. You were sick of feeling broken, sick of feeling like something was missing, sick of feeling unwanted. To the world, it would have seemed like a switch was flicked.

You woke up on time and went through your usual routine. You played your favorite music that always could put a smile on your face. You cooked and ate; you returned to your normal.

Rain came pouring down when I was drowning That’s when I could finally breathe And by morning, gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean (Clean)

Forcing a genuine smile, you walked up to the counter. The barista greeted you happily. You returned the sentiment and traded casual speak. You could tell they were a tad concerned, but their joy at seeing you again kept them from questioning. You appreciated it.

Once your order was in, you glanced around the shop. You smiled when you saw your usual corner open. Like always, you walked over and sat down. You pulled out your laptop and set up your little work station.

Knowing how long your drink usually took, you set to work right away.

As usual, you got a little too deep into your work. You were so focused that you didn’t hear your friend call for you drink. Just as well, you didn’t see them talking to a ginger and pointing in your direction.

“Y/N?” an unexpected voice piped up.

You jumped slightly while looking up. A man with ginger hair and blue eyes was calmly smiling down at you. He held a cup and a mug. He smirked when he realized how bewildered you looked.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he started, “Your friend asked me to bring your drink over since you didn’t hear them.” You blushed from embarrassment. “Oh crud! Uh, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” “And let your drink get cold?” he teased, setting down your mug, “I couldn’t imagine a worse torture.” You chuckled. “Then I’ll spare you the details of my late nights here.”

He let out a laugh of his own, one that fluttered your stomach. He glanced around a moment, thinking of his next words. He lowered his gaze.

“Would it be all right if I joined you?” You grinned. “Of course!” You yanked your bag from the chair. “Have a seat. I’m Y/N, obviously.” He grinned. “Armitage. So you’re a regular?” You nodded. “For the most part. I was…gone for a stretch, but I’m back to working and it feels-” “Refreshing?” You titled your head to the side. “Yeah. How did you…” He lowered his gaze again. “I…I recently went through a rough patch of my own. Returning to normal feels relieving.” You nodded. “Couldn’t agree more.”

The two of you continued on talking. There might have been only a small bit of work done, but you couldn’t care less. In the moment, neither of you wanted a relationship. However, you two did want a friendship. So, for awhile one, the two of you met at the coffee shop each day. You’d talk about anything and everything until Armitage had to go. Then you’d work.

It wouldn’t be for another couple of years until you, on one fateful night, acted on the growing feelings in your core. That night was filled with a passion that carried your blooming relationship.

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid I think it’s strange that you think I’m funny ‘cause he never did I’ve been spending the last eight months Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again (Begin Again)

Perma-tags: @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @ttelesilla @jumperswellies @caitsymichelle13 @frostbyte-horan @bestillmystuckyheart​ @littlestfangirl​ @anali-022506​ @krylo-rxn​ @ilovetvshowsblog​ @yllwtaxi @mimikyu-of-death Semi-tags: @bi-shy-and-ready-to-die

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