#that she will always be a traitor/outsider to the place she calls home at some point in the span of a moment

[valiantvillain]

I like to headcanon that even though Asala has lived in Tevinter since she was eleven, she still often refers to Qunari and Qunari culture as "we" because on some level she still sees them as her people. Even though her father and Tevinter military picked her child's brain for any secrets on the Qunari to use against the people that turned her into a saarebas and put a collar on her. Even as she's terrified of the Antaam and the idea of the Qun taking over the rest of Thedas, part of her will still love the very people that rejected her, pity the Antaam because she knows nothing but battle and conquest for skills. Because at one time she was one of them, likely to be set on the path of either an ashkarii or a tamassran until her magic manifested. And she still sees them as the messy people they are and the imprint that will ever be left on her, especially when the rest of the world won't let her forget that she's an other. That it doesn't matter that the actual term for her is Tal-Vashoth, the world will only ever see her as Qunari because the horns are all the identification anyone else needs. So when conversation turns to the Qunari, she uses "we" and "they" pretty interchangeably because she no longer knows where exactly she drifts between the two anymore.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Real or not real?

Teaser

James Potter X reader. Slow burn. Warning for domestic abuse and neglect (Black family)(no Lily slander) Around 3.3k words? Fifth year start.

A Spotify playlist of some ambient music!

Autumn in the Scottish Highlands was, in itself a reason to attend Hogwarts. Blue September skies, speckled with wispy clouds. The falling bronze leaves and the red hued sunsets.

This was no less than a second home to most students. A safe haven if you will. It was good to be going home.

She had grown up with Sirius and Regulus so her regular residence wasn't much of a home. Her parents Ignatius and Lucretia (Black) Prewett had left her to Orion and Walburga often so they could travel around France. Noone actually knew where they would be or for how long they would travel. Only that they were always gone for indefinite amounts of time. They never sent letters, maybe an odd postcard or two. Y/N kept them hidden in a drawer in her room. (Call her sentimental if you will.) The terrible house of Black had adored her until she was sorted into Gryffindor along with Sirius. After that, they were both called blood traitors and treated as such. However, being someone else’s child, they treated her with less disdain than Sirius. That being said, they weren't the kindest of people, if at all.

Y/N would bring Sirius half her food when he would get sent to his room early without dinner. (which was quite often.) Sneaking things in her long sleeves and pockets whenever she could. Strangely, Kreacher had caught her once, but he said absolutely nothing and pretended that he saw nothing. (She would not forget this kindness.)

Things only escalated when they reached their, now, fifth year. Y/N always took her yellings, occasional threats, and hexes in silence whereas Sirius would fight back. In a way, she admired him for his bravery, knowing that he possessed the strength that she lacked. Whereas, his admiration for her resided in her refusal to back down, cry or beg. They had a mutual respect for one another. On another hand, she was somewhat envious of Regulus, he was apparently the perfect child who was, (seemingly) loved.

That was until she started to notice the bags under his eyes at the beginning of this year. She hadn’t really had the chance to talk to him, between Walburga’s looming presence and by the younger boy’s being sorted into Slytherin. However, she had the feeling he wasn’t exactly taking up his family ideals to heart.

Ever since fifth year began, Y/N and Sirius had never again called 12 Grimmauld Place home.

~

Y/N kicked her feet rhythmically, leaning her head on Lily Evans' shoulder. Their Hogwarts express compartment was filled with chatter, a welcome distraction from her thoughts. Somehow, over the past four years, she had been adopted into the gryffindor group of girls in her dormitory. Lily, Alice, Marlene, and Dorcas, had patiently and painstakingly, coaxed the girl out of her shell. Y/N was truly grateful for their friendship. In the beginning she couldn't help feeling that their kindness was based on pity. That had made it hard for her to trust them. This meant that before fifth year, she had never really interacted with them outside of the Gryffindor house dorms.

Marlene and Dorcras were pelting question after question at Alice, wanting to know the details of her crush on Frank Longbottom. Ever the curious couple, Y/N felt slightly glad that she wasn’t on the receiving end of their questions.

‘You’ll be “Alice Longbottom” one day.’ Y/N grinned teasingly at the girl with the pixie cut.

Alice laughed before shrugging good naturedly, 'We’ll see. Frank is awfully shy. I might have to be the one initiating everything.’

Marlene cut in with her arm around Dorcas, ever a picturesque couple. ‘And Lily’s last name will be “Potter!”’

Y/N stifled a giggle at the comment.

Lily gagged before letting out a sigh, ‘It’s not that Potter isn’t just a complete tool. I’m also just not into men.’

Y/N shrugged. ‘Yeah, you keep making eyes at Emmeline Vance during charms. It’s actually kind of sickening how adorable your pining face is.’

Lily flicked Y/N’s nose. ‘When are you going to start hanging out with us outside the dorms? All you do is go to the library or hide in the kitchens and bake while chatting with the elves.’

Dorcas pouted, adding, ‘You don't even sit with us during class!’

Y/N winced while casting her eyes down. Another thing, she really didn’t like drawing attention to herself or loud noises. Those things usually lead to shouting and maybe a raised hand back at Grimmauld Place. They caused an unpleasant reaction out of the girl.

‘I can’t do crowds, I really am sorry. It’s not that I don't want to, you’re all lovely but-’

‘That's alright, you take your time love. You'll come talk to the rest of us when you're ready.’ Alice gently reassured her, patting the girl beside her on the arm.

Y/N smiled gratefully. The girls weren’t at all pushy about getting Y/N to hang out with them. However, they did always ask. They wanted her to feel and be included. None of them ever took a rejection personally. It was what made Y/N lower her walls all the more.

Lily ruffled Y/N’s hair affectionately. The rest of the girls continued their chat whilst the introverted girl stared out the window, still leaning on Lily’s shoulder, taking in the view and enjoying the company. The dark pine trees that littered the lands surrounding all the lochs, glittered in the rare sunlight. She let out a soft sigh, allowing herself to relax, just for that moment.

~

The hustle and bustle of the students, all ecstatic to see each other again made Y/N giddy. She had, however, skipped the feast, opting to go say hello to all the elves who had finished preparing the feast. She particularly enjoyed Wigby’s desserts. (He was admittedly her favourite house elf.) He made the best sweets which led to Y/N learning all her baking skills from the friendly house elf.

The halls were electric with energy, almost tangible. This year Y/N and her friends were to be taking their O.W.L exams. To be honest, she was completely ready, having already studied up to the N.E.W.T level of all her subjects. Studying and reading at Hogwarts was her escape, truly. She padded into the first class, Potions. She slipped into the seat next to Lily, quickly giving the red haired girl a gentle squeeze on her hand and flashing a smile at the rest of the girls who greeted her enthusiastically. They had convinced her to sit with them during classes this year instead of her usual spot at the back away from prying eyes.

As they continued their conversation, Y/N unpacked her quill, and parchment while waiting for the lesson to start. As she doodled a small picture of a cauldron, a cocky voice crooned out. ‘Ah, my sweet girl, how I’ve missed- Who are you and why are you in my seat?’, James Potter. Lily’s self proclaimed “sweetheart” word vomited at the poor girl.

Y/N gripped the desk tightly, her knuckles turning white. Confrontation, how lovely. As much of an amusing topic of complaint he was that she had heard from conversation with the girls. He was completely unfamiliar to her. She found a spot on the table and stared at it with the utmost concentration, unable to bring her eyes to meet the owner of the voice. Lily also ignored the voice. Instead opting to cover Y/N’s hand with her own, continuing her conversation with Marlene, and Dorcas about the importance of studying for their O.W.L’s

‘Ah, you’ll survive the lesson James, come on,’ a voice drawled, waving James away. A voice which Y/N immediately recognised as belonging to Sirius.

Y/N looked up and turned around, wanting to meet Sirius’s eyes to mouth a, “Thank you” but her eyes met hazel ones instead.

‘Oh.’ James mumbled with wide eyes. He was standing right behind her, not having moved back to his actual “spot”.

Y/N’s eyes darted away immediately before finding Sirius’s. His eyebrows were raised with mirth and he smiled, shrugging his shoulders. She flashed him a small smile before turning around, basically ignoring James Potter. This was new. People didn't usually ignore him. They would at least retort with something witty, but to be completely silent?

‘Mr Potter, I trust you will be able to find your seat?’ Professor Slughorn called out, striding into the classroom, his large belly preceding him through the door. He was Y/N's favourite professor. He was kind to Lily and Y/N. (Probably due to their prowess in potions but nonetheless!)

‘Yes sir.’ James sat down without protest, his gaze lingering on her before his thoughts were interrupted by Professor Slughorn. He hadn’t noticed her before. How had he not noticed someone for four years?

‘Today, we will be assigning our first assignment of the year. An essay on polyjuice potion. Four weeks sounds like ample time does it not?’

As the professor announced their first assignment. James couldn't help but notice how Y/N avoided looking in any direction that wasn't the front or her notes. He leaned in close to Sirius, whispering just loud enough for him to hear amongst the groans of the class,

‘What's her deal?’ He asked, glancing at Y/N again.

Y/N dutifully jotted down the specifics of the assignment, (unbeknownst to her) under James’s gaze, allowing Lily to periodically glance at her notes. She whispered something into Lily’s ear to which the redhead smiled at her and nodded.

‘What are they whispering about?’ James nudged Sirius again.

‘Y/N probably asked if Lily wanted to pair up.’ Remus interrupted. ‘She is rather shy.’

‘You know her?’ James gaped at the sandy haired boy.

‘James, Y/N has been in our classes since first year. She just doesn’t really talk.’

‘Besides, you’re too busy pining over your “Lilypad” to really notice any other women.’ Sirius mused with his arms crossed, feeling slightly protective of his little cousin.

‘And how do you know her?’ James retorted. Ignoring Sirius's quip, however true it could have been.

‘She’s my cousin.’

‘Huh.’ Remus blinked.

‘You didn't know that?’ James glanced at Remus ‘I thought you knew her?’

‘No, I just know she’s practically topping almost every class, she doesn’t really speak to-’

‘Now boys, would you like to share your conversation with the rest of Gryffindor and Slytherin?’ Slughorn called out to the boys, his large walrus moustache twitched above his lip, the man seemingly amused by their chattering.

‘No sir.’ Remus replied evenly.

‘Well then! I shall announce the pairings for the assignment!’ He smiled merrily, ignoring the cries of protest from the rest of the class.

Y/N’s face paled and she whipped her head to look at Lily. Usually they were paired off in their seats, not randomly. Y/N had truly enjoyed his classes up till now but this? Suddenly Slughorn was rapidly losing his status as favourite professor.

Lily looked at her worriedly, “Lets just hear who you have to pair with. If it's someone obnoxious, we’ll go speak to the professor or I’ll swap with you.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion at her friend's empathy.

‘I couldn’t ask that of you Lily.’ Y/N whispered, misty-eyed. Kindness was a luxury that Y/N had so often been not able to afford for so long. Seeing it up close and displayed just for her, she couldn't help but be slightly overwhelmed.

‘It’s okay, I’m the one who offered.’ Lily patted her arm, reassuring the fidgety girl.

‘If I could marry you Lily Evans, I would do it in a heartbeat.’ Y/N tugged at Lily’s sleeve, looking down bashfully.

‘Now if only you were into women.’ Lily grinned, squishing Y/N’s cheeks with her hands gently. ‘What a treat you would be.’

‘Lily!’ The shy girl pouted, batting away the other girl's hands playfully.

‘Ms Mckinnon, and Ms Meadowes,’ To which the couple let out a happy cheer.

‘James Potter, and Lily Evans,’ Lily slumped over immediately, letting her head rest onto the desk with a quite audible Thwump! To which Y/N giggled, at her sudden change in demeanour.

James was completely caught off guard when Professor Slughorn announced his partner for the assignment. He had been so preoccupied with the revelation of Y/N being related to Sirius and trying to figure her out that he hadn’t even been paying attention to the teacher. He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at Lily’s exaggerated head bang onto the desk after hearing her own partner. Before he could think of a witty comeback, he heard the next pairing.

‘Sirius Black, and Y/N Prewett.’ Y/N perked up, looking at Lily with bright eyes, shaking her head with a smile. This was one of the people she would be able to work with!

‘Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.’ The two boys subtly high fived. Strangely enough, James wasn’t making a huge fuss over being paired with Lily. Strange enough for even Y/N to take notice, though she refrained from commenting.

Remus took a side glance at James, he wasn't sure if he would regret asking his friend his question.

‘You're not ecstatic over being paired with Lily?’ Remus questioned.

‘I am, I just...’ James shook his head. At this point, he knew Lily wasn't into him. In fact, he wasn't even sure she liked men. He wasn't the only boy in Hogwarts to have ever asked her out. At this point, it was just a long bit and a way to keep other girls from approaching him.

Sirius smirked knowingly. He may have been a lazy student but he sure as hell wasn't stupid. He could tell that after third years incessant rejections, James had no desire to date LIly ever since.

‘Since you all feel the need to cheer at each pairing. I shall leave the list on the board and you can all cheer at the same time. Take this time to move into your pair and discuss your assignment. That'll be all for this lesson. Welcome back students.’ Slughorn's eyes glimmered with amusement, revealing the quip towards the class to be good natured. The professor sat back down at his seat as the class began to disperse once again into chatter and movement. He generously answered stray questions from the students who wandered to his desk in need of assistance.

Y/N stood up and walked over to Sirius’s desk and nudged his foot with her own. Grabbing his attention soundlessly.

Sirius gave her a genuine smile and shoved James with his shoulder.

‘Go over to your “Lily flower”. I’ve got to discuss the assignment with my partner.’

James blinked owlishly at Y/N, still taking in her very existence.

‘Sorry?’ Y/N whispered, looking at him hesitantly.

‘Quite alright,’ James nodded, standing up to walk towards Lily without his signature smirk.

Y/N sat down with Sirius and smiled shyly before asking, ‘Is Potter alright? I thought he would be thrilled to be up partnered with Lily?’

Sirius blinked, ‘You keep up with this stuff?’

Y/N tilted her head from side to side, ‘Not particularly, more like I listen to Lily complain in the dorms. It’s hard to miss. She says he's quite…’

‘Stubborn?’

‘We’ll go with that.’ She quickly agreed, not wanting to rat out her friend.

‘Hey so this means you finally have to talk to me outside of our house.’ Sirius teased.

Y/N grinned at him and retorted, ‘I’m not sharing my food with you here at home Sirius, we get plenty to eat here.’

They shared a smile. Knowing they had each other's backs even without constant catch ups was a good feeling. The unspoken bond they shared wasn’t obvious to outsiders, but Sirius and Y/N knew, and that was enough.

‘So, the assignment. We’re describing how to brew the potion, all the ingredients and for extra credit, we can list out the dangers of the potion such as the errors.’

Sirius sighed, ‘I’m not really good with the-’

‘You’re good at finding information, I’ll handle the writing, you just tell me the information and I’ll make it sound good!’ Y/N nodded excitedly.

‘What do you mean?’ Sirius stared blankly at the girl, completely unconvinced.

‘You always know where, how and who to prank! It's the same thing!’

‘It’s completely different.’ Sirius deadpanned.

‘Where did you learn the hair changing spell?’ Y/N crossed her arms.

‘In a transfiguration textbook. I was putting the books back in the library after Remus and oh-’ Sirius nodded slowly as he came to realise what the girl meant by being “good”.

‘See?’ Y/N smiled at him brilliantly, seeming proud of his (apparent) talent.

‘Y’know, this is nice, why don’t we do this more often.’

‘I don’t do-’

‘Crowds, yeah I know, and at the house, we’re too emotionally exhausted to talk.’

They both let out a heavy sigh before chuckling at their shared experience. Comfortable silences were rare, but with each other, the cousins were able to revel in each other's company. A truly unique connection formed by trauma. 'At least something good came out of it?' They had mused.

As the rest of the class chattered away, discussing the project or just gossiping, Y/N and Sirius decided to meet up after dinner that night and every wednesday. The pair knew they had Defence Against the Dark Arts next. Sirius offered to walk with her to class, to which she accepted gratefully, mentioning Lily and Alice would probably also be with her.

As the class began to filter out, Lily and Alice had walked over to Y/N to wait for her.

‘You’ve got DADA next, with us right?’ Alice beamed.

Y/N nodded, somewhat feeling excited to have people to walk to class with. Being with three people wouldn't be a crowd!

‘There's a new teacher this year!’ Lily supplied this new information.

‘Again?’ Y/N wrinkled her nose. It was rather strange actually, ever since professor Merrythought had retired, it seemed as if every Defence teacher had resigned after a year.

A rather strange situation, but, none of her concern.

‘Who is it?’ She asked as a passing question, not overly invested in the answer.

‘Some guy named Knittingley.’ Remus piped up from behind them, startling Y/N into almost dropping her books.

‘Sorry love,’ he grinned sheepishly, ‘you alright?’

‘Ah, you down right scared the poor thing, Remus. Now she won't ever talk to us again.’ Sirius whined before breaking into a cheeky smirk, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

Y/N considered throwing something at her relative but then decided it would be too much work and that her books weren’t made for throwing.

‘What’s the hold up?’ James questioned from the doorway, calling out to the group, ‘lets go, Peter’s already gone ahead.’

Suddenly it wasn’t only three people anymore.

Somehow, Y/N had been looped into walking to class with five other people. Technically five was a group, not really a crowd, right? Sirius had swung his arm over Y/N, as if preventing her from running away.

Lily and Alice were in the front, enthusiastically discussing the topics of the next class. They were fervently hoping that their first class wasn’t going to be a revision on Boggarts, as they knew it would be in the curriculum.

Meanwhile, in the back, James was asking Remus about something about mandrake leaves and cycles of the moon.

In the midst of her conversation with Sirius, their formation, Y/N noticed. It seemed like almost a barrier against other students? Y/N internally shook her head. Most likely a coincidence, right? Why would it be intentional?

Sirius was babbling on, about the effects of conditioner on hair and how he found it amusing that James would use one that had a charm to make his hair extra bouncy. Y/N had stiffened a chuckle at this while James whined as he heard this and protested that he needed the extra shine and bounce.

‘It makes me look nice!’

To which Y/N nodded along, looking at Sirius, not noticing that James had beamed when she seemingly agreed. Remus looked on with a rather pleased smile, his nose scrunching. He had always wanted to befriend the shy girl. Now that she had somehow mustered up the courage (been practically physically restrained) to keep up with their group. He, along with the rest of the group, was excited to witness this side of the girl they had never seen before.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, her fifth year would be the true beginning of her life at Hogwarts.

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

AND THATS CHAPTER 1 DONE! Lucky for you guys (all like 7 of you) I have the ENTIRE story planned out! All there is, is for me to flesh it out! Please like or comment if you'd like another part! (if not I'll still probably post it, I'm too excited about this!) This isn't inline with my Pethryn story line and I have taken some liberties! I'm sorry again if you don't particularly like this! We will be delving into Remus being a werewolf, the Marauders map and fleshing out Regulus and Snape's characters! (possibly Peter as well. I kinda hate that guy 🤬) ALSO YES THE TITLE IS LOOSELY INSPIRED BY THE HUNGER GAMES!

edit-

Okay, I changed my mind, I want this to be a long form fic- THIS IS NOW JUST THE TEASER

[fictionalreads]

This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 2)

A/N: Soooooo I couldn't help myself. Ya'll really showed me love on part one and it encouraged me to write this part. I'll admit this isn't my favorite piece of writing but it's necessary cause it sets up part 3😅 Give me a few days at least for that one though. Hope y'all like it. 18+/Minors DNI

Part 1 Part 3

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Song I listened to while writing: Back To Love by Robert Glasper featuring SiR and Alex Isley.

Prompt: It's been six months since Armando left Shay but things feel unfinished for him.

Warnings ⚠️: Talk of smut (y'all I can't write that shit, I tried and it was trash so I just talk around it)

Armando was only supposed to be in LA for a couple days. He was still a wanted man and he didn’t exactly enjoy putting himself at risk of being caught, but it was unavoidable. A contact had needed a job done and since being on the run, he wasn’t afforded the option of being picky when it came to money. Besides, Martinez had been helpful in getting him jobs so he considered the extra risk a favor.

Nobody wanted to work with a snitch. 

It didn’t matter that the feds had him serving life and he was just trying to survive, hopefully shave off enough time to not die in a cell. He was a rat and had nothing but enemies on both sides. Mierda, his parents had really screwed him over. His mother had ensured he would always be seen as a criminal and his father had ensured every criminal saw him as a traitor. He was destined for a life of solitude. 

Then he met Shay.

He had been eating at a restaurant frequented by his target, canvassing the place, when he heard her laugh. Usually he would ignore other patrons as he did his job but there was something so uninhibited about the sound that it captivated him. He looked up to find the source and saw her head thrown back in obvious joy, curly hair flowing freely behind her. Her eyes were damn near shut, smile big and bright. 

He was in LA for work but a little play never hurt anybody so he had his waitress send a drink to her and watched as he was pointed out. She lifted the drink he sent in a silent thanks and he raised his glass back, nodding at her with a smirk. He was aware when she had left and he finished his own meal and work soon after. He was unsurprised to find her waiting outside for him. That was the beginning of them.

He had thought once he had slept with her, they would both be satisfied and she’d be out of his system. A win-win situation, truly. But there was something about her that had him acting stupid. After he took care of Martinez’s problem, he laid low for a week, letting the heat die down. When it was safe enough to go back to Mexico, he just…didn’t. Instead he went and found her. He expected to have to work for it seeing as he left in the middle of the night and didn’t call for a week, but she let him back in.

So instead of going home like he should have, like he would have if he was smart, he stayed for her. He knew he should get the hell outta dodge, but he wanted to know her. So he called Martinez and picked up a couple more jobs he needed done out in LA and the surrounding area. When he wasn’t working he learned everything about her like it was his job, careful to never give her any real information, steering the conversation back to her every time. He was enchanted by her beauty, enthralled by her passion. Everything he learned about her got him closer to that dreaded L word.

Then he fucked up.

It had been three months of playing this dangerous game when she asked about him. He kew the day would come eventually when she wouldn’t allow him to just brush off her questions but he was somehow still unprepared and suspicious of her motives when it came. She had asked to know about his parents and he should’ve just fed her some bullshit story but he just got quiet. He realized he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know him, the real him, and still choose him. So he had told her an edited version of his parents, only to immediately realize his mistake. He didn’t want to, but he was going to have to leave.

So after fucking out his feelings, he left. He went back to Mexico and told himself to forget about her. Except he couldn’t get her out of his head. For six months he was constantly reminded of her. Every woman that flirted with him was compared to her, every one of them coming up short. Every time he smelled shea butter and coconut, he thought of her freshly showered. Every time he needed a release, he pictured her blissed out face, his hand not nearly as good as the real thing. So he did something even dumber than staying in LA for three months.

He went back.

He watched her for a few days, Shay never knowing he was there. He watched as she went out with friends. He watched as they encouraged her when some fucker had the audacity to step to her and flirt. He watched as she went on a date with the man. A better man would have taken that as a sign that she had moved on and he should too, but he never claimed to be a better man. He watched as she gave restricted smiles, restricted laughs and came to the conclusion that this ‘date’ wasn’t doing it for her.

So he left them at the basic ass restaurant the guy chose and went to her apartment to wait for her. He found his way inside like he used to and set up on her armchair, turning on her lamp so as not to completely scare her. He waited almost an hour before he heard her keys in the door.

She clocked the light being on the second she walked in the door. 

To prevent her from running and calling the cops because she didn’t know it was him, he spoke, “hola Amorcita.”

“Armando?” She question in disbelief.

He stood and took in his fill of her before telling her what he’d been thinking all night, “you look beautiful. Nice night?”

She shut the door behind her and cautiously stepped past the kitchen to reach the living room. She was still too far, standing at the edge of her breakfast bar across the room. Why wouldn’t she come closer? On one hand, she could be pissed that he left her for six months. Something told him it wasn’t that though. If she was pissed she wouldn’t be trying to keep herself as far from him as possible, as if out of reach. No, instead she’d probably get close enough to slap him. A heartbreaking realization hit him. “Are you afraid of me now, Amorcita?”

Shay stood tall, facing him head on. “Your rap sheet says I should be,” she bit out.

There it was. The confirmation she knew who he was now, that there would be no more hiding behind omissions of truth. He tilted his head in contemplation, “that’s not what I asked.” Was she not phased by who he was? Or was she just biding her time?

When she didn’t say anything else, he slowly walked to her. He could feel the energy in the room shift and amplify. He still wasn’t sure if she was gonna knee him and run or invite his touch. He wasn’t sure if he could take the betrayal from her, but he would understand. Any sane person would run from the likes of him.

When he stood mere inches from her he ghosted his fingers over her arm, noticing her intake of breath. “Are you afraid of me now, Amorcita?” He repeated, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Shay looked up, her eyes meeting his, “no.”

“Maybe you should be,” he brokenly admitted.

She lifted a hand to cradle his face, “You’ll never hurt me that way.” She said it so surely, as if she could see into him, see his soul. There was no doubt in her voice, her sureness both a surprise that she felt that way and a relief that she understood.

It didn’t escape his notice, however, that she was very distinct in her words. He may not have hurt her physically but he had hurt her all the same.

“I’m sorry for leaving, Alma.” He turns his head to place a kiss on her palm.

She gave him a slight smile. “I get why you did.”

“Doesn’t mean it hurt you any less or make me any less sorry.” He placed his hands on her waist, pulling her even closer, her hands going around his neck. Her scent took over his senses, clouding his thoughts.

She didn’t refute what he said, just reached up to press her lips gently against his in a quiet acceptance. When she pulled back he stared into her eyes, wondering if this was real, wondering how she could be real. He saw nothing but the love he wished he could keep. Unable to stop himself, he drew her in for a longer more passionate kiss. It was slow as if they had all the time in the world, or rather if time and the rest of the world didn’t exist. He hoped she felt the words he couldn’t say aloud.

He felt her hands stop their playing in his short hair and move towards his shirt buttons. Before she got to the first one, he pulled back and held her hands in his own, needing to tell her, owing her and her loving heart the truth.

“I can’t stay.”

Eye to eye, love and determination shining bright in hers, she whispered, “I know.”

From there, clothes shed quickly and they made their way to the bedroom. They both knew this was a goodbye, closure for them both. Their last attempt at an ending had felt lacking, like there was more to be said. This time it was all laid out in front of them. Emotions may not have been said but they were felt and known, the reality of their situation acknowledged.

This time they would both take what they needed, giving them a more satisfying conclusion.

After she fell asleep he fixed his gaze on her white ceiling, wishing things could be different for them, wishing he could stay and give her the life she deserved rather than a few memories she’ll hopefully look back on with fondness. He allowed himself a few minutes more of wishful thinking and soaking in the feeling of being with her. When it came time to leave, he hated himself for it, but he laid her on the bed and quietly collected his things. Finding a pen and a scrap piece of paper, he scribbled out a note for her, leaving it where he should have been laying next to her. He spared one last look at her before leaving her for good this time.

If you ever need anything, find Detective Mike Lowrey. Miami PD.

-A

A/N: How we feeling about this part? Let me know what your favorite line was in the comments! Don't be shy with the comments and reblogs, they motivate me. Likes are appreciated too!

Translations:

Mierda - Shit/Damn

Amorcita - Little Love

Alma - Soul/soulmate

Taglist: If you request to be on the taglist, you're agreeing that you're 18 or older.

@yeahnohoneybye

[auspicioustidings]

Firewatch Part 14

Summary: You visit a grave as our story comes to an end.

Words: 1.9k

You wondered if Johnny had snuck into bed with you. He had done it the last time Simon was on watch and it had been admittedly sort of nice waking up bundled in him. He was pretty cute when he was sleepy. 

He hadn't, the warmth was from Dosia which was strange because these days she usually was either outside or cuddled up with Price if Simon wasn't around like the little traitor she was.

This was not Simon's bed.

–

“You've been through quite the ordeal! Can't believe you were in the forest all this time. Surprised you never came across our Firewatch, they live out there. Or they did I suppose.”

“I- sorry, what do you mean?”

“Didn't you ever notice that tower from your old place? It was a watchtower for wildfires, the men who ran it had a cabin out there as well. Shame about what happened.”

“The fire…”

“Ah last I heard between air support and the trucks coming in to help from all over it's looking like they have it contained, but these things tend to burn for days or weeks before we can really relax.”

“What about the men in the forest? What happened to them?”

The sheriff blinked at you.

“How exactly did you survive out there all this time?”

–

It wasn't as bad as it could have been was what people kept saying. The tower was gone, but the fire had never ripped through the town thanks to quick detection and action to contain it. 

In the span of six months you had lost your home to fire twice over. You were living out of the little bed and breakfast while paperwork was sorted. There was a lot of red tape involved in bringing someone back from the dead, although it was curious how much easier it was made by the sheriff having not properly filed the death certificate in the first place. You weren't as officially dead as you should have been. 

Everything would be wrapped up soon and then you didn't really know what you would do. You had money from the Insurance claim on your cottage (that had been a wild series of phone calls to increasingly senior people as you tried to explain that you were the owner who had perished in the fire), but you had no clue what to do with it. 

You knew you had been putting it off, but it was time to go visit the grave. Maybe then you'd figure it out.

–

It wasn't anything fancy, just a rustic headstone set in the ashes. Dosia wasn't super interested, instead going to rub up against your visitor. Wonders never ceased.

“Knew she'd come around eventually.”

“They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Does it?”

You glanced over at Kyle and your heart thumped. The last time you had seen him had been weeks ago when he was disappearing into smoke and embers.

“Yeah, yeah I think it does.”

You both stood and stared at the gravestone, Dosia's ears pricking before she took off towards the treeline. You weren't worried, you were pretty sure you knew who she was in a rush to see. She completely ignored the man walking towards you and Kyle on her way. 

“Ouch.”

“She still hasn't forgiven you for saying I should've got a dog you know.”

“Still think ye should swap her for one.”

“He cried when we thought she didn't make it out.”

“Away and biel yer heid Gaz.”

You had missed them. You had really, truly missed them. It was overwhelming being on your own after always having them around. You were angry a lot at little things like how difficult you found a busy shop now. They had done that to you. It didn't make your stupid feelings any less complicated. It didn't make you feel any less like kissing the new scar on Johnny's arm or the bruises healing on Gaz.

“So you buried your girl in the end huh?”

“A few weeks before the fire. We were planning on bringing you to see it.”

“This close to town? Bit risky no?”

“Aye, reckoned ye were worth the risk.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. It was a strange thing looking at your own grave. Why put it here to bring you to see it? To prove that they weren't holding you to some impossible dream girl standard anymore?

“Was supposed to be a birthday present, but we're a bit late now aren't we little bird?”

Price looked tired as he emerged from the treeline. It must have been an awful few weeks for him. There was still the remnants of the fire to be looked after incase it blazed up again. It had taken out the cabin and the tower, nothing left but smouldering wrecks and a nasty looking burn creeping up his neck. All of those drawings in Simon's room gone. You don't know why that was one of the things that made you the saddest.

“Didn't feel much like celebrating anyway” you answered truthfully. 

Your birthday had been 5 days after the fire and you had spent it for the most part staring into the void and napping. You hadn't felt like celebrating your new found freedom at all. 

“We did actually get you something. Still have it, if you'd like.”

You wondered what it was. As far as you knew nothing survived the fire. But they were just things and things didn't seem all that important anymore. Not when Simon finally joined you, a purring Dosia in his arms. He was slow due to a bad left leg it seemed like. 

“OK.”

Simon let Dosia down even though she was very reluctant to go so he could take something from around his neck. He handed you the corded necklace. It had a key on the end.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.”

“What's it for?”

“Havnae given it a name yet, thought we'd leave that for you tae do.”

“It's a 20 minute drive out the other side of town, just on the treeline.”

You stared at them. You knew what they were talking about. There was a crumbling cottage out there, you knew because you had considered buying it when you had first moved here but it was more expensive than the one you had went with and you couldn't afford it. You had completely forgotten it was there.

“Hope you don't mind sweetheart, but we took the liberty of getting the electrical work done.”

“And the roof, sorry luv I know you're a good roofer but my heart cannot take watching you do that again.”

“Tae be fully honest the whole thing is already done. Got a wee bit carried away.”

All those trips into town. The way they'd come back looking tired. They had been building you a home. 

“But… no wait, that's not… you were going to let me go?”

“Couldn't keep you in a cage forever little bird.”

“You'd have gotten arrested!”

“Would we aye? For what?”

“For kidnapping me!”

“Funny thing sweetheart, nobody in town is talking about the fire because they're too busy talking about the miracle girl. Apparently survived months in the forest on her own, told the sheriff she was quite the survivalist.”

“Yeah well! You! I!” you huffed, trying to come up with any reason that you had lied that didn't sound like “I love you”. “It was a cooler story.”

They laughed and it made you smile. You couldn't do it in the end. They were not bad men, you couldn't tell the truth knowing it would see them punished and put away. When you didn't know if they were dead or alive it had brought your feelings a stunning clarity. You had fallen stupidly in love with them. 

“So what's next?”

“Don't know honestly. We're camping out and keeping an eye on things. Once the danger has passed we rebuild” Price said, hand massaging at his shoulder.

“I'm pretty handy with a hammer.”

“Yeah?”

“Suppose I could help out” you offered, fighting to keep the stupid grin off of your face as you held up the key  “after all my cottage is pretty nearby right? And this guy is going to be useless with that leg.”

“Watch it sweetheart, my teeth are still intact.”

–

John liked to joke that you would combust if you didn't have a project. Once the cabin was rebuilt (5 bedrooms, incase they had visitors obviously) you helped where you could with the tower, once that was done you wanted to redo the kitchen in the cottage, after that you talked him into taking in an abandoned dog (honestly very easy what with you and Kyle both giving your best puppy dog eyes). Dosia surprisingly seemed to enjoy the new addition, bullying the german shepherd into doing whatever she wanted. The pair of them mostly came and went as they wanted between the cottage and the cabin, thriving running wild in the forest in between. 

Simon tried to get you into football which you sort of did. You had no interest in the big games, but you'd both go and cheer on the local team when they had home games. Inevitably you both looked a mess having gotten into a bit of a paint fight when you had insisted Simon have a little flag on his cheek. You threatened to de-fang him at least once a week. Both Dosia and Riley were absolutely in love with him which both you and Johnny sulked about. You thought maybe, for Riley at least, that Simon felt safe. His leg never quite healed right so he was more cautious and slow moving now, something you thought she might find comforting. 

When Johnny wasn’t grumbling about the animals wanting nothing to do with him, he was whining at you to not get out of bed. You had never met a lazier creature than John MacTavish on a duvet day, he just wanted to cuddle and watch movies. When he was on a hyper day he wanted to redecorate which almost always ended in a fight because you disagreed on what would look good. Everytime a big video game release rolled around the two of you (and sometimes Gaz depending on the game) would just hole up for a weekend and do nothing but play. Luckily Price indulged you and usually kept you fed and watered. 

Kyle had only been half kidding about making a fire fighter out of you. It started as therapy really, a way to try and control the nightmares. He took the lead in teaching you about all the equipment, letting you observe drills and even buying you custom fitted kit. While you never did want to be near a fire again, you learned to be less scared of the idea, you learned to believe that you would know what to do if anything happened. When you hadn't panicked at a little bin fire in your cottage and instead had just dealt with it, you had showed up at the cabin bursting with excitement to tell them. 

The Firewatch went from 4 to 5. You enjoyed it, the peace and quiet and the stars as you sipped hot chocolate and looked out onto the forest. You didn’t really know what the future held for you, but against all odds you had found a family and you were well and truly happy. And if sometimes you found yourself looking through the binoculars just to check on said family, you figured that was just karma.

[ponyosmom35]

stolen future

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: reader is dealing with simons death.

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her scrubs with mechanical precision. The person staring back was a stranger—someone who had learned to hide the cracks in her soul so well that even she almost believed the lie. Almost. She forced a smile, the kind she had perfected in the days and weeks since Simon's death, the kind that kept her parents from asking too many questions. They couldn't know how close she was to breaking; they had already lost Emma, and she couldn't bear the thought of them worrying about losing her too. Not now, when they had so little left.

The hospital had become her refuge, a place where the din of chaos drowned out the screams of her grief. The frantic pace of the emergency room offered a welcome numbness, each 48-hour shift blurring into the next, a haze of blood, stitches, and life-or-death decisions that kept her mind from straying to thoughts of Simon. There was no room for personal pain when others were bleeding out on the table, no time to think about the wedding that would never happen or the future that had been stolen from her.

It was the in-between moments that were the hardest—those fleeting seconds when the adrenaline wore off and her mind, traitorous as it was, would wander back to him. A glimpse of a soldier's uniform, the faint scent of his cologne on another man as he was wheeled in on a gurney, the sound of laughter that reminded her too much of Simon's—it was in those moments that she felt the sharp sting of reality, a reminder that no amount of work could fill the gaping hole he had left behind.

And then there was home. The place that had once been filled with warmth and laughter was now a cold, empty shell. The silence that greeted her when she walked through the door was oppressive, bearing down on her like a weight she couldn't shake. She had taken to leaving the lights off, as if the darkness could somehow mask the absence that screamed at her from every corner. The house was filled with ghosts—his favorite coffee mug that still sat in the cabinet, the shoes he had kicked off carelessly by the door, the faint indent on the pillow next to hers, still there after all these weeks.

The office door remained closed, a barrier she couldn't bring herself to cross. Inside, untouched and gathering dust, were all the plans they had made. The invitations they had chosen together, the carefully selected favors, the wedding dress she had picked out with Emma's help—it all sat there, a cruel reminder of the life they were supposed to have. Sometimes she would stand outside the door, hand hovering over the doorknob, wanting to go in, to touch those things one last time, but she never could. The thought of facing it was too much, so she turned away, retreating to the safety of her bed, where she could curl up with Simon's last shirt and pretend, for just a moment, that he was still there.

Her parents called often, their voices tinged with the kind of concern that made her chest tighten with guilt. She lied to them with ease now, telling them she was fine, that work was keeping her busy, that she just needed some time to herself. They offered to come and visit, but she always found an excuse, anything to keep them away from the wreckage of her life. She knew they worried—how could they not? But she couldn't let them see how far she had fallen, how close she was to the edge. They needed to believe she was okay, even if it was a lie.

Junie, her cat, was the only one who saw the truth. The little ragdoll was her constant companion, always there when the walls closed in and the tears she kept bottled up at work finally broke free. Junie would curl up in her lap, purring softly, her warm presence the only thing that kept her from completely unraveling. She would bury her face in Junie's fur, holding on as if the tiny creature were a lifeline, the only tether she had to this world. It was Junie who saw her at her worst—sobbing uncontrollably on the floor, unable to move from the spot where she had collapsed, Simon's shirt clutched in her hands like a talisman. Junie never judged, never asked questions, just stayed by her side, offering a silent comfort that she desperately clung to.

Her friends tried to reach out, leaving voicemails and texts that went unanswered. They wanted to help, to be there for her, but she couldn't face them. Their well-meaning words and attempts to cheer her up felt like a mockery of her pain. They didn't understand, couldn't understand, what it was like to lose the person who was supposed to be your forever. They hadn't been the ones to receive the knock on the door, to see the faces of her dear friends who had come to tell her that Simon was never coming home. They hadn't had to pick up the pieces of a life that had been shattered in an instant. Though she spoke to Soap occasionally, a majority of his messages were unanswered like the rest of the people who loved her.

So she isolated herself, withdrawing into the cocoon of her grief, letting the world fade away as she lost herself in the darkness. Days blurred together, time losing all meaning as she moved through life on autopilot. The hospital was the only place she felt anything resembling normal, where she could pretend, if only for a few hours, that she was still the person she used to be. But even that was a lie, one she couldn't keep up forever.

At home, the mask slipped, and the full weight of her sorrow pressed down on her like a physical force, crushing her until she could barely breathe. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything but exist in a world that had lost all its color. The thought of living without Simon was unbearable, a pain so deep it left her hollowed out and empty. She couldn't see a way forward, couldn't imagine a future that didn't include him. All she had left were the memories, and even those were fading, slipping away from her grasp no matter how tightly she tried to hold on.

Everywhere she looked, she saw him—in the photos on the walls, in the things he had left behind, in the plans they had made that would never come to pass. The life they were supposed to share was gone, and she was left adrift, lost in a sea of grief with no anchor to keep her from being pulled under. And yet, she kept going, kept moving through the motions of a life she no longer wanted to live, because she didn't know what else to do.

The nights were the worst. When the world was quiet and there was nothing to distract her, the darkness closed in, suffocating in its intensity. She would lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind replaying the moment she had learned of Simon's death over and over again, as if by reliving it, she could somehow change the outcome. But the truth was inescapable—he was gone, and nothing she did could bring him back.

Some nights, she would wander the house, unable to stay in bed but too afraid to sleep. She would pace the floors, her footsteps the only sound in the silence, her thoughts a jumble of what-ifs and regrets. She would end up in the living room, sitting on the couch where they had spent so many evenings together, watching TV or talking about their day. The emptiness beside her was a physical ache, a reminder of everything she had lost.

She hated being home, hated the way it reminded her of him, of what they had been and what they would never be. But she didn't know where else to go. The world outside was too bright, too full of life that she couldn't bring herself to participate in. So she stayed inside, trapped in a prison of her own making, the walls closing in on her a little more each day.

And yet, despite it all, she couldn't let go. The pain was all she had left of Simon, the only connection she still felt to him. She was terrified that if she let it go, if she allowed herself to move on, she would lose him all over again. So she held on, even as it tore her apart, because the alternative—living in a world without him—was unthinkable.

She knew she couldn't keep going like this, that something had to give. But she didn't know how to stop, how to let go of the grief that had become her constant companion. It was a part of her now, woven into the very fabric of her being, and she was too afraid to unravel it, to see what was left underneath.

So she continued to exist in a world without Simon, going through the motions of a life she no longer recognized, hiding her pain behind a mask of professionalism and competence while inside, she was slowly falling apart. The person she had been was gone, lost in the wake of his death, leaving behind only a hollow shell, a ghost of the person she once was. And in the quiet moments, when the mask slipped and the darkness closed in, she wondered if she would ever find her way back, or if she was destined to be lost forever.

[densi-mber]

Mentor

A/N: This one takes place around season 4, either completely AU or if they got back home in time for the 26th. I know it’s not quite a Christmas fic, but it’s close enough. Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating!

***

“Hey, do you want to the Jameson Center with me the day after Christmas?” Deeks asked Kensi one day early in December.

“I thought you volunteered at the soup kitchen,” Kensi commented, referencing the Christmas they spent serving food to the less fortunate.

“I do, but they had an entire high school class volunteer this year, so I checked in with some other places I’ve worked with before,” Deeks explained. “Jameson’s is a center for struggling kids who don’t really have a lot or good support at home. A big part of their outreach is to bring in adults and peers from the community to help out.”

“So, you just go and hang out?” Kensi asked.

“Sometimes.” Deeks shrugged. Sometimes it was really that simple, although the conversations that tended to occur were anything but simple. “On holidays or special events they usually have games, food, the usual stuff. Most of the kids seem to enjoy it. And if they don’t, at least it’s a place where they won’t get in trouble…or anything else.”

Kensi mulled it over for a few moments, then nodded. “Ok. Let’s do it.”

***

Deeks was good at this. Kensi had seen Deeks with kids countless times on cases, whether it be angsty teens or a kid who just needed someone to pay attention to them, Deeks fell into whatever role needed with ease. Somehow, Kensi always forgot that detail.

Today gave her a sharp reminder of those skills as he effortlessly wrangled a few dozen kids between 3 and roughly 20 years of age into the various planned activities. Technically, the center was supposed to be for minors, but Deeks held a rather liberal open-door policy.

When Kensi questioned if he’d get in trouble, Deeks had shrugged and said,

“Look, most of the supplies are either donated by patrons or the volunteers, so it’s not like we’re blowing through funds or something. And, as long as no one causes any problems, I think we’d all like to see them here than hanging out at a bar or the gas station that sells cigarettes to anybody with the money.”

The few times she’d visited a center like this when she was on the streets, she’d always felt like an outsider. Looking back, she didn’t know if was real or imagined, but she’d felt judged by the mentors and other kids. It was the reason she’d only gone back a couple times. To see these kids so cared for, was oddly healing.

They’d started out with lunch (“Feed the gremlins first, Kensi. Only way to maintain order.”) and then moved on to a few Christmas themed games, which were a huge hit with most of the kids. At first, she found the thought of managing so many kids with only three other adults in addition to her and Deeks, intimidating. However, by the time they were Rudolph themed version of pin the tail, started having fun and forgot to worry.

“Hey Mateo, JC! This tree isn’t going to decorate itself,” Deeks called out in a throaty voice a couple hours into the evening. Two older boys probably somewhere in the range of 14-16 years old rolled their eyes and scoffed.

Kensi had noticed them skulking in the back, refusing to participate in most of the activities, yet not leaving either. They so clearly wanted to project an air of superiority, but couldn’t fully conceal their interest in the fun.

“Yeah, like I wanna make a crappy ornament,” JC replied, jutting his chin out towards Deeks. Deeks nodded, completely unaffected by JC’s disrespect.

“That’s absolutely fine, but you should know that there’s prizes for the best decorated ornament from each age range.”

Mateo considered this information for a moment, then pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against, joining a table lined with other teens.

“Traitor!” JC called after him.

“What, I like prizes, man,” Mateo defended himself.

Deeks hid his grin at their antics while he showed a little blonde girl how to thread beads on a string. After a few minutes, and muttered words that Kensi didn’t catch, JC reluctantly situated himself beside his friend, and grabbed a pile of supplies.

Kensi stood on Deeks’ left side, teaching a group kids how to tie a sliding knot. While they chattered among themselves, she took a moment, to watch Deeks in his element.

“How did you learn to do this?” she wondered, nodding around the room when Deeks looked up in apparent confusion. “You seem to know exactly what to say or do with everybody, no matter their age or baggage.”

Glancing down at the little girl still working at her beads, he nudged her to the side with an encouraging smile. “Hey kiddo, I’ll be right back, ok?”

She nodded without looking up, her tongue sandwiched between her teeth as she concentrated.

Walking a little ways off, he led Kensi to the snack table. He offered her a cup of coffee, but she shook her head.

“So, what’s your secret to being the kid whisper?” she prompted.

“I’m hardly a magician. I guess…I just learned to listen to kids. Even when they’re not talking, they say a whole lot,” he explained. “Other than that, I try not to have too many expectations. Especially in these kinds of situations. Cause the harder you push, the more they’re going to buckle down and resist.” He chuckled. “I might know a thing or two about that from personal experience.”

“I could have used you when I was 17,” Kensi mused softly. The before she could ruin the mood, she added, “They’re really lucky to have a role model like you.”

Deeks’ eyes widened, slight surprise, followed by embarrassment all flashing across his face. Then he dipped his head, and she swore his cheeks took on a faint rosy tinge.

He cleared his throat, rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip. “That’s uh…thanks.” Something in front of them caught his eye, and he craned his head slightly, corners of his mouth lowering. “I should probably wrap up the ornaments. Looks like they’re getting a little restless.”

As he’d guessed, some of the younger kids had begun finding other uses for their beads while others were beginning to look a little bored.

“All right guys, everybody gather around. It’s time to go caroling,” Deeks announced, clapping his hands together a couple of times.

“Oh hell no!” Mateo said emphatically, ripping off the Santa he’d acquired at some point.

“Relax, Mattie. I’m just kidding. We’re having hot chocolate and Christmas cookies.”

“Ok then. But I’m still not singing,” Mateo warned him with a raised finger.

Kensi snorted, sharing a smirk with Deeks.

“Five bucks says he’s humming “Frosty the Snowman” in less than ten minutes,” he said to her in an undertone.

“Yeah, not taking that bet,” Kensi whispered back. She turned her attention to the kids lining up to get their doses of sugar.

Surprisingly, Mateo and JC had taken it upon themselves to help the little kids. A quick glance in Deeks’ direction confirmed he was watching them too, a proud smile twitching at his lips.

“Thanks for inviting me,” she said, drifting closer to Deeks so their shoulders brush. “It’s been oddly fun.”

“Good. I’m having fun too,” Deeks told her. “Now let’s get some cookies before these guys eat them all.”

[we-r-loonies]

hc that when regulus meets james he doesn't like him at all because he was supposed to make sirius laugh like that. then, for years, he hates him— resents him even.

then, sirius takes him away from grimmuald place and straight into the Potter home, which regulus both despises and is desperately thankful for. james is still an idiot that hexes people, but not so much for fun anymore. well, sometimes he finds it fun.

regulus spends the summer with him: james plays quidditch early in the mornings, he wears mismatched socks, he gets distracted while making meals and often burns them. he smiles at regulus, as if he's genuinely fond of him. james sits in the spare room, which regulus is reluctant to call his own, and talks to him late into the evening.

then, the sweltering heat of july browns into august. regulus has gotten into the habit of spending hours at a time in the potter's library. they owned books covering every subject that regulus could imagine, and even some he couldn't have thought of. james brings him tea, smiles that stupid bright smile, and runs off to find sirius.

regulus always has a book in the evenings; its warm enough to sit outside on the porch. james, sirius and— when the pettigrew parents allow it— peter mess around on the spread of lawn. quidditch is played a lot, music is played louder.

remus and regulus read, only joining them when they've stopped tackling eachother, getting grassy stains on their clothes.

remus tells regulus that james plays his best quidditch when he's watching. that makes regulus smile a touch, though he doesn't quite understand why.

maybe, he does understand, but admitting it would be torture.

the summer ends and they only see eachother between classes. sirius sneaks his younger brother into their dorm, because purebloods dont look kindly upon blood traitors. regulus didn't want to be a muggle-lover, like his brother. he didn't want to be cruel either.

by christmas, regulus can barely stand being beside james. he's annoying as ever. his school-boy hexes have quietly changed into more refined spells. there will be a war, and james will be on the frontlines. regulus longs to tell him that he is just a boy, that he shouldn't have to fight. james wouldn't listen, and regulus knows that already. the man would happily die for what's right, than live in a world that he didn't help shape.

by christmas, james' mother is begging him to please reconsider. james tells her that he'll finish school, but she can't prevent him when he's an adult. regulus is sat on the stairs listening.

that same night, regulus slips into the man's bedroom, asking him why he is so determined to rush into danger. james' hazel eyes are glossy with unshed tears.

james asks why he cares so.

regulus kisses him. that's why.

"i can't bear standing on the sidelines,"

"i won't watch you get yourself killed,"

the war goes on.

before meetings that james never discloses, he kisses him. he never forgets to say goodbye, to tell regulus that he loves him. its as if they both know that, one day, james may not return.

the war goes on.

[hmshermitcraft]

Pearl has creation magic. She can create life and death, and she is darn good at it. She created all her pets as most animals avoid her, but not Tilly! And Goosy and Froggy. She is 100% okay here in the basement of the apartment. She has all she needs!

And she is lonely.

Sure, she loves her constructs, but she has no reason to leave the basement other than food and water. But who would help her anyway she is a freak with freak magic and not normal magic.

The others who live in the apartment don't need to know how lonely and sad she is. She just is Pearl, the power source in the deal with X. She makes resources to power the building, and X lets her stay. She is totally okay and not in need of friends. But friends would be nice.....

But why would the hermits be her friends anyway!?

Bit more of Life Death magic Pearl

The Hermit Complex is having a massive party! And everyone is invited.... even Pearl.

She is confused. Why would anyone want her around. She belongs underground and alone in the basement. Her constructs reflect her emotions, but they want to go? Sure, it could be fun, but Pearls presence could be a danger to everyone.

While down in her basement home, she gets a visit from Gem and Impulse, the two who visit Pearl the most other than X. Hell, sometimes Pearl thinks that some hermits don't even know she exists.

Well, Gem and Impy want her to go to the party but she tells them that she won't go and that she is busy. Gem asks her with what since she barely leaves the basement, and Pearl simply responds with.

"I don't deserve nice things"

After that, she closed the door. She didn't need the hermits! She had herself, and that was everything!

But like friends would be nice.....

She expects that to be the end of it. She's made her stance clear. For her to mingle with mortals would be too much of a risk. Sure, she cries into Tilly's fur, but it's okay. Her sadness will pass and then everything will go back to normal. The same it always is.

She pretends she doesn't hear the sound of music above her. They're all up there having fun, they didn't need her! Why would they? She'd just bring the mood down.

She's half asleep when there's loud knocking on the door. She blinks at it, then groans when she hears Gem and Impulse's voices. They ask her to let them in and they're not leaving until she does. They even brought her cake! Pearl ignores them. They'll get bored, she knows they will. And sure enough, they eventually stop calling for her. The music upstairs quiets.

Pearl opens her front door, hoping to sneak her trash out now everyone is back in their apartments. She finds Gem and Impulse asleep against the wall, leaning on each other with a plate stacked high with cake between them. Pearl stares for a long time, long enough even Goosy pokes out to see what she's doing.

She grumbles to herself, knowing she should wake them up, call them creeps and tell them to go to their apartments. But instead...

She carries them inside with the help of her constructs, placing the pair gently in her bed and pulling up the covers. Tilly jumps up and curls between them (traitor.) The plate of cake is placed in a box.

She's terrible at this whole loner thing, isn't she?

She watches Gem and Impulse sleep, listening to Impulse murmur incoherently. They cared so much they were willing to wait outside for as long as it took. They left the party and their friends to come see her.

Is being bad at being a loner such a bad thing?

[blackjackkent]

Poor Wyll. :(

"Gods damn her straight back to the Hells. Just look at me - I did what was right, and Mizora made me pay for it. I'd be hunting devils and demons, she said. Traitors and hypocrites, heartless evils of all sorts, but not... not Zariel's victims. Not innocent tieflings."

"The Blade of Frontiers has some explaining to do."

This is sort of an interesting growth moment for Rakha I think. (I'm trying not to completely speedrun her development bc I keep having to remind myself that we're still REALLY early in the game, lol, but there's a lot for her to absorb very fast.)

Wyll has already said a lot to her about putting himself at risk for the people who can't defend themselves, about it being his purpose in life. This is a very strong, sharp visual demonstration that his money is exactly where his mouth is on the subject. He has quite literally sacrificed his humanity in order to keep a single other person - Karlach - alive.

This is not a thought process that comes naturally to Rakha. In her current state of memory loss her primary motivation has been survival, answers, and vengeance. Altruism has not been a top priority.

But it is very important to Wyll.

The most interesting thing, though, is that Rakha is angry on his behalf. She joined up with this group of people because they shared at least some of her experiences with the worm, and because they all have need of the same things. But... perhaps somewhere, deep in the memories she has lost, she had a concept of loyalty, once. Because there is a difference in the way she thinks about them compared to how she thinks about those outside the group.

She was ready (ill-advised or not) to lash out at Mizora on Wyll's behalf. She still would, if the devil came back. And that anger is hers - it is not the Urge, though the beast was certainly ready to feed on it.

Perplexing. Difficult. So she focuses on demanding information instead, which is always easier. Facts are easier than feelings.

"I'll say what I can. But it won't be enough," Wyll answers. He's watching her thoughtfully, as if surprised at her interest. Perhaps he, too, would not have expected her anger on his behalf rather than her own. "It's Mizora who grants me the power to conjure armor and cast eldritch blasts. Before I was infected, I could even call hellbeasts and summon festering clouds. But I promise you - ever thrust of my blade and every flame I sparked was for the good of the Coast."

"How in the Hells did you get involved with Mizora?" Rakha demands. It is one of many things that do not seem to make sense about this situation. Why would Wyll make a pact with such a creature in the first place, given his nature?

He smiles - sadly, but he seems pleased, just a little, that she wanted to ask. "Ah. The one little question that put me out of house and home. I can't utter the terms or circumstances of the pact. I can tell you most all else - but the pact? I'm forbidden, unless Mizora permits it." He sets his jaw. "But I'll say this. The moment I pacted myself to Mizora I have not regretted for a heartbeat. It was my proudest deed. It was worth the sacrifice. All I can give you on that is my solemn word."

She shrugs. She believes that he believes it. But is it true? She doesn't know. She is all too aware of how bound she is to the whim and control of the beast in her head. And Wyll has made such a decision by choice, deliberately placed the voice into his head to tell him where and when and how to kill.

Bravery. Or foolishness. Perhaps a little of both.

[arisugamez]

♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️

Starter for @usagiclimbs 😌✨

♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️

Tossing and turning.. how long had he been staring up at the ceiling for?

And most importantly.. how long were these torturous nightmares going to last? It was one after the other, always the same one on a loop in his head. The Seven of Hearts. A game he wished he could erase from his mind, but was haunted by his friend’s voices as they willed him to go on without them. Willed him to live even though he’d hidden like a coward and let them die. Arisu had realised it too late, how much they really meant to him. Karube and Chota were all he had. More like brothers than best friends, and now they were gone because of his selfishness. And what did he have to show for it? Nothing. If anyone had deserved to live through that game it certainly wasn’t him. But again.. he’d been too late. Just as he’d found Karube and demanded he look at him.. it was over. The next thing he knew he was covered in blood and his friend had dropped to the ground. Dead.

The thought had him shudder in the bed that should have been cosy. A fresh start in a place called the Beach. A supposed utopia and paradise as the leader had so enthusiastically put it. Hatter. And only a few minor rules to follow:

1. You must always wear swimsuits at the Beach - because you can't hide firearms in a swimsuit.

2. All playing cards belong to the Beach.

3. Death to the traitors.

Of course Arisu had tuned most of it out, mind too preoccupied on the knowing glances between him and his new companion— Usagi. A couple, everyone assumed. The teasing quips flew out of the Beach folk’s mouths before Arisu could protest that they’d only just met, and now here they were.. forced to share the same room. A single bed. Speaking of which.. he couldn’t help risk a glance in Usagi’s direction. It was no surprise to see her back facing him, the soft rise and fall of her shoulders signalling that she was asleep.. maybe? She was hard to read at the best of times and Arisu wondered if she even liked him or whether she was simply sticking with him because they’d been forced together under circumstances they couldn’t help. Either way, it didn’t matter. He was grateful for the company.

And she was really pretty— wait, what? Oh how he needed sleep to calm his racing mind. These tormenting thoughts of her mixed with the nightmares were going to be the end of him, he was sure. What he would give for some relief and a few hours of peaceful sleep.

But sleep was a gift in a place like this— and a gift not granted to him it seemed. Finally giving up, Arisu silently swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Usagi and potentially irritate her. It wouldn’t be fair of him. So with a quiet sigh, he carefully snuck over to the window while combing a hand through shaggy hair in order to try and tame it at least a little bit. How had they gotten here? Were they ever going to make it back home? So many questions and so little answers that made any logical sense to him. But surely they couldn’t be stuck here forever, right? Only time would tell. For now though he opted on settling himself down at the desk, eyes drinking in the soft light of the moon as it shone down onto the empty pool outside.

[marsrize]

Rewriting my story with you [Part 1 of 6]

Ao3 : Here. Summary : Adrien is not feeling well. He decides to run away from his problems and finds himself in Gotham. But his traitorous heart starts to beat for a certain vigilante. Why did he always have to choose to complicate everything? Relationship : Adrien Agreste x Damian Wayne WARNING: This story makes a lot of references to depression. If you are not comfortable with this kind of theme, I would not recommend reading this fic. 

Chapter 1: I have a problem    

Gotham City was always shrouded in darkness, but for Adrien Agreste, also known as Cat Noir, it was the perfect place to escape his complicated love life. He had left Paris for a while, hoping to find some peace of mind, away from Ladybug and their unresolved feelings.

But Gotham was a different kind of chaos. A darkness that seemed to creep into your soul, and Adrien found himself feeling lonelier than ever. He had always been a lone hero in Paris, but in Gotham, he felt even more isolated.

He was sitting alone in a coffee shop, lost in his thoughts, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Adrien? What are you doing in Gotham?"

He was surprised to see an old acquaintance: Zoe Lee.

The girl had had to leave Paris during their second year of high school to live with her father. Who would have thought that she also lived in Gotham?

"Zoe!" Adrien exclaimed, standing up and hugging her tightly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm supposed to meet up with some friends, but they just called me and said they'd be late. I came here to pass the time. I didn't think I'd meet you..."

She looked at him, her smile a little hesitant.

"You're definitely the last person I expected to see here in Gotham."

Adrien scratched his head in embarrassment. He couldn't see himself telling his life story to someone he hadn't spoken to in a long time.

"I wanted a change of scenery. You know... See what the world looks like outside my cocoon..."

"I understand the feeling!"

She sat with him for a while. Finally, when her phone began to vibrate, she excused herself to leave.

"Let's exchange numbers, I still have so much to tell you!"

Adrien couldn't bring himself to say no to her. He felt terribly alone, but at the same time, didn't want to talk about it.

What a strange feeling.

So, he did what he always did: he smiled and gave her his number, like the stupid perfect doll he was.

Adrien returned home. He didn't have much to do so he sat at his window. He had chosen to live in a part of Gotham City that had a bad reputation. Why? He wanted to be as far away from the rich as possible. He had been surrounded by those hypocrites all his life, the last thing he needed was to be around those bullies who thought they were above everyone else.

The window had a fire escape. He stood there, just staring into the void. He came to his senses when he felt the cold breeze give him chills. It was already dark, and he had not eaten anything solid yet. All he had in his stomach was the coffee he had drunk with Zoe.

It was time to go out and buy something to eat. Hopefully there would be a robber or someone to put an end to his miserable existence. As if the universe was laughing at him, nothing happened to him during that night. Nor during any other night. He could go out as late as he could, take the darkest alleys. Nothing happened to him. He didn't know if it was luck or a curse.

This went on for several weeks.

He talked to Zoe regularly, and they called each other from time to time. Adrien was still not getting better, but... He had fewer suicidal thoughts. He just had this constant emptiness in his heart.

Then one night, while wandering around the city, he found himself in a dark alleyway. He wasn't paying attention and before he knew it, he was surrounded by a group of dangerous-looking men.

Adrien tried to run (it was ironic, considering the fact that some time ago he had wished to be attacked), but they caught up with him and started to beat him up.

Just when Adrien thought it was the end for him, a mysterious figure appeared out of nowhere and took down the attackers with incredible speed and precision. Adrien was in awe as he watched the masked figure effortlessly defeat the attackers.

As the last attacker was taken down, Adrien stumbled to his feet, unsure of what had just happened. The masked figure turned to him, and for the first time, Adrien saw the bright green eyes behind the mask.

"Are you okay?" the masked figure asked, extending a hand to help Adrien up.

His heart missed a beat. Then his heart began to beat very loudly. It was as if he was able to hear his own heartbeat. Adrien couldn't believe what he was seeing. This figure was unlike anything he had ever seen before. He felt drawn to the stranger, as if there was something about him that made Adrien feel safe and comfortable.

He took a few steps back. His mouth opened and then closed again. He was no stranger to this situation. Something similar had happened to him before. Adrien was petrified. He finally found his voice and managed to thank his mysterious savior in a low voice.

"Thank you."

The masked guy simply nodded and disappeared into the darkness.

Over the next few days, Adrien couldn't stop thinking about the mysterious figure that had saved his life. He wandered around the city, hoping to run into him again. But the masked guy seemed to be nowhere to be found.

One night, while Adrien was walking home from a dinner with Zoe, he heard a commotion coming from an alleyway. He cautiously approached the alleyway and saw that a group of men had cornered him again. Adrien was about to turn and run, but before he could, the masked guy appeared once again. With incredible speed and skill, the masked figure took down the attackers, leaving them dazed and confused. Adrien felt overwhelmed with gratitude and admiration for the stranger but at the same time, he felt like giving himself a slap.

Buddy, you're just getting out of a chaotic situation. You've spent the last few years in love with a great girl, but who only sees you as a partner, and you... You, you idiot, have a crush on the first guy who saves you? What's your problem?!

"Who are you?" Adrien asked, as the masked guy helped him up.

"I'm Robin," the masked guy replied.

Adrien felt a jolt of recognition at the name. He had heard of Robin before, but never thought he would meet him in person.

"Thank you, Robin. You saved my life."

"-Tk- It's what I do."

As Adrien walked away, he couldn't stop thinking about Robin.

[ahungeringknife]

365: June 16

The Bastion of the Sunbreakers was always a hot place. Better than when they'd made their home base on Mercury but the sweltering jungles of Venus wasn't much better. But the Bastion was where they stoked the forges and where any Titan in the Order could rest their head. Safe from the eyes of the Vanguard and Consensus who loved to cast them as traitors. The narrative had changed the last few years since the Sunbreakers had consented to teaching Archibald of Glitterbomb how to use Solar. The first Titan to use Solar in the Tower in almost five centuries. Having a Godkiller take up the hammer had been great for their image. Didn't mean the Bastion still wasn't hot all the time.

But it had been Alex's home since his banishment when Osiris and most of his followers had been thrown out. The Consensus and Speaker foolishly thinking they knew better than Guardians themselves.

And for the first time in centuries he was leaving and returning home to the Tower. Or that was the plan. Osiris had been officially welcomed back into the Tower now that the Factions and Speaker were dead and he had called them home. Be his personal scouts again like they had before. No problem. It was the call they'd been waiting for. They'd been excited to get it even.

Fletcher had other ideas.

Which was why Alex was sitting outside his own house he sometimes shared with his brother while he and his partner had a yelling match inside about this. Fletcher hated that the twins were bending over for Osiris still. And double hated they were both leaving and leaving him and Nissa behind. And triple hated that neither of them had hesitated. They'd been totally ready to pack up and leave at the first call from Osiris even after almost two centuries.

Alex watched the brazier burning full of spent Sunbreaker hammers, chin on his fist. This was such a dumb argument. Fletcher knew they'd always go home. The problem was he wasn't welcome in the Tower still. No Sunbreaker Order allowed.

The argument in the house changed in pitch. Now it was less about straight up anger and more concern. During the Red War dozens and dozens of Sunbreakers had been final deathed. They'd been reduced to only a dozen or so Sunbreakers now. Fletcher's concern was over safety. Was it safe? What it something happened? What if-

Fletcher would drive himself crazy with 'what ifs' and didn't appreciate at all that in the same way he was called to loyalty to the Sunbreakers and the First Magistrate they were bound by loyalty to Osiris.

Of course Titans always were hypocritical when it came to loyalty. It was fine for Titans to have obsessive, dangerous, levels of loyalty but by the Light if anyone else did. Much less a Hunter!

Alex was just tired.

He perked up when Nissa came by. "Simon told me Fletcher and Alshain were going at," she said looking at the door behind Alex. Nissa was a pretty silvery white Awoken with corn silk yellow hair and Solar orange eyes. Once upon a time she'd been Osiris' aide. Not so important as an apprentice like Ikora but someone had to organize Osiris' paperwork and anyone who knew Osiris longer than a few days knew he hated paperwork and couldn't keep it organized for the life of him.

"Yeaaaah. We got called by Osiris."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. You going to be mad too?"

"No," she shrugged. "He doesn't need an assistant. And honestly he should learn to do some actual work and not just pontificate about stuff," and that made Alex chuckle. "Does someone need to separate them?"

"Probably. But won't be me," Alex grimaced.

"You're leaving right?"

"Yeah."

"When will you be back?"

"No idea."

"So you won't be too upset if I char the walls?"

Alex chuckled. "Nah. Knock yourself out," he said.

She walked past him into the house. "What is the meaning of this!" she thundered and he heard her go radiant. "I thought this was the home of Lightbearers of the honored Order of the Sunbreakers! Not a playpen for children!"

Alex sighed and leaned over to one side boredly as she scolded them. Fletcher tried to get a word in but it didn't work because Nissa didn't let him. Finally the door opened again and Fletcher slunk out, tail between his legs. Nissa stood in the doorway, eyes burning white with Solar Light, fists on her hips.

"It safe in there now?" Alex asked.

"Yes," Nissa said.

"I would have worn him down," Alshain said to Nissa. "But thank you for snapping some sense into him."

"He just will miss you," the radiance faded from her eyes as she powered down. "We all will."

"We'll be back. Or we'll convince the people in charge to let the Sunbreakers return to the City," Alex said. "Just for now we need to go. Osiris needs us."

"Yes. I know," she sighed. "Be careful. And don't let him talk you two into anything stupid."

"Ha! Yeah right," Alshain joked.

"See you when you get back," Nissa said and as she left she kissed Alex on the cheek nicely. They weren't an item but Alex still loved her and she him.

"You'll barely know we're gone!" Alshain called.

"Let's finish packing. Hopefully Nissa or Fletcher didn't burn everything to a crisp," Alex said, bullying his brother back into the house to finish packing.

[wickedslip]

033. the dark depths of an abandoned mine .

She didn’t even know how the hell she had let him talk her into this; it was nearly sundown, and she still had some exams to study for if she was going to graduate 1L by her twenty-third birthday. She had had her fair share of local haunts to hang out in, but Lupin had always had a penchant for the most random of places. However, the Davis Mine in Rowe was nearly three hours away, and she didn’t really want to stretch the legs of the Porsche 911 that far, so she opted for her father’s Mercedes G580.   Without his knowledge. One of the best parts about being the daughter of Satanás, even if the majority of her friends thought she just loathed her father and called him the devil out of spite, was that it came with its many advantageous perks. Fast luxury cars rank in the top fifteen.

The beams from her headlights flashed the mine itself before she actually found Lupin standing nearby, his dark duster jacket merging with the obscure gloom of the foggy December evening. She had hoped that their little excursion to go crystal mining would be in the daytime when it was a little warmer than it is now. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to regulate her body temperature enough to survive the plunge. What she had counted on was that the warm, heady crimson liquid that was being held in her thermos would be enough to combat the chill— it had worked when The Coven had wanted to go for an icy midnight swim, the potion working to keep their skin warm and their bodies to combat the cold to where it gave the impression of a swim in May, instead. It was warmer here than I had been in the water, so there shouldn’t be a problem, apart from the darkness that was increasing by the minute.

Stepping outside of the obsidian black luxury SUV with the license plate FXLLN, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she peered down at it. She wasn’t trying to look at the license plate much when she was too busy purloining it from the multi-car garage, which he only thought she didn’t remember the code for. Only Deucalion.

Well, I am the devil. The license plate is appropriate, don’t you think?

When she decided to stamp him out of her mind, ignoring him entirely, he just couldn’t resist being the proverbial thorn in her side.

You could have just asked to borrow the car, mi tesoro. I would have let you. All you have to do is come back home, where you belong.

❛ That’s not ever going to happen, padre. You can want this for your whole life, quite possibly all the back to your fall on the sixth day of creation, but I am never stepping foot into that traitor’s den ever again. You made your choice, and now you have to deal with mine. ❜ She didn’t want to open her own wavelength to him and chose to speak it out loud, even as she bundled herself tighter into her leather Burberry jacket, folding her arms to brace herself against the cool night air of Massachusetts. Eyebrows shooting upward and lips twisting to form a curious look upon her features, she was glad for the mitten shrouding her fingers or they’d have formed miniature ice cubes by now.

❛ Okay, Lupe. You call, I come. Now tell me why on god’s rotting earth would you have me meet you here of all places? Are we going to perform a sacrifice, or are we bringing back someone from the dead? Because this creepy place, a place that only you would suggest, gives me those vibes. ❜

[cal-a-bungaa]

The Realm

The Realm Part Two - Prince!Jake kiszka

Synopsis: Last goodbyes bring the start of a long war

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, and violence. Shorter than part 1. Angsty and tense

Enjoy!

__________

The hours of the night seemed to drag on as he sat at his brother's side, waiting for death to arrive. By the time the sun peaked its light over the rolling hills in the distance, Josh was still well and breathing; shallowly, but breathing. Crimson had stopped its flow of painting his clothing and the stone floors with the help of guards and medical aid that he demanded. He had felt guilty for this happening. The young king's hand laid lifeless within his own, pressed against his forehead as he choked back the tears and anger that boiled within him. If only he hadn’t spent his time obsessing over some princess, he would have been able to protect his brother from harm's way. But that princess wasn’t just some princess; she was his heart. 

Candles stayed lit throughout the hall, wax dripping down their figures. Guards stood alert at every nook and cranny within the room, waiting to see if the assailant dared to make his return. There was once in the night, a shrill voice called out to him from outside of the grand doors, but never again after that. Josh was a clear sign that their love wouldn’t last. His brother was his life, his other half in so many other ways that she was not. They came into the world together so they would then exit in a joint matter and for someone to try and take that away from him was the highest form of betrayal in his eyes. 

It was not ideal to stay in the palace that homed those who tried to assassinate his brother, but Jake felt torn. He wanted to know Josh would be stable to transport back to Strainad before doing anything that could worsen his condition. He was lucky to still be alive after being pierced by a traitor's sword. If he didn’t know better, he’d exit this very room and go to take revenge on Weria himself, but his life would then be taken as well. Jake wanted nothing more than to see their enemies grovel at their feet, begging for him to spare their lives after conspiring against his King. 

Staying in his place next to Josh, Jake would occasionally hold his finger beneath his nose to feel his hot breath be released. He will continue to reign, Jake has been telling himself that through the roughest of nights. Even as his twin fought for his life on the cool marble tiles, he found himself thinking of the princess he swore treason upon. 

Too lost in his conflicted thoughts, he almost missed that Josh had woken and spoke hoarsely to him. “You’re squeezing hard, brother.” 

Without realizing, Jake had been holding his brother's hand a little too tightly for comfort. White spots had appeared on Josh’s pale skin in the shapes of Jake’s fingertips. With a hushed apology, he releases his other halfs appendage. 

“You called for treason,” With the help of the aid that’s been with Josh all night, he raises to a sitting position. “It will mean fighting. You’ve made us enemies.”

“Those traitors tried to kill you.”

Josh lets out a breathy chuckle, “I am aware. I just wonder if you are prepared to fight against her.”

Jake is exasperated with his brother. “How can you laugh at this?” He asks, avoiding the question.

“I am a king, Jake, it was bound to happen especially on land that does not welcome my presence.” 

The prince says nothing more, shaking his head in frustration with his brother's lack of concern for the situation. His life is on the line and he could care less. It fuels his fury that he knew this was a possibility and was still accepting of his proposal to the opposing side. 

Josh struggles to stand, his legs threatening to give out from beneath him. Jake reaches to help him, but gets shoved away. He’d always been like that, wanting to do things for himself even in his worst states where it is nearly impossible. Even as he grapples to hold himself up straight, tension in the room dials down as it becomes clear that their king is not one to give up so easily. Jake rises to his feet as well, ready for what comes next. With shaky hands, Josh signals the guards spread across the room to prepare for departure. 

He scans the room, watching as they all take their positions to circle around the king in front of the grand doors. “Are you sure you are well enough to travel?” Jake asks. 

Another chuckle comes from the young king, “I am alive, that is well enough.”

There was no fighting it, what Josh wants he will get. Stepping behind the armored men, Jake prepares himself as the golden doors are pushed open and the halls of Weria’s castle are revealed. The cold air had the hairs on Jake's arms raising. The lighting of the halls were brighter than the flames in the great hall, having been relit not too long ago. Servants to the royal family have stopped in their tracks to watch them all take their leave, marching to the outside world. All of them were shocked to see Strainad’s king still standing, seemingly as healthy as ever. 

Footsteps echoed through the cool halls from behind Jake. In response to a potential enemy coming to finish the job, Jake spins, unsheathing his sword and pointing it in the direction of the sound. Upon focusing his vision, it was not just some assailant fast approaching, it was her. The needle point end of his blade barely grazed her sternum, catching on the stone blue material of her dress. Her hair done to perfection per usual, the finest of jewels decorating any skin that may have been bare while holding a pleading stare in her glass eyes. 

The two hold one another's gaze for as long as possible. Josh had stopped his journey to the carriage along with the guards to watch the scene unfold. Tearing her eyes away from the man whom she loved, she looked over his shoulder to catch the young king staring at her as well. Jake takes notice and steps back into her field of vision, not allowing her to see his brother any longer than she already had, keeping his weapon pointed at her. He watches how her eyes flicker down to the piece of metal that threatened her life if she dared to move. 

“Jacob…” She whispers to him. Her voice reminded him of a siren, calling to him, luring him in. 

“I have nothing to say to you.”

The sharpness of his tone has her cowering in only a way he’d notice.

“Jake, please.”

“You betrayed me. I will not listen to the lies you wish to tell.” He snarls towards her. 

Both fall back into a silence. Even as he holds anger and hatred for what occurred, he wants to drop his sword to the ground and take her in his arms. He can’t help himself as he lets himself scan her. The necklace she wore did little to hide the bruises that he inflicted upon her in a fit of rage mere hours ago. He saw the bags under her eyes that matched his own and the way her nails had been bitten down to the point that her fingertips glowed bright red in irritation. 

Knowing he could stab her as someone did his brother, she takes a step towards him. Jake’s grip tightens on the silver handle. He does not wish to have her blood dripping from his weapon, but if that’s what must be done then so be it. If she wishes to impale herself on his blade then she shall. Her small hands reach up to clasp the blade, pushing it further into her, creating a small hole in the rich fabric of the garment she wore. 

He watches the way she winces as his weapon slices her hand, tiny droplets of blood now smeared on the pristine metal. “If you wanted to harm me, you would have already done so.”

“Maybe I want to watch you suffer.” He doesn’t, he never will.

Her grip tightens ever so slightly, spilling more crimson from her palm. Droplets have dripped to the floor, staining the seams of her gown and tips of her shoes. 

“That just means you’d have to come back for me.” He wants to go to her now as they stand a foot apart. 

“To kill you.” To love her. 

“You will kill hundreds of men before ever thinking of killing me.” 

Her hands release the blade, both of her palms stained with the color of the roses in the garden they used to stroll through together. Jake takes this as a time to place his sword back into its holder on his hip. His hands shook as she took another few steps towards him. She reaches up to cup his cheeks, tainting his tanned skin with her blood. 

Leaning in, she readies herself for their lips to connect. Jake pauses before that can happen, letting their breaths mingle. Their eyes bore into one another, pressuring the other to make a move. Jake has no intention of moving, but she will not move either, wanting him to show her that there is still love for her in his darkened heart. 

Jake pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in further. He lets their lips brush, but nothing more before he speaks, “You wanted a battle.”

He can see the slight shake of her head as she denies his accusation in a breath.

“Then I will give you a war, my dearest.”

Disconnecting himself from her, Jake turns his back to nod at Josh and they resume their walk to escape the palace. He can hear the echo of her shouts of his name and sobs as he exits through the main doors, breathing in the fresh air. Her handmaidens tried to keep a hold on her so they could clean her wounds, but mostly so she wouldn’t go chasing after the prince. To no luck they were not able to contain her. 

Approaching the carriage that held Josh, Jake holds onto the edge of the door, hesitating. He looks to Josh who simply nods at him before he turns his head to look back. It might have been a mistake to do so, but this was going to be the last time he’d see you before he submerged himself into battle. 

You fell to your knees, watching him turn to look back at you. Your blood had been smeared all over the once stainless dress. You cried out for him, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. Jake wanted to go to you. He wanted you to know that he did in fact still love you. But even if he did approach you once more, it would pain him too much to leave. With pursed lips, Jake enters the carriage, looking down at his hands. 

And as the horses take off and the carriage gets pulled along, war has begun.

__________

Taglist: @whitesuitjake​ @kerryxgvf​ @gardensgatedaisy​ @shesawomaninadream @allieisacrybaby​ @writingcold​ @hayley1623​

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

[peacespun]

the road home was violent, dangerous, and sloped treacherously towards sudden demise if he were not careful; knowing exactly where to place himself for the aftermath. there were many times through the years where he made difficult or rather reckless decisions, some that put him far too close to death and he had to adjust quickly in order to keep his head. many more times where robb thought that he could make his choices work, but the gods had a twisted way of showing him how wrong he was.

such as that night at the twins, when old walder frey began his toast. after the arrows pierced him deep ... sometimes he can still feel them buried underneath his skin, metal scraping against the bone of his ribs. he never would have made it out alive if not for his men storming the castle when they had, what few that managed to escape the carnage outside the fortified walls. he never would have survived the night if it were not for the special care taken of him, after one man threw him over his horse and rode off with him and never looked back.

they always said that death would be long and difficult. but dying was easiest. often the temptation had come to him in many forms: the ghosts of his mother opening her arms for him, ready to accept the child that reached out for her in return. his wife holding their baby and calling for him to come closer: he has your eyes, come see. and he did reach out, there was no denying that. robb stark wanted desperately to be with his wife and child; know the comfort of his parents arms as if he were a boy seeking comfort from the dark and the cold, the loneliness of his death. and if it had not been for the care and effort his men gave in keeping him alive, he would have welcomed his son into his arms.

surviving is the hard part. the guilt, the cold after they escaped back to the north and found a stronghold to wait out the bitter end. allowing people to believe that it had been the end of robb stark and his legacy, his march toward kings landing met with the end of three arrows and the butchering of his family. surviving was not easy. for months he couldn't stand without assistance, could barely sit up in his bed, much less move in any direction without searing pain or ripping his stitches. that was until stannis baratheon and his army, his aid and medicines they could offer. yet another decision to be twisted.

it was a long time before he saw the gates of winterfell again. before he could walk her halls and know the familiarity of home. when the stark children would come back to defend her, take her from the boltons and put an end to the traitors blood. and longer still before it finally felt true. robb stark returned home after the attempt on his life, returned with nothing to show for it except the scars and the further torment of his family.

only when robb set eyes on arya as they stood at the gate had he realized what had been missing, home didn't feel like home without all of them. without arya or at least knowing what had become of her. rumors only did so much, only gave him hope, and hope was not a guarantee. but when he saw them there ... pieces of a long strewn out puzzle finally fit together. his pain was forgotten, dismissed when he ran through mud and fresh snow to get to them and bring her up into his arms like he used to. then it was like home.

i thought you were --- i was there. i was there at the twins. she saw. the knowledge is enough for that ache to nestle back in, settling in the scars and his old bones. but robb will not let it distract him or get the better of him, not this time. he will not let it dictate this moment, will not let his sister go before he has squeezed them and known that every second was real. pain will come and go, but arya remains.

finally, he settles them down and places her back on her own feet and gloved hands gently hold their face. they look every bit like their mother, but he can see their father in her eyes too: they've seen things never to be explained and the horrors of the world beyond the gates. the stories she must have, different and similar to the rest of them, the parts of this world she must have seen. how close (i was there at the twins, at the red wedding) and all at once far apart they were.

" you are still quite small, " he agrees with a laugh. thank the gods that much hasn't changed. " i don't believe that will ever change. " then he reaches up and ruffles their hair. but he can't help but to bring himself back to moments before, her words to him as he'd bounded toward them. she was there. she saw. the way they looked at you... they thought you were dead.

a frown settles upon his lips and carefully hands fall away from her, grasping again at his thick fur coat and pulling it tighter around his body. " i didn't know... i didn't know you were there that night. if i had, i would've protected you from it. i never would've let you see... " the horrors that had come out of the twins. what little he was privy to outside of the walls that night, what he witnessed with his own eyes before it all blurred together .... " i'm sorry. "

          ARYA  STARK  ARRIVED  IN  WESTEROS  WITH  ONE  THOUGHT  ON  THEIR  MIND,  WINTER  WAS  COMING  FOR  HOUSE  FREY.  The  girl  that  had  left  Westeros  was  just  clever  enough  to  survive,  the  one  that  returned  had  trained  with  the  deadliest  group  of  assassins  known  to  the  world.  They  planned  to  bring  everyone  that  betrayed  House  Stark  to  the  god  of  death.  The  Faceless  Men  requires  a  detachment  from  all  politics  and  personal  vendetta.  The  young  Stark  had  tried  to  move  on,  tried  to  let  go  of  the  anger  that  filled  their  veins,  the  thirst  for  vengeance  that  consumed  them.  They  had  hoped  that  within  the  walls  of  the  House  of  Black  and  White,  on  foreign  soil,  where  the  Stark  name  was  hardly  ever  said,  they  could  become  something  new.  Forget  the  past.  Become  No  One.  Such  was  not  their  luck.  Arya  Stark  was  a  stubborn  girl.

          No  Matter  how  hard  they  tried  they  couldn't  forget  the  sound  of  their  father's  head  falling,  crows  flying  in  the  sky,  Sansa's  hair  done  up  in  Lannister  styles,  the  way  Grey  Wind  looked  them,  pleading  for  help  through  the  bars  of  the  cage  before  he  shot.  How  Arya  was  minutes  away  from  the  Red  Wedding  massacre that  claimed  her  mother,  Robb,  and  a  most  of  the  Northern  Army.  Not  to  mention  all  the  things  Arya  didn't  yet  know,  Jon's  death  &  Sansa's  life.

          The  Freys  were  always  going  to  be  Arya's  first  target.  As  soon  as  their  feet  touched  the  soil,  she  headed  for  The  Twins.  The  plan  took  a  few  days  to  execute.  One  by  one  the  pieces  being  to  fall  into  place.  Two  of  Old  Walder's  sons  are  killed.  Then  the  Lord  himself,  but  no  one  will  ever  know  that  he  died  days  earlier,  and  finally  all  of  the  men  of  House  Frey  at  feast  a  few  nights  later.  One  message  was  left  behind.  When  people  ask  what  happened  here,  tell  them  that  WINTER  CAME  FOR  HOUSE  FREY.

          The  story  seemed  to  travel  faster  than  Arya  could.  Every  Inn  they  stopped  in  had  a  different  version  of  the  story,  every  patron  had  a  different  theory.  It  was  the  ghost  of  Catelyn  Stark  that  drove  someone  mad.  It  was  just  a  batch  of  bad  wine.  No  bad  meet.  No  it  was  Arya  Stark  and  her  direwolf  pack.  That  was  their  favorite.  It  brought  a  smile  to  their  lips  as  they  chowed  down  on  some  stew.

          The  journey  was  long  but  eventually  they  made  it  to  Winterfell,  to  their  family  ...  to  more  family  than  they  were  expecting.  Standing  in  the  cold,  with  furs  wrapped  around  him,  was  a  man  with  the  unmistakable  brown  curls  of  Robb  Stark.

          Their  heart  skipped  a  beat  and  the  world  faded  away.  They  could  hear  him  call  out  their  name.  ARYA.  They  took  in  quick  gasps  of  air  trying  but  succeeding  to  pull  in  enough.  ❝ I  thought  you  were  — ❞   they  said,  eyes  wide  with  confusion.  ❝ I  was  there, ❞   Arya  tried  to  explain.  ❝ I  was  there  at  The  Twins,  at  the  Red  Wedding.  I  ...  I  got  there  late, ❞   tears  began  well  to  well  in  their  eyes,  ❝ I  watched  Grey  Wind  die. ❞

           Quickly,  shock  and  panic  turned  to  joy.  Arya  bounded  into  their  brother's  arms  like  they  had  done  so  many  times  as  a  child.  Each  step  propped  them  closer  and  closer  until  the  final  collision.  And  just  like  when  they  were  kids,  Robb  was  ready  for  them.  He  met  Arya  halfway  and  braced  for  impact,  making  sure  that  both  didn't  come  tumbling  down.  They buried  their  face  in  his  neck,  he  smelled  like  home.  When  the  two  finally  broke  apart  Arya  said,  ❝ Well  you  don't  need  to  be  too  generous,  I  am  still  quite  small. ❞