#the way I was covered in protective clothing head to toe trying to garden today and still only lasted like ten minutes

[artemisiatridentata]

the mosquitoes are EATING ME ALIVE GOOD GOD IM GOING TO FUCKING LOSE IT I HAVE AT LEAST 50 BITES JUST FROM THE PAST FEW DAYS!!!!! MAKE IT STOP!!!!!!!!!

[svnflowervol666]

Pinky Promise (dad!Harry)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Harry introduces a certain special someone to the newest addition of his family.

Author’s Note: Surprise! Here’s some boy dad!Harry on this fine week night. I feel like Harry is almost always written as as girl dad (guilty as charged tho), so I wanted to show the boys some love. I didn’t really call this one an ‘x reader,’ because this one’s mostly about Harry and his bub, but the missus is still there, don’t worry! I hope you enjoy and as always, feedback of any kind, likes and especially reblogs are super helpful to keep me motivated to post more. Take care and TPWK.

     The Styles household was always filled with noise. Whether it was contagious laughter echoing off of the walls in the kitchen, the pitter patter of pudgy feet bursting through the back door from the garden, or the low humming of the secondhand record player coming from the living room. The sounds were comforting, reassuring to those that lived there. While the ruckus caused by something like which Joni Mitchell song Harry should play on the guitar before bedtime or what color everyone’s nails should be painted each week might seem chaotic to some, it represented a kind of tranquility that at one point did not seem possible to grasp.

    But today, in the modest, ivy-covered cottage with a pastel-yellow door, it was quiet. The sun poured in from the two open windows of the living area, filling the room with a still brightness that only London could emote. Dust particles danced in the light, drifting along through their own invisible current. The beginnings of the city could be seen in the distance, visible in a foggy haze with promises of sweet treats and adventue-packed days. But no sound, as the newest member of the Styles family had commanded the attention and affection of everyone within its walls.

    “She’s so little,” the youngest spoke up. Although he was now technically the oldest. He outstretched his hand out to caress the petite foot that stuck out from beneath the periwinkle-colored muslin blanket.

    “I know,” Harry replied, watching the swaddled newborn’s toes curl in reaction to being tickled by her brother, “I remember when you were this tiny, too.”

    “I was?” he asked, scratching at his chocolate brown curls that never laid flat.

    Harry nodded in affirmation, recalling the early morning when his son had been born prematurely. He’d spent nearly ten days resting in an uncomfortable vinyl recliner beside his girlfriend’s, who was now his wife, hospital bed counting down the minutes until the nurse would give them the “ok” to go visit their bub in the NICU. Harry stared in awe at his newborn through the glass of the incubator, using the open portal on the side to reach in and stroke his cheek with the faintest of touches. He was covered in wires and tubes, surrounded by monitors and beeping machines, all tasked with keeping his underdeveloped organs afloat. It was the most pitiful thing he had ever seen, and Harry still has those nights where he’s plagued with memories from the hospital. While the day he became a father was most certainly the best day of his life, it was one of the most traumatic experiences he’s ever been through.

    “Mhmm. You were actually even smaller when you were born,” Harry prodded, playfully wiggling his eyebrows at him.

    “No I wasn’t! the toddler jabbed back, crinkling his nose up at his parents, his aquamarine colored eyes turning into tiny slits on either side.

    “Umm, yes you were,” Harry’s wife replied with a chuckle from where she sat beside the rest of her family on the couch, “We bought the tiniest size clothes we could find and they still didn’t fit your teeny little bum.”

    The boy sat confused, trying to comprehend how a person could be smaller than his sister, let alone be so tiny that clothes didn’t even fit them.

    “Well, I’m big now. Right?”

    “Much bigger,” Harry reassured him, “But now that you’re bigger, you have t’ take care of your sister. You have to teach her how to be kind and share your toys with her. Think yeh can do tha’?”

    “Yes! C-can she swim with me in the pool?” he stumbled over his words, overjoyed by the idea of someone always being around to play his sacred water games with him in his nana’s pool.

    “Not yet, bubba,” Harry laughed, tickled by his son’s enthusiasm, “We have t’ wait until she’s a little bit older. But I’m sure she’d love to swim with you at Nana’s when she knows how.”

    “Okayyy,” the boy replied, slightly defeated.

    “Do you want t’ hold her?” Harry asked, gesturing to the sleeping bundle in his lap, her puffy eyelids closed peacefully as tiny, sporadic grunts left her little belly.

    “Yeah, but I don’t know how,” he professed, his plush, pink toddler lips turning down into a frown.

    “’S alright, I’ll show you,” Harry then carefully shuffled from his position on the couch, turning so that he was facing his son.

    “So, first, you have to make sure you hold her head because she can’t keep it up on her own,” Harry started, reaching over to place the baby girl into his son’s arms.

    Unlike the last time, Harry’s hands didn’t shake. He wasn’t afraid like he was before, when his arms trembled as he took his newborn son into his arms for the first time, petrified that he was going to accidentally smother him or drop him and that the worst thing he could imagine would come true. No. This time, his hands were sturdy, protective over his new daughter as he was preparing to introduce her to his firstborn for the very first time.

     Harry’s wife looked on lovingly as his son took the baby from him excitingly, his left hand cupping her head gently. Her tired eyes were filled with love when he wrapped his arm protectively around her little tufts of peach fuzz in the best way that a five-year-old with mediocre hand-eye coordination could.

    “You also have t’ hold her bum so she doesn’t squirm out of your arms.”

    Harry took his son’s hand into his, guiding him to place his tiny forearm along the baby’s back with his palm resting on her diaper-clad bottom. When he was confident of his son’s grip on the infant, he pulled back. He made sure to hover over him with his brawny, tanned arms just ghosting over his son’s. Just in case.

    The boy was elated. His sister was warm and soft, and she looked like one of the stuffed animals that he slept with every night. He couldn’t believe that the person he talked to in his mother’s belly every night for nine months and gave kisses to each morning before nursery school was here and real and now she gets to live with him forever.

    “She’s so cute,” he spoke in gentle whisper this time, remembering what his mum had told him about being quiet around the baby so that she doesn’t wake up cranky.

    He was absolutely smitten over her. Everything about her was the cutest thing he had ever seen in his brief time on Earth: her button nose that sat perfectly above her lips, her miniature fingers wound tightly her fist as if she was ready to fight, her little tongue that barely poked through her mouth each time she yawned. He could stare at her forever if he could.

    Instinctively, he pulled her into his bony chest for a hug, squeezing a little too harder than he should have. The baby girl tensed in his grasp at the motion, the beginnings of a shrill whine escaping her pruney lips.

    “Whoa, bub. You have t’ be careful,” Harry intervened, loosening his son’s arms so that the baby rested peacefully in the boy’s lap again.

    “She’s fragile. You can’t squeeze her like that,” the boy’s mum reminded him.

    “Sorry, Baby,” said the boy as he reached down to press his tiny lips to her eyebrow.

    Her forehead wrinkled up at the contact, similar to one of auntie Gemma’s baby puppies, thought the boy to himself. He also thought that she kind of looked like one of the puppies too, but he kept that to himself.

    Harry and his wife watched their children interacted, how his son was brushing his thumb along her skull, how her face relaxed at the steady motion. They were already in sync with each other, already comforting each other just by their presence. They were both besotted with their daughter, but Harry thinks he might be just a bit more in love with her than his wife. Harry had gotten used to raising his son, while he taught him to be a kindhearted and gentle creature, there had always been a degree of roughness to which he interracted with him. His daughter, however, was made of glass, Harry had convinced himself. He vowed to do whatever it took to make sure she never shed a single tear because of him or anything else he had control over.

    Now, Harry had two babies. One boy and one girl, just like his family before this one. The similarities slightly terrified him. His son was soft and gentle and loving, just like Harry had been as a child. He was sensitive, always yearning to be held and touched in the way that Harry had when he was his age. His daughter, even though she was only a few days old, was already a stubborn little fighter like his sister. She cried her lungs out within her first few hours of being born, kicking and screaming until it looked like her face was turning blue. She hated the harsh lights that the doctors shone in her eyes and their cold hands that poked and prodded at her belly like she was a science experiment. It wasn’t until she was in the arms of her family that her wailing subsided.

    It was thoughts like these that felt surreal to Harry. He never saw himself as someone that could be in the position he is now. He’d always thought he’d be an eternal bachelor, someone who only ever stayed with someone for a certain period of time before everything inevitably blew up in his face and he’d be back at square one. He never thought that he’d be the type of person with a wife and a white picket fence and a slew of babies; he never thought that he could be the type of person who could be this happy.

    “Bubby, can I ask you to promise me something?” Harry asked as he scooped the boy into his lap, making sure the baby was secure so that the three of them laid in one pile on the couch.

     He pulled his wife closer as well, making sure they were shoulder to shoulder and he felt surrounded on all sides by the ones he loved the most.

    “What?” his son asked, peering up at his papa with huge eyes that resembled saucers, his long, dark eyelashes brushing his brow bones.

    “I want you to promise me,” Harry began, wrapping his arms tighter around his two babies, resting his chin in the crook of his son’s neck, “tha’ whatever happens t’ the two of you, no matter how many times you get into fights. No matter how mad you might make each other. That you’ll love her. No matter what. That you’ll always be her big brother.”

    Harry hadn’t realized, but his voice trailed off near the end. His voice was just above a whisper, so quiet that only his son could hear. He pressed his lips to side of his bub’s forehead, an attempt to soothe both his son and himself.

    “Can yeh do that f’ me?”

    The boy in Harry’s lap pondered his father’s words. His finger went absentmindedly to stroke his sister’s hand, astonished when her fingers unfurled from the tight fist they’d been bound in all day. He slipped his pinky into her palm just as her muscles relaxed so that she was now clutching tightly to his digit.

    He had no idea of the weight that Harry’s words carried. He had no idea of the thoughts of uncertainty that haunted Harry about never getting to this point in his life. He doesn’t understand the cruelty that exists outside the walls of his home besides the pesky little boy in his class that borrows his crayons and doesn’t give them back. He doesn’t know that other children don’t grow up in homes with parents that love each other like his do.

    He didn’t know any of these things, but he sensed that it meant a great deal to Harry, and he wanted to make sure that his father knew he could count on him for anything because he loved him with all of his heart and Harry proved that to him every single day.

    “Pinky promise, papa,” the boy responds, loosening his hand that was wrapped around his sister to offer it to Harry.

[funtimebunnyblog]

Could you possibly do a scenario for the pillar men and a s/o who’s extremely pale? I can’t go out into the sun for more then 10 minutes without being close to sunburn. I usually feel a little insecure about how my skin in because you can see bright blue veins on my wrists and arms and stuff. It looks freaky to me.

Oh Anon ❤❤❤

Let me assure you that the Pillarmen wouldn't be happy to hear you aren't comfortable in your own skin (no pun intended, of course!). Pale or not, they would be absolutely over the moon for you 🥰🥰🥰 In the meantime, let me show you how much they love you.

Pillarmen with an s/o who is extremely pale and burns in the sun easily...

(Under the cut for length)

Kars:

• Kars was very fair skinned himself; he always had been.

• However, he never had the fear of burning to a crisp in the sunshine (well, not anymore) like any Human.

• Being very knowledgeable on your race, he was very mindful of your fragile needs, specifically your skins needs.

• He was always happy to help you apply some sunscreen on your back if you asked him to or carry some around wherever you both went.

• However, he never actually seen you burn.

• That was, until one day...

• You had left early in the morning, claiming you wanted to get some fresh early Summer air by going for a little jog.

• Kars had some work to do upstairs in his study, bidding you goodbye and losing himself in his piles of paperwork as he scribbled away.

• You had barely been gone an hour, the sounds of your footsteps pulling his attention from his work for the briefest moment but he paid little to no mind to your early return.

• The door to his study creaked open and your voice was next to hit his ears.

• "Kars?" "Hmm, so soon, beloved? How was your--" He turned in his chair to face you, his words suddenly getting caught in his throat. He nearly dropped the handful of papers he was clutching at the sight he was met with.

• There you stood in the doorway, sheepishly tapping your fingers together as you struggled to meet his gaze. You knew very well what he was gawking at.

• "Do you-- uh... know where the Aloe Vera is?" Came the hesitant question.

• Dressed in a joggers tank-top and shorts, every inch of your visible skin was near to an angry red.

• It was as if someone had rubbed you raw with sandpaper from head to toe and just from the way you were standing he could easily tell that you were starting to feel just as raw.

• "Goodness, gracious!" He cried, ruby eyes burning holes into you as he got up from his chair, marching straight up to you. "What on Earth happened?!"

• You frowned, curling in on yourself stiffly, letting out a pathetic laugh. "I... uh... forgot to put on sunscreen before I left..." you explained, the red in your cheeks blooming with more than a burn from the sun. "I didn't realize it would be so hot out today..."

• Kars blinked once, looking you up and down with tight lips.

• He wasn't even touching you and he could feel the heat radiating off your irritated skin.

• Several painful moments later... you were seated in the bathroom, devoid of clothing.

• You were already so sore that getting your clothes off had been nothing but a painful struggle with you whimpering the whole way as the massive Pillarman tried his absolute best to be as ginger with you as possible.

• He had even briefly considered just cutting your clothes off with his brilliant bone blade to spare you the agony.

• Every line of where your clothing began and ended was laid bare, leaving you looking very awkward with the blotches of crimson skin gracing your pale, white body.

• You were quite lucky Kars was blessed with the ability to heal but still, you flinched every time his huge hands graced your raw skin as he worked his magic.

• By the time he was done you were only a little more pink in hue than usual; it was almost like a weak farmers tan.

• He assured you, however, that you would be back to your normal palor in a day at best

• He also made sure to take extra care to apply a generous coat of moisturizer to your skin too.

• "There." He sighed, carding a hand gently through your hair as he planted a kiss on your temple. "Please dear one, I beg of you to try and be more careful next time."

• Ironically, through all the time he had known and loved you, one of his affectionate nicknames for you was his "ray of sunshine".

• He was starting to think that perhaps it was better to reconsider and start calling you his "starlight" from now on...

Esidisi:

• For a man whose domain lied with heat, he was always more than careful to be sure you didn't get burned.

• Sometimes he playfully teased you about how very pale you were, often during the times when you were complaining about your palor, but you knew very well he adored you and your skin.

• He often compared you to a work of art; a beautiful statue of white marble. He deemed it fitting, as marble had remarkable and beautiful veins etched into its stone much like you.

• Many a morning you woke up giggling as he trailed soft, warm kisses along your milky skin.

• Once, you came inside after spending the afternoon out in the garden and immediately he noticed a pink tinging the skin on your back and shoulders.

• You hadn't gotten burned badly but it was still a burn no less. You had put on sunscreen but alas, you had forgotten to reapply...

• "Ow!" You jumped a little, you hadn't really realized you had gotten burned until he curiously poked you where it was sore.

• He retracted his hand when you cried out as if you were the one who burned him, tears noticably welling up in his eyes as your genuine pain sunk into his heart.

• "Oh, did that hurt? Oh my beautiful little flame, I'm so sorry." He breathed, he held back from hugging you (as much as he wanted to in that moment) and causing you further pain. "You've burned yourself."

• You really hadn't been exaggerating when you told him that you had the tendency to burn easily.

• Minutes later, you were seated in the kitchen, your top removed, with your Husband the Pillarman lovingly tending to your sunburn.

• You could tell he went the extra mile to diminish a good amount of the heat in his hands as he took care to press cold wet cloths to your irritated skin to draw the heat out of the burn.

• He hummed softly to you as he worked, shushing any and all painful whimpers you happened to make as the cloth graced raw skin.

• You shivered as he removed the previous damp cloth, replacing it with a fresh and freezing cold wet one.

• It was a feeling you could only associate to pouring water sizzling on a hot gridle.

• "Th-Thank you, Esidisi..." you sighed. Your back was feeling much better now but you knew by tomorrow your skin would definitely be peeling.

• "It is my pleasure, my sweet little spark." He crooned, reaching for the bottle of Aloe Vera. He planned to thoroughly slather the area with it.

• Unable to help himself, the corner of his lips tugged into a teasing little smirk. "Well, you always told me you wished you had a bit more colour to your skin. And now you have a lovely pink spot!"

• You rolled your eyes at his words, shooting him the strongest glare you could muster. "Hah."

• Though you intended it to come out as displeased, Esidisi didn't miss the tugging at the corners of your own lips.

Wamuu:

• "What do you mean by this?" The warrior had questioned you, his eyebrows knit together, when you had first told him about your tendency to burn.

• In his eyes, that should have been impossible.

• You weren't a Vampire and Humans could train themselves to harness power straight from the sun itself.

• How and why was it possible for you, a Human, to BURN simply by standing in the sun?!

• You did your very best to explain it to him, telling him about harmful effects of UV rays and how fragile Human skin could be in prolonged exposure to it.

• You even told him proper precautions Humans had to take to prevent this from happening and that you in particular had to take extra precautions.

• Wamuu listened to you intently, nodding his head through your narrative.

• He supposed that it all made sense and you were very pale after all...

• From that moment forward, being a warrior and all, Wamuu made it his sworn duty to protect you from the suns harmful rays damaging your precious skin.

• Everywhere the two of you went, even if there was just a chance of sunshine, he didn't want to risk it and ensured to have sunscreen with him (and more importantly on you) at all times.

• Apart from that, he did his very best to ensure you were well shaded when the sun was particularly powerful that day.

• More often than not you found him standing over you with an umbrella (that he may or may not have took from the Café down the street) or draping something over you to give you some shaded coverage.

• But at times when there was nothing else to cover you, he simply did it himself by letting you (and ONLY you) stand in his shadow for some coverage as he was considerably larger than you afterall.

• "Are you sure it's ok, Wamuu?" You frowned, not at all liking the way he instinctively twitched when you stepped into the cool shade cast by his very person.

• You knew very well how hypersensitive he was when it came down to his shadow and, more importantly, people invading it.

• You could already see him gritting his teeth to fight against his primal instincts.

• "Really, you don't have to--" "I do." He said firmly, stepping to the side so you were now fully shaded. He suppressed a shiver, standing as tall and proud as he could. "For you, my beloved, I must. It is my sworn duty to protect you in any and all ways possible and that includes protecting you from the sun."

Santana:

• Santana was more pale than the average living Pillarman (with Kars coming in as "2nd most pale").

• However, despite the fact that he was now an Ultimate lifeform and could now stand in the sun all he wanted, that surprisingly didn't change about him.

• Needless to say, you both stood out a lot at the beach.

• Still, it was comforting to you to have someone in your life who was just as pale as you were, being insecure about your painfully white skin afterall.

• Santana, attentive and intuitive as always, quickly picked up on your habits of sunscreen and your preparations to go outside in the hot sun.

• If you forgot to slather some on, he would simply walk up with the bottle in hand and do it for you.

• He saved you from getting burned a few times doing this.

• One day, Santana and you were walking hand in hand downtown before he stopped right outside a flower shop.

• "Ooh, they're pretty aren't they?" You said, stopping as well to admire some of the arrangements put out.

• Santana hummed, a small smile gracing his lips. "They are like you."

• You thought that he was simply saying you were pretty but no, his meaning ran much deeper than that.

• Wordlessly, he grabbed your arm, tracing his fingertips softly over the winding blue veins visible under your pale skin before pointing back to the flowers.

• The flowers had veins too; winding little lines that had been lovingly etched into their soft delicate pedals by nature, it was only a part of them that made them more beautiful.

• "You are like them." He continued, his eyes filled with warmth as he turned his gaze back down to your arms. "Delicate. Soft. Beautiful."

• Your cheeks flamed red as you understood, your face burning hotter than any sunburn you had ever received when he pressed his lips to the veins on your wrist.

• For a man of few words, Santana sure knew how to make any insecurity you had about yourself (more importantly your palor) melt away.

• "My flower..." he murmured against your skin.

[folklord]

3. winless fight

part 3 of HOAX series | din djarin x f!reader (au)

ao3 | my masterlist

summary: when you promised the Empire that you would destroy Mandalore, you did not expect that approximating your old friend would become yet another obstacle in your hoax. Suddenly, to know Din Djarin was to watch the death of your past plans and, at the same time, the creation of a faithless love.

warnings: this part is about war, literally. mentions of blood, death and injuries. emotional vulnerable din. season 2 spoilers. but don't worry, next one is all about romance | word count: 2k

thanks @mrpascals for the review <3

About ten Mandalorians stared intently at the Mand'alor instructions in the meeting room. All war strategies were taught by him in a didactic way and all questions were calmly answered. You were there for about ten minutes, waiting for your permission to speak. Bo Katan and Vizla often questioned Din about his tactics, but the two seemed to have opposite ideas. Din acted as a mediator between the polarities in the room.

"Can the Empire's presence be confirmed?" The Mand’alor asked, bringing you back to the present moment.

“I did a meticulous analysis. It was, in fact, a kind of BT-1, the ancient droid of Darth Vader.” All the Mandalorians began to whisper upon hearing the famous name, while Din continued to stare at you. “But that doesn't mean anything. The circumscribed initials are from a disabled imperial cruiser. And believe me, the Empire would not send messages or threats in the form of carcasses.”

Silence filled the room for a few seconds until Din’s voice echoed between the walls:

“You may leave. Kaya, please stay.”

It was surprising how everything was going according to your plan. Every person who left the room stared at you, especially Bo Katan - you already knew her from past situations, but her crystal eyes seemed to burn you when they analyzed you from head to toes.

Approaching Din after the last soldier left, you noticed that the visor was facing a specific place: Keldabe, the old capital. He seemed to have lost himself in his thoughts, so you decided to start a conversation.

"Din, if I may ask…" he turned to you, "Why are you so sure an imperial invasion will happen?"

"Because I screwed up Moff Gideon's plans." The tone of his voice as he spoke that very specific name sent goosebumps through your body. You kept staring at the helmet, waiting for him to explain even though you already knew what happened. “The child… Grogu was special. He is special… He was important to the Empire”

“Grogu…” you repeated the name, as an affirmation.

“Moff gave me the darksaber so easily, and laughed at Bo Katan's frustration when she saw me with the weapon that she wanted so badly… But he didn't care, as long as he had the kid.” His voice cracked. You could swear his eyes were teary. “But he didn't expect… No one expected a Jedi to save Grogu. Gideon shivered in fear as Luke Skywalker destroyed all of his droids, and he did it all alone.” The last word was said almost in a whisper. “The Empire does not dare to challenge him to get Grogu back, not without the saber that is now in my hands…”

“And you are sure that they will come because they know that Mandalore is already too weak to fight...”

Your words were chosen carefully. Din turned to face the board, and his left hand held a miniature of a Mandalorian soldier so tightly that you could only see half the helmet escaping between his thumb and forefinger. In that instant, you knew it was the perfect time for your next move because it was clear that Din took everyone out of the room to be alone with you, so he could be vulnerable. He trusted you enough to let you watch even the human being behind the tiniest beskar slowly slip between his fingers.

“Din, you saved my life… and it was so easy for you…” stepping closer, you took his hand between yours. The black glove was rough on your skin, but you didn't hesitate to draw small invisible circles over it with your thumb until Din was slowly undoing his fist. “I noticed, two different groups are respecting you and they are all fine… The child, Grogu, is fine” the miniature Mandalorian soldier was already a little crumpled, but you kept it on his palm. "There is no other Mandalorian with more honor than you."

When you finished the sentence, Din tried to remove his hand, but you pulled him by the fingers. The miniature fell to the ground, but the loud sound its fall produced was unimportant when you decided to hold his right hand as well. His hands were so big that they covered yours, but you found a way to fit them between your palms.

"I did what I had to do." His voice cracked.

“You did so much more…” you looked directly into the visor, trying to meet his eyes. “He wasn't your son and you crossed the galaxy to rescue him, you fought ruthlessly against villains to have him back… That's all Mandalore needs, a protector, a lover…”

“It was this love for him that made me less Mandalorian.”

The words came out with tremendous anger and pain. His hands dropped yours into the air, making you realize again how cold Mandalore's air was today and how he had warmed you. You rubbed your palms together to recover from the heat shock, while his last sentence still echoed in your ears. What made him less Mandalorian and yet worthy of the Crown? What had Moff Gideon not told you?

"Din, I-"

"Sir!" A child in mandalorian armor ran across the room to Din, leaving your words stuck in your throat. "Mand’alor, the Empire is here!"

His exit from the room was so fast that you almost didn't see it, and in the seconds you tried to process what had just happened, the first imperial attack came upon the skies: you saw through the window that the place you admired, where the children were playing yesterday, was already on fire.

"Kaya!" The same child who alerted Din called you, pulling you by your cloak. "The Mand'alor told me to give this to you." He handed a key into your hands. "He told you to take your weapons and go to the Great Room: Burc'ya vaal burk'yc, burc'ya veman."

The key was to the Kyr'bes Room, you deduced. Din had given you the key to the entire Mandalorian arsenal, unaware that you were the greatest imperial weapon - and you were pointed directly at him.

(...)

The next few moments went out so fast that you didn't have time to think. With the key in your hand, you opened the room and searched for your weapons. The rest of the arsenal was made of the kind of weapons that not even the soldiers could carry with their bodies and that would, therefore, also be useless to you. Din's voice echoed down the hall, mixed with the screams and doors being rashly shut.

With your weapons, you ran to the Great Room, the same one you were greeted in. Din was standing next to his throne, in front of hundreds of Mandalorians, all facing their Mand'alor.

“…and you know they only want me. So protect your ade, Mandalore's future must remain safe"

All the children were taken to a corridor on the right, and you noticed that none of them hesitated or cried. This was the most beautiful example of how Mandalore culture raised their warriors.

“We know all the strategies and we know that there are no better creatures than the Mandalorians when it comes to wars. But we also know that our weakness is in our differences. Don't you dare fall into the imperial tactic of playing us against each other… this is the oldest trick in the galaxy, and it always works.”

Din took his darksaber and walked across the room until he was face-to-face with Bo Katan.

“Someone once told me: Mandalorians are stronger together. This is the way.”

The huge doors began to open as some Mandalorians put on their helmets and took up position. The Mand'alor, in front of them all, held his saber in his right hand and the beskar spear in his left. You saw at the opening, the glare of the imperial bombs hitting the planet's ground.

“Aruetii! Aru'ela!” someone in the crowd shouted. You knew what it meant: foreigner, enemy.

Suddenly, the doors closed again. The rattling of armor echoed off the palace walls and all the Mandalorians turned against you. All the blood in your body was frozen.

One of them, in blue armor, came out of the crowd with a spear similar to Din's and pointed it at you, positioning it right in your chest. You almost acted on impulse and wrenched the spear from your body to start a fight, but Din's visor — highlighted over the crowd by the reflection of the darksaber's light — made you hesitate.

"What are you implying?" You tried to speak as calmly as possible.

"You entered the room confirming that this was an imperial droid. In the next moment, they are already on our planet. Aru'ela!”

Shit. Moff was a real son of a bitch. You weren't even allowed to take control of the situation… you were, really, just an imperial doll who needed to find a quick way out.

“Can't you smell smoke under your helmet? Your planet is coming-”

“Aru'ela!” this time, everyone screamed. Dozens of soldiers raised their weapons in your direction.

"KE'MOT!" Din's scream followed by the sound of the spear hitting one of the doors made everyone fall silent. In the next instant, everyone turned to him, except the man holding the spear, at which point was almost ripping off your clothing.

The doors opened again, probably on Din's orders, but you were too nervous to be sure. Then everyone shifted their bodies and turned their weapons down. The blue soldier with the spear ran the point down your neck, but without hurting you, just as a warning which you understood very well. When the entire doors were open, the crowd went out towards the battlefield that had become the Palace garden. It wasn't hard to tell Din apart from the rest of the crowd: his darksaber cut through every droid and every stormtrooper in just one try.

[...]

You were fighting for Mandalore. Everything you've done so far resulted at that moment when you decided to hurt the first stormtrooper - but this one seemed insignificant when you lost count of how many you'd already killed. You were an intruder, an aruetii, fighting for the wrong side as hard as your body and heart could - and you were already feeling the effects of that effort. Your now weak arms acted like an instrument of annihilation and your legs tried to find a balance between the bodies of imperial soldiers on the ground. Your entire physique felt like a death machine on autopilot. Nothing stopped you until you realized there were no more stormtroopers around, at the same moment when your eyes caught the glimmer of Din's darksaber against Moff Gideon's neck, and an imperial weapon bigger than an X-WING directed to the Mandalorian Palace.

From the distance you were, and the weakness your body was at, you couldn't see much beyond blurs. All the Mandalorians around had guns pointed at the Empire - which at that moment, as far as you could see, was just Moff Gideon and a dozen private soldiers. The instant you've managed to open your eyes again, the glow of Din's saber seems to have faded and you saw Gideon walk toward his ship. The imperial weapon was dragged into the cruiser, and everything disappeared into the sky.

When there was nothing else to distract you, your exhaustion took over. Your legs could no longer support the weight of your body, making your knees ache as you hit the sand floor. As you tried to draw in more oxygen, the right side of your body throbbed as if it had been burned. Sitting on your feet, you brought your hands up to your ribs, and shit, you were bleeding.

If there was anything in the galaxy that was divine, you'd be sure to beg now so you could at least get away near some body of water. You haven't seen or felt clean, natural water since you were a child when everything was still fine. In your dreams, you imagined your death with the sound of a lake in the background, but all you could make out at that moment was the sound of someone approaching you and beskar material crashing against some surface.

“Cyare… what did you do?”

-----

Part 4

@la-lunaluna @meetmwhallway

let me know if you want to be added on the taglist :)

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 30

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 30

Is she calling me? Lin Yan nodded his head in a daze. His mind was spinning, his legs were weak like he was stepping on cotton. The light in the living room dimmed even darker. Wind blew in from the window. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower and the cold wind made his head go numb.

"Why doesn't it look like you?" Lin Yan asked.

The little girl struck a big cross across the face in the drawing with a black crayon, a thick black bar slashing across her teeth: "Why doesn't it look like me? This is how I looked when I died."

"Brother." The little girl stood up. She tilted her head and stared at Lin Yan. Her head was crookedly rested on her right shoulder, but her thumb was still in her mouth. When she took it out after a while, the top part was gone, the nail chewed halfway down her finger. The girl grinned, her mouth full of scarlet blood flowing past her lips.

"Brother, follow me, follow me." The little girl threw the crayon aside. She tugged on Lin Yan's hand and dragged him towards the bathroom: "I'll show you what I looked like when I died, it was beautiful."

Lin Yan muddled behind her. He instinctively sensed something was wrong, but he couldn't tell what it was. His head felt like a steel nail was being nailed into it, throbbing intensely.

Why was the wind so strong? Did he forget to close the windows?

"My brother bought me new clothes and then I died, hehe. Grandma is dead, Grandpa is also dead. Everyone is dead." The little girl took Lin Yan's hand and jumped forward. The braid on the back of her head was tied with a faded pink string. The bow was coming undone and the long string was stretched out and hung behind her head. "Brother, you are dying too. I'll draw a picture for you too when you die."

"Brother, hee hee, come with us." The little girl pulled the old padded jacket on her body. Her head became even more crooked as if it would accidentally fall off. "Come on, hurry. We have to catch up."

His vision was distorted. The dark corridor looked like a giant beast's gaping mouth. Lin Yan quickened his pace and suddenly kicked something with his toes. Lin Yan subconsciously climbed onto it and went up onto a platform. It was so cold, so windy. . .

Why wasn't he there yet?

"Lin Yan!" An anxious voice sounded like it came from another world, a distant echo: "Come back."

It was a familiar voice. Lin Yan twisted his stiff neck and tried to look back, but the little girl grabbed his wrist harshly and yanked him forward: "It's too late, hurry up."

Lin Yan nodded and took a staggering step forward, but his foot didn't land on anything and he lost his balance and fell. As soon as he fell forward, a huge resistance suddenly came from his torso, aggressively holding his waist. The fresh scent of shower gel jolted him back to his senses as if he had suddenly awakened from a nightmare. He looked around in confusion and saw that the old movie-like dark surroundings had returned to their usual appearance. The little girl was gone. Lin Yan looked down. The scene in front of him left him utterly speechless, only able to suck in a sharp breath.

He was standing on the windowsill in his bedroom. The window was wide open, the curtains were billowing out in the night wind, rustling and rattling. Half of his body had already stepped out. Looking down the outer wall of the apartment building, the flowerbeds and dark shadows of the trees seemed to stretch towards him on the twelfth floor. Two hazy figures in the garden were looking up and waving at him. One was the little girl in the old cotton jacket, and the one holding her hand was the second was the soul that they hadn't been able to recover today, Second Immortal Gu!

"We're dead, we're all dead, and you're going to die too." The little girl's voice echoed in his head: "Hurry up, you have to catch up to us."

"Xiao Yu, Xiao Yu!" Lin Yan yelled out in despair. He instinctively backed away and slammed into the arms of someone behind him. The hand hooked around his waist squeezed tighter, spinning him around. The deep voice repeated over and over again: "I'm here, I'm here."

That cold body had never been as warm as it was now. Shocked, Lin Yan buried his face in Xiao Yu's chest, but Xiao Yu didn't reciprocate intimately. He immediately led Lin Yan down the window sill and closed it. He stared at the flower bed on the ground and frowned.

Lin Yan looked at Xiao Yu's profile. His serious expression made him almost forget for a minute that Xiao Yu was a ghost. Lin Yan pursed his lips. He felt that he must be really disturbed to come up with the idea of letting him hold him for a while longer.

After shaking his head to drive the weird idea from his mind, he leaned on the windowsill and looked down. The green courtyard was surrounded by trees and the tiled path was empty. Second Immortal Gu and the little girl were gone.

"The little girl and the old lady were standing down there just now." Lin Yan stammered. "They waved to me. . ."

"I can't see them." Xiao Yu's expression was serious. and he raised his hand to straighten out his damp hair. Raising his hand to fix his wet hair, Lin Yan realized that he seemed to have rushed straight out of the bathtub. His clothes hanging loosely on his body, exposing his marble-like chest. Lin Yan felt himself blush and hurriedly turned his head to the side to hide it.

"They're not like me." Xiao Yu closed the curtains. "Don't go too far away from me."

Lin Yan was silent for a while then asked softly: ". . . how are they not the same?"

Xiao Yu didn't answer. He took a deep look at him and abruptly dragged Lin Yan from the bedroom back to the living room and pressed him into the sofa. Just when Lin Yan thought he was going to force himself on him again, Xiao Yu let go. He picked up the ancient books that had fallen on the ground and shoved them at him. He said seriously: "Learn these."

"Dude, are you kidding. . ." Lin Yan swept through the pages of the books, glancing at a large string of unheard-of terms. He couldn't help but let out a pathetic laugh: "Putting aside the fact that there's no way I can get through all of these, even if I look up each individual word to understand what it meant, I can't become a Daoist priest in one day."

Xiao Yu was silent for a while and said lightly: "If I leave one day, you have to know how to protect yourself."

Xiao Yu's hands pressed on his knees as he spoke, his demeanour as tame and gentle as usual, but something seemed different. Lin Yan hesitantly asked him in a low voice: "Are you going to leave?"

"Haven't you been looking forward to it?" Xiao Yu replied coldly.

Lin Yan didn't know what to say. He raised his hand and gently touched his face. His delicate and cold skin felt like fine porcelain. He slowly rested his palm on his face and stroked his jaw. Xiao Yu didn't shy away, quietly lying on Lin Yan’s knees. Just when Lin Yan thought he was asleep and was going to take him back to the bedroom, Xiao Yu suddenly shot up. He spread open the book on Lin Yan’s lap and stared at him calmly, eyes almost sad.

"You really want me to learn this?" Lin Yan asked in surprise.

Xiao Yu nodded. Lin Yan still wanted to argue, but when he saw his serious expression, he swallowed his retorts.

The books from the online store covered almost every subject. Not only was there I Ching Feng Shui, the Five Elements of Yin and Yang, Astrology and Geomancy, Tomb Charms Guide, Qimen Dunjia*, but even calling back souls to raise corpses so they could continue their lives. Some of the books were reasonable and well-founded, but most of them contradicted themselves. The authors were shooting themselves in the foot trying to sound all-knowing with all the contradicting information. The more Lin Yan read, the more nonsensical it all seemed. He yawned sleepily. He had drunk three cups of coffee overnight and smoked almost a full pack of cigarettes without finding anything. Every time he wanted to stop. he was forced to continue by Xiao Yu's murderous eyes. He wasn't allowed to sleep at all until dawn.

*(T/N: 奇门遁甲 - a type of divination)

Feudal superstition kills people. People need to be selective about what they absorb from traditional culture. Keep the essence stuff and discard the rest. Lin Yan vaguely remembered his junior high Chinese history textbooks. He muttered that after years of atheistic education, he was forced to go to Liangshan* by a ghost.

*(T/N: 梁山 - this is where the Daoist heroes from the Water Margin were from. So kind of like a land of heavy spiritualism)

If someone really wanted to learn something, you can’t eat one bite to become a fat guy*. Lin Yan lazily lay on Xiao Yu's lap, his cold palm stroking his shoulders down to his waist. After getting used to the coldness of his body, he felt very at ease. Lin Yan huddled up on the sofa and all the symbols and phrases in the book appeared in his mind; so much Yin and Yang, the sun rises in the east, how to disrupt a nightmare, avoid bad luck. . .

*(T/N: 一口吃成个胖子 - an idiom that means basically it's not going to happen all at once)

He slowly nodded off as the dawn sky began to lighten.

The next few days were extremely hard. In addition to visiting the young Daoist priest in the hospital every day at lunch with Yin Zhou, Lin Yan spent almost all his time buried in a variety of old books. Xiao Yu seemed determined to train him to become a Daoist master. On the table were large stacks of white paper, each one scrawled with odd incantations taken from the books. Some of them weren't even in Chinese. He could only trace them with a pencil, noting the patterns and corresponding them with their intended purpose.

The worst thing was that he had no way of experimenting with the effects of these charms. Lin Yan lay on the table and stared at Xiao Yu's back, reluctantly thinking that the only thing he had as a test subject was this ghost. But no matter what talisman he tried, there was no reaction. After trying more than a dozen, Lin Yan's patience had finally worn out. He uncontrollably swept the books onto the ground. He slammed his hands on the table and yelled at Xiao Yu: "Are you fucking playing with me?"

Xiao Yu wasn't angry. He patiently picked the books off the ground, turning back to where they had been and placed them in front of Lin Yan. He stepped aside and looked at him quietly. Lin Yan felt like a dumb firecracker, extinguished by a pot of water before he had the chance to explode. It happened to rain for several days, the sound of rain and the sound of pages turning made the house extremely quiet. Lin Yan, for the thousandth time, wrote out notes on geomancy. Xiao Yu had more patience than him. No matter how long Lin Yan sat at his desk, Xiao Yu stayed beside him for as long as he could. Every time Lin Yan turned around, their eyes would meet. He had given up on the idea of slacking off. He lit a cigarette and continued to bury himself in the pile of books.

"You have been sitting here with me for ages, don't you feel bored?" Lin Yan sighed. "The remote is on the table and there's a notebook in my room. I'll teach you how to use it. This is also your home. You don't need to be so polite with me."

"There's some pens and ink. You'll have to use it yourself. You can write or paint anything you want. I don't have that kind of talent anyways. I won't be able to tell if it's bad." Lin Yan chatted up and laughed a bit. "It's a bit like filming a TV series."

He still didn't answer. The whole room seemed to grow mouldy in the rainy weather. Coupled with the chilly aura radiating from Xiao Yu's body, Lin Yan felt that he had become a mushroom growing in one of the damp corners. Before Xiao Yu could speak, he always liked to hug him whenever he had the opportunity. Now that he had regained some consciousness, he didn't touch him as much. He just watched from behind, the silence suffocating and making Lin Yan somewhat uneasy.

[maybeimamuppet]

the best medicine

Cady is very worried. It’s almost noon and Janis still hasn’t answered her good morning message. She’s trying to calm herself; Janis is renowned for being a late sleeper, especially on weekends. But she wasn’t in school yesterday, and they haven’t spoken or even texted since Thursday night. Something must be wrong.

She decides to start doing some math homework to distract herself from her anxiety, pulling out her textbook and grabbing a pencil from the cup on her desk. She’s working on her fifth problem when her phone finally pings.

Jellybean: good morning butterfly

Jellybean: sorry it took me so long to answer i’ve been asleep all day

Caddy Cakes: It’s fine, darling. Are you okay??

Jellybean: i’m not great

Caddy Cakes: What’s wrong?? :(((

Jellybean: i’m sick. that’s why i didn’t come in yesterday 📷

Jellybean: doc says it’s strep. had to get swabbed

Caddy Cakes: Oh no, poor Jellybean 📷

Caddy Cakes: How long have you been taking antibiotics?

Jellybean: uh since yesterday morning i think ?? why ?

Caddy Cakes: If you’ve been taking them for more than 24 hours you’re not contagious anymore. Do you want me to come take care of you?

Jellybean: u don’t have to do that babes. i’m all gross rn

Caddy Cakes: I don’t care, lovey. I picked up lion crap as my daily chore for eight years, I can handle a sick girlfriend. I wanna take care of you 🥺

Jellybean: if u really want to, cads. my mom and jules are out of town, there’s a key under the ceramic frog in the garden

Caddy Cakes: I’ll be there in fifteen 📷️mwah! 📷

-

Cady puts down her pencil and closes her book, heading downstairs and grabbing everything she might need to help her sick girl. Two different painkillers, the recipe for the super-awesome-cure-all-wonder soup her family always makes whenever illness hits, some medicinal African herbs to make tea with, and some soothing lozenges for sore throats. That should be everything.

Once she grabs her phone, jacket, and charger, she takes her bike from the garage, since her parents took the car to some convention thing. She texts them to let them know where she’s going and heads out.

————-

She’s so distracted worrying about Janis she doesn’t even notice where she is until she arrives at Janis’ place, hiding her bike around the side of the house and taking the key from the frog.

She heads up to Janis’ bedroom, finding her in the dark, huddled under several blankets, and with Pancakes resting protectively at the foot of her bed. Janis looks half-dead, her skin is pale and flushed pink with the fever, and her eyes are glassy and fogged over. She’s clammy and burning hot to the touch, and clearly in a great deal of pain.

“Oh, mpenzi,” Cady breathes. “My poor love. How long have you been feeling so bad?”

“It hit me on Thursday when I went to bed. I woke up yesterday and my throat felt like it had shards of glass in it,” Janis croaks out a whisper.

“You poor thing,” Cady strokes a hand through her sweaty hair, Janis leaning into her cool touch. “Have you taken your antibiotics yet today?”

Janis shakes her head. “Haven’t had enough energy to get water,” she explains.

“Shh, Jellybean, don’t try to talk, you’ll just hurt yourself more. I’m guessing you haven’t had breakfast either?” Janis shakes her head again, wincing at the mere idea of swallowing anything. “I know, darling, but you still need to eat. I’ll make something that won’t hurt too bad, okay? I’ll be right back.” She tucks Janis in a little tighter and heads down to the kitchen.

The Sarkisians don’t have a lot in their fridge, but enough that Cady can scrape up a decent breakfast. She makes some quick scrambled eggs and grabs a banana, those are both healthy and easy to swallow. Pancakes hasn’t been fed either, so she fills his bowl with some food for him to find before she fills a cup with cold water and heads back up to her love.

-

Janis is now lying on top of all of her covers, the fever changing her temperature every minute. “Here, mpendwa. The other pills are just ibuprofen, it’ll bring your fever down and help with the pain,” Cady says as she pours out one of Janis’ antibiotic pills and some painkillers.

Janis swallows everything obediently, grimacing at the sensation in her throat when they go down. “My poor sickie,” Cady says sadly, handing Janis the plate of breakfast. She must be totally miserable, she would usually protest absolutely everything happening. Janis hates feeling useless. “Can I draw you a bath, Jellybean? It might help your temperature. It’d make you feel less gross, too.”

Janis nods happily, excited at the idea of a comforting soak. She takes a small bite of her eggs, wincing again as she swallows. Cady kisses her burning forehead gently and heads to the bathroom, spying a bottle of lavender bubble bath. She turns the tap, filling the tub with lukewarm water. If it’s too hot, Janis’ temperature will go too high, but if it’s too cold it will just be uncomfortable for her. She uses entirely too much bubble soap, causing a large wall of foam to rise above the water level. Oh well, Janis loves lavender anyway.

Janis is just finishing her meal as Cady heads back to her bedroom, nibbling slowly at her banana. “It’s ready whenever you are, Jay. Do you want me to stay with you or wait in here?” Janis points to herself. “Okay. Has the medicine started working yet?”

Janis nods, standing slowly and throwing her banana peel away. She tries to walk over to where Cady is waiting by the door, but her knees buckle just before she can make it. Cady lunges to catch her before she hits the ground, pulling her back upright again. “Hate this,” Janis grumbles weakly.

“I know, my love. You’ll feel better once those antibiotics actually start working, I promise. Um, I put in a little too much soap,” Cady mutters once she’s managed to half-drag Janis to the bathroom. Janis chuckles weakly at the tower of bubbles, slowly stripping off her clothes and stepping in.

Cady scoops some of the foam and rests it on top of Janis’ head, giving her a bubble hat. “You’re so cute,” she teases. Janis just huffs, pouting and crossing her arms under the water. “Yes, I know, you’re my tough punk protector. But you’re also adorable.”

Janis shoots her a look that says “I can live with that, but I’m not happy about it.”

“Let me go grab you a towel and some clothes to change into and then I’ll wash your hair, I know you love that. Try not to drown,” Cady jokes, heading back towards Janis’ room. She folds back the blankets to allow the sheets to air before she grabs some comfy shorts and fuzzy socks, a thin tank top, and a hoodie to go over it from her dresser.

She bursts out laughing when she comes back, finding her girlfriend with the bubbles still on top of her head sunk down into the tub so that only her eyes and nose peek out from the mound of foam. “Alright, sit up for me, lovely.”

Janis emerges from the bubbles slowly, as Cady lathers her hands up with Janis’ signature apple shampoo. Once she starts massaging it into Janis’ dark roots, her eyes flutter shut and she gives a contented purr. “You’re just like Pancakes. You both love having your heads scratched.”

“He doesn’t like baths,” Janis says quietly. “And he’s a little bitch.”

“Janis! He’s your son, don’t be mean. He was guarding you when I got here,” Cady chides jokingly.

“He bit my toes! I was napping!” Janis insists hoarsely.

“Okay, that was mean of him. Look up and close your eyes,” Cady says, tipping her chin up and scooping water to rinse the soap out of her hair. Janis gives a pleased shudder at the warmth cascading over her head.

She goes for the conditioner next, squeezing out a little more than she needs and warming it in her hands before stroking it through the blonde ends of her girlfriend’s hair. She works it up from the bottom slowly, the excess giving her a reason to massage Janis’ scalp again. Anything to make her feel a little better.

Once that’s done, Janis lowers herself back into the cooling water, exhausted just from holding herself upright for so long. Cady gives her a moment to rest, telling her some stories of things she missed during school the day before.

“Did you know the way the football team hazes new people is with a taser?” Cady asks, prompting Janis to pop an eye open curiously. “One of the guys who sits next to me in sociology was talking about it. One of the other seniors has one and they tase all the freshmen on the ass when they first join the team.”

They both start giggling at that, Janis in particular getting a vindictive joy imagining the same jocks who used to shove her in lockers getting their asses shocked.

“And obviously your natural instinct is to move away from it, and he said the guy with the taser just kind of follows them with it,” Cady says, making them both laugh harder. “Like, they keep leaning or running away and he just goes with them.”

“That’s great,” Janis whispers. She pauses and then says, “I’m cold.”

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Cady asks. “Or do you want to get out?”

Janis nodded at the first bit and points to her once she finishes speaking. All she really wants is to be held. Cady goes quickly to fetch another towel for herself, coming back and taking her clothes off. She ties her hair up so it won’t get wet and slides into the tub behind her.

“Ooh, it is cold in here now,” Cady says quickly, adding just a touch more hot water to boost the temperature back up. Janis leans back against her and turns her head to tuck her face into her neck, inhaling her comforting scent of rosewater perfume. “Is this better?”

Janis just nods, trying to relax and ignore the burning in her throat. “Another story?” she whispers quietly, glad she’s so close to her girlfriend’s ear and doesn’t have to strain her voice.

“Sure, Jellybean. Let me think... did I ever tell you about the time a lion broke into my tent?” Cady asks, running her fingers through Janis’ wet hair and gently separating a few tangles. Janis shakes her head. “I was nine, I think. Some new cubs had just been born on the reserve and I got to help with the newborns every now and again. One got really attached to me, followed me everywhere like a little puppy. She was kind of the closest I could get to a pet.”

Janis looks very interested in the story. She always does, she loves Cady’s Kenya tales.

“Anyway, one night I was asleep and I remember being a lot warmer than usual, like I had an extra blanket or something, and I couldn’t move as much in my cot. I woke up in the morning cuddling this baby lion. She’d managed to hook the zipper on one of her teeth to get the flap open and just plopped herself right in my arms. I was lucky her mom didn’t eat me. They’re very protective, but she was just laying outside waiting for the cub,” Cady giggles at the memory.

“That’s cute. What was her name?” Janis whispers.

“Louise. My dad named them. They were supposed to be named Lewis and Clark because they were the first ones that would be living in a new area of the reserve, like the first explorers. But they turned out to both be female, so we called them Louise and Clarke instead,” Cady says. “I miss them. I think those two were my favorite.”

“You’ll have to introduce me someday,” Janis mumbles sleepily. “Can we get out now please? I’m cold again.”

“Okay, Jay. Here,” Cady hands her the cushy towel and pulls the drain in the tub, helping her to stand. “Your clothes are here.”

She dries herself off quickly and tugs her old clothes back on, Janis trudging through her aches and fatigue to dry herself and pull on her clean clothes. Once she manages, Cady leads them back to the bedroom, preemptively taking a hold of her girlfriend so she doesn’t fall over again.

“Do you want lunch, Jayjay?” Cady asks, wrapping a towel around Janis’ head so her hair doesn’t get her clothes wet. Janis shakes her head, popping one of the lozenges Cady brought into her mouth before flopping back down on her bed. “Nothing? You have mac and cheese.”

Janis pokes her head up at that, apparently having reconsidered. She hadn’t eaten at all yesterday, so she’s actually quite hungry, despite the pain in her throat. “Okay, take your temperature while I’m gone. I’ll be back in a minute.”

————

Pancakes follows her back to the kitchen, and Cady gives him one of his ‘diet’ treats and some pets for helping to take care of Janis. “Good boy. But stop biting Janis’ toes, you little perv. She’s sick.”

She decides to make the tea with the herbs she brought to go with their lunch. Janis isn’t a big fan of tea unless it’s super fruity, so she adds a lot of milk and sugar to the mug to cover some of the earthy flavor. She also adds honey, having to psych herself into grabbing the bottle and squeezing the sticky stuff into the mug, grimacing at the goo on the bottle and washing her hands quickly afterwards.

-

Janis was apparently waiting for her the whole time she was cooking, lying on her bed watching the door with her sad brown eyes. “I love you,” she croaks when Cady comes back in.

“I love you too, my bluejay. What was your temperature?” Cady hands her the warm bowl and rests the mug on her nightstand. Janis shows her the thermometer, the little screen glowing yellow and showing 99.0. “It’s gone down a little, the bath must have helped.”

Janis reaches for the mug, taking a cautious sip of the warm tea.

“Good?” Cady asks, coming to sit behind her with a hairbrush and some hair ties. Janis nods.

“You put honey in it?” She whispers, sounding a bit pained. “Good job.” Cady struggles with certain textures to the point of nearly fearing them, honey being the worst. Imagining touching honey gives her almost the same reaction as imagining watching someone break a bone.

“I did. You owe me for that,” Cady teases jokingly, gently brushing out Janis’ damp hair and twisting it back into two Dutch braids, slightly challenged by her side shave but managing regardless. “Now your hair will be all curly like mine.”

Janis touches one of the braids, playing with the elastic at the bottom. She points to her desk, where Cady sees a notebook resting. She goes to grab it and a pen; Janis’ throat must be hurting too much to speak again.

“When did you learn how to braid like this?” Janis writes.

“I did it a lot in Kenya, and Damian helped me practice and taught me new stuff. He lets me practice on a wig he has. It’s fun,” Cady explains. Janis gives a nod of understanding. Cady realizes something after a second. “Hey, do you want to learn some more sign language? Now is kind of a perfect time.”

Another nod. “Okay, write down something you need or want and I’ll show you the sign for it.”

Janis writes, “Snuggles?” and blinks at her hopefully.

“Aww. Of course, mpenzi. That looks like this, by the way,” Cady says, making a sort of peace sign with her first two fingers bent back, resting it on the back of her other hand. Janis copies the motion, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Yeah, just bend your wrist back a little more. There! Okay, you can take some more medicine and come here.”

Janis swallows a few tylenol with what’s left of her tea before letting Cady pull her in. Cady lies on her back, pulling Janis to rest on top of her with her head on her shoulder and face tucked into her neck. “Comfy?”

Janis nods. “Will you read to me?” She mumbles shyly.

“Sure, my love. Which one?”

Janis leans over to grab Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children from her nightstand before cuddling back into her. Cady kicks the blanket up over them with her feet, tugging it tightly around her girlfriend’s shoulders as she opens the book.

“I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen.” Cady reads, Janis listening intently even though she’s read it several times before.

Cady kisses her still-warm forehead gently before continuing. By the time Jacob winds up in Wales, Janis’ breathing evens out and she can hear a faint whistling sound with every breath. She dog-ears the page (knowing that Janis is very pro-dog earing) and continues reading silently to herself as she eats her own lunch; it’s an interesting story. Once the light from the setting sun just barely starts stealing in through the window, Cady decides to get started making the soup.

She very delicately shifts Janis off of her and tucks her in again, Janis grumbling crankily in her sleep for a second at the removal of cuddles. Cady leans in and pecks her nose before she goes, giggling quietly as it crinkles like a bunny’s.

She pads down to the kitchen quietly to work on the soup, tiptoeing so as not to wake Janis. The Heron’s super-awesome-cure-all-wonder soup is actually just chicken noodle soup, but a really delicious homemade variety with some extra spices. Cady is lucky Juliana likes to cook, they have everything she needs except the chicken and vegetables.

She decides to check with Damian first, he lives closer than the grocery store is and she doesn’t want to leave Janis alone for too long.

africabytoto: Hey Damian, do you happen to have any chicken and carrots and celery at your place? Janis is sick and I wanna make her some soup 📷 all she has is dino nuggets and frozen peas

sashafierce: Aww poor Jan

sashafierce: Let me check. What did she catch?

africabytoto: Strep throat. She’s miserable, I hate to see her like this 📷

sashafierce: She got strep all the time when we were kids, she hasn’t had it in a while. Poor thing :(

sashafierce: You’re in luck little slice, we do indeed have your poultry and veggies

africabytoto: Oh yay thank you!!!!!! I’ll be over soon, I just need to write her a note in case she wakes up

sashafierce: Sounds good :))))

-

Cady scrawls “Went to grab some ingredients for your dinner, be back soon. Text if you need anything, love C xx” on a post it note and sticks it to Janis’ bedside table, kissing her forehead gently. She feels a little cooler now, so the medicine must have finally kicked in again.

She grabs her bike from and heads over to Damian’s house, finding him waiting for her on the porch with a bag of goodies. He stands from his chair when he sees her, coming to wrap her in a hug.

“How is she?”

“She’ll be okay. She’s really weak right now and still in a lot of pain, but she should be feeling a lot better by tomorrow,” Cady answers, peeking into the bag. Ooh, ice cream.

“Poor Jan. She got strep all the time when we were little. Turns out she just had giant tonsils, she had them removed the day after her mom finally took her to a specialist in second grade. She hasn’t gotten it since, until now,” Damian explains, letting Cady go.

“I hate seeing her like this. She’s so tired and weak. But she is extra cuddly today, that’s been nice,” Cady says sadly.

“She always is when she’s sick. The only thing that makes her feel any better is being held, and then she pretends like it never happened once she’s better. She has to ‘maintain her image’.” Damian says, doing air quotes at the end.

“Sounds like her,” Cady giggles. Janis’ punk image was checked at the door when they got together, but she still clings to it desperately. “I should get back before too much longer. Thank you for this, I owe you one.”

“No you don’t, just tell her I said to get better and give her a hug for me. See you on Monday, Cads.” Damian says as he hugs her one more time and hands her the bag, heading back into his house.

————

Once Cady has pedaled back to Janis’ house, she heads up to her bedroom to check if she’s woken up yet.

Turns out she hasn’t, but she’s tossed her covers away and is spooning poor Pancakes, who looks like he’s just barely tolerating the affection. Cady goes to give him some scritches when she spots the tip of his tail flicking in annoyance, trying to coax him to stay.

She pecks Janis on the forehead again, frowning at the heat she feels. She scraps the note she wrote now that she’s returned, writing a new one explaining that she’s downstairs if Janis wakes up and needs something.

-

She decides to do the dishes first, scrubbing out the plates and cups as well as the pan and pot she’s used so far today. She probably should have done it earlier, but Janis needed her more.

Once that’s handled, she starts prepping the chicken and veggies, cutting the vegetables into bite-sized chunks and seasoning everything with the various spices. It’s designed to have enough flavor to taste even through a stuffy nose, so it takes a lot of seasoning.

She seasons the chicken broth as well, adding in the noodles and vegetables to boil. Pancakes comes trotting down the stairs once she puts the chicken into a pan to start cooking, licking his fur back into place after Janis’ rather aggressive cuddle session.

“Hi Pancakes, did Janis finally let you go?” Cady asks, checking the time on the microwave. “It’s your dinner time, too, let’s get you fed. Not that you need it, chunky.”

She picks up his bowl and scoops some of his food out of the can, giggling as he brushes against her legs and purrs very loudly. “I’m going as fast as I can, calm down.”

He dives in once she puts his bowl back down, munching happily on his salmon and turkey paté. Gross.

Cady cuts up the now-cooked chicken into small chunks, adding it to the pot and giving everything a stir. Pancakes hops up on the counter next to the stove once he’s finished his meal, sniffing curiously at the steam coming from the pot.

“Get down, young man. You had your dinner, this is for Janis,” Cady scolds jokingly, scooping him off the counter and back onto the ground. “I’d give you some, but the spices aren’t good for your tummy.”

She ladles the soup into two bowls once it’s finished, cleaning the dishes she used right away since Janis is still asleep. She finds a tray in one of the cabinets, grabbing it so she doesn’t have to carry  everything up in her hands.

The soup is warm, so Cady gets some apple juice from the fridge so Janis can have something cold to go with it. She makes extra sure that Pancakes isn’t around her feet before picking the tray up and heading back up to her girlfriend.

-

Janis is still asleep, on her back now and shivering slightly. Cady frowns, resting the tray on her dresser and heading to wake her. She brushes her thumb against Janis’ cheek gently, leaning down to kiss her forehead a few times. Janis’ eyes flutter open at the attention, and she gives a pained sigh.

“Hi, lovey. How are you feeling?” Cady asks gently, handing her the thermometer to check her fever. Janis gives her the saddest look and a thumbs down, obediently sticking the thermometer under her tongue. “Worse than earlier?”

Janis nods as the thermometer beeps, pulling it out as it blinks red at her. 102 degrees. Cady frowns at it before shutting it off and putting it back on Janis’ nightstand.

“I made you soup, it’s my family’s secret recipe,” Cady says quietly, as Janis seems to be showing signs of a headache. Janis perks up slightly at the mention of soup, looking around for it. Cady goes to grab the tray, settling in next to her and taking her own bowl.

“This is good. I’ve never had homemade soup,” Janis whispers hoarsely.

“Never?”

Janis shakes her head. “I always got the canned stuff.”

“Well now you have me. I’ll make you soup whenever you need it,” Cady says, leaning over to peck Janis’ forehead. “You should take your hoodie off. You’re burning up, my love.”

“I’m freezing,” Janis responds in her notebook, having leaned over to grab it off the nightstand.

“Freezing looks like this, in sign,” Cady says, holding both hands out in front of her and curling her fingers slightly at the knuckles. “The soup will help warm you up, you’re going to cook yourself if you keep your shirt on.”

Janis pouts but pulls it off, being careful not to knock her bowl. Cady finishes hers and leaves to go get a cool cloth. It’s still too early for Janis to have another dose of medicine, so she’ll have to bring her temperature down a bit the old fashioned way.

Janis has finished her dinner by the time she comes back, sipping carefully at the juice and wincing slightly with every swallow. She perks up when she sees Cady come back, finishing off the glass and resting it back on the tray.

Janis does the sign for snuggles again, blinking sadly at her. Damian did say it’s practically all that helps.

“Let me go clean these dishes, and then I’ll come back and cuddle you, I promise. Rest this on the back of your neck,” Cady says, handing her the damp cloth. Janis takes it and stands, the soup having given her just enough strength to get herself to the bathroom.

Cady takes everything back down and rushes through scrubbing them clean, leaving them to dry in the rack instead of doing it by hand before hurrying back upstairs. Janis has returned by then, looking so small curled up under her blankets.

Cady crawls in next to her, and Janis shifts to sit on her lap and cuddle into her shoulder. Cady rubs her slightly sweaty back gently, leaning down to kiss her cheek and adjust the cloth on her neck.

They sit there for a while in peaceful silence, until Cady feels tears soak into her shirt and hears a quiet sniffle. “Oh, Jellybean, what’s wrong?” She asks sadly, holding her girl closer.

“Don’t feel good. Hurts,” Janis whines hoarsely, letting out a whimper of pain. Janis cries a fair amount, but almost never from physical pain. She must be feeling miserable.

“Oh, mpendwa, I’m sorry. I wish I could do more for you,” Cady says sadly. “My poor love.”

“Medicine?” Janis asks quietly with another whimper.

“You can’t take any more yet, it’s not safe. Just a little longer,” Cady tries to comfort gently. Janis chokes out a sob at finding out she can’t take anything more yet, and has to continue dealing with the pain on her own.

“Please?” She begs.

“I’m sorry, Jellybean. You’ll get sicker if you take more. Shh, lovey, you’ll make yourself feel worse if you cry, shh.” Cady squeezes her tighter, rubbing her back again. “Damian gave me some ice cream for you when I went to get the stuff to make your soup, would that help?”

“What kind?” Janis asks tearfully.

“That really good caramel stuff you like,” Cady answers, wiping her tears gently. “Do you want me to go get it?”

Janis thinks for a second, wanting the ice cream to help her pain but not wanting her Caddy to go. She nods after a minute, scooting off her lap with a sniffle. “Hurry back?” She whispers, blinking her watery brown eyes pitifully at Cady.

“Always, my love. I’ll be right back,” Cady insists, kissing her red cheeks gently and leaving again.

True to her word, she comes rushing back in no more than forty-five seconds later, brandishing a pint of non-dairy ice cream and a spoon. She sits down again, pulling Janis back into her lap and opening the frozen treat. Desperate to do what little she can to help her girlfriend, Cady scoops some onto the spoon and holds it in front of Janis’ lips.

A testament to her illness, Janis accepts the spoon feeding without complaint. “You’re really feeling sick, hm? You almost never let me feed you,” Cady says, getting her another bite.

Janis just nods and nuzzles into her, opening her mouth again. She’s exhausted, it’s nice not having to exert herself. They continue this for a while, until about a quarter of the pint is gone and Janis puts the lid back on it gently.

“Did the cold help at all?” Cady asks, adjusting her grip on her as she leans to put the ice cream down. Janis nods and holds up her fingers in a pinch sign, signaling that it helped a little. “Good.”

Janis shuts her eyes and tries to rest as best she can, held securely in her girlfriend’s arms. Cady starts rubbing her back again and gently humming a lullaby, something Janis doesn’t quite recognize. She just cuddles in closer, nuzzling into Cady’s neck. She can’t quite fall asleep because her throat and head hurt so badly, but she gets close and rests there quietly for a while.

Cady kisses her forehead softly after about a half hour, telling her she can have more medicine now. She heads to fill up a glass with water and put the ice cream back in the freezer, handing Janis another dose of ibuprofen and another of her antibiotic pills once she comes back. Janis takes them thankfully, immediately swallowing them all down.

“I’m amazed you can swallow those with a throat infection, they’re absolutely massive,” Cady says, shocked at the size of the antibiotics. “I never understood that. Surely they should be small and easy for people to take.”

Janis nods her agreement, huddling under her blankets in a desperate search for warmth. “Stay over?” She asks pitifully.

“If you want, my love. Let me tell my parents and borrow some pjs,” Cady says, texting her parents that Janis is still very sick and needs her to stay, before grabbing a large t-shirt and some thin lounge pants from Janis’ dresser and changing quickly. She comes back once that’s done, pulling Janis back against her chest and kissing her forehead. “Get some rest, Bluejay. You should feel better tomorrow.”

Janis falls asleep once the medicine kicks in, held safely in Cady’s arms.

————-

When Cady wakes up the next morning, Janis is already looking much better. Her temperature is almost normal and she’s gotten some color back. She’d woken up a few times in the night, needing more medicine for her pain before falling quickly back asleep, but it seems to have done its job well.

Janis’ brown doe eyes blink open after a few minutes, the fogginess cleared and the beautiful shine back. She grins upon seeing Cady looking at her, stretching and giving a yawn. “Hi.” Janis says, sounding much less hoarse and pained.

“Hi,” Cady responds, kissing her nose softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Still not totally back, but better,” Janis says softly, protecting her recently returned voice.

“Good. I missed your smile,” Cady says. “I liked the extra cuddles though. That was the only good part.”

Janis chuckles. “Thank you for taking care of me. I know I’m annoying when I’m sick. I get so clingy. Whiny.”

“Love, you were absolutely miserable yesterday, you’re allowed to be clingy and whiny. I liked taking care of you, I just didn’t like seeing you hurt so badly,” Cady chides gently.

“I love you,” Janis cuddles back into her, kissing the spot on her chest she can reach. “You’re the best medicine.”

“I love you too. I’ll always be around to take care of you.”

-

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. please let me know what you thought!

first request fill is coming next week!

lots of love,

ezzy

[chromatic-lamina]

rascal: law and robin brotp fanfic

I have a lot of brotp Law and Robin in my fics, and one fic with them as a couple. I like the brotp interaction. Two cynical and supportive friends, but the writing is mostly in my multi-chaptered works, which are dark or canon divergent or both.

Anyway, I’m going to include an excerpt below. Robin’s painting Law’s toenails while they both chat about current and past loss and love. It’s from a three-chapter work that I don’t think will make much sense without knowing the rest of the world that it comes from, but hopefully this interchange can be followed and strikes a chord with some. I know the LawBin fans are thirsty. Post canon with canon-verse history and elements. This is an older piece.

🐞

Law sat back in the garden recliner in Robin’s backyard, a book over his face. He wasn’t in danger of burning easily in the late morning sun, but had no intention of making himself prey to melanoma. Robin perched on the edge of the recliner, holding one of Law's feet.

He'd spent the night at Robin’s in anticipation of the tea-towel convention they'd be visiting today. She’d spent the night trying to share his enthusiasm as he sat, tattooed arms spread on the table, poring over catalogues. His inked hands pointed out designs featuring disproportionate tulip-ensconced windmills, and disembodied body parts that had less to do with Dali and more to do with morticians.

She assumed all the creators were outliers. Commemorative tea-towels hadn’t quite taken the art world by storm yet, but they did remind her a little of Ryuunosuke, the very cute but badly drawn dragon that had struggled and succeeded in taking them all to the top of Zou. 

That was last night though and now, soon, they’d head off to gossip and gander with the convention organisers, the Dishcloth Dames, once she’d made Law pretty.

“These are so cute.” She pulled at the few black gnarly hairs curled on Law’s left big toe.

“Freak,” Law mumbled, moving his foot.

Robin laughed, righted Law’s foot and wiped the brush over the nail of his big toe.

“When did you last clip these?”

“What’s it to you? You’re the one who wanted to dress me up.”

“You’re the one who’s letting me. You’ve got old man’s feet, by the way.”

Law arched his bridge and Robin slapped it, held it down.

“The sexy surgeon’s pedes don’t please? You said they were cute?”

She studied languages. She had no difficulty with Law’s fancy Latin terms.

“Mmm. I wouldn’t go that far. But I guess you got those tattoos to distract from your tootsies.”

The ink on the bridges of his feet matched that on the back of his hands. She felt the arc of the bone against her palm as she admired the designs, although it was one of the more simple ones to adorn Law and, historically, definitely not his favourite.

“And yet, there you are, making them all presentable and shit.”

“Does Marco like them?”

“He’s got his kinks.”

“And . . . ?”

“They remain in the bedroom,” Law grinned. At times he thought the Phoenix liked every part of his body, though they’d never had a deep conversation about those particular extremities.

“Ah, you’re no fun.”

“I’ve been told.”

Law felt her move to the next digit.

“What colour are you painting them?”

“Tch.”

As if it could be anything but black.

“Well, you sent Chopper out for the colour once,” Law said to her silence.

Bubble gum. Robin snickered, remembering. Law peered at her from under his book, her shoulders rose and fell with laughter. He liked that violet t-shirt.

.

Law seemed so disinterested, and therefore, Robin guessed very trusting, when she or anyone else painted his nails. He usually paid little attention to the colour, or even the action. It was something that pleased those who found it amusing to decorate him. Just so long as they let him read whatever he was researching, he indulged them. A small compromise for a larger gain.

No way in hell could someone he didn’t trust do this, though it had been done. Robin knew that trust was hard won. Law told himself that he let them all think he was vain this way so he could go for their jugulars some other time. Plus, he liked giving the Dishcloth Dames even more to gossip about.

.

Thinking of Chopper, Law laughed as if the sound was rationed—a clipped exhalation. The tanuki reminded him of his navigator.

“Bepo. Lord, Bepo got it into his head once to paint me. Maybe he wanted to practice so he could surprise some lucky Mink in the future, and who better to be his chump than his ferocious captain?”

Robin turned to him for a second, curious, before proceeding to the next toe. Her extra hands manipulated Law’s foot for the best access. Law’s own hand kept the book in place. She liked that silver band he sometimes wore on his wrist—a solid link—a flash of sky reflected in the metal.

“His fine motor skills aren’t the best. You’ve seen his maps. Shachi and Penguin thought I’d amputated my own toes without the benefit of a Room.” A rumble lifted Law's chest and then dissolved. He smiled easily. The book didn’t cover all of his face.  “He even dabbed a paw print on my heel.”

“He chose red?” She loved that flash of teeth.

“Mmm. So. I guess it’s black?”

Robin finished the last toenail and told him not to move his feet about for a while. She then drew up the recliner next to his, lay on it, leant on her side and looked across. Law could be asleep for all she knew.

.

“Oi, talk to me endling. Of course it’s black.”

Law’s lips twitched. Only Robin could get away with that.

“So needy, terminarch. How am I meant to do that without moving?”

They may as well have just called each other Flevance and Ohara. They did at times, but neither could be feeling too off-colour when they did, or the devil fruits would come out to play. The town names as nomenclatures were off-limits to anyone else.

“Take that book off your face at least. I know you can’t read it like that.”

“Your makeup bag’s not nearby, is it?”

“Just the toes today, Dr. Death.”

Good. He was only happy for modification to go so far. He sighed, grumbled, but lifted a hand and picked the book up by its spine, and rested it—still spreadeagled—on his chest. He blinked into the sun, then tipped his head her way. Not the most comfortable of positions.

“Can I sit up?”

The grey of Law’s irises were sometimes shot through with gold. She wondered what his parents had looked like. “Give it a few.”

He turned his face skyward again, his arm over his shut lids.

.

“How about Luffy?” she asked. Luffy was before island living, before Law’s casual feet days. If they’d ever played around with nail polish, she’d never seen the results.

Law groaned.

“He approached my nails as if they were made of seastone, his hand was that shaky.” The softness in tone betrayed the annoyance in his words. “For some reason he thought a pearly pink would suit? Maybe it reminded him of marbled steak or something? Of course, he had absolutely no patience.”

Law scratched at his sideburns with his spare hand.

“He slapped it on, forgot to cap the varnish, jumped on me, bringing the sheet with him, or whatever we were lying on, wherever we were. It smeared over everything; our clothes, or more accurately, my clothes. You know, Luffy somehow always escapes his own chaos—and then he declared the whole thing stupid and boring, as if I’d dreamt up the activity and forced it on him.” Incredulity hissed through the back of his teeth.

He tapped his earrings. "Somehow the polish even managed to get on these. Nami-ya probably talked him into the whole thing for a bet."

“And you let him?”

Law didn’t need to look at Robin to know her expression; amused and bemused.

“You choose your battles.”

“Mmm.” Her captain could be quite domineering. She wondered if they were the same earrings. It wouldn’t surprise her. She’d kept the same jewellery over the years, but added to her collection with each pirates' haul. The ones that Luffy didn’t somehow swap for food.

.

She sat up and twisted her neck. They needed to get going soon.

“Phoenix?”

“Still trying to unearth his kinks?”

“Now that you bring it up.”

Law’s smile, the one Robin and only a few others ever saw, made her lips curve.

“I paint for him at times. I mean, my own nails. He’s got a lapis grounding stone, and his flames are blue when he’s in Zoan form. I try to match those shades—a balance between the two. Other times, I paint for myself.”

“Does he notice?” Marco had a grounding stone? But then again, they all had their talismans.

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t tell him?”

“Not always. Other things are more pressing.”

“Does he know you’re a freak?”

“I thought that was you.”

.

Law paused for a second. He tipped his face Robin's way again, his hand still protecting his eyes. How come she got to sit up?

“The dogs have never liked it. And you know, all that waste. It’s not really hygienic in the clinic either.”

“You operate with your toes?”

Law laughed. “When I do my hands . . . It’s not hygienic.”

.

Robin cast a glance at her back yard – the trees that offered privacy from the neighbours, the small pond. She enjoyed life in the New World now Luffy was pirate king.

“The dogs don’t like it, but Bepo can handle it?”

“Well, he’s a freak, too. Minks wear makeup, right?”

Robin nodded. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Makeup?”

“Being a freak.”

“To the contrary, some of my best friends are freaks. You can’t all be Chopper.”

Law calls Robin a freak and gets away with it. heh. Perhaps. Anyway, I’ll put the link to the AO3 story as the source (just edited it in. This post has been up for long enough).  It’s actually about dogs and links back to another story, and is kinda sad, and features Robin, but is about Law and Marco, and there’s plenty of humour too. If you want to read it, be my guest. It’s an older one, written a few years ago. T-rated.

[thetemplarscreed]

Comfortable Moments of Silence

Summary: Never once have I hesitated in killing any of these women and men. The task has formed me into the shell of a man I once was. I am a stone cold killer… or so I thought I was. Today is the day I hesitate.

Word count: 14, 605

Link to work on AO3 ~  https://archiveofourown.org/works/25556491

I reach the end of the trail. The air is still, and I am a hunter.

Winter strikes New York. The tops of the buildings are covered in white, making the entire city look like a new world. People are scurrying about, seeking shelter in the nearest tavern or shop while the blizzard rages on. There is no one on the streets.

As I look around, the insides of establishments provide an entirely different life of their own. I see people happily dancing and drinking in the taverns without a care in the world. I see townsfolk hurrying their children into their shared homes to protect them from the harsh outside world. Behind me, the sun sets, attempting to push its last rays out for the people to see them, only to be blinded by the howling fury of the storm. Fighting fire with fire. Nature versus nature; it is the cycle of life.

Master Kenway assigned me a task yesterday. A new gang has established its stronghold in Stuyvesant’s Farm, the Grandmaster said. Take them down, and make sure they never even think of laying foot in New York. A simple task, really. This is something that I’ve done since years ago, after leaving the Brotherhood behind. Blow up the poison vats; kill the gang leader; burn down the Assassin flag; hand over the institution to the British regulars. It seems more like a laundry list than anything at this point.

A good time to strike the Assassin stronghold would be now, but the blizzard makes it ever more so difficult. I will seek refuge in my home and strike at the crack of dawn. Pulling my coat tighter around my shoulders, I begin my journey to Greenwich.

Stinging. My cheeks are stinging as are the tips of my toes and fingers and the entirety of my body. Winters in the east are entire monsters of their own. Though I’ve lived in New York for all of my life, I still find immense difficulty in fighting against the final months of the year. I feel patches of ice forming on my face despite having pulled up my mask. I feel a mock sense of frostbite assaulting my body even while wearing three layers of leather, cotton, and wool. At this point it may as well be real frostbite. Home is only a few blocks away, I reassure myself.

Hush. Hush. Hush. Whispers. I hear whispers. Through the howl of the blizzard and the whipping of the wind, I hear an ever faint sound ringing in my ears. Hush, the sound says. It’s all too familiar. Those damned Assassins are after me again, sending their foot soldiers to catch me off guard. They’ll never succeed. I’ve killed them like flies. Where could this one be, I muse to myself. I stop in my tracks and focus my vision, honing on the haystack a few meters to my right, the rooftops above me, and the vegetation to my left. There you are, little rabbit. A bright red outline catches my attention. It is a woman, as usual. It still perplexes me why the mentor would send lasses out to kill me. I can see the smirk on her face. She thinks she has gotten me. I don’t blame her; if I am her I’d be just as smug. She doesn’t know that I can see her, so I continue strolling down the alley to entice her.

A loud “I’ve gotcha now!” joins the screaming wind as the young woman drops from above the skies. Before she can even land on me, I’ve blocked her attack, using my leg to knock her tiny form over. The lass scrambles onto her feet with a look of surprise slightly obscured by her locks. She gasps in shock as she tries to stand, only to slip on the snow-covered ground. I flick out my blades and position myself into an offensive stance. She slips once again and I take the opportunity to run at her and sink my blade into her flesh.

I charge towards the Assassin, hidden blades ready and all. Just as I am about to end her life, she covers her face with her arms. Suddenly, I stop. What is that on her arm? Momentum, however, was not on my side, as I fall on the woman by mistake and slash my blade across her arm. The lass emits a blood curdling scream which was drowned by the blizzard. Red. Red drips down her arms. Red stains my leather uniform. Red covers my vision. Immediately, I press on the lass’s arm, trying to apply direct pressure to stop as much of the bleeding as possible. She is fading away. Her breath is becoming more and more labored as her eyelids begin to flutter close. Her groans are not stopping.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, as I remove her grey shawl and use it as a makeshift pressure bandage. After carefully tightening the cloth around her arm, I pick her up and sprint towards home. After running for a minute or so I spot the familiar gardens of the fort. Once I reach the door, I kick it open and immediately bring the woman to my chambers, where I place her gently on my bed. I have to cauterize the wound before she bleeds to death. I reach below the bed for the medical kit then rush to collect a basin of freshwater and a fireplace stoke. Blood spews all over the white covers as I remove the now crimson-stained shawl. My bed is painted in a vibrant red color, like a blood sunrise. The woman groans in pain continually as her eyes close.

I tear a piece of her golden dress and gag her mouth. “This is gonna hurt,” I say quietly, more to myself than to her. In her state of delirium, she couldn’t possibly hear a word of what I say or even fight back if she wants to. I immediately place the burning hot stoke onto the lass’s blood-drenched arm. A scream tears through the night, louder than the one from before. A scream of a thousand people, more like. Suddenly, I felt the familiar sense of guilt wash over me: just like in Lisbon. I remind myself, however, that this is for a different cause.

Buildings crashing and burning, people screaming and running for their lives, waves threatening to engulf the city. It is all too real. I can feel the perspiration forming at the nape of my neck. Why does it feel so real? Why is it so difficult to breathe? Why are the walls closing in on me, the room getting smaller and smaller? I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, mentally reminding myself that those are merely figments of the past, that those events happened years ago.

The smell of burning flesh draws me away from my nightmarish thoughts. They help me focus on the woman. It is working; the wound is sealing. The blood, though staining almost the entirety of her torso now, is ceasing and drying. I remove the stoke and throw it into the fireplace before preparing the stitches. By now, the lass is unconscious, the pain having been too much for her form to handle. I place two of my fingers against her neck trying to find a pulse; a gentle but slow throbbing indicates that she is indeed alive. At least it would be easier to perform the operation.

A few hours, several stitches, crimson garments, and an unconscious woman later, I finally get to rest. I place her soiled clothes at the corner of the room. I will burn them tomorrow. For now, I must use the little hours of the night left to recover and prepare for the attack on the Assassin stronghold in the morning. I leave the lass to “sleep” on my bed as I have no qualms about taking the couch for the short night. Her silent, breathing form is so much different from the terrified and screaming one from earlier. I feel a sense of calm washing over me from simply watching her in this fugue state.

Some hair sticks to her forehead; I push it out of the way so it would not obscure her face. I do not bother changing my clothes as I walk to my living room. I sit on the sofa and release a sigh. Outside, the storm rages on, the wind causing a few tree branches to scrape against the window. It is nights like these that make me feel trapped. I am nothing but an ant in this big, cruel world. Yet, the presence of the young woman in the room next door says otherwise. This woman is like an anchor. She is subconsciously telling me that I have a duty, a purpose.

I normally defend myself quite well against these Assassin Stalkers, as they’ve been sent after me by the Brotherhood for the better half of several years now. Never once have I hesitated in killing any of these women and men. The task has formed me into the shell of a man I once was. I am a stone cold killer… or so I thought I was. Today is the day I hesitate.

The hunt has taken me to the forgotten edges of this world. Seasons pass, drawing me deeper into darkness, where I have found the truth.

Silence. Not a sound rings through my home. The quietness is unnerving compared to the cacophony from the night before. I lazily open my eyes and wipe away the grogginess. Taking a glance out the window, I see a faint glow of pink. The sun is trying to reach out once again. Nature reminds me that I must prepare for my mission. My feet, however, drag me into my chambers. Go check on the lass, my head tells me. And I do just that.

On my bed sleeping soundly is the girl. Her breathing remains the same as last night, not labored but not too slow. I check the wound; it has sealed properly, but in its place is a nasty scar stretching from her elbow to her wrist. A reminder of the night she tried to kill one of the most notorious Templars and turncoats known to the Assassin Brotherhood. A reminder of the night when she almost died, only to be saved by the enemy. I carefully reach over her body and for her hands. Her hands are delicate in their own unique way. Each ring finger contains the bleeding insignia of the Assassin’s Creed. The burn from the initiation is still fresh. Without time to waste, I leave the comfort of the fort.

The air is still. The silence pays kindness to me as it helps me clear my thoughts. I have to be focused in order to successfully take down the gang. Yet, my mind wanders back to the lass. Why would they send someone fresh out of novice training after me? After a man who has spent nearly a decade of his life training with and against both forces? Judging by her looks, the lass is probably four or five years my junior. Judging from her technique, however, she is decades behind my skill level. A fresh recruit taken in and sheltered from the evils of the outside world.

Before I know it I have already reached the border of Stuyvesant’s Farm and Greenwich. The stronghold is nowhere in sight. I’ll have to get to higher ground. Using the convenient rift next to the side of a worn-down apartment, I catapult myself on top of the building. There it is: the stronghold. The smoke from the hideout blends into the early morning glow of New York. Using my vision, I find that there are guards still on night shift: ten of them to be exact, all dressed in the same apricot uniforms. I can’t seem to find their leader yet; however, the snipers are still perched in their nests protected by the guard dogs on the ground floor. Behind the snipers is the flagpole and underneath that is the storage for the poison vats.

First, I will take out the snipers so as to not raise awareness. Then, I’ll destroy the poison reserves to create a distraction to lure out their cowardly leader. Finally, I’ll kill the sorry bastard and tear down their filthy flag. It’s all routine. I take a Leap of Faith and land in the pile of snow at the foot of the apartment. I have to keep a distance from the perimeter, or else the dogs will detect me.

No matter how many times I’ve rid New York of gang activity, I never tire of cutting down a gang’s flag. It is a symbol of failure. Of the dilution of the Assassins. One less gang means that the city will flourish. Before climbing down the flagpole, I take in the glory of post-storm New York on a grey winter’s morning. From atop, the city looks beautiful. The clouds are free flowing as the smoke from the Assassin hideout has been snuffed by the fallen flag. I see miles upon miles of buildings, all covered in white. Civilians are opening their shops as the day begins. I smile to myself as I jump down.

A squadron of the King’s men arrive at the entrance of the stronghold all wearing their red colors proudly. Their captain approaches me with his hand extended. The captain, powdered wig and all, firmly shakes my hand, “So you’re the soldier Colonel Monro wouldn’t shut up about, eh? Mr. Shay Cormac?”

“That’d be me, aye,” I respond. He should not be speaking so nonchalantly about Monro like that.

The captain gives a firm nod, “Well, I haven’t seen the city prosperin’ this well ‘fore your ‘rival. These gangs have been the goddamn bloody blight of New York.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Captain…?”

“Smith.”

“Smith. Captain Smith,” the soldiers around these parts know me quite well since their colonel and I had been so close, “well, sir, before I head on out, mind if I take a look at my organization’s funds?”

“O’ course not, sir,” Captain Smith says, “right this way, Mr. Cormac.” He leads me to an underpass where I spot a chest full of coins and silver sitting atop a mahogany desk. I thank the captain before heading over to check on the Order’s funds. With over fifty-thousand pounds and counting, it’s safe to say that the Order is more than capable. Before I leave, I take a quick glance around the compound to make sure no one is watching me. I withdraw a few hundred pounds. They wouldn’t suffer if I were to take just a fraction of the money.

In truth, I didn’t take the money for my own personal pleasures. I have all of the funds that I need for basic survival through industrial renovations in the coast and the frontier. What I did need, though, is extra petty coin to buy proper clothes and medical supplies for the lass. I wonder how she is doing. Hopefully she has not awoken yet… it would be quite a shock for her to discover her residence at a Master Templar’s home; the girl would probably go into shock again.

I leave the now British-controlled compound and make my way to the nearest tailor. New York is known for its fine fashion industry, most of the fabric materials having come from mass illegal trading behind the British Empire’s back. With the ongoing struggles of the conflicts against the French and natives, the British have been increasingly neglecting their trading children, allowing for the colonists to freely barter with foreign nations and not having to worry about interference.

After a good five minutes walk, I finally find a tailor who specializes in women’s clothing. I enter the establishment cautiously. An elderly woman wearing a clean, blue-checkered dress and white shift stands behind a counter with a welcoming smile on her face. Her eyes light up when they see me; I assume she is eager for more guests. I return her contagious smile and approach the desk.

The woman speaks with a Scottish lilt that even Robert the Bruce would be envious of, “‘Ello, dearie! What would you be needin’ today?”

“Good mornin’, madame,” I greet her, “do you happen to have anyone available to craft a pair of trousers and a blouse fitted for a lass about my age?”

The old woman gives me a puzzling look. I don’t blame her. It’s not often that anyone sees women wearing trousers.

“Well, aye, actually, we do ‘ave some people who can work on that for you, love,” the woman says, “but, I do ‘ave a query: why on Earth would any lass want to wear that?”

“She’s a special one, I suppose,” I say before I can even stop myself.

Rather than interrogating me further, the old woman simply smiles, “That’s mighty kind o’ you to consider yer woman’s own style of clothes, dearie. She must be a real important lass to you.”

I remain silent at her comment while awkwardly pulling out the bag of coins.

“How much would it cost to get it finished in, say, two hours from now?” I ask the woman.

“You in a rush, dearie?” the old woman chuckles, “I’d normally charge for less, but considerin’ that prices are droppin’ due to the bloody war… I’d say that the job’s worth seventy-five shillings.”

I remove the exact amount of money from the bag of coins and place it in her bony hands. The woman gleefully takes it and places it in a metal safe behind the counter. After storing the money away safely, she turns to me, “They’ll be finished with yer lass’s clothes in two hours time, love. Thank you for stoppin’ by!”

“The pleasure’s all mine, madame,” I bow, before leaving the shop. Well, that’s one thing off the list. I take a look at the liveliness of the city and begin my journey back to Fort Arsenal. Again, my mind wanders back to the girl. A recruit fresh out of training like her has no means to be sent out to assassinate one of the most dangerous Templars. Thinking back at her hands, I subconsciously remove my own leather gloves. My hands feel naked without the usual garments protecting them. The cold weather immediately attacks my exposed palms and fingers causing a shiver to run through my entire body. I run my hands over the scars on each of my fourth fingers, the exact same burn marks that the lass has, the only difference being her’s were fresh while mine were forged ten years ago.

I finally reach the front door of my home, the all-too-familiar establishment staring back at me. I take a deep breath before entering, opening and closing the door as gently as possible so as to not wake up the girl. After removing my boots and weapons and unstrapping the belts on my coat, I slowly enter my chambers, where the lass should be resting.

I release a sigh as I spot a familiar form still in the same position from the previous night and this morning. Her eyes and lips are both closed; she is sleeping peacefully. I notice, however, that her cheeks have a reddish tint to them. I approach her and gently place my naked palm against her forehead and then against her cheeks. She is burning. Her body temperature causes a nasty contrast between both of our skins.

“Shite, lass,” I curse. It is no surprise that she would catch a fever after that attack. The rusting of my blade is more than likely the cause of the infection. Luckily with the extra funds (and the extra time), I can find her a doctor. Once again, I prepare for another journey: this time, to the nearest doctor’s office.

“Give her these for the next few weeks and she will recover in no time,” the stout and portly physician orders as he hands me a large vial of foul-smelling amber liquid, “remember: her body can only handle small teaspoons every few hours. Giving her too much will send her into shock. It’ll hurt her even more.”

“Aye, doc,” I reply, “is there anythin’ else that I can do for her to speed up the recovery?”

The doctor sighs, annoyance plastered on his face, “If there were, I’d tell you, man. Unfortunately, there’s not much that can be done. I suppose that you can have her drink plenty of water and keep her clean as her wound will prevent her from getting around the house.”

I nod, taking in the advice of the sour man, “Aye. That I will do. Thank you for your help, doc.”

“Well, it’s my job ain’t it, mate?”

“‘Suppose so.”

I hand the asshole the coin before he takes his departure. Finally. My head is pounding just listening to that sorry excuse of a guy speak for almost two hours. More pressing matters are at stake here, however. I turn my attention towards the lass, who is still sleeping, albeit a little cleaner. While she was unconscious, the doctor and I replaced the sheets and cleaned her wounds. There is less blood, fortunately.

Suddenly, a thought appears in my head. “Fuck,” I swear to myself. I nearly forgot about the lass’s clothes at the tailor shop! For the third time today I have to leave my home. As the door shuts behind me, I decide to take a more direct approach to the shop. I spot a peaceful mare roped in front of a tavern. A cheeky grin slowly makes its way to my face. Surely the owner wouldn’t mind if I take his dear horse out for a run. Without any second thoughts, I untangle the reigns and hop onto the beast.

I’m back in my home… again. With the light, fabric package tucked under my arm, I tiptoe into my chambers to check on the lass. I round the corner only to find that my bed lays empty, except for bloodstained blankets. What catches my eye, though, is a trail of fresh blood on the wooden floor. To my right, I notice a bloody handprint plastered on my desk. The window is open as well, inviting a cold, saltine sea breeze into the room.

“Fuckin’ hell, lass,” I swear, “you couldn’t have gotten that far with that injury and fever.” After placing the package on the bed, I storm out the fort in search for the missing girl. Obviously she thinks that she can escape given that I was not present. I climb the windows of my home in order to get a higher vantage point. Using my vision, I spot the young woman hobbling towards the harbor clutching her arm. A poor choice, really. No one wants to assist an individual beaten to a pulp, lest they wish to suffer the same fate from whichever asshole caused the mess in the first place.

Well, there was really only one way to bring her back without causing a ruckus. I climb to the top of the fort and use the trees to my advantage. After freerunning to an area of foliage closer to the docks, I load my air rifle with sleep darts. The lass continues to walk, albeit slowly. People give her odd looks before she rounds the corner behind a stack of shipping crates. Unfortunately for her, she would have to end up in the hands of the enemy once again. I take a deep breath before adjusting the rifle to eye level. Click. One shot and the lass goes down.

It has been almost an hour. I do not see any signs of consciousness in the girl yet. While she sleeps, I ponder about why exactly I’m even helping her. What can I do for her, really? How would the Grandmaster react to this mess? What if she is a spy sent by Achilles himself? It makes sense, actually: trainees are expendable… to an extent. However, I believe that I am asking myself the wrong questions. Who is she? Why did she join the Brotherhood? Does she have potential to join the Templars?

She looks so peaceful. Her hair frames her beautiful, rosy face like a veil while the sheets cast a protective shield over her. The fever causes her lips and cheeks to be accentuated, covering her face in a red hue. Her frame, slightly visible under the thin duvet, is that of a strong and agile individual. It is obvious that the Assassins have trained her decently. Not well enough to kill a Templar agent, but well enough to pass training and to be sent on ground control missions.

My mind is focused on the lass’s face and body before I hear a soft groan from the bed. Before I know it, I’m face to face with her. She is frozen in fear. Her working hand clings onto the sheets until her knuckles are white. I feel as if I should say something to calm her nerves; the poor thing looks as if she would faint at any second.

“Easy, lass,” I say quietly, “I won’t hurt you.”

Her lips quiver ever so slightly before she asks in a meek, coarse voice, “Wh-why didn’t you kill me?”

Ah, the question that I have been thinking about for the past few days and still haven’t gotten a clear answer for.

I dodge the question, “How are you feeling?”

She shakes her head in fear; tears begin rolling down her pink face, “No- you can’t just… take me in like this! Why am I not dead? You’re Shay Cormac. The Templar. The Assassin killer.”

The girl begins to bawl, “Why am I not dead?” I can barely understand her through the hiccups and tears. Before I can respond, she goes at it again, “Why am I not dead while the others are? Brothers and sisters working for our Brotherhood to seek purpose in their lives… dead! And at the hands of you people, nonetheless!”

I let her grieve for a moment. Watching the lass cry, I feel a sort of pain in my chest. The pain reminds me of a time when I believed in the Brotherhood as well. When I sought out their cause in order to fulfill my life. I understand her loss. For a time in my life, I believed that one had to be dedicated to a certain cause, a certain creed, in order to have direction and motivation, else life would be meaningless. However, those thoughts have long gone now.

As the lass’s tears dwindle down to sniffles, I take a chance and speak, “I didn’t kill you because you were different. You have somethin’ that the others don’t. If you’ll allow me to show you, lass, I would be more than glad to.”

The girl looks at me warily while rubbing her eyes. Eventually, she nods and winces at the pain, knowing that there is not much else she can do. “Alright, lass. Calm down,” I reassure her.

I slowly reach over to her clean arm. As expected, she pulls back, so hard in fact that she accidentally hits the nightstand. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath while hissing in pain.

I sigh, “I promise I won’t hurt you. Relax. Please, let me see your arm.”

Her eyes focus onto me as if I’m the bloody devil; she relaxes her working arm as I gently hold onto it, rolling up the cotton sleeve with delicacy. On her wrist and ring finger lay the fresh, bleeding symbols of the Assassin’s Creed. The blood sticks to my fingers.

I look into the girl’s eyes, “Tell me, when did they do this?”

She meets my gaze and answers in a quiet tone, “I was initiated into the Brotherhood three nights ago.”

If the look of disgust isn’t prevalent on my face before, it is now. I place her arm down and search for the medical kit.

“You know what that means, don’t you?” I ask.

Silence. She doesn’t say a word. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t know the answer or if it’s because she is too fearful to tell me the truth.

I place the medical kit onto my desk and remove the roll of gauze. Before I wrap her wound, however, I look into her eyes, “Now, why would the Assassins send a recruit, fresh outta trainin’, after a skilled Templar agent, hm? ‘Specially a Templar that has hunted down and killed several Master Assassins? You know what happened to Master Adéwalé, right?”

I can see that the girl has difficulty containing her true feelings. She knows that she is expendable, that she is a pawn. Yet, she is too afraid to admit it. “You claim that your brothers and sisters have joined the Brotherhood to seek purpose and direction in their lives. Is that the same for you, too?”

Again, her lip quivers. She’s trying too hard to hold in her emotions. Alas, a few tears slip down her burning face as she answers me in defeat, “I- They told me that the Assassins needed someone with dignity, honor, and conviction. That their Brotherhood fought for the principles of freedom for the people against the evils of tyranny. Yes, I guess you can say that I did join them for the same reasons as the others.”

Damn him. Damn Achilles and the so-called leaders who blindly follow him. Damn them all. The Assassins’ power is beginning to dwindle in the colonies and he’s seeking any new and sorry souls to join the Brotherhood. To him, they are merely pawns, dispensable beings with no other purpose than to supply the Brotherhood with numbers so that they can daunt the Templars. He and the other Masters don’t care for these trainees at all. And this poor girl is simply roped into the centuries old war.

“Now you have your answer as to why I didn’t kill you,” I say, “it ain’t fair to murder someone who doesn’t have as much experience as me. Hell, how old are you anyway, lass?”

“I turned twenty last summer,” she says.

“Christ,” I mutter in shock, “you joined ‘em quite late.”

“I suppose so.”

An awkward silence fills the space. Neither of us say a word. I actually enjoy the silence, as it gives me ample time to think of a plan. After the lass heals, how should I bring her to Master Kenway? Should I even bring her to the Grandmaster? The questions linger in my mind, though I push them aside in order to focus on her health. Hell, another thought crosses my mind: I don’t even know her name yet.

“I’m gonna wrap your burns with this,” I bring the roll of gauze to her eye level, “don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

She does not put up a fight and lets me wrap her arm. She hisses as I gently place the fabric onto the burn mark, “God, my head’s spinning.”

“Aye, that’s ‘cause you caught a nasty fever,” I interject, “after I wrap your wound, I gotta give you that cursed drink over there.”

Both of our eyes glance at the amber medicine sitting on my desk. I catch her gaze and try to get a laugh out of her, “Doctor’s orders, love.”

I swear, I see her cheeks turn even more pink at the nickname. It’s nice to know that the lass has a sense of humor.

“You seem to know who I am. Now, pray tell me your name, lass,” I say.

She tells me her name. I repeat it in my head a few times; it’s a beautiful name that’s well-suited for a girl like her. Despite the tiredness present on her face, she still retains the beauty of youth, something that has been long gone for me. My days working for the Order have drained all my energy, leaving barely any time for me to deal with physical appearances.

After giving the lass her medicine and cleaning her wounds, I depart the room to give her more time to rest, turning around to give her one last piece of advice, “You need to stay in bed. It’ll be a few weeks until the fever dies down.” I can see the look of worry etched onto her innocent face. I know that she’s terrified of what the Assassins would think if they are to find out what has happened to her.

I reassure her with a soft smile, “You don’t need to worry ‘bout the Assassins. They won’t know that you’re here.”

“How can I trust you with that?” she asks.

“Why’d I keep you alive, then?” I counter.

She doesn’t know what to say and remains silent.

I sigh as I get up from the armchair, “Get some rest. I’ll be right next door.” The lass shifts in my bed, getting herself comfortable before closing her eyes and drifting off into a deep sleep. I respect her. I truly do. It takes a lot of balls to go on a suicide mission. Well, what other choice did she really have? I would not have expected her to turn down the mentor’s orders; hell, I didn’t turn down his orders when I served under him all those years ago.

I can see the glow of the moon through my windows. It’s about time I retire for the night. I remove my boots and begin the arduous task of unbuckling the millions of belts wrapped around my body. After a few minutes of mindless undressing, I’m finally in a state of comfort in a simple shirt and pair of trousers. The only remnants of my day’s clothes that remain on me are my hidden blades. I’m not yet ready to enjoy a night’s sleep without them yet. I close my eyes and drift into an endless sleep.

“Tell me a little ‘bout yourself, lass.”

A few weeks time has passed. The girl is well on her feet now, her fever having been completely eliminated. Unfortunately, her wound still remains. Though none of the wounds are painful, they are quite obvious: she has a giant scar stretching from her wrist to her elbow. Her fingers are bleeding less, but the Assassins’ insignia burns brightly on both. All of her wounds still remain. Not only the ones on her arm and fingers, but the one in her heart as well. The betrayal.

These past few weeks have been difficult gaining her trust. I don’t blame her. Who would trust the enemy? She is only now beginning to open up to me. She trusts me enough to let me make her meals in the morning, afternoons, and evenings. She also trusts me enough to sleep in my home, albeit with hidden blades equipped all day and night.

She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, “What do you wish to know?”

“Anythin’,” I say while filling a cauldron with water and lugging it over to the fireplace.

She ponders for a moment before drawing in her breath, “My family emigrated here years ago. We moved to Virginia. My father was a tenant farmer while my mother raised me at home.”

I take a seat beside her after getting out the cutting board and vegetables. As I dice the fresh produce, I make brief eye contact with her, signalling for her to continue. She says, “We were very poor. We were constantly moving across Virginia and sheltering near slaves’ cabins.” Her eyes show her sorrow. Ah, her story is one of an immigrant’s: like mine.

“My father decided one day that enough was enough. He managed to raise enough coin through cash crops to move our family to New York,” she says with a soft smile on her face. The way she speaks of her father brings a familiar feeling to me, one that inspires warmth in my chest.

“We lived happily there for a while in New York. I remember, I was about eleven at the time,” she draws in her breath again, “While my mother raised me in the home, my father taught me real world skills. Soon enough, I learned how to pickpocket, how to talk my way out of situations, and even how to handle a gun and blade. At the time, my father switched careers and was working as a deckhand and ship navigator which allowed him to gain all of his physical knowledge and pass it onto me.”

She pauses for a moment. The look on her face tells me that she does not want to speak any further. I don’t say a word, hoping that my silence would encourage her. Soon enough, she does. The lass stares at the coffee table and says in the quietest voice, “One day, he was assigned on a transportation trip. He was to help with the navigation process,” Wait. Transportation trip? Nine years ago? It couldn’t be… “the crew didn’t know that there was a storm that day. I think you can guess what happened next.”

There is a moment of silence between us. Eventually, it is interrupted by her sniffles. She shakes her head, “I will never forget the day the captain came to our house and told us the news. My mother was heartbroken.” I so desperately want, no need to know if this shipwreck was the same one that I lost my father to.

“Wait, love. Before you continue, I must ask,” I say quietly while placing down my knife, “was the ship that your father was assigned to a merchant fishing vessel captained by Mr. Connelly?”

She gives me a look of surprise and answers the question, “If I can recall correctly, yes. His name was Connelly. I know that it was a private merchant vessel, but the captain, Connelly, was to share a part of the proceeds with the British. My father had worked with those Brits, Scots, and Irishmen for a while. How do you know his name?”

That is all I need to hear. I can hardly believe my ears. I guess the world truly is a small place. Before I reveal to her the coincidence, I wish to hear her entire story. I tell her not to worry about it and to continue. 

She regains her composure before finishing the tale, “Ever since then, it was only my mother and me,” she chuckles, a small laugh filled with venom, “work isn’t easily found for a single woman. She told me this, one night. This one statement. She told me: ‘Whatever you do, my child, don’t become a whore. A whore like me.’”

The lass purses her lips. I can tell that this is a sensitive topic. The most I can do now is offer my ear and shoulder. I do not know what women in her profession must endure.

“She died when I was thirteen,” the lass says quietly, “syphilis can be quite the killer.”

Again, a moment of silence. We seem to be able to share these moments of quiet together with little awkwardness. It’s quite natural. Two streams of tears flow from her delicate eyes. I so desperately want to tell her that it will be alright. I pick up the knife and resume chopping the vegetables. It isn’t until a few minutes later that the girl speaks.

“Apologies,” she coughs into her arm, “she was the only family I had after my father passed away. I made do with the little money that I had before it ran out. By then, the landlord kicked me out, after bargaining to sleep with me, of course. It took me a while to learn how to survive on the streets, how to pick pockets without raising awareness or how to hide in taverns and inns during closing hours. The years felt more like days, or even hours, to be honest. Until several months ago, life felt like a blur.”

I continue listening to her while at the same time preparing supper, getting lost in her story- or rather, the way she tells it. She really does have a way with words, weaving together a story like a distinguished poet. I can listen to her for hours. She inhales, “After seven years of living on the streets like a dog, a miracle happened. This man approached me out of the blue. I remember the day quite clearly, actually: right after I picked the pocket of a poor, unsuspected fellow, this brute in a grey hooded outfit slaps his hand on my back. I recalled my fear; I was afraid that the victim of my crime would have noticed. The mysterious man whispered to me, ‘Go pick seventy pounds worth of coin and bring it back to me.’ He had that musical Irish lilt, kind of like you. But then, I thought, to hell with that. I might as well just run off with the damn money!”

I know exactly who you’re talking about, love. There’s only one bloke that would go around testing folks.

“And that was exactly what I did. I picked the pockets of about ten different people in Greenwich before making a run for it to the countryside. I figured that the guy would make an effort to hunt me down and that this was how my life would end. I mean, the man was covered in weaponry and his presence radiated power and fear. Besides, who in his or her right mind would even consider asking a street rascal for money?” she scoffs at the last part.

A smile breaks out on her face, “Well, ‘lo and behold… the brute did track me down. In fact, he was at the abandoned farm before I damn well even got there! To say I was shocked was an understatement. Let me tell you, though, the guy looked terrifying. Yet, he had a sense of calmness to him. He didn’t look angry, even though I basically robbed him of seventy pounds. I’d go as far as to say that he looked glad. Relieved. He came over to me and said, ‘Congratulations, lass. You passed.’ I remembered being more confused than an immigrant in a foreign country. He introduced himself to me as a certain Liam O’Brien. From that moment on, my life was changed. He told me about the Assassin Brotherhood and how it sought to restore freedom in the colonies, to advocate, serve, and protect those who cannot support themselves. He said that it was the Templar Order which would guarantee the rise of the British Empire and the fall of the people. ‘We fight the Templars because we seek the betterment of these lands. Their belief is that tyranny is the only way for peace to occur,’ he said to me. Pretty words, all of it. I fell for it. I really did.”

I say, “Aye, them Assassins tend to sugarcoat the nuances of life quite often.”

She gives me a brief nod, “Yeah, and they’re damn good at it, too. Before I knew it I followed him to the Homestead, where he introduced me to the Mentor and the rest of the Master Assassins. Though, Shay, I wouldn’t say that their bogus rhetoric was the only thing that attracted me to the Brotherhood. The Mentor and the others provided me with a home. They welcomed me with open arms. I think that is what makes saying goodbye to them so hard.”

“I, for a time, felt the exact same way, lass,” I admit, “it, too, was Liam who brought me into the Brotherhood.”

She gives an understanding nod, “He spoke of you, but only briefly.”

“Bet all he had to say was bullshite, anyways,” I scoff.

“He said that you were a good friend, but that you were disillusioned by the grandeur of the Templar Order.”

“Funny comin’ outta his big mouth,” I say nonchalantly while bringing the cutting board over to the cauldron and throwing in the chopped vegetables.

She smiles again, “I guess it is funny. It’s also funny how he and the mentors decided that it was a fabulous idea to send me, a trainee Assassin, to kill you, a Templar known for his atrocities against his old allies in the Brotherhood.”

“‘Atrocities’ is quite a subjective way to describe my actions,” I retort, “”Justice’ is a better word to use.”

She does not look impressed. She sighs before continuing, “Anyways, a few months passed and all they had me do was train with the other novices and run small tasks in New York. Mostly eavesdropping missions. They claimed that my work was ‘vital to the destruction of the Templars and the British Empire.’ It wasn’t until two months ago that they assigned me to this suicide mission.”

I see the look of pain on her face. Her lips are ever so slightly drooping down at the corners, her eyes avoiding my gaze. It’s as if she’s ashamed to even be associated with them. It’s a special sort of pain, one that very few people can understand. I understand it. I understand her feelings because the Assassins did the very same thing to me. Sure, the procedures of their moral downfall weren’t exactly the same. The scenarios, though, are practically identical. We didn’t betray them. They betrayed us.

“What are you looking at?”

I quickly turn my head to look at her. She appears to be confused. I answer her, “Nothin’. Just thinkin’.”

“About?” she inquires.

“Us.”

She gives me a funny look. That came out wrong. I cleared my throat, “I mean- I’m just thinkin’ ‘bout how our circumstances are so similar.”

“Really? How so? Liam never mentioned your background any more than he did,” she pipes.

“Aye,” I reply, “guess he doesn’t want you knowin’ ‘bout the ‘enemy.’ I’ll tell you how we’re so similar. For one, you recall how I asked you ‘bout that shipwreck, aye?”

She nods.

“Well,” I say, “that very same shipwreck that your father was on… was also the one that killed my da.”

The look on her face. Her eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets; her jaw is hanging down to the ceiling; her eyebrows are scrunched up. I’ll have to admit, she does look cute like that.

I bark, “Careful, else you’re gonna catch some flies like that.”

She closes her mouth.

“He wasn’t the only one on that ship, either. I was there, too.”

She opens her mouth again, this time, her hand flying up to cover it. She scoffs and says slowly, “Y-you… you can’t be serious… right?”

“I’m dead serious, love,” I say, “yeah, that’s why I was so damn curious when you brought up that event. Can’t believe the stars have aligned in such terrible circumstances like that.”

She asks, “Were you a deckhand, as well?”

“Aye,” I answer, “my da wished to train me to become a sailor. He thought it lucrative work, at the time. Since it was only him and me, I was more than excited to accompany him wherever the seas may take us. It was actually where I met Liam, too. Before Liam’s father passed away, they used to work on the docks with us.”

She swallowed, “You guys really did go way back, huh?”

I smile and nod. It’s so odd telling a stranger my story about Liam and my father. Well, I don’t even know if I should consider the lass a stranger; after all, we’ve both been through some pretty damning things.

“I remember how rough the waters were that day. I don’t normally get sick out in the ocean, but on that day, I was throwin’ up over the railings!” I exclaim, “Winds weren’t the kindest either. We lost our first man through the winds. Swept him right off his feet and into the dark abyss.”

The lass scoots her chair closer and leans forward slightly as if she has trouble hearing me. Her attentiveness brings a soft smile to my face. I’m surprised that she’d even want to hear anything from a Templar, no less one that almost killed her. She waits for me to continue.

“Soon after, we realized that it was impossible to transport the goods through the god awful weather. We had to throw some of the shite off board. Connelly wasn’t too happy ‘bout it. After all, he’d be the one they deemed responsible for it,”I breathe, “when we shifted courses to head back to New York harbor, the mast broke. Unfortunately, one of the younger deckhands was almost knocked off the ship; he was barely hangin’ onto the railings. My father rushed over to help him,” I pause to glance quickly at her. She still has the same look on her face, a look of sadness. Sadness for me.

“The gales took both of them. Just like the other poor sucker. Lost in the abyss,” I say. Suddenly, she shifts her chair. She is closer to me now than I remembered before. The lass extends a hand and gently rests it on my shoulder. I jump a little at her contact; I am shocked, to say the least.

She ignores my sudden movement and instead looks me in the eyes with a gaze that meant only empathy, “I’m so sorry.”

I give her a soft grin and clear my throat, “Quite alright. Not your fault. Unless you have the magical ability to conjure up storms like a siren… which I highly doubt is the case.”

She chuckles at the lighthearted jest before rubbing the area between my shoulderblades. The look on her face has not changed. We both lost our fathers to the same storm... I don’t know if she is doing this for me or for herself. Again, we share a comfortable moment of silence. It’s so odd how we are so similar yet different. Our experiences mesh as if we are the same person. Betrayed by those we once called family. Losing family a second time.

After a few minutes I look at her and say, “What the Assassins did to you was wrong. It shouldn’t have happened. I don’t know what’s goin’ on through their bloody minds, but they are only making things worse in the grand scheme of things.”

“I know. Yet, I think fate has a unique way of bringing people together at the most unconventional times,” she says.

“I guess you’re right about that.”

Before I can even stop myself, I blurt, “I think I should take you to our Grandmaster.”

The color on her face drains making her look like a ghost. She turns to me with a look of fear like that of a child experiencing a scolding. She says softly, “You can’t be serious, Shay. I- the man’s going to kill me. On the spot.”

I poke back, “Keep in mind, lass, that I was in the same boat as you once. I was lucky enough to be saved by a British colonel working for the Templars. He saw potential in me and brought me to Master Kenway. And I,” I take her hand in mine, “shall do the same for you.”

She does something that I did not expect. The lass yanks her hand out of my grasp and stands up with enough force causing the chair to fall. She says sternly, “I don’t even know if I want to join the Templars, Shay! You can’t just bestow a fate upon me that I didn’t even ask for! Do keep in mind that I was only just betrayed by my ‘family’ no more than a month ago.”

I take a moment to ponder. I should not have given her that option too soon. Unlike her, I was able to adjust into Templar duties at a slower, more natural pace. If only Monro were still here. How did he do it?

“You’re right,” I say, “that was a bit brash of me. My apologies, lass.”

She did not say anything. There is nothing to say.

“Lass, I think, though, that it is worth your time to at least learn what the Templars truly seek,” I attempt to compromise.

She raises an eyebrow. I explain to her, “The Assassins probably assume that you’re dead, by the looks of it. Which, in turn, gives me ample time to introduce you to what the Order really is about.”

The look on her face shows that she is still skeptical. She asks, “You can’t keep me a secret forever. Eventually, your superiors will find out about me. What then?”

“That,” I say, “is a problem for another time. For now, I will train you. And I will teach you. Besides, where else do you have left to go?”

I can tell that the question catches her off guard, as she sharply turns her head towards me. She knows that I am right. Her only family has severed ties with her. They were the turncoats, the turncoats to their own followers… not the other way around. At the same time, her face shows one of relief. I see the muscles around her eyes and mouth relax as she softly exhales.

“You make a valid point,” she concedes,” Very well. When shall we begin?”

The boiling of the broth in the cauldron briefly steals our attention before I turn to her and ask, “Why not now?”

That my redemption is found in ashes. That I must burn away the past to set things right. 

The following months I spend training her. While the Assassins taught her the basic freerunning and assassination techniques, frontier survival skills, and sneaking patterns, she brings her own skill to the table: pickpocketing and lockpicking. I have yet to see a trainee master either skills so quickly like her. She tells me that she has a knack for both, as she was forced to spend many years on the streets. Her natural talent is evident.

Despite her adaptation to everything the Assassins have taught her, she still lacks the one thing that distinguishes the skilled from the dead: perception. Her lack of perception and awareness was what landed her in hot water with me a year ago. It is a natural ability that the Assassins rarely delve on. What she lacks in awareness in the senses, though, she makes up in dedication. The lass is one of the most dedicated initiates- no- people that I’ve ever met. I thought Liam and Hope were some of the most hardworking folks there were to be, but I was wrong. This girl has potential. Potential. Such a silly word thrown around by the ones seeking to bait those beneath them. I will be a different leader. If not for her, then for the future of the Order. I know that she will be vital for us.

At the same time, though, I don’t want her to join our cause. I don’t want her to align herself with the Assassins, either. I want her to be her own person. As the year runs its course, I realize something: the lass is who I wanted to become. She is given an opportunity to run away from the war, to run away from the deep, dark philosophy. The Assassins believe she is dead, and the Templars do not know of her existence. She is living a life of secrecy. She is given a second chance. This is a life that I wanted… that I want. And I am wallowing in my own self pity by dragging her into the depths of this centuries-old feud with me.

It is winter. The frontier is encapsulated in white. It is a beautiful sight that I will never forget. The white-tipped trees remain still as the winter sun shines down on us. The birds sing their song while the other animals of the forest carry on their typical days of hunting and being hunted. Despite the magical setting of the frontier, my mind is drawn to more personal thoughts. Exactly one year ago from this day, I encountered a young woman who was sent after skin. This young woman grows on me every day. I am unsure if she knows her effect on me. Though we have limited time to train together, I allow her to stay at Fort Arsenal for however long she wishes to. So far she hasn’t left, or should I say, made any attempts to leave.

Neither of us have made a move on each other. We have kept our relationship strictly professional. Does she want more? Do I want more? I don’t know. We have made one major decision together, however. The lass has agreed to finally meet Master Kenway. Now, this can go one of a few ways. Either he will accept her and my word and bring her into the Order, he will kill her or assign me the task of doing so, or he will let her go and chastise me for holding secrets against the Order and against him personally. I hope Haytham gives her a chance like he gave me all those years ago.

“Shay?”

I wipe elk blood off my coat, “Hm?” Today is yet another day spent in the frontier. The lass is learning more hands-on techniques in the outdoor environment. I am teaching her how to use an animal carcass as shelter. She sticks her hands under her armpits while shivering, the cold biting into her skin.

“What do you think the Grandmaster will say about me?” she asks, her voice laced in apprehension.

This is something that I have been thinking about for a while. I am unsure of how to answer her. Though I can often read the Grandmaster like a book, him having shared some of his darkest secrets with me, I know that Haytham can be unpredictable at times: especially when the circumstances involve the Order.

I give her a half-assed answer as I am cutting open the elk’s stomach, “Frankly, I’m not too sure, love. The Grandmaster takes the Order very seriously, obviously. He may think that you’re a spy. But one thing I do know for a fact about him is that he is open to new possibilities. Before I joined the Order, Haytham was skeptical of me. Yet, he took a chance to learn of my abilities and what I could provide for the Templars.”

After cutting open the stomach lining, I turn to the lass, “I am only hoping that he does the same for you.”

She sighs, “Well that’s reassuring.”

“I’m not trying to give you false hope. I am not confident that he will appreciate me keeping secrets,” I turn to her and notice her scared expression, “but, I don’t think you should worry about it too much at the moment. We still have a few days before our meeting with him.”

The girl nods in defeat as we resume our outdoors lesson.

A week passes. We are currently seeking refuge at the Green Dragon Tavern in Boston while we await the Grandmaster’s arrival. During the past several days, the lass has been incredibly quiet and reserved. It makes sense; I do not blame her. Haytham Kenways is a leader who demands the utmost respect and civility upon meeting. The man radiates class and intimidation. Though, under that skin of propriety is a man of puzzle. Of vulnerability. Haytham is a man of two faces- of two lives. I can only pray that she will be brave enough to meet the man face to face.

The joviality of the establishment brightens her mood, however. The sounds of the residents and patrons enjoying themselves provide a lighthearted atmosphere while the songs and shanties from the musicians make the tavern more vibrant. Earlier, the barmaid Catherine offered her a drink to which she denied. The girl claimed that she did not want to look too casual in front of the Grandmaster. A wise choice.

I spy from the corner of my eye the lass biting her lip so hard that it is turning white. I place a hand on her shoulder, “Relax, love. It’ll be fine.”

She looks at me and releases her lip from the confines of her teeth; she sighs and gives me a quick nod. As if her nod is a signal, the door to our shared room opens. The lass freezes; she holds her breath. I pat the small of her back before the door opens fully, revealing the Grandmaster himself. Haytham slowly closes the door so as not to disturb any residents and locks it- seems like the conversation in this room stays in this room.

“Master Kenway,” I nod to Haytham.

“Master Cormac, a pleasure,” he smiles at me, and then turns his head towards the girl, “and you must be her. The woman who Shay has delighted in my knowledge with for the past few weeks.”

The lass clears her throat and nods, almost as if she’s giving a bow. She responds, “Y-yes, sir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. Shay- I mean, Master Cormac, has spoken highly of you.”

Haytham raises his eyebrow before glancing at me with what seems like a look of contempt masked with feigned delight. He says, “Ah… yet, it seems that he has spoken less of you with me, miss.”

It is awkward, but true. I have not been entirely truthful with Haytham about my meeting the lass. Well, it’s rather a lie by omission. I had only recently told him about the girl’s existence two weeks ago. Both the Grandmaster’s and the lass’s eyes are on me.

I swallow before saying, “Only so you two could have a proper introduction. I didn’t want her being too intimidated by your presence and authority, Master Kenway. And I wish for you to see her potential and abilities first hand.”

Haytham seems to find my response acceptable. He and the lass trade some pleasantries and formal introductions before he explains the work of the Order.

“I’m aware that you used to work under the Assassins, but that your allegiance has somewhat shifted. And I’m also aware that Shay has furthered your knowledge on what the Templar Order is truly about,” Haytham says.

The lass straightens her back and answers, “Yes, sir. I was deployed in Greenwich as a Stalker, the men and women assigned to track down high profile Templars in the cities and the frontier. When Shay brought me into his home, he learned of the betrayal. The Assassins’ betrayal against me.”

Haytham nods but remains quiet. I can see the cogs rotating in his head. He is wary of her, as he should be. After a moment of silence, he speaks, “Funny that you bring up the topic of betrayal, miss. I’m not sure if you have heard, but Shay has actually experienced something similar to your little anecdote.”

I am surprised why Haytham would bring that up during our conversation. I begin to sweat a little. The lass looks at me in confusion before the Grandmaster continues, “However, that is a story for another time.”

Haytham takes a step forward, causing the lass to take a step back. He smiles at her, “Very well. You’ve given reason to at least consider you for the Order. Now, I need you to demonstrate.”

I knew that he’d say that. The lass swallows, but nods. I have trained her for this. I know that she will make him proud- will make me proud.

“What will you have me do, sir?” she asks with a little more confidence than before.

Haytham beckons the lass and me to follow him, “Follow me, and I’ll show you.”

Boston in the winter looks identical to New York. Once again, the buildings are topped in layers of snow while small flecks of white rain down on us. Though the sun has already taken its rest, the nightlife in Boston provides ample cover, as hundreds of folks are still out and about. Haytham turns towards the lass and says, “You see that lone pigeon over there? On the balcony of that inn?”

I use my vision and spy the little bird, happily perched on the railing of the building. I know that the lass sees it, too, even with her lack of the vision; I’ve trained her well. She confirms and asks the Grandmaster what to do next.

“Attached to the bird’s foot is a letter. I want you to extract it, and bring it to me,” Haytham says calmly with a smirk on his face. Shite. I have not taught her interception yet. The lass nods, but before she takes off, Haytham calls out, “Oh! I do not want any harm done to the little fellow, as well. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the girl says, her voice cracking a little. She turns to me one last time and we share a brief, yet silent exchange of encouragement. Use your skills, lass. 

About ten minutes later, the lass returns with the letter in her hand and a toothy smile on her face. I reciprocate the same smile; I am proud of her. She has proven herself well. She has not let me down. Haytham seems to think the same as he takes the letter out of her hand.

The Grandmaster nods in approval, “Well, miss. I’m going to be completely honest: I did not expect you to succeed. You have, indeed, subverted my expectations,” he turns to me, “and you, Shay, have not disappointed me.”

Master Kenway asks us to return back to the tavern, as he has an assignment for us. As he turns his back, the lass and I share yet another quick glance and beam at each other.

I whisper to her in admiration, “You’ve used your skills well, love.”

“Only because I was taught by one of the best.”

Once an Assassin, now their pursuer. I must destroy those who I once called brother. 

“Do you swear to uphold the principles of our order and all that for which we stand?”

“I do.”

“And to never share our secrets nor divulge in the true nature of our work?”

“I do.”

“And to do so until death, whatever the cost?”

There is a pause. Hesitation. A moment of silence. Is this the right choice?

“I do.”

“Then we welcome you into our fold, sister. Together, we will usher in the dawn of a new world. One defined by purpose and order. You… are a Templar.”

“Shay?”

“Yes, lass?”

The lass picks at her hand, a habit of hers that occurs when she is nervous, “Did you feel hesitation during your initiation into the Templar Order?”

It takes me a while to answer her question. In the past, I had dwelled on it all the time. Finally, I turn to the lass and say, “Well, I believe that everyone feels a bit uneasy durin’ such a life-changing event. Personally, I knew that I had to join the Templars in order to stop the Assassins. It was my calling, thus it wasn’t really ‘life-changing’ for me. Sure, I was nervous during the initiation, but what’s more important is how I felt after I made my decision. I was confident. I had no regrets. I ask you the same questions, love. Do you still feel hesitation? Like you’ve made a mistake?”

The lass shakes her head, “No, I do not. Like you, I think I’ve made the right choice to leave those who I once called family.”

Then, she asks me something that I have long waited for, “What happened between you and the Assassins, Shay? Every time someone alludes to it, you always shy away. Every time I ask, you always push it off. Please,” she takes me hand, “tell me what happened.”

It’s a story of pain. Of suffering. It’s something that I do not wish to relive again. Even thinking about it is making me nauseous. During moments of silence, my mind always manages to trail back to it. I can still hear, see, and feel everything. I begin to shiver and sweat.

“Are you alright?” the lass asks worriedly.

She needs to know the truth. I’ve kept it away long enough.

“I’m… fine,” I saw weakly, “i-it’s just a story that I really don’t divulge in often. But, you deserve to know what happened, love.”

I tell her the entire story. Of Lisbon. Of the Precursor Temple. Of the earthquake. Of the aftermath of the tsunami. Of the millions of innocent lives lost. Of the lies and treachery fed to me by the Mentor and Master Assassins. Of the betrayal that I experienced from those who I called family. Of the nightmares that have plagued me for years on end. Of how real it feels. Every. Single. Day. 

I feel my face. It is wet. Since when did I start crying? I can’t look like this in front of her. But at the same time, I feel light. It feels as if a sliver of weight has been lifted off of my chest. Like I can breathe. Why? Why does it feel like that? I didn’t even feel like this when I told Haytham everything. 

Suddenly, a soft hand caresses my cheek. Two thumbs wipe away the streams of tears. I turn my face slowly towards her. The lass’s lips are pressed together lightly, forming a straight line. Her eyes seem just a bit shinier than they normally are. They show sympathy. Not empathy… I know that she has difficulty relating to the severity of the Lisbon event. Few people can. And those people are long dead. Killed by the exact same betrayal.

How could I continue without her by my side? The girl is the light to my darkness. For the past year, she has been by my side, through missions of peril and through moments of joviality. I’ve felt more alive in the year of 1759 than any other years of my sorry life. She has grown with me. We have grown together.

“Shay… I didn’t know,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry you had to deal with this.”

I hear a few sniffles coming from her end. Even though she never had to experience Lisbon or Port-au-Prince, she understands how to care during the moment.

She gently tilts my face towards herself, “I can’t even begin to imagine how you dealt with it all these years. How you felt. This pain… no one deserves to go through this pain, Shay. One thing I want you to know, Shay, is that Lisbon is not your fault.”

“My conscience begs to differ, lass,” I snap unexpectedly. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t take it the wrong way, lass.

Thankfully, she does not. She keeps wiping away my tears, “I am in no position to say otherwise, for this is something personal to your story. I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries. I just want to at least bear some of this pain in order to lessen it for you. I don’t want you having to think about this anymore, darling.”

Darling. Now that’s a first. I perk up a little at the pet name. I feel my cheeks warming up a little, and I’m certain it’s not because of the lass’s hands.

I place my own gloved hands over her small ones, “Thank you, love. Thank you for listenin’ and for not strikin’ me down. This story is so hard to relive, but I know that it’s an important mistake to share, especially with the youth of the Order. It’s a shame that the Assassins never told you what really happened in Lisbon and in Port-au-Prince.”

She smiles, “Of course I will listen to you. Listening to all sides of the story is better than only listening to one. I learned that from you. Also, the Assassins actually didn’t tell the recruits anything about Lisbon or the other Precursor sites. They claimed that the earthquake was a natural event.”

I scoff, “‘Course they did. Connivin’ bastards, the lot of them.”

She nods in agreement, “Let’s go to sleep. It’s quite late.”

“Where is your boss?”

“I’ll never tell! She’ll kill me!”

The lass and I both walk up to the Grandmaster’s impromptu interrogation of one of the Assassin gang members. Haytham seems to have a knack for these types of “sessions,” given his intimidating demeanor.

“If you don’t tell, he’ll kill you,” I say with a smirk. The lass chuckles at the comment.

After extracting the information from the footsoldier, the Grandmaster slits his throat… with a Hidden Blade? The lass seems to think the same thing as she glances at me perplexed. The three of us begin our journey to Hope’s mansion.

“Sir, you didn’t mention that you had a Hidden Blade,” the girl calls out.

Haytham claims, “You two thought that you were the only ones?”

“Well, yes, I suppose… where did you get it, sir?”

“It was… donated by the Brotherhood, miss.”

Again, we exchange peculiar looks. We are both wondering the same thing. What does he mean by “donated?”

In front of the lavish abode, a skirmish unfolds between Hope’s Assassins and New York’s redcoat authorities. Master Kenway, the lass, and I assist the King’s men in subduing most of the gang forces.

“Our mission was a success. The army should make its move any time now,” I tell him.

Haytham agrees, “Good. We lack the resources in New York to handle these criminals ourselves. With a little luck, we might be rid of them once and for all.

I couldn’t help myself, “I make my own luck.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Grandmaster and the lass both roll their eyes in unison. No matter who much it irritates them, I’ll never drop it.

“Now, let us cut off the snake’s head…” Haytham says, his focus honing back to Hope.

As more British troops head into the area, I conjure a plan of attack for the girl and me.

“I’ll go in and get Hope myself,” I turn to the lass, “and she’ll follow in behind me.”

“Very well,” Master Kenway says.

The lass and I stay low to avoid the rain of bullets from the gang and the soldiers. We are making our way through Hope’s garden while I explain to her my strategy, “Hope specializes in dangerous chemicals and gases that are known to incapacitate even the strongest of men. I need you to keep your distance between me while I deal with her. If anything happens, love, I want you to forget about me and use your skills to track her down and eliminate her.”

“What do you mean by ‘if anything happens?’” she inquires.

“I mean that if I become incapacitated, leave me behind to finish the mission,” I say firmly.

I know that the lass feels uncomfortable by this statement, but she will listen. It is for the greater good. We both know that Hope is dangerous to not only the Templars, but the city’s populace as well. It is difficult for me to admit this, though I must convince myself that what we are doing is right. Even though it involves killing one of my closest friends…

I dread this day. The day that I would have to kill Hope Jensen. The woman that used to be my anchor, that used to be the one I dreamed of to keep me afloat. The one that when even she was swayed by the Mentor, I thought that there is no hope left for humanity, no rationale, no reason.

But, I look to my side and see a familiar face. One that has been with me for the past two years. One that is my current lifeline. I really do care for the lass. Always and forever. Now, in the present, she will help me with one of the hardest missions of my lifetime. She’ll soften the blow.

“Okay,” she responds to me quietly, her voice wavering.

We stop under an overpass in the garden. I gently cup the lass’s face, “I’ll be alright, love. Quit your worryin’. I want you to stay at least several meters out of my sight so that the chemicals won’t affect you. After all, I can't risk losin’ my greatest soldier.”

She blushes at the compliment before sprinting to her position. I take a deep breath, and head into the snake’s den.

“You never do give up, do you, Shay?”

I hear her taunting voice ringing in my ears. The poison is coursing through my veins. It hurts so damn much. I don’t know what hurts more: the venom in my body or the fact that I have to kill someone who at one point in my life I considered more than a friend. Must. Keep Moving.

“No matter… the poison will kill you.”

Remember what I said, lass. Finish the job for me. Whatever the costs.

The streets of New York are just as crowded as I remember. Swarms of civilians are running to the sides of the road as I continue my hot pursuit on Hope. She weaves through the people, pushing unsuspected bystanders out of the way. Because of the poison, I could not afford to climb any structures: I had to chase her by foot.

Our chase continues down a dark alley, away from the populace. Suddenly, a figure drops on top of her. I know who you are. The figure slashes into Hope with her Hidden Blade. Hope manages to push the person off of her. The two fall down, only meters away from each other. The mystery person’s hood falls down to reveal a familiar, pretty face.

Hope snarls, “So you’re working for them now? Being their little lapdog?”

The lass doesn’t say a word. Rather, she reaches into Hope’s pockets and takes out the antidote. She throws the little vial of elixir at me before backing up and leaving me room to interrogate her.

After drinking the antidote, I walk up to Hope, “Not for us. With us.”

“I should have known…” Hope coughs, “you’re late, again, Shay.”

I kneel down to her level with a pained expression on my face, “Hope, I didn’t want to do this.”

“I trained you to do this,” Hope looks at the lass, as if she’s directly speaking to her instead of me, “I expected nothing less.”

I have to get answers. I ask her, “Then why-”

“To give Liam time to leave. Soon, Chevalier will be on his way to the Precursor site.”

“I will stop him.”

“He will see you coming. Pity… you had so much potential.”

She fades away right there, in front of my very eyes. Potential. A word that has so much to offer, yet so little to show. I feel a hand caressing my back. I turn around to face the girl. Her eyes are cast down, as if she is trying to avoid my gaze.

“She seemed very close to you,” the lass says.

I nod gravely, “Aye. Hope believed in me for a while,” I take her hand, “it’s in the past, now. We have what we need. Let us report back to the Grandmaster.”

She seems unconvinced. She wants to know more.

“Hope used to be one of the few people that I confined with during my time serving the Brotherhood. We had a close bond. It pains me to see her go like this, to see her go down thinkin’ that she is right,” I squeeze the lass’s hand, “but, overtime, my feelings have changed. Don’t get me wrong, I still saw her as a mentor. It’s just… that initial spark isn’t there anymore. I feel that for someone else, now.”

The lass gives me a pained smile. Now she understands. She nods to me before saying, “Come, Shay. Let’s go meet with Haytham.”

I raise an eyebrow. That is the first time I’ve heard the lass refer to the Grandmaster by his given name. I think that she is beginning to feel at home, once again.

The air is still...

“Hope was right… I do make a good distraction.”

In a fit of rage, I throw the sorry French bastard’s body off of the side of the ship. How could I have been so stupid? A fucking distraction? The Assassins are more clever than I thought, sending the Templars on a wild goose hunt across the entire globe. It only shows how desperate they are, now that half of their pathetic Brotherhood is dead.

Once I am at the helm of the Morrigan, I thank Captain Cook for his assistance. After our pleasantries, the man boards his ship, leaving Master Kenway, Gist, the lass and I to discuss our next course of action.

I tell the Grandmaster, “De la Vérendrye’s dead. I have the coordinates. I know where the Assassins are goin’.”

Haytham says, “Then, let us make haste.”

I believe that the Grandmaster made the correct choice. While he and I are to go after Achilles and Liam into the Precursor Temple, the lass and Gist are to remain aboard the Morrigan for behind-the-lines assistance. While Haytham was giving instructions, the lass was visibly upset. I was, as well. Though, we both know that it is for the best, in order to limit distractions and to end the Assassins as quickly as possible.

The freezing Arctic air pierces through my uniform. The scenery, though, contrasts the violence of the weather. The Arctic is a sight to behold: a different land, covered in white, just like New York, Boston, and the frontier during the winter. There is not a speck of color out of place. The inlet is littered with floating ice plates, allowing us to cross. I breathe and see my breath escape as a puff of white air; turning to the Grandmaster I say, “This would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned cold.”

All of a sudden, one of the ice floes crumbles as Haytham places his foot onto it. He pulls back just in time before warning me, “Tread carefully… some of this ice is rather thin.”

“Is this the Apple?”

“No! Don’t touch anything. Shay was right.”

“What would he know?”

“More than me, apparently…”

I can hear them conversing. Fucking finally. Finally they understand how dangerous these Precursor sites are. It only took them years of pointless chasing to realize the danger of the natural world. Haytham and I reach Liam and Achilles.

Years. Years wasted for one simple realization. I cannot bear to listen to these fools anymore. I yell, “Finally you understand, Achilles. This is a structure to hold the world together, not a weapon to control it. This whole calamity could have been avoided if you’d only listened to me!”

The Mentor jumps as he hears my voice. Master Kenway and I are unexpected visitors, I presume. He quickly regains his composure and scoffs, “Disrespectful to the end.”

“Yes, we’ve been working on that,” Haytham chides, causing me to roll my eyes.

Liam steps into the conversation, a look of disappointment on his face, “Right or wrong, Shay, you betrayed the Brotherhood, Achilles, and me.”

“Says the man, the friend, who shot me in the back,” I snarl.

“At the Homestead?” Liam laughs, “That was Chevaliar. I don’t miss.”

What in God’s name are you doing, Liam?! Liam pulls out a flintlock and aims directly at me. He is a fool to think that that is a wise thing to do in a place like this.

Achilles lunges at him, screaming, “Liam! Don’t!”

It is too late. Liam falls onto the artifact, knocking it off its pedestal. The little spiked orb disintegrates into black dust. Well, we’re fucked. The temple begins quaking, slowly yet surely. Large icicles fall into the abyss and pierce the snow-covered grounds. The glowing First Civilization structures are falling, separating me, Achilles, and the Grandmaster. In the chaos, I spot Liam gaining a head start and running past me to the end of the temple. I guess it’s just you and me, old friend.

I give chase. Using one of the temple’s structures as cover, I dodge Liam’s stray bullets. As I am avoiding the crumbling foundation and ice shards, my mind goes back to the lass. Please… I pray that the earthquake has not reached the outside of the site yet; I pray that she is not hurt. If anything happens to her, I cannot live with myself carrying that blame.

“How could you do this to us? How could you kill Hope?!” Liam bellows in fury. I can hear the pain in his voice. I do not have an answer for him. Instead, I use this emotional moment to attack him. Our skirmish causes the platform to break. My heart jumps as we begin falling down the frozen waterfall.

I feel light as I, luckily, land into a pile of snow. Liam, however, isn’t as fortunate. I hear a loud crack as his body hits the cold, hard ground. Blood begins flowing from his head, seeping through his hood. The man can barely move his body. Yet, he makes out some words; Liam struggles, “That… was lucky.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Liam? I make my own luck.”

Liam frowns, “And how’d you do that, you bastard? You broke the Assassins. Betrayed… everyone you knew… you sided with our worst enemies; you soiled our legacy; you molded our youth into blinded sheep, and for what?!”

Wait… ‘blinded sheep?’

“What are you talkin’ about, Liam? Who are you talkin’ about?” I ask, heat rising through my body.

He coughs, a cough laced with venom, “You know who I’m talking about. Damned fool. I hope whatever world you are oh-so valiantly trying to save… is a good one.”

No. A loud sound pierces through the freezing Arctic air. It is the sound of a flintlock. I bolt in the direction of the noise toward the shoreline in search of Master Kenway and Achilles. Instead, I see three people: Haytham, Achilles, and... no. It can’t be.

“No! What is going on here?!” I scream, breathing in exhaustion. My chest feels heavy. Constricted. Why did this have to happen? Why have my actions, once again, caused death?

Haytham sighs in frustration, “Shay, I am sorry to say this, but… she is no longer with us. You can thank your friend Liam for that.”

I can’t even look at her. Her bloodied, lifeless body lays beside the Grandmaster. There is a large tear on her torso where the blood seeps from. Her garments are stained in red. Red. Red just like how I first met her. Her eyes are closed and her arms are folded over her chest with her hands placed upon one another: a position of respect. My friend, gone. My protégé, gone. My lifeline, gone. How does a man feel in this position? What do I have left to live for?

In front of the Grandmaster lies a screaming Achilles with a bleeding leg. A man who I used to respect. Who I used to call my Mentor. A man who I cannot bear to see alive one more second.

“Allow, me, Master Kenway,” I growl, holding my hand out. Haytham hands me the gun.

“No! Shay! Don’t do this! You monster!”

Click. One shot and the monster goes down. 

… and I am a hunter.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 30: Keep Us Warm

Sometime, the most precious thing, is time to be yourself.

Also, how does one discuss future children with their child spouse? Asking for a friend...

First  Previous  Next

Keith stirs, uncomfortable. He’s freezing. The frigid air bites at his cheeks and the thin cartilage of his ears. The tip of his nose stings, and his fur is cold when he tries to rub warmth back into his face.

What the utter fuck? It definitely wasn't this cold when they went to sleep last night. His eyes flutter open to spot Lance sleeping a few dashes away.

Keith pulls the insufficient comforter over his ears, trying in vain to warm himself.

“Lance… Lance…” He reaches over, pokes his spouse.

“Mnh.” The Altean stirs, more protesting than anything else.

“Lance, why’s it so cold in here?!”

Lance blinks awake. It is indeed freezing. He can see his own breath when he exhales. “Keith? Beloved? Did you leave the garden doors open last night?”

Keith peeks out from the blankets to check. “Fuck.”

“They’re wide open, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the worst. Okay, stay here.” Lance throws back the blankets, rolls his eyes at Keith's subsequent outcry. “Baby.”

“You’re the baby!” Keith curls into a ball, freezing.

“What was that? Leave for breakfast and let you deal with our freezing cold bedroom?”

“You’re the best?”

“Damn quiznaking right.” Lance closes the garden doors, latches them shut. “I’ll even get a fire going.”

Keith listens as the crackle builds. After a moment, Lance crawls back into the bed, right up against him, curled around his smaller frame. “Don’t even complain. You leave the doors open, you deal with clingy Lance and his cold, cold toes.”

Keith snuggles down into the blankets, not minding a bit as their shared heat begins to build between them. “Please don’t let me do that again,” he mumbles. “I honestly hate the cold.”

“Hm. I love it. I like to be warm in it, but I do love it.”

“Disgusting.”

Lance giggles, settles in, face pressed right up against Keith's neck. He has to nose away locks of hair and the line of thick fur running down Galra prince's neck and back so he can breath, but it's a small matter.

The truth is, Lance has missed this proximity. Going from promiscuous and never without company to married to Keith has been a transition. Never mind the beating his libido has taken; that doesn't really matter in the long run. But he misses being close to people. He misses feeling the warmth of another body. And Keith is very warm. His heat sinks into Lance's bones with every breath.

Unbeknownst to him, Keith doesn't mind the proximity either. It reminds him of his den back home, curled up with his littermate or with his mother. It feels like family, like kinship, like Lance has filled a bit of that gap in his chest.

When the room is warm again, Lance reluctantly shakes Keith out of his doze. “It frosted in the night. Do you want to see?”

Keith sighs, reluctant to move, reluctant to leave.

“Might as well.”

Keith’s hatred for the cold is quickly forgotten.

Frost actually is beautiful. Everything -the ground, the singing tree, the bumblemoths clinging to the branches- is covered in frost, the water leached out, crystallizing into a fine layer of white.

Keith’s ears twitch, tail swinging back and forth, eyes alight with curiosity as he crouches at the edge of the frosted earth. He reaches out to tough the frost, but it disintegrates beneath his warm hand, the delicate formations fading before they can even meet his skin. Keith giggles, delighted, and tries it again.

Lance leans against the doors, smiling as he watches his spouse enjoy something new. He wishes there were more moments like this, where Keith can be a kit, be himself. He looks lovely, even if-

“Your hair looks like a nest.”

“Oh, fuck off. Silly prince.”

Lance just snickers, tugs on a tangled lock of dark hair. Keith tries to smack his hands away, but Lance simply catches one, presses a kiss to the back of it. “I’m glad you like the frost, beloved.”

“Hm.” Keith smiles, eyes averted. Then they light up again. “I wonder what the grotto looks like right now!”

“Wanna go see? Vetroneius is probably done with our cloaks by now and first frost is an unspoken holiday. Nobody will be working, so we have an excuse.”

“Okay!” Keith bounces up, practically dancing inside to find some clothes.

Lance grins, turning to watch him go. He lifts his eyes to the Ancients. Just for today, he prays. Just for today, let him be himself.

Keith does his best not to skip, wrapped up in thick clothes and a new cloak, the layers of fine leather and cloth trapping heat close to his skin. The frost crunches beneath his boots, clings to his clothes where they brush against the ground, against the trunks of the trees.

It's so still. He can hear Lance's heartbeat, hear his quiet laughter as Keith admires the ice crystals dangling from the tree branches.

The grotto is covered in a layer of white frost, the small creatures frozen in the ice. The pool is completely iced over, frozen over the past movement, solidified during the night. Keith’s first instinct, naturally, is to stand on the ice, which Lance indulges even though he knows it will only end with Keith slipping and falling.

Which he does. Almost immediately. Lance grins, leans over his fallen spouse. “Having fun?”

Keith laughs, laying back on the ice, braided hair trailing over the ice. “Yes, actually. I’ve seen frost before, when it gets cold at night. It’s normal. But this.” Keith raises his arms, hands gesturing to the crystalline structures glittering on the ceiling. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

Lance settles next to his spouse, lowering himself carefully onto the ice, his cloak offering a protective layer. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Altea is beautiful… Daibazaal is beautiful, too, you know. It’s violent and inhospitable and the kriinli’i turn their prey inside out and hang them from trees, but it’s… natural. Everything here feels cultivated and artificial. On Daibazaal, everything feels wild. It grows how it wants.

“This frost reminds me of that. It does what it wants, and nothing stands in its way. It’s so delicate, but so stubborn. Like home.”

Lance smiles. “I can’t wait to see it. I’ve wanted to for a long time now. Maybe we’ll go there for your season. Adam says you’ll need rest after, so we could stay for a few movements. Maybe a phoeb.”

“Really?” Keith turns his head to look at him. Lance has spoken of this before, but Keith hadn't put stock in it at the time. “You- You’d actually do that? You’d let me go home?”

“I’m not letting you go home. I want you to go home. I want you to be happy and hold onto the people you had the leave behind. I imagine you feel like a prisoner here.”

“Not- Not all the time! Not when it’s just us,” Keith mumbles. “Or our friends,” he adds hastily. He doesn’t want to make this harder.

Lance hums, staring at the ice curled over the ceiling of the grotto. He’s not sure how to respond to that. There’s a few minutes of silence, then Keith speaks again.

“I-” Keith’s throat tightens momentarily. He finds Lance’s hand, grips it tight. “I’d really, really like to go home. Just for a little while.”

“You will.” Lance squeezes back, shifts to press that hand to his lips. He can hear the heartache in Keith’s voice. “I promise, beloved. Just hang on for me, alright? A few more phoebs; that's it. We need to get through the winter, and then we’ll go.”

“Okay. I'm here. Whatever you need.” Keith means that. He means it with ever beat of his hearts.

On the walk back through the frozen forest, Lance keeps an arm around Keith’s shoulders. It does absolutely nothing to help against the cold, but Keith leans into it anyway, grateful. He just has to make it through winter. Then his final growth will start and he’ll be able to go home for a while. All he has to do is make it through the winter.

"Allura will be so excited to see you," he whispers.

"I know. I can't wait." Lance grins. "And I'll get to meet your mom. That'll be so cool. I bet she'll hate me."

"Oh, she will," Keith mumbles, smiling sheepishly. He can't help but think of his mother threatening to slaughter the overbred little whore. "But I think you'll grow on her. Y'know, like a wart or maybe a cancer."

"Wow, thanks so much, beloved. You're rotten to the core, you know that?"

"Nah, I'm just honest. She really will grow to like you, though. She likes good people."

"Aw, thanks beloved." Lance gives his spouse a squeeze. "If she's anything like you, I bet I'll like her, too."

"She's better than me," Keith whispers, allowing Lance to help his through the gap in the wall. "She's braver, and fierce, and she's so loyal."

"Loyal to what?"

"Freedom. That's what she wants. She wants more freedom for my people. They're expected to birth at least five kits in one centaphoeb, required to serve two centaphoebs in the military-"

"Wait. Five kits? In one centaphoeb? That's insane!"

"Expected. They're encouraged to try for eight. It is a lot, especially since the physical output for a season is already immense. But you need people to expand an empire, and kits don't birth themselves."

"Hm." Lance knows they need to discuss these things, and soon. But this day is for Keith. He wants it to be stress- and worry-free. Just one day.

The Galra prince hurries ahead, clearly eager to get warm again. He turns to Lance with a grin. "Are you coming or what, Altean?"

Lance chuckles, hastens his steps. Just one day. Thank the Ancients for just one day.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Kindred Spirits

Characters: Thor x Original Female Character

Summary: Thor meets his new neighbor and finds himself more than a little intrigued.

Content Warnings: 2% sad Thor, 98% sweet fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

Author’s Note: Hey lovelies, it’s been a while. Sorry I fell off the face of the earth for so long, I’ve been dealing with a lot of real life not fun stuff lately. But my writer’s block finally lifted and I was able to crank out this cute little ficlet earlier today. I started writing fanfic exactly one year ago as of last week, all thanks to seeing our dear sweet Thor in Endgame, and I wanted to put something new out in honor of that anniversary. Also, if anyone gets some legit grown-up-Luna-Lovegood vibes from Sage I am not sorry at all lol. Hope ya’ll enjoy! XOXO - Ash

Kindred Spirits

The first time Thor saw her, she was dancing in the rain. She was soaked through, head to toe, spinning around with open arms, long blonde hair flying wildly around her, and a giant grin on her face. Thor watched longingly from his cottage window as his formerly unseen neighbor spun around happily before plopping down into the wet grass. She looked so happy and carefree, two things Thor hadn’t been in many years. He had tried to reinvent himself after they beat Thanos but it had been short lived. 

He tried to look away, he truly did, and even managed to get two steps away from the window when the sound of laughter spilled into his living room. Thor was drawn back into watching, trying to find what had caused her joy, but unable to see what was in her hand. He paced for several agonizingly long minutes until he couldn’t take it any longer. Pulling on his warmest sweater, Thor braced himself and went out into the world.

The woman didn’t seem to notice Thor’s approach, lost in her own little world. She was muttering something and looking at whatever was in her hand. 

“What are you doing?” Thor asked by way of a greeting.

The woman jumped in her spot, fumbling as she tried not to drop what was in her hand. “Hello.” she replied, a little breathless from shock. Her voice had a lilting rhythm that spoke of Irish roots and it captivated the god. “I’m enjoying the storm and I’ve made a new friend.” She held up her palm where a tiny green snake was coiled up. 

“What a charming little fellow.” Thor agreed easily, but the ghost of a frown passed across his face when he added, “My brother and I used to love finding snakes in our mother’s garden. They were our favorites.”

“How lovely.” the woman was still watching the tiny snake as she replied, now that the commotion had died down it was slithering around and exploring her hand. “Join me?” she motioned to the grass next to her with her free hand.

“Thank you, yes.” Thor lowered himself onto the grass, figuring all of him was wet from the rain anyways. “I’m Thor, by the way. I do not believe we were properly introduced.” 

“I know who you are. I prayed to you when I was still a girl. Before we knew there was more to this world than our own kind. You and your father both, actually.” 

“I’m humbled. I forget at times that Midgardians used to worship us.” 

“That we did. I’m Sage, by the way.” 

Thor watched as Sage let the little snake explore her hand, slithering along, testing the air with it’s tiny forked tongue. “Beautiful name.” he commented before catching himself. A dark blush stained his cheeks and he looked away quickly. 

A smile formed on Sage’s lips. “I come from a long line of women who worship the old gods, my mother hoped I’d be another link in our family’s chain. Sage is a protection, a purification.” 

“I see she got her wish then. How lucky for her.” A frown returned to Thor’s face.

“She said it was her greatest joy.” Sage assessed him with piercing smoke grey eyes, her head tilting slightly to the side. “You think your father did not know this same joy. It troubles you that you failed him. You didn’t, you know. He was so proud of the man you grew up to be.” 

“What?” Thor sputtered in shock, “How did you…? Why would you…?”

“Another link in the chain.” Sage tapped at her temple with a wry smile. “I’m sorry if I overstepped though. There’s a reason I live alone all the way out here.” 

“It’s alright.” Thor assured her, though her words had shaken him to his core. What a curious little Midgardian. He wasn’t unfamiliar with those gifted by the Norns, but finding a beautiful woman with such gifts, practically in his backyard, was certainly a surprise. “It can be hard to remember that not all wish to see with open eyes.” Thor quoted thoughtfully. At Sage’s inquisitive look he continued, “My mother used to say that. She was raised by witches too.” 

“Ah,” Sage nodded, understanding. “She must have been a wise woman.” 

“That she was.” Thor fought the wave of grief that threatened to crash down and drown him once again. He’d be running back into his cottage if he let it take hold. Thor slowed his breathing the way Bruce had shown him, trying to be present and mindful. 

“I’ve caused you pain again. I should go.” Sage went to stand up, releasing the little snake back into the grass and shaking off her damp clothes. 

“No, please.” Thor lumbered back onto his feet, huffing with the effort. “It doesn’t take much these days, trust me. It’s not you.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly. 

Those smoke grey eyes pierced into him again, “That’s why you live alone out here.” 

“Aye.” Thor agreed. “It’s better if I just keep to my cottage. For everyone.” 

“I know the feeling well. What a beautiful serendipity we both live out here.” 

“How’s that?” 

“Well, we both know what it is to want to be away from the world. I don’t mind spending a little time with you though. Kindred spirits and all that.” 

“Hmm.” Thor hummed, mulling over her words. 

“I promised my mother I would go out once a week, even if it was just for groceries. She worries about me since she passed. Most weeks it’s difficult to go. But maybe, if you went with me…?” Sage trailed off suggestively. 

“I go into town on Sundays. It’s not pleasant, but I go. It might be a little easier if I had a, what did you call it? kindred spirit?, to go along with.”

“It’s a date then. I’ll stop by around eleven.” Sage smiled, soft and genuine, up at him and Thor thought his heart would stop in his chest. 

“It’s a date.” Thor found himself returning her smile; the first real smile he could remember in a very long time. He still wasn’t interested in rejoining the world but maybe things would be a little easier with someone who knew what he was going through.

They parted ways and Thor went to work making a shopping list, tidying up his kitchen as he went. Sunday was the following day and Thor didn’t want to risk being unprepared. He stopped midway through wiping down his dust covered counter top in disbelief. He never put any effort into taking care of the cottage. He had a reason to now though, and he found he didn’t mind it. Kindred spirits, indeed. Maybe a little neighbor witch was exactly what he needed in his life. 

[riorsonxaden]

7. Finger painting with little one - Thuna ?

UGH MY ORIGINAL HP RAREPAIR BABIES. I MISS THEM 🥺🥺.

**************************************************

Luna wandered aimlessly and yet with purpose as she strode down the hall of Nott Manor. The padding of her feet dancing along the cold mahogany floors. Saying hello to each and every house elf she passed offering them a chocolate frog. This time the elfs eyed the floating case behind her, with several jars clinging against one another. Curious as to what the Lady of the manor was up to. The majority of the house elfs loved Luna for her kindness. For listening to them when no one else would. Theo as the elfs stated wasn’t a terrible owner. Far from the likes of his father, still he hardly paid the elfs any mind. He was too focused on Luna, their daughter Thea and being an Auror. However, Luna stayed in the manor, mainly running the quibbler from home. Today she was taking off for some, exciting changes as she called it to the four-year-olds room.

With the help of Weasley twins and their patented experiment rooms, Luna assisted in creating a new product. She took it home Experiment 126 to test it out on the room. A paint one could use that came alive. Much like the same concept as a wizards portrait. In this product, anything you paint would come to life at the stroke of a brush or a simple touch. No sounds, just movements. She had wanted it primarily for Thea’s room and perhaps others in the Manor. Luna thought of how fun it would be to paint the cobblestones in the gardens. Having bright colors of various swirls, that would dance at the touch of her toes. Now, she wouldn’t think too much beyond that. Thea Nott was waiting in her room for her mother. For her surprise.

Luna made it to the end of the hall, The clinging behind her coming to a halt as she twisted the knob and stepped inside. Thea sat on her bed, atop a pillowy mattress, in sheets a rosy hue, like the sky. Her hair is onyx like the darkest nights, yet long and wispy like that of her mothers. Her eyes were Luna’s pale blue, with silvery grey flecks. Like the sky when light storm clouds began to roll in. Excitement shined in those eyes of hers, as she hopped off the bed leaving her dolls behind. A bright smile reaching from ear to ear displayed brightly on the young witch's face.

“Oh hello mother,” her voice high and breathless like that of a gentle wind, “Do you have my surprise?”

“Hello starlight,” Luna replied, flicking her wand casting protecting charms on all of Thea’s toys, her armoire, and her bed, “I believe it’s here,” she smiled softly, in an ethereal kind of way. The way that took her husband’s breath away. With a swift motion of her hand, the case settled on a table in the far corner of the room.

Thea ran as quickly as her little feet would carry her. She stopped brows furrowing, nose scrunched up as the girl peered into the case. Turning to meet her mother as Luna crouched down. Thea rested a hand over her orange striped dress, another pointing at the case, “These are just jars mummy. Is it wrackspurts again?”

Luna laughed, “No starlight, These jars are quite special. Would you like to see?” Thea squinted her eyes and nodded. Like she wanted to know yet was uncertain what these jars would entail. 

The case held some brushes and nine jars: yellow, red, blue, purple, pink, green, black, white, and orange, Thea’s favorite color. Her mother believed it was due to dirigible plums from her childhood home. And that her love of the magical fruit spread to her daughter. 

"It looks quite ordinary doesn't it?" her airy tone questioned

Gripping one of the tightly sealed jars, Luna twisted it open with a pop, dipping her finger into the orange color. Thea nodded her agreement, watching as paint fell from her mother's ivory fingers into the jar creating a rippling effect that seemed to shimmer with magic. She couldn't help but marvel at it.

"It moves when you paint. Watch."

Luna stood with Thea trailing closely behind as they moved to the cream-colored wall. The former Ravenclaw swisher finger over the smooth surface. At first, the bright orange mark remained still. Luna cocked her head to left, the right, and then back again as if she was studying the strip of paint. Thea copied her movements inching closer to bright orange color. Soon after, the young Nott heiress felt a hum of magic as the strip began to wiggle. Like an arm-stretching in the morning from restful sleep. The mark curled in on itself, then sprang outward darting back and forth across the wall. Thea screamed in a surprise, stumbling backward. Luna caught her, keeping the girl upright.

"Wow," Thea breathed out, "Can we paint?"

Luna looked down at her, a mother's smile on her mouth, "Of course," pulling out her wand she cast protection charms on the two of them, keeping their clothes clean. Thea giggled as the blanket of magic fell over her, "Just like your father and myself. You love creatures. Perhaps we could paint those."

"Yes!" Thea squealed with excitement.

"Suppose we should get to work then."

At first, mother and daughter both opted for using their fingers. Thea drawing random blobs of colorful paint and calling them wrackspurts. The tiny splotches of paints she called nargles. Before moving on to other random shapes. All with various sizes and heights. Some had one eye while others beheld twelve. Others with no ears and wings. A few with too many ears and several tails. Each painting of hers pranced about over her walls. 

Luna opted for paintbrushes after Thea got the hang of the magical paints. She painted smaller creatures since her daughter took over most of the walls within minutes. Nifflers, bowtruckles, blast ended skrewts to name a few. Thea marveled at the nifflers running across the walls. The bowtruckles jumping on and off the imaginary creatures she painted. The blast-ended skrewt didn't move much, only an odd breathing motion. Luna was distracted trying to paint pixies on the opposite side of the room. Thea crept slowly towards the image. Until it jumped backward, editing a glow of red, yellow, and orange from its headless form. The four-year-old jumped back screaming this time without her mother to catch her, Thea fell into the paints knocking all the colors over. Quickly it became clear why this experiment was still an experiment.

The colors leaked out onto the floor. Increasingly taking over each and every corner of the room. Suddenly the magical and imaginary creatures painted on the walls were now traveling through the room. Running and jumping over the bed, furniture, and toys, leaving moving colors in their wake. Luna grabbed Thea hiding for cover under the bed. 

Luna was unsure how long they had been stuck under there. Until she heard a male voice shouting.

"What in the bloody fuck?"

Then there was a flash of light. The vibrant arrangement of colors was gone. 

"Lu?" She heard his heavy steps approach the bedside, crouching down. A smirk on his lips only a Slytherin could muster, amusement flashed in his emerald eyes, "Hi."

"Hello, Theo."

"Daddy!" Thea cried, "We were painting. I used my fingers!"

"Is that so? Seemed the paints had a mind of their own."

Thea crawled out from under the bed, settling into his lap. Theo outstretched his hand to his wife. Luna took it as he helped pull her out. It was clear to Theo that Luna only protected their clothes, as their skin was covered in blotches of blues, reds, purples, and well any other color he could think of. Streaks of it littered her moonlight hair, and flecks of it coated Thea's dark tresses. 

"Merlin Lu what happened? Ainsley popped up in my office saying you and Thea were trapped in her room. That Thea was screaming. I ran to the nearest floo to get home."

Luna pursed her lips, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "126. I wanted to test it," she replied, her tone laced in apology. Knowing he too lost his mother how Luna did, to creative experiments, "I'm sorry to worry Theodore."

Keeping an arm steady around Thea, the Nott heir leaned over kissing Luna’s brow, "It's fine. I just.." he sighed running a hand through his dark hair, "I can't lose either of you."

*****************************************************

Taglist: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @clockworkgraystairs @hizqueen4life @sjm-things @negativenesta @b00kworm @whataboutmyfries @justgiu12 @illyrian-bookworm @thesirenwashere @vanessa172003 @thewickedkings @sleeping-and-books

[jinkisbelly]

Simple Request - 9/?

Pairing: Jongyu

Rating: n-17 I suppose since there’s a cock being touched for a second

w/c: 3k

Other Parts can be found a little ways down this [x]   Ao3  AFF

Summary: The Fae King is under a lot of pressure to conceive an heir, while given a deadline by the Council he turns to his personal guard and best friend to help him with it  

Warnings: Future mpreg

          Jinki was given the next few days off of guard duty, which meant Jonghyun’s scheduled trip to see the main orphanage in Faera included Minho and whoever he deemed necessary as protection. One of the main reasons Jonghyun hated having an extensive parade of guards was it reminded him too much of leading troops into battle. Memories of the war, the number of lives he lost, weighed heavily on his mind if he allowed it to sink too far into his consciousness. Such times were usually later at night when his wine glass was filled one too many times at dinner.

          Minho had claimed fifteen guards was the minimum he’d accept going and Jonghyun just focused on the smiling children as he fluttered in the doorway of the orphanage. Toys and clothes, yummy treats, food and extra money were given out. The Matron of the orphanage was an old fairy, the lines of her face deep, and a groan leaving her lips as she attempted to bow at the waist for her King. “No need, Ma’am. I’m here for the kids, no need for formalities.”

          Some of the older kids came over to Minho, asking all about his sword and armor, and how to become a Royal Guard. Leaving the Guard Captain to his own devices, Jonghyun headed into the nursery wing of the Home. Most of the babies in the room were fairies, but a few were of other origins. As he stepped into the room a loud, happy squeal erupted from his right. Looking over, a small child was standing in their crib, tiny hands gripping the railing and a big smile on their little face. “Well hello there.”

          Their wings were just as small, not having grown in yet, but they made another happy squeal as he stepped closer. When their arms rose, Jonghyun picked them up and cradled them close to his chest. All he could think about at that moment was what his child would be like. It was hard to not be reminded of his failure surrounded by so many children. Children that people had and gave up. It was almost bitter thinking about how hard he was trying for a child and he knew some of these were by-products of an unwanted pregnancy. He kissed the top of the young child’s head and returned them to their crib, before turning on his heel. Out of the room he closed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

          Would he ever have a child of his own or would his family lineage stop with him? Jonghyun swallowed thickly before squaring his shoulders. He had a duty to complete, his personal failures in anatomy could wait until they returned to the Castle.

——--

          Jonghyun stepped out of the orphanage and looked both ways. The guards were creating a protective half-circle around the entryway and by the looks of things Minho was still preoccupied with the older children’s questions. He stepped toward the left and was immediately met with the chest of a Satyrs armor. “Your Majesty, I’m under strict orders to keep you within the perimeter.”

          “I saw a garden just out back. That’s all.”

          The young man flicked his gaze between his King’s face and where he knew his Captain to be, as if unsure which wrath he wished to endure. “May I accompany you, Your Majesty?”

          Jonghyun let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and smiled. “Of course.”

          As soon as he stepped into the tree-covered garden he felt more at peace. While Faera was full of thick, tall trees and bright flowers cascading over the stone of the tower homes, full gardens such as this had become a luxury when the need for paved roads came into play. The grass under his feet made him want to pull off his boots and curl his toes in it. The bright green reminded him of the time Jinki made the entirety of the throne room covered in the soft grass. Plants, flourishing life, made him think of the Keeper so easily. Out of instinct he looked over his shoulder and frowned when he realized Jinki wasn’t there today.  He missed him, even if he had woken up in his arms this morning.

-----

          Minho was going to blow a gasket one of these days by the looks of things. “What do you mean you aren’t going to ride in the carriage?”

          “I mean exactly that. I want to enjoy the nice day we’re having.”

          The Captain actually pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your Majesty, I urge you to reconsider.”

          Jonghyun blinked up at the taller Fairy, “Do you not trust the men you selected can protect me from whatever might arise?”

          “Of course I trust them.”

          “Then that settles it.” Jonghyun grinned brightly, fluttering happily as he held his hands behind his back. “Let’s get going Captain.”

          Minho actually groaned deeply, causing Jonghyun to chuckle softly.

----

          The notice had been sent up that Jinki was on his way for dinner. Jonghyun had barely let the messenger finish before sending the woman out, too focused on the thin bottle of blue liquid the old earth sprite had pressed into his palm on the walk back from the orphanage. “For your… Troubles.” She had hissed, eyes looking down to his abdomen before the guards forced her away from him. There was no mark on his wrist from where she had grabbed him, but he could have sworn it was burning as he rolled the bottle over his fingers in contemplation. Apparently, she was one of the local medicine women in the city. Whether he took it or not was the question. As well as, should he bring the vial to Jinki’s attention?

          The knock ranging through his room almost made him drop the damn thing, but he quickly gripped it safely and shoved it back into the pouch it had come in. Once it was hidden behind the pillow of the chair he was sitting in, he called out, “Come in.”  

          The soft sounds of footsteps grew louder before the innermost door to his bedroom opened and closed quickly. Stepping around the corner was Jinki, looking the softest Jonghyun had seen him out of the temple in some time. His armor was nowhere to be seen and his sword wasn’t on his hip. He smiled, and Jonghyun felt that weird flip in his stomach. “Good evening Jonghyun.”

          As he stood, he glanced behind him at the chair, debating about telling Jinki for a moment before deciding against it. He stepped closer and allowed Jinki to press a kiss to each cheek. “How was your day off duty?”

          Jinki almost bloomed at the question, settling at dinner and talking about his day. It was simple and warm as if duty was nowhere in sight.

----

          The following evening Jonghyun looked out over the balcony of his room, at the Temple in the distance, and gripped the vial tighter. He wanted to tell Jinki he planned on taking it, but a small part of him knew the man would object and he wasn’t ready for the refusal. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right? Biting his bottom lip, Jonghyun’s gaze fell to the vial. Before he could rethink his decision he popped the cork and downed it in one go. The liquid was bitter to the taste and a bit sour. It burned as it went down like whiskey. The small note that had come in the bag with it said it’d take a few hours to start working and would last up to a day. Tomorrow was Jinki’s last day off before he returned to his normal duties and Jonghyun planned on using every moment he could.

----

          Jonghyun was in the middle of tossing Jinki’s tunic from his frame when the bell on the outermost door rang. He growled but didn’t stop moving his hand over his cock. “Maybe we should see what that is, Jonghyun.”

          “If it’s important they’ll leave it at the door.”

          Jinki’s hands were firm as they gripped his hips, pushing out to keep him steady against the wall. He pressed their foreheads together with a little smile. “Humor me. If it’s nothing I’ll make it up to you.”

          Letting his hands fall from Jinki’s chest, Jonghyun sighed. “Fine.”

          He wrapped his robe tighter around his frame before unlocking the door and padding out through the doorways to the outermost entry. Standing there was a young messenger, shaggy brown hair and big eyes. “Your Majesty.”

          “What is it?”

          “Urgent message from the Elves.”

          With a raised eyebrow, Jonghyun carefully took the letter from him, popping the seal open with his thumb. His teeth clenched reading the first line, knowing his conceiving plans would be put on hold for he and the Keeper were being requested in the capital Elven city of Aoerisa. “Thank you. You’re dismissed.”

          With a bow of his head and quick, “Your Majesty.” the poor boy was dashing off down the hall.

          As Jonghyun stepped back into the room with Jinki he slammed the letter rather harshly into the man’s chest with a glare. “Next time your cock is in my hand and I say the door can wait, Listen.”

          Jinki looked up from the letter with a strange expression, “Seems I’m returning home far sooner than I’d like.”

----

          Jonghyun's breathing was quick and light, his brow was slightly damp and his fingers were curled around his horse's reins so tightly his knuckles were almost white. Jinki had ridden up alongside his horse when he saw Jonghyun's body sway a little as if losing his balance. “Is everything alright, Your Majesty?”

          Slowly Jonghyun's gaze found his. “Oh, quite well Jinki. How long until we arrive?”

          “About a day, Your Majesty.” They had ridden in on horseback to the Elven Kingdom to appease their customs, the law put into place after the Great War ended. They wished Jonghyun and his envoy to be escorted into the main Elven city of Aoerisa by their city guards. “We should be arriving at our checkpoint for the night fairly soon.”

          Jonghyun smiled, nodding his head in understanding, but Jinki could sense something was wrong. He kicked the side of his horse until it was parallel to the Captain of the Elven forces. “How long until we arrive at our checkpoint?”

          “There's about an hour until the moon sets. We should reach the end of the Great Plains by then.” The man seemed perplexed as he asked. “Why do you ask, Keeper?”

          “The King seems unwell. I wish to get him stationary to rest as quickly as possible.” Jinki hummed before tilting his head down. “Keep up the good work Captain. Try not to let your men know something is amuck. Don't want to cause a stir.”

          “Of course Keeper.”

------

          The dense woods came into view, which signaled it was time to make camp. Jinki had spent the majority of the ride watching Jonghyun. His swaying had gotten a lot worse and in a blink of an eye, he was tipping too far to the left off his saddle. Jinki was quick to close the distance between them as soon as he noticed he was tipping too far and wrapped his arm tightly around his waist pushing him back onto the saddle. He hissed quietly. “Jonghyun?”

          “I’m fine.”

          “I did not ask that.”

          Jonghyun gently shook his head before holding his reins tighter. He flashed a smile, “Let’s get camp started, Jinki.”

          He pressed his lips together as he moved his hand from the back of Jonghyun’s saddle, but didn’t move from being in line with him just in case he went for another tumble in the next hundred feet until they reached the campsite. As soon as they reached the spot, Jinki slipped from his horse and took Jonghyun by the hips to help off of his horse. “You stay here, holding onto the horse. Understood?”

          “Yes.”

          Jinki frowned at how easily Jonghyun agreed and worry bubbled up into his chest that maybe it was worse than he already thought it was. He ran his hand over his horse as he walked toward the Captain yet again to discuss the placement of the King’s tent. Throughout the entire conversation, he was staring at Jonghyun across the small clearing in the forest.

----

          Jonghyun squeezed his eyes shut as he took a deep breath, trying to work through the uneasy, twisting feeling in his abdomen. He never should have taken the tonic when he had, but then again, he hadn’t known they’d rush across the Kingdom for this emergency meeting with the Elven governor. A hand moved across his lower back causing him to growl lowly in his throat. Jinki’s voice was soft and kind as he asked, “Are you alright?”

          “Not really,” He half hissed, longer nails scratching against the leather of the saddle as he held on. “Is my tent prepared?”

          “It is, Your Majesty.”

          “Help me to it.”

          Jinki held a hand just barely brushing his back leading him with slow steps to the tent. The flap fell behind them quickly. “Can you make it to the mat?”

          He numbly nodded, feeling Jinki’s warmth beside him withdrawing, but he doesn’t move from the center of the tent near the fire that’s been made. There was a soft flash of light behind him, ah the wards. Then there were hands pressing into his hips, a motion meant to be comforting he was sure, but all it did was send a flame ablaze in him. “What’s bothering you, Jonghyun?”

          “I need you to bed me.” He feels as if his skin is burning, cheeks flushed as his eyes fluttered shut. He feels Jinki move around him, touching his jaw with a single gloved hand.

          “I know conceiving an heir is important to you, but I will not lie with you when you can barely stand.” When he opens his eyes, Jinki’s expression is one of concern, but the clench of his jaw makes Jonghyun question what has him so angry. “Tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

          His hands are shaking at his sides, eyes flicking over Jinki’s features before he’s sighing, confessing. “I took a tonic from a medicine lady in the city square. She claimed it’d help my fertility. I took it before I knew we had to go here and,” He paused, taking a deep breath as arousal twisted inside him. “All it’s done is make me flushed and it hurts Jinki. It’s wound up so tightly and it just... If you want to fix it, please bed me.”

          “Why didn’t you come to me before you took such a thing?”

          The tenderness of his touch across his cheek, the thumb moving over the skin, making it hard to make words as quickly as he would have liked. “You would have told me no.”

          “Damn right I would have,” Jinki growled lightly, stepping away abruptly. Jonghyun rocked slightly without the support, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “You had no idea what was in that tonic Jonghyun. There could have been ingredients toxic to your species. Are you trying to kill yourself in this Gods forsaken quest to have a baby?”

          “That’s not it. If I cannot conceive naturally… it was supposed to help.”

          “There are so many natural ways that people have used for thousands of years to help with fertility. You should have come to me. Should have trusted me with this. I could have helped you. I should have known you took it.” Jinki’s hands were curled into fists at his side as he looked briefly over his shoulder. His shoulders rose slowly, falling as his fists uncurled before he turned completely. “Bedding you may not even alleviate your ailments, Jonghyun.”

          “I do trust you.” He whispered, arms curling around himself tightly.

          Any last sign of his anger vanishes as his eyes find Jonghyun’s. “I know you do. I know.”

          Jonghyun finds himself watching the way Jinki’s lips form the words, enjoying the deep roll of his voice, and before he can think himself out of it he’s pressing forward. His arms are thrown around Jinki’s neck, tugging him down to slide their lips together. Vaguely registering the sound of surprise that Jinki makes, he focuses on the way the man is kissing back and the feeling of his arms around his waist tugging him closer. When they part he hears Jinki’s shuddered breathing against his face but doesn’t open his eyes to look at him when he whispers. “Please.”

          “Get underdressed and lay down.” Jonghyun’s face twists at the words, even more so as Jinki softly laughs. “You’re burning up. Get undressed.”

-----

          After acquiring a pale of water from the stream running the length of the East side of camp, Jinki kneeled beside him and ran a damp cloth over Jonghyun’s skin. He whimpered with each soft movement of the fabric and the coolness of the water, sighing as it moved over his neck. “I thought you were going to bed me.”

          “I still might once this is out of your system and you’re of sound mind.” Jinki focused on wringing out the now hot cloth entirely. “But before any of that, I have to make sure whatever you put into your body isn’t slowly killing you.”

          “There’s still some left,” Jonghyun slowly looked over at him, lifting his hand to point at his bag. “In the bottom pocket.”

          Jinki quickly fetched it, swirling the bottle in his hands. He popped open the cork to gently waft the scent from the blue liquid toward his nose, causing his face to scrunch up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

          “I was idiotic. I know just-” Jonghyun took a deep breath. “Can you scold me later?”

          “Mmm I’m fairly certain I could do it now and then, but alright.” Jinki sighed before kneeling beside him. “I don’t sense anything that is poisonous to Fairies, but- Hey stop touching me I’m serious- I need to scan you.”

          “Scan quicker.”

          Jinki stopped wringing out the cloth and stared at Jonghyun. “For that, I’m going to take my time nice and slow.”

          He got a long, pitiful whine in response. It didn't get the proper response out of Jinki, by the way the man groaned in frustration.

-----

[frickfracksnatchisback]

Fear of Infection (Monster AU)

So I love @teenytinyhatkid‘s Monster AU to death (haha get it???) and this idea for a shortish story would not leave me alone (and this took way too pecking long to write asdfjks). Premise is that Hat Kid is acting strange in the monster house which leads to almost everybody freaking out and investigating. And it turns out that Hat Kid isn’t all what she seems...

Warning! Bloody (and possibly gory) descriptions of animal corpses. No human gore though, so you’re safe there!  Enjoy the angst!

***

It was like any other normal day outside.  The sun was shining brightly, the spring flowers were all in bloom, and the air was filled with chirping birds. A small hatted child was running in the backyard of a small house, laughing as she ran through the freshly cut grass. Another child came close behind her, they were both playing a fun game of tag. As the two children laughed and played in the backyard of their home, one particularly tall adult watched over them. He kept a look out, making sure that the two young girls wouldn’t get into any trouble. As he watched, another adult was planting in the garden not too far away. The sun was shining down on her straw hat as she planted the herbs and vegetables. Yes, all was perfectly normal in this household. The werewolf pup playing chase with the human child, the vampire keeping watch over them, and the witch gardening…

Well, perhaps “normal” wasn’t the right term.

“Thanks for agreeing to watch over them, dearie. You’re being a big help!” CC said happily as she dug up another hole in the small garden with her trowel. Snatcher grunted in reply, steadily watching the girls like a hawk. He shifted his umbrella to get more cover himself from the sunlight. He really had no need to, he was pretty much shaded head to toe already. Not to mention he was sitting on the porch, which had a big enough awning to give him more than enough protection. But in Snatcher’s opinion, you could never be too careful when you’re a vampire. Especially when the sunlight was as strong as it was today.

“I hope it’s not too much trouble for you. I’d do it myself if I could, but I don’t have eyes in the back of my head.” CC joked as she planted a cucumber plant into the ground. Snatcher chuckled lightly.

“Who knows? You could make a spell or a potion that could do that.” he joked back, laughing as CC playfully threw one of her spare gardening gloves at him.

“You’re quite the rascal when you want to be.” she giggled, going back to her gardening.

“Hey, would I be me if I wasn’t?” Snatcher grinned, making CC giggle even more. He quickly went back to watching the two girls. It really wasn’t that much of a bother to be honest. Yes, she did wake him up much earlier than he was used to being up. Yes, it was annoyingly sunny out. And yes, he could be getting some lawyer work done or go out to look for a meal. But hey, CC bribed him with saying she would get him some blood bags. And it wasn’t too hard of a job to be honest, so how could he turn that down?

He brought his attention back to the two girls. It looked like they were taking a break from all the fun and games for now. Hat Kid was calmly sitting in the shade of a tree while Mu was...digging. Snatcher groaned, not again.

“Hey CC, the little gremlin is making a mess again.” he told CC. She stopped what she was doing and sighed.

“Please don’t call her that.” she said politely and turned around towards the pup. “Sweetie, what have I told you about digging holes in the backyard?” she called back. The little werewolf pup look up, her paws covered in dirt.

“I think I found a rabbit den!” she said as she grinned mischievously, her tail wagging behind her. She ignored CC and went back to digging. CC just shook her head and went back to what she was doing. Snatcher also shook his head, but more so at CC’s actions. When would she ever start being more assertive with that brat?

“You alright kiddo?” He yelled across to Hat Kid, who seemed to be staring off into space. She didn’t reply, her face had an odd expression. “Kiddo? I said, are you alright?” he yelled again. This time she snapped out of her haze and nodded back.

“Yeah! Just tired!” she called back and went to staring at the ground. It looked like she was picking up rocks or looking for bugs. From where Snatcher was sitting, it was kind of hard for him to tell.

“Is it just me, or has the kid gotten bigger?” Snatcher asked CC. She simply nodded as she was working.

“Wouldn’t be too unlikely dear. She’s been getting these awful growing pains lately. I know her appetite has certainly gotten bigger!” CC said, patting the soil firmly. Snatcher perked up from where he was sitting.

“Growing pains?” he asked, a bit worryingly. He hadn’t really been kept up to date with all the happenings in the house. He was busy with more important things after all. Things either relating to work, paying the bills, or… Well, CC didn’t know about all the hunting trips with Conductor. And he planned to keep it that way. Still, he definitely hadn’t been checking on the kid recently. That raised a few concerns from him.

“Oh yes, poor dear. She’s said her head has been hurting a lot lately, along with her waist.” CC explained. She grabbed a potion from the belt she was wearing. She poured its contents into the roots of the plant. As always, she couldn’t do a task without some kind of magic involved.

“Her head? You sure she isn’t coming down with something?” he asked, very confused. CC looked up at him and shrugged.

“I don’t think she’s sick, she wouldn’t be eating if she was. She just has some body aches here and there, other than that she’s fine.” She said as she quickly went back to gardening. Snatcher could tell she was worried though. She wasn’t very good at hiding her emotions. And to be honest? He was worried about the kid too. She might have injured herself, that was always a possibility. But then again… He looked back at the kid. She was happily playing with rocks and twigs she had managed to find on the ground, as if they were dolls. Seeing this made him shrug his worries away.

Eh, it was probably nothing too serious.

“You should really she the way she eats nowadays.” CC spoke up, tearing away Snatcher’s concentration once again. “She really enjoyed the beef stew we had a couples day ago! She even asked for thirds!” she joked, laughing to herself as she dug another hole in the ground. “If she keeps it up, she outgrow all of her old clothes. She’s already lost a few...huh?” she said, her trowel hitting something in the dirt.

“What? What did you find?” Snatcher asked, very curious.

“Hold on, I’m trying to find that out.” She said, digging up the ground faster. She saw something and quickly grabbed it. She trying pulling it out of the ground, tugging on whatever she had a hole of. She let out a surprise yelp as she finally pull it out, nearly knocking herself back. She started at what was in her hand, it was a piece of fabric. A shirt to be more precise. She looked it over with a puzzled expression. Her eyes widened, as she quickly tried to dig up the earth with her own hands. And underneath the dirt was a huge pile of dirt-covered clothes.

“Aren’t those the kid’s?” Snatcher asked, recognizing a few of the shirts and outfits.

“Yes...yes they are.” CC grumbled under her breath. Snatcher looked back at her, alarmed. Uh oh, now she was going to get assertive. There was only one person who was guilty of this, and they where about to get one heck of a lecture. She quickly stood up and yelled behind her.

“MU!”

The werewolf pup stopped digging again, the hole being much larger than it was before. She bounded over towards CC on all fours, her tail wagging back and forth. Once she got up to CC’s feet, she stood back on two legs.

“Ooo! Did you find a gopher? Can I eat it?” Mu smiled, her tail still wagging happily behind her. Her face dropped once she saw the face that CC was giving her though. It was the kind of face you never wanted to see as a child. The kind of face that said You’re in big trouble young lady. Her tail drooped along with her puppy ears.

“Would you care to explain why I found this buried in the garden?” she said sternly, holding up the ruined shirt. Mu’s face turned from ashamed to confused once she saw the shirt.

“What? I didn’t bury that!” she said, holding up her hands. But CC was not amused.

“So now you’re lying to me?” she said as she crossed her arms.

“Wha- No! I swear I didn’t bury it!” Mu begged.

“Well, who else could’ve buried it then?” CC asked her. Mu opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She thought for a minute, thinking about her answer carefully.

“A raccoon?” she said, laughing nervously as CC glared over her.

“That doesn’t explain why they’re covered in dried blood.” Snatcher spoke up from behind them. He had made his was over to the hole, picking up one of the dirty clothes and sniffing it. “Jeez kid, did you kill something in this?” he asked, turning his nose away from the smell.

“No! Because I didn’t do it!” Mu yelled.

“I think that’s enough time outside today.” CC sighed, shaking her head. “Come on. If you won’t admit you did it you’re staying in your room until you tell the truth.” she said, motioning for Mu to go back in the house.

“Nuh uh! I’m making a break for it!” Mu panicked, trying to run away as fast as she could. CC saw it coming though, and was quick to catch her. She lifted her up in her arms, keeping a tight hold on her. “Let me go! I’m innocent!” Mu grumbled, squirming and struggling to get away.

“May I give a bit of advice? Maybe next time you shouldn’t say you’re going to run away, especially if you’re guilty as charged.” Snatcher joked, Mu growling at him.

“Don’t give her ideas.” CC fussed at him, turning to head for the door. “Be a dear and tell her to come inside too, won’t you?” she asked him, somehow keeping her hold on the struggling pup as she pointed towards Hat Kid.

“Sure thing.” Snatcher said, snickering at Mu shouting for freedom. He went over to Hat Kid with his umbrella while CC went in the opposite direction.

“Help! I’ve been wrongly accused!” Mu shouted, the door slamming shut on her words. Snatcher chuckled to himself. When would that brat ever learn? And speaking of brat… “Hey kiddo, it’s time to go back inside.” he called to her. She looked up from her piles of sticks and pebbles.

“Aww…” she whined, getting up off the ground anyways.

“What? I thought you said you were tired!” Snatcher said, grinning wide. Hat Kid groaned at him and rolled her eyes. “Hurry up. The sooner we get out of this cursed sunlight, the better.” he said, walking faster.

“I think it’s nice!” Hat Kid said as she tried to keep up with him. “The sun is really warm and it makes me feel cozy!” she beamed at him, skipping alongside him. He scoffed and shook his head.

“Easy for you to say, kiddo! You don’t have to worry about burning up. Literally.” he said, making Hat Kid mumble awkwardly. As they made it to the back of the house, he put up his umbrella and held the door open for her. “After you, I insist!” he said, bowing in a ridiculous gesture.

“Thank you!” she giggled as she stepped inside.

“Don’t mention it.” he said as he followed after her, letting the door close behind him. Hat Kid rushed to the living room as he was putting his umbrella in the umbrella stand. Once he was done he decided to go in that same room.  As he walked in he saw the kid sitting on the couch, watching TV. “Mind if I join you?” he asked as he went up to her. She nodded, patting the seat next to her. He smiled and sat right down. He figured he could use a bit of relaxing time after being out in the sun all day. They both stayed there for a couple hours. Hat Kid watching her cartoons and Snatcher slowly starting to fall asleep next to her.

But he quickly woke up as his stomach growled loudly. Hat Kid didn’t seem to notice him, as she was transfixed by the TV. He rubbed his stomach, guess he was hungrier than he thought. He grumbled, CC was still too busy with the little monster to give him his blood bags. Looks like he was going to have to look for a meal, as much as he didn’t want to. But hey, nothing a little hunting trip couldn’t fix. And the sun was just beginning to set, which was perfect timing for him.

“I’m going out.” he told Hat Kid, pushing himself off the couch. “If CC asks where I’ve gone, just tell her I went shopping or something.” he said, straightening the cuffs of his shirt.

“Are you going hunting again?” she asked, he was surprise that she figured him out so quickly.

“Wow kid, read my mind like an open book.” he grinned. “Yes, I’m going hunting. I just need a quick bite to eat, that’s all.” he said, heading towards the hallways that lead to the front door.

“Can I come with you?” Hat kid asked again.

“What? No, you can’t come with me.” Snatcher told her, standing in the doorway. “I mean, unless you want to eat raw deer.” he joked. But Hat Kid didn’t laugh. She just rubbed the top of her head and pouted.

“But I’m hungry...” she mumbled quietly.

“What was that?” Snatcher asked, he didn’t quite hear her.

“Nothing!” she said quickly. He looked at her quizzically, she was acting rather strange.

“Okay then...” he said, unsure of what she had said. But he didn’t dwell on it further, he was too hungry to care. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Smell ya later!” he called back. Hat Kid smiled back at him, still rubbing her head for some reason. He paid little mind to it though, as he went down the hall to the front door. But as he opened the door his conscious told that something wasn’t right. He hesitated before going out the door. Was she going to be okay?

He shook the thought off, telling himself that he was worrying over nothing. The kid just had some growing pains, that’s all. And with that, he went outside and closed the door, leaving his worries behind him.

***

The entrance door creaked as Snatcher sneaked back into the house. He was visibly scowling, grumbling under his breath. His hunting trip had lasted longer than he thought it would, and it had all been a huge waste of time. And he didn’t managed to catch anything in the forest, which left him in a rather bad mood. Whatever, he was going to get those blood bags from CC soon. Maybe he could hold it off until then.

He silently closed the door behind him. The house was quiet, everyone was probably already in bed. Typical, since the sun had set the moment he walked in.  But he was used to that, he had come home later before. He tip-toed through the hallway, careful not to wake the kid up. That wouldn’t end well for him. Or worse, CC could be-

“Snatcher? Is that you dear?”

Awake...

He froze in his steps once he heard her voice from the living room.. Peck he thought to himself.  He held his breath and push himself against the wall. Maybe she just thought he heard him. And if he stayed quiet enough, maybe he could get out of-

“Snatcher, I know you’re there.”

Nope, she definitely heard him. He sighed in defeat and made his way over to the living room entrance. He peeked in, not wanting to walk in just yet. CC was sitting on the couch near the TV, drinking tea. She didn’t look too angry, so that was a plus. But she had an expression on her face that he couldn’t quite read. He quietly stepped into the room, she kept silent. There was tension in the air, which meant something was definitely up. CC put her empty cup down on a nearby table and looked back at him.

“We need to have a talk.” She said, as if she was his mother. Snatcher shifted uncomfortably. Oh boy he thought. This is going to be a long night.

“Listen, whatever it was I didn’t do it.” he said in his own defense.

“This isn’t really a time for jokes, sweetie.”

“I wasn’t trying to make a joke.”

“Ye sure about that? Because that sounded an awful lot like a joke to me, laddie.”

Snatcher whipped around towards the new voice. It belonged to the very last person he wanted to see tonight, Conductor. He was sitting in the armchair not too far away from CC, gripping a bottle and glass of what Snatcher assumed to be alcohol. He was staring back at him accusingly, his face cold and stern. Great, looks like he was going to get two lectures. And from the grumpy old man no less. Just perfect.

“What is he doing here?” Snatcher asked, annoyed as he pointed to Conductor sitting in the chair. Just seeing him gave him a massive headache. Peck, being in the near proximity of him was like a massive headache all by itself.

“Oi! Ah have every right to know about what the lass is going through, ye bum!” Conductor shouted. CC shushed him, gesturing him to keep quiet. Conductor saw this and grumbled in his chair, taking a swig of his glass.

“What? She just has some growing pains, nothing more.” Snatcher said simply. Conductor sat up and glared at him, as if he had said something offensive. He turned back to CC. “It is just growing pains, right?” he asked her. She kept her head down, saying nothing for a few minutes. She bit her lip nervously before finally speaking up.

“Actually...that may not be the case.”

Snatcher was shocked at her words. “What do you mean that may not be the case?” he asked, rather miffed that no one was telling him anything.

“You may want to sit down for this.” CC said, patting the seat next to her. Snatcher hesitated for awhile before plopping down next to her.

“It’s not like I’m going to faint.” he mumbled, shifting in his spot till he was somewhat comfortable.

“Well...” CC trailed off. “Conductor didn’t take it very well-”

“Ah did just fine!” He screamed, CC was quick to shush him again. Snatcher could see that he was lying though, very badly too. His hands were shaking as he filled up his glass again. And as fast as he filled it, he chugged the alcohol down in one swift motion.

“Conductor, sweetie, please don’t make yourself sick!” CC said distressingly.

“Ah’m fine, lass. Now get on with it.” he growled, making her shrink back in her seat. She took in a deep breath, shaking a bit in fear.

“Go ahead. The quicker you get it over with, the better.” Snatcher tried to comfort her, slowly putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked back at him and gave him a weak smile.

“Thank you.” she mouthed, not wanting to disturb Conductor. “Well… the little one has being getting worse now.” she said meekly, barely speaking above a whisper.

“Okay then…” Snatcher said, trying his best to collect himself. “How bad is ‘worse’?” he asked, fidgeting with his hands nervously. He hated it when he did that, but it was all he could think to do right now. He saw that CC looked like she was about to cry. Oh no he thought to himself. This can’t be good.

“I...I think she might be...” CC was choked up, her eyes watering. He told himself wasn’t going to panic. He was going to get through this bad news. Whatever it was he could handle-

“I think she might be infected.” CC said, breaking down as she finally managed to get the words out. If Snatcher wasn’t already a vampire, his skin would have been deathly pale at this moment.

“WHAT?!” he shouted, jumping from his seat. He couldn’t believe it. No, he wouldn’t believe it. They had all been so careful with watching over the kid! So how could she have-

He stopped panicking and walked towards Conductor in an angry stride. “You better start talking old man! And fast.” he hissed, clenching his fists by his side and gritting his teeth. Conductor was caught off guard, draining his glass before he noticed that Snatcher standing right in front of him.

“Wha- YER ACCUSING ME?!” he yelled, setting his glass down and standing up so they could see eye-to-eye. Snatcher was much taller than him, but that didn’t stop the two from giving each other death glares.

“How else would she have gotten it?!” Snatcher shouted back at him.

“Ye no good, dirty peckneck! I outta strangle ye with me bare hands!” Conductor said as he tried to stand on his toes to heighten himself.

“Wait!” CC said, quickly getting up to separate the two. “We don’t even know what it is yet! Please, don’t fight!” she said as she pushed the two apart. The two looked at her, confused out of their minds.

“You don’t know what it is?” Snatcher asked.

“Lass, I thought you said it was-” Conductor started, before Snatcher put up a finger to shush him.

“Well...that’s the problem. It’s hard to tell what it is, exactly. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” CC tried to explain, and failing miserably. The three fell silent for a moment, none of them knowing what to do about the predicament.

“Okay, let’s try to think this out.” Snatcher spoke up, distancing himself from Conductor. “Has she been scratching herself lately? Because he does that often.” he said, jabbing a thumb at Conductor. Conductor retaliated by slapping his hand away. “Watch it, old man.” he threatened as he glared at Conductor.

“She has been doing that, actually.” CC muttered. The two looked back at her again, then back at each other.

“Ha! So you did bite her then?” Snatcher said, smiling thinly at Conductor.

“What?! Ah did no such thing to the wee lass!” Conductor sputtered, holding his hands up defensively.

“No, no! That’s not just it!” CC fussed.

“Well what else could it be then?!” Snatcher snapped. He wasn’t handling the pressure very well. CC looked back at him, clearly irritated.

“I should be asking you that!” CC said hotly, poking as his chest. “How am I supposed to know? You think I know everything about turning symptoms? Because I don’t!” she continued, stomping away from the two. “I’m supposed to be the one who watches over her! And I...I just can’t-” she choked out, before falling back onto the couch. She covered her face and sobbed loudly, making Snatcher feel a twang of guilt inside him. He slowly made his way over to her, hoping he’d be able to comfort her.

“Hey, listen. It’s okay, you didn’t know about this.” he sat next to her and rubbed her back.

“I’m sorry it’s just-” she tried to speak through all her blubbering. “I have no clue what’s wrong with her or what she’s turning into. I don’t know if she has wereowl symptoms or...” she trailed off.

“Or…?” Snatcher asked.

“She could be turning into a bloodsucker, laddie.” Conductor spoke up as he came closer to the two. Snatcher looked at him, his eyes glaring daggers.

“Are you insane? You think she’s turning into a vampire?” Snatcher exclaimed, the Conductor was starting to get on his last nerve.

“It’s not too unlikely, dear.” CC broke in. “She’s been shaking all over, like you when you’re...hungry.” she explained, getting Snatcher’s full attention. “And she bit her lip today, very badly. And I almost thought I saw...” she stopped before plucking up the courage to say it.

“I think she had fangs.”

Snatcher eyes went wide. “F-fangs?” he said, a panicked smile on his face. CC nodded, looking back at him with pity. He took his hand off her, bringing his hands down to look at them. “N-no...I would never even consider biting the kid! Let alone turning her!” he said, fear on the edge of his voice.

“How do we know that ye didn’t do it on accident?” Conductor sneered. Snatcher stared at him for a moment, face-palmed, and shook his head.

“You don’t understand. Turning someone into a vampire is much more complicated than just a simple bite.” he groaned, rubbing the spot between his eyes. “I would have to feed off of her and then give her some of my own blood in exchange.” he explained, recalling the process all too well in his memory. “And it’s not an easy process. Unlike yours, that is. All you have to do is bite her once.” he finished. Conductor kept his mouth shut for a moment, processing his thoughts.

“Ye act like a real bumbling idiot when yer hungry. Are ye sure ye didn’t bite the lass?” he asked, cocking his head in question. Snatcher’s eyes thinned as he scowled back.

“Do you want an honest answer to that, old man? Or should I just carve it into your skull?” he hissed, stretching out his claws and digging them into the couch cushion.

“Will you two cut it out?!” CC shrieked, grabbing their attention. “Arguing is getting us nowhere!” she scolded them. They stayed in bitter silence, with Snatcher softly nodding. “Maybe we should just wait until morning. I think we all just need some rest.” She sighed, getting up from the couch.

“Sure, whatever.” Snatcher grumbled as he did the same. “We don’t have a lot of time though. We’ll need to find out what’s happening to kid soon, before things get ugly.” he said as he straighten his shirt collar and tie.

“Yer right there. Don’t want the lass biting and feeding off of peck knows what.” Conductor joked.

Something inside of Snatcher snapped as his eye twitched. And before he knew it, he was holding Conductor up by the throat. Conductor gasped and struggled for air as he was lifted off the ground. Snatcher’s eyes were glowing with rage and his fangs seemed to grow in size. CC watched in horror, frozen on the spot. She was too scared of what he would do next.

“I would. Never. Bite. The kid.” he snarled, tightening his grip as Conductor choked and gurgled. “Don’t you ever assume that I would hurt her like that again.” he said, showing off his gleaming, sharp fangs. He then let go of Conductor and watched him drop to the floor. Conductor gasped as he fell on his hands and knees, coughing up a storm. Snatcher simply watched the feeble old man, his shadow looming over his weak body. He leaned down ever-so slightly and whispered to him.

“You’re just a careless old fool, so quit denying it.”

Before he could brace himself, Conductor got up and popped him right in the nose.

He was knocked back with great force. His body slammed onto the hardwood floor and the back of his head bumped into the couch. He groaned, his eyes tightening with pain and watering. He laid there for a moment before quickly pushing himself up. Something warm trickled from his nose and he quickly went to cover it. He brought back his hand, he saw that it had smears of blood. He looked back at Conductor to see him shaking his hand in pain. Conductor then started wiping his hand on his white shirt, leaving behind small red stains.

“Oh, so that’s how we’re going to talk this out.” he laughed coldly, unaware of Conductor’s glare towards him as he held his nose. “Then again, why am I surprised? You always were a brute with conversation.” he grinned, flashing off his teeth. As he saw Conductor seething with rage his smile swiftly dropped.

“I’LL SHOW YE A ‘CONVERSATION’!” roared Conductor. He made to lunge towards Snatcher, would was still laying on the ground. He braced himself, outstretching his claws so he could give the old man a couple scratches once they made contact. Conductor’s hands were reaching for his face-

“ENOUGH!”

The two froze on the spot. Literally. A pulse of blue magic washed over them, freezing them like a statues. Conductor stood hunched over Snatcher, still reaching for his face but somehow managing to keep an impossible balance. Snatcher still had his claws out, still protecting his upper half through his frozen trance. CC was panting, she didn’t mean to cast that spell. But it had stopped them from killing each other, so that’s all that mattered. She walked up to them, their eyes were the only thing moving. They looked back at her, she sighed.

“If I unfreeze you both, you have to stop the fighting. Alright?” she asked them both. They couldn’t nod, but if they could they’d be doing it in unison. She quickly clapped her hands together. They both let out a yell as the spell was broken. And before he could move out of the way, Conductor fell on top of Snatcher. He grunted, feeling squished under the old-timer’s weight.

“Get. Off!” he wheezed, shoving Conductor off himself. Conductor yelped in surprise, his face hitting the floor and his hat falling off. Snatcher stood back up at an alarming speed, dusting himself off hurriedly. He tried fixing his tie but did it much too fast and undid it instead. He tore the tie off his neck and threw it on the ground.

“I am going to bed, I’ve had enough of this!” he growled, his hair puffing up.

“Darlings, what is all this racket?” Grooves said as he appeared in the doorway, yawning and half asleep. He was then fully awake as Snatcher came towards him and shoved him out of the way.

“GOOD! NIGHT!” he shouted, stomping off towards the attic room stairs. He slammed the door to his room, making the others jump and the house shake a little. Grooves looked back at CC and Conductor. CC had a very worried expression and Conductor was still getting up off the floor.

“What was that all about?” Grooves asked.

***

Snatcher tossed and turned in his old bed, the mattress creaking underneath him. He turned again for what felt like the hundredth time and stared at the ceiling. He huffed and then sighed, he just couldn’t sleep. He was too angry, his nose still being sore from that punch earlier. It wasn’t broken and the bleeding had fortunately stopped now, thanks to a couple tissues. But he was going to get back at that old coot for what he did.

Yet, as mad as he was at the Conductor, he was also extremely worried. What if he did infect the kid? It was a crazy notion, one that he dreaded. But it lingered in his mind like a bad dream. It was almost like he could picture-

Him standing over the kid in an alleyway. His claws sharp and ready to cut through flesh. His teeth bared and pointed, bigger and sharper. His eyes glowing and glaring, like he was a predator of the night. But he wasn’t all there. He was too hungry to notice or care. He didn’t care that the kid was crying. He didn’t care that her small body was shaking as he came closer and closer. He didn’t care that his claws were hurting her as he grabbed her. All he want to do was sink his teeth in and-

“Shut up.” he hissed at himself, smacking his face with a pillow. “That didn’t happen, and it never will.” he told himself. But he mind still wouldn’t let go of the dark thought. He knew that he could be very impulsive when it came to feeding. He hadn’t had a meal in days. And it could be possible that he slipped up and blacked out making him forget the whole thing…

No, he refused to believe it. He would never turn the kid. He didn’t want to admit it, but he cared about her too much. And he would never, under the stars and moon, ever bite her. The kid turning into a vampire? It was a stupid, rash thought. One that he needed to forget and take his mind off of.

He got up from the bed and began pacing back and forth. Perhaps he was just...hungry. Yeah, that was it. The lack of blood was probably driving him crazy, making him paranoid over silly little things. He just couldn’t wait another day for those blood bags that CC promised. He probably wasn’t getting them anyways, not after that little fiasco. Which meant he needed to find some food for himself. He went over to the window, looking out into the backyard and into the woods. He’d just have to make another hunting trip, that’s all. Just go into the forest, find a quick meal, and get out before-

He immediately paused his thoughts as he saw a figure outside. A very small figure was running through the grass. He got closer to the glass and set his hands against it. Who on earth was that? He tried squinting his eyes, his vampiric vision helping him try to see who it was. Was it a burglar? No...too tiny. Was it the monstrous puppy? No...she’d be running on all fours if that were the case. Then who the heck was-

Snatcher gasped slightly as noticed the hat. The all too familiar top hat that he could recolonize in a flash. But...no it couldn’t be her. It just couldn’t be her. His eyes widened with fear as the kid stopped running and turned around. She looked back at the house, her movements odd and jittery. She looked up at the house, almost at him, with...

Two. Glowing. Eyes.

Snatcher was shaking in fear. He used all his willpower to keep himself from screaming. He put a hand to his mouth, and then another. The kid hadn’t noticed him watching her from the window, or she didn’t care, as she ran faster into the woods. He stood there in shocked silence before stepping back and dropping back onto his bed. He shivered, pulling a his hair with tears of despair in his eyes. Telling himself over and over that he didn’t see that, he didn’t see that, HE DIDN’T SEE THAT! There’s was no way that the kid had glowing eyes! Only werecreatures had glowing eyes! Or...or-

“Vampires...” he said through his weeping, the word caught in his throat. He held his face in his hands, sucking the air in through his teeth. He stayed like this for a few moments, tuning out the world around him. Then, as fast as he broke down crying, he stopped. He got up off his bed a second time, stiff and emotionless as a robot. He made his way over to the door and was about to reach for the doorknob. But he hesitated for a moment. Should he really go after the kid himself?

No, he had to bring someone with him. He had to. Even if it was CC, who would be skittish and scared the entire time they would be in the forest. Peck, he would even take Conductor with him at this point. He would most likely insist on it anyways, despite him being a major hindrance. But he just need someone, anyone to come with him into the forest. He just need some clarification, that’s all. Just some evidence or excuse that he could hold onto for dear life. Because he did not infect the kid, and he was going to prove it. He opened the door and hastily went to wake the others up.

Time for another hunting trip.

***

“Are ye sure ye saw the lassie run off here?” Conductor asked for the fifth time in a row as they were treading through the forest. The sounds of chirping crickets, crunching leaves, and the occasional scampering of startled critters were all around them. Yet this didn’t stop them from going deeper into the forest.

“I know what I saw.” Snatcher said. He had manage to fill the two in on what happened, keeping the details of his nervous breakdown to himself. He lead the group, perking his head up as he listened to his surrounding with his pointed ears. He stopped the group for a moment, his ears twitching, and then motioned for the two to keep following him from behind.

“I hope she’s okay...” CC whispered, trying her best to be extra quiet. She stepped on a branch, yelping at the dry snapping sound it made. “Sorry!” she apologized, but he paid little mind to it as they kept on walking. “You said she looked strange?” she asked, her voice even quieter. Snatcher turned back to look at her, looking more serious then he had ever been before.

“Strange is an understatement. This is...frightening, to say the least.” he put it simply, quickly going back to directing the group. CC and Conductor glanced at each other. CC then went back to following Snatcher. She thought if he was this serious about it, then he must be trusted. But Conductor wasn’t so sure, staying behind from the group for a moment. Was it really a good idea to put trust in him of all people? The same crazy bum who nearly broke his own neck? It just didn’t seem right…

“Conductor, are you coming?” CC whisper-shouted over to him. He snapped out of it, nodding back at her.

“Ah’m coming, Ah’m coming. Give me a minute.” he responded, catching up with the group.

“We haven’t got all day, old man. Who knows how deep in the kid is by now?” Snatcher said back to him. Conductor grumbled and followed them hastily. Looks like he really would have to follow him, as much as it annoyed him. Wasn’t there any other way? Couldn’t he just go look for the little lass himself? Then again… Peck it. He was already out here following them, and there was always the possibility that he could get lost all by himself. Besides, he wasn’t doing this for the bum’s sake.

He was doing it for the lassie, he had to make sure she was safe.

“Ah wish DJ Peck Neck would’ve helped us.” Conductor complained, it was all he could think to do to ease the tension. “‘Ah need mah beauty sleep’ he said! What a load of rubbish! I’ll tell him where to shove his ‘beauty sleep’ once we-”

Conductor’s ranting was interrupted as Snatcher stopped in his tracks. The two bumped into him, but he still stood upright. He shushed them, holding up and hand and staying silent.

“Do you hear that?” he asked them in a whisper.

“Hear what?” Conductor said in his regular tone of voice. Both CC and Snatcher were quick to shush him.

“Be quiet and listen!” Snatcher fussed. Conductor glared at him before cuffing his ears to listen better for the noise. CC did the same, and they all joined in to listen…

What they heard was very disturbing. It sounded like little growling noises from an animal. Yet, they almost sounded human-like if you listened close enough. There were also crunching noises that were accompanied with wet chewing and tearing. The growling would stop for a few moments and a small gulping noise could be heard. They were sickly noises that sounded like something was eating. Or, more specifically, feeding.

They all looked at each other, chilled to the bone. Snatcher tried to compose himself as best he could, trying not to shake or shiver in fear. He tried thinking of a reasonable explanation to what he was hearing. Perhaps it wasn’t the kid? Maybe there were just hungry wolves in the area? No wait, bad thought. If there were wolves in the area where the kid ran into, that wouldn’t be a good sign. That means a pack of wolves could’ve found her, chased her down, and eaten her... Oh heavens, why would he even think of that?! That was a terrible thought!

While Snatcher was panicking in his own mind, so was CC. She was more concerned for the child then she had ever been before. Hoping that what she was hearing was just a trick if the imagination. It was probably some other creature, right? Like a squirrel or a rabbit maybe. Then again, those animals didn’t growl as much. But it was probably nothing! Hat Kid was just...a sleepwalker! Yes, just a sleepwalker! They’ll just find the little girl sleeping in a bush, take her back home, tuck her back into her little bed, and pretend like this all didn’t happen! After all, she had to be safe right? Right?

Conductor’s dreads were also starting to settle in more. He could tell that the growling sounded animal, but was it actually human. He broke out in a cold sweat, he recognized that growling. It was exactly was a newly turned wereowl would sound like during a full moon. But strangely enough, there wasn’t a full moon out tonight. And the lassie hadn’t been sprouting feathers the last time he checked, just scratching. So he had nothing to worry about, right? Hat Kid was perfectly fine and not turning into a tiny, little wereowlet. Because he hadn’t bitten her...or had he?

Snatcher set the group back in motion by plucking up the courage to go further. CC noticed this and quickly joined him. Conductor was the last one, taking a huge gulp before moving on in shaky steps. The terrible noises became louder. Snatcher was breathing rapidly, carefully moving through the brush so as not to disturb whoever was making the noises. Conductor was visibly quaking as they kept on going. But CC seemed to be the only one acting calm. At least, she was on the outside. But in the inside? Her motherly instincts were going crazy. They all now heard the noises from behind a few trees, as if they were right in front of it.

They froze as heard a voice. A voice that sounded like a child’s, but filled with growls and a soft yet creepy tone.

“Mmm...yummy, yummy...”

They all perked up at the child’s voice. CC was the most alert to it, her eyes wider than the two men combined. “Sweetheart? Is that you?” she called out softly, still whispering meekly. The chewing noises continued anyways, as if the person eating hadn’t heard her. Before Snatcher could stop her, she was already pushing past him to get through. She went up towards the patch of trees and tried to look past them. “Sweetie, are you okay?” she said, a little more frantic this time. “It’s okay, I’m h-”

She stopped as she caught sight of something. She stood there, stiff as a board. Snatcher and Conductor looked at each other, puzzled as to why she was so quiet. They both moved closer to her.

“Uh, CC? You doing okay?” Snatcher asked, making to tap her on the shoulder.

“Lass, what’s wrong?” Conductor joined in, reaching out to her.

CC started falling to the ground. Snatcher jumped back as CC fainted in Conductor’s general direction. Conductor managed to catch her by pure reflex, hoisting up her limp body. She was very much unconscious, but still breathing slowly. He looked back at Snatcher with a worried and confused face, still holding her in his arms. Snatcher just stared at her, his hopes were beginning to crumble into dust. All he knew was that this wasn’t a good sign.

“Just...set her down somewhere. She’ll be fine, we can get her later.” Snatcher whispered, instructing Conductor. Conductor hesitated before carefully lowering CC onto the ground. He move her arms and legs a bit, making sure she would be comfortable. As he did that, Snatcher was already going ahead of him. He hid behind some of the trees, moving around but not wanting to been seen. Conductor looked up and quickly left CC laying there to join him. But he didn’t hide like Snatcher. Instead, he simply walked on forward. They moved closer and closer to the sounds-

Until they finally caught a glimpse of the hatted child.

She was sitting on the ground, dressed in her little frilly nightgown. Only the nightgown was smeared with grass, dirt, and blood stains. To their horror, they could see exactly why. She was holding some sort of small creature in both her hands, tearing it apart with her teeth. And her teeth...they were pointed and clearly not human. Her chin was dripping with blood as she dung into her meal rather greedily. They both saw this, watching in terror and disgust as she gobbled up the fresh pieces of animal flesh.

Snatcher could not recall a time where he was more terrified. Watching the kid munching away with her teeth. Her sharp teeth. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of them. It recalled terrible memories for him. His past life spent with her. Him slowly be turned by her, an agonizing process of which he could never forget. His first time feeding, getting a taste of blood for the first time. And then, the village killings. The one memory he wished he could forget, but couldn’t. She reminded him too much of those memories. The pain, the hunger, the mindless urge to just feed. He scratched his claws against the bark of the tree, tears in his eyes. Please! he thought. Anything but this!

While Snatcher was fixated on the child’s inhuman teeth, Conductor was just as scared if not more. His blood went cold as he saw something that Snatcher was too scared to notice. All around the where Hat Kid was sitting, scattered here and there, were feathers. Little. Yellow. Feathers. On the ground, stuck to her clothes, even some on her face. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. But he couldn’t stop the himself from crying fearful tears. It’s true isn’t it? he thought in despair. He had bitten the little one. He had infected her. He couldn’t remember when it happened, but he must have. Now she was cursed to live a light under the full moon. A vicious little beast that fed off of tiny woodland creatures like snacks. And it’s all my fault...

Hat Kid was alerted to the sound of their sobbing. She quickly looked up at the two, grabbing their attention.

They both gasped at the same time. She didn’t look at all like herself. Her skin was orange-red and scaly, gleaming under the moonlight. Her eyes, like cat or snake eyes, bright yellow with a slit in the middle. And was that a tail? Yes, they saw a long pointy-tipped tail poking out from beneath her gown. They both got a full glimpse of what she had been eating, now that her face was out of the way. The small body of a dead bird was in her hands, nothing but a feathery and bloody pile. She was an absolute mess, her clothes ruined and her face bloodied. And she was, without a doubt, not human.

But she wasn’t a vampire or a wereowl. And that made all the difference.

“KID!” Snatcher yelled in surprise, letting go of the tree he was clinging onto and running over to her.

“LASSIE!” Conductor followed him, stumbling and nearly falling.

Hat Kid didn’t get a change to escape as the two men picked her up off the ground. They hugged and squeezed her together, as if she had been gone for an entire week. They didn’t care that they were visibly crying next to each other. And they didn’t care that the blood the kid was covered in was getting on their clothes. They just cared that she was safe! And more importantly, not infected by either of them. They kept hugging and cuddling her, not wanting to let go.

But they both lifted their heads once they heard her beginning to cry.

“Hey kid, what’s wrong?” Snatcher asked as she sniffled and sobbed, tears rolling down her scaly cheeks.

“Lassie, are ye alright?” Conductor asked, just as worried. Hat Kid managed to open her watery eyes to look up at them, a sad look on her face.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” she wept. They look at her in shock.

“Mad at you? Why on earth would we be mad at you?” Snatcher replied, laughing nervously in relief.

“Lassie, Ah’m the happiest man alive right now. And you better believe it!” Conductor said, playfully ‘booping’ Hat Kid on the nose. She giggled weakly before going back to frowning.

“Why didn’t ye tell us about this?” Conductor asked.

“And what are you anyways?” Snatcher added. Conductor glared at him. “What? Just asking.” he shrugged, ignoring the glare. Hat Kid looked down in shame, keeping quiet for a few minutes.

“I’m...an imp.” she finally managed to say. She took off her hat, revealing two little red horns on the top of her head. Snatcher and Conductor were fascinated by them. How had they not seen those before?

“Oh...” Snatcher blurted out, not knowing what else to say. He’d never really heard of an imp before, or even seen one. And neither had Conductor, who was staring at the horns rather bemusedly.

“I’m really sorry!” Hat Kid apologized out of the blue. “I used magic to make myself look human so you wouldn’t find out.” she explained, holding on tightly to her hat.

“Why?” Snatcher asked, tilting his head in question. Hat Kid’s eyes started to well with tears again.

“I didn’t want to scare anybody...” she muttered softly. “Nobody likes imps. I don’t know why, but everyone who’s seen my true form hates what I look like.” she sniffed, leaning into Snatcher’s chest. She started to full on sob. “And...t-they said I was a...m-monster! And...and a d-demon and I...I-” she tried to speak through her sobbing. “I’m so, so soooooorry!” she wailed, hugging Snatcher tightly. Both Snatcher and Conductor’s hearts felt like they were going to break from sadness. How could people say such things to such a little girl? Sure, she definitely wasn’t human. But she was the most kind, caring, and sweet kid they had ever meet!

“Shhhhh, hey now. It’s okay, it’s okay. Everything’s fine.” Snatcher spoke softly, cradling her like a baby. Conductor also helped to calm her by rubbing her back.

“It’s okay that yer a monster. Ye know that we love ye anyways, right lassie?” Conductor said, stroking her on the head. Hat Kid looked up at him, a glitter of hope in her eyes.

“R-really?” she asked.

“Kid, seriously? You live with a witch, a zombie, a vampire, a werewolf, and a wereowl all under the same roof. I’m pretty sure we’re okay with you not being human.” Snatcher said sarcastically, making her giggle happily.

“Bum’s got a point. I’ll have to agree with him fer once.” Conductor joked, resting a hand on Snatcher’s shoulder. “Ah don’t think we could trade ye fer anything in the world.” he smiled back at her. They couldn’t really tell, but Hat Kid was blushing from underneath her scales.

“Come on! It’s past your bedtime, young lady.” Snatcher grinned, picking up the kid and sitting her on his shoulders.

“Oi! How come ye get to carry her?” Conductor huffed.

“Oh? You’re telling me you don’t want to carry CC home?” Snatcher jested. Conductor’s face went red as he lowered his hat over his eyes.

“Shut up, peckneck.” he sputtered, heading off to get CC anyways.

“Language!” Snatcher shouted as he followed him, the kid resting on his shoulders. Once he saw Conductor with CC in his arms, they headed back towards to house.

“Y’know…you could have told us sooner. At least a warning would’ve been nice.” Snatcher told Hat Kid, sighing tiredly. He saw the kid sticking her tongue out at him, it was black and forked like a snake’s tongue. He snorted, she was just too adorable for her own good. Even in monster form!

“C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get you cleaned up before CC has a heart attack.” he said. He then realized something. “Wait a minute...” he paused. “You were the one who buried those dirty clothes in the garden, weren’t you?” he told Hat Kid. She rubbed the back of her head, looking extremely guilty. “Oh wow, hiding the evidence to frame someone? You’re more of a little troublemaker than I thought!” he grinned mischievously.

“Ohoho! The pup sure isn’t forgiving ye fer that one, lassie!” Conductor called back, joining in the fun. Hat Kid then huffed and crossed her arms.

“I was hungry okay?!” she yelling, irritated and making a pouty face. Conductor and Snatcher stared at each other for a few minutes. Snatcher started cackling and Conductor howled with laughter.

“What? What’s so funny?” she asked them, but they weren’t listening.

“Oh kid...you’re a riot.” Snatcher said, snickering a little. Conductor was too busy giggling to have a witty reply, so he just kept on walking. Hat Kid didn’t quite get the joke, but she smiled anyways. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you home.” Snatcher said, bouncing her on his shoulders. Hat Kid laughed, yawned loudly, and rested her head on top of his soft hair. Home… she thought happily as she started to fall asleep.

She was really starting to feel more at home that she ever had before.

[parkkjiminssi]

Outcast

Kim Taehyung x Reader | social media au

Part 20: The Locket

In a world where superpowers exist, you would think that there’s no such thing as being different. Y/N, however, was branded with that tittle early in her childhood days after almost destroying her school and hurting her classmates. In attempts of escaping her past, Y/N attends to a high school that’s in a neighboring city. What will happen when Y/N meets the Elite Nine? What will happen when Y/N meets a boy named Kim Taehyung?

Word Count: 2.8K

tag list: @astronomyturtle, @namiiy, @momdancingtomcr, @perseephony, @moonfairyjoon, @vstellarkth, @stephgiriseok, @babybluebisexual, @bluefaeriefury, @kawaii-desv, @lilliaflurr

a/n: sorry it took so long to get this out. I just had a very busy weekend/week. Thank you for your patience. Sorry if there’s typos, I just wanted to get this out for you all. Like always links are on my bio!

[Text Message from Hoseok, 9:13AM]

“Hey dude, where are you? The boys and I are outside your house, remember we had agreed to come early to decorate it?”

[Reply to Hoseok, 9:15AM]

“Ah, that’s right. I’m sorry, I’m not home right now but give me a few and I’ll be there.”

With a groan, Taehyung carefully got out of the bed. Sure, the whole plans had been that he would sleep on the couch but when you showed him those puppy eyes what was he supposed to do? Say no?!

Taehyung slowly put on his shoes and his jacket. Trying to drag on the moment a bit more. After a few minutes, Taehyung finally stood from the bed ready to go but not before getting one last look at your sleeping figure.

“Wow,” He whispered to himself. “I really do love her.”

As he walked home, Taehyung thought about it. When was really the exact moment that he started liking you? Was it the first day of school when you shook hands? Or was it the first time you came over to his place and you two stayed talking for hours? Well that definitely was the day that he decided to first ask you out on a date. Oh, and let’s not forget that time when Jiyeon has thrown her food all over you. He felt like he was going to die when you asked him to leave you alone, but when the two of you made up was one of the happiest days of his life. The many dates that came after that and not to mention homecoming, that although it was ruined by that explosion, he got to hold your hand as you walked through the school’s gardens. No wait! The day at the beach. Now that was a day to remember. So many things were said between the two of you. Secrets, fears, goals. He wanted to become a professional photographer, meanwhile you wanted to be a news reporter. However, sleeping with you in his arms was probably the best experience ever. He wanted to do just that, hold you in his arms forever and not let go. Taehyung wanted to protect you from everything and everyone. He just wanted for you to be happy.

Taehyung just shook his head with a smile. He honestly had no idea when it was the exact moment when he started loving you but this was a feeling that he wanted to cherish. He needed to let you know and tonight was the perfect night. Tonight will be the night that he will confess his feelings for you and ask you to be his girlfriend.

A few hours passed and you finally started to wake up. Your hand searched for Tae but it never came in contact with him. You quickly opened your eyes and sat up. He really wasn’t there. You reached for your phone on the nightstand and the little panic that was building inside of you subsided when you saw his text message.

[Text Message From Taehyung, 11:27AM]

“Hey princess, good morning! I’m sorry I left without saying anything, I just didn’t have the heart to wake you up. The guys are already at my house to decorate it. I’ll see you later at the party!”

You smiled at his kind words. Ever since you arrived to this city, Taehyung and the rest of your friends have shown you that life is not as bad as you thought. There might’ve been some bumps along the road but it all eventually led you up to this. Never in a million years did you ever think that you’ll have friends, fun at school or even romantic feelings for someone. This was the first time you ever felt like this for someone and you were so damn happy that that someone was Taehyung. Little by little he gained your heart and no matter how much you tried pushing him away, he still remained by your side.

Although all you wanted to do was stay inside your covers and sleep some more, you needed to get ready for the party. You couldn’t wait to see Taehyung and you couldn’t wait to give him his present. And who knows, you were feeling pretty brave today. You might even confess your feelings for him.

[Text Message From Y/N, 6:21PM]

“Taehyung! I’m on my way already, see you there!”

With a smile, Taehyung locked his phone. He couldn’t wait! He brushed his fingers through his hair many times, trying to keep it in place.

“Hey, that’s my thing!” Jimin teased as he approached Taehyung and placed his arm around him. “Calm down dude, everything is going to be okay.”

“Easy for you to say!” Taehyung exclaimed as he pushed Jimin’s arm off him. “You already did this.”

“At least you didn’t have to run from school all the way to her house and climb a fucking tree!”

A soft laugh escaped Taehyung’s lips, his nerves easing up a bit.

“He’s right.” Namjoon said as he walked over with the rest of the guys in toe. “Before the night ends, you and Y/N will be a couple.”

“Keys, phone, bag, present.” You self checked yourself before stepping out of your apartment. Once you were sure that you had everything, you locked your main door and started making your way to Taehyung’s house. However, you didn’t make it too far before a scream stopped you in your tracks.

You sighed.

The old you would’ve just walked away. No one would’ve helped you if that was you screaming. But this time was different, you were different. You couldn’t ignore someone that needed help. Taehyung would’ve helped them.

As you got closer, the screams became louder. Your mind was telling you to run, to get away but your heart wanted to help. A million thoughts ran through your mind, specially the one that this was probably the serial killer but you shook your head, trying your best to ignore them.

The moment that you turned the corner, you dropped everything that you were holding at the sight of what was happening. At who it was that was being attacked.

“Y/N! Please help me!”

“J-Jiyeon...”

Taehyung checked his phone for the twentieth time since the clock struck seven, and it was barely five past seven.

“Everything okay?” Hoseok asked.

“Well, she’s still not here. She said she was on her way more than twenty minutes ago.” Taehyung answered as he checked his phone once again.

Hoseok gave him a small pat on the back. “Don’t worry, she’ll be here. Maybe she stopped by a store or something.”

“Yeah, maybe but Y/N would’ve let me know.” Taehyung scratched his head in worry.

“Maybe she told Kay? Let’s go and ask her.” Hoseok said as he dragged Taehyung by the neck over to where Jimin and Kay were sitting. “Hey Kay, did Y/N tell you anything about running late or something?”

Kay shook her head and pulled out her phone from her skirt. Her screen lit up but there was no text from you. “Maybe she forgot to charge her phone last night. She has a habit of doing that.”

“Don’t worry, Taehyung. She should be nearby.” Jimin said as he stood from his seat.

“I don’t know guys, this just seems odd to me. I’m going to look for her.” Taehyung said before putting his phone in his jeans.

“Hm, fine but if something’s wrong please call.” Jimin told Taehyung before he closed the door behind him.

“Jimin, it really isn’t like Y/N to be late. What if something really happened to her?”

“Kay, relax! If it makes you feel better, if they’re not back in half an hour we go look for them.”

“Y/N, please help me!” Jiyeon screamed and tried her best to fight off the man that was trying to take her away.

You watched everything that happened. You knew you had to do something but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Was it because you were truly scared or because the victim was Jiyeon.

She somehow managed to free herself from the man and ran up to you. Bloody hands grabbing you by your sides and staining your new clothes. “Y/N, I’m so sorry for everything I did to you in the past! Just please help me, I don’t want to die.”

You hands had closed into fists. They were closed so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. Jiyeon... the person who had caused you so much pain needed your help. The person who had turned your life a living hell. Why should you help her? You should let her die at the hands of that man.

No... you couldn’t do that. You were better than that. Despite of all the things she had done to you, she was a human being and not helping her would just prove that you’re as pathetic as her. With a deep sigh you unclenched your fists and grabbed her hand.

“Jiyeon, run!”

But Jiyeon didn’t run. And somehow you couldn’t move. When you looked down, if finally dawned upon you what was happening. Jiyeon had materialized into cement and glued you to where you were standing. That was her power after all. She could turn her body into any substance she wanted.

“Oh Y/N, I can’t believe you fell for it!” Jiyeon laughed. “I’m not sorry for what I did to you in the past and if I had a chance to go back, I would do it all over again.”

Suddenly a bunch of men started coming out of surrounding buildings and vehicles. A truck reversed to where you were standing and one of the men opened the back door. Was that a cage you were seeing?

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” A tall, blonde man said. He had gotten down a very elegant car. Was he their leader? “Good job, Jiyeon.”

You swallowed the knot that had formed in your throat and raised the arm you had free in defeat. Slowly, Jiyeon’s cement started to come off you and going back to her body. One of the men that was closest grabbed your arms and tied them up.

Taehyung was just turning the corner to your house when he was greeted by the sight of you being put into a shady truck. The blood drained completely from his face. He had to do something. He had no idea who these people were but they were stupid if they thought he was going to let them get away with this.

Taehyung his behind a building waiting for an opportunity to do something, anything to get you out of there.

Suddenly there it was. The opening Taehyung needed to get you out of there. The men were feeling pretty confident, otherwise they wouldn’t have left you unsupervised to gather their things.

Taehyung ran as he could to the back of the truck and carefully tried undoing the lock and opening the the door.

You head quickly snapped at the sound of metal grinding against each other and your eyes widened to see who it was.

“T-Taehyung? What are you doing here? Leave before they see you!”

“Are you crazy? I’m not leaving without you.” Taehyung snapped as he continued to mess with the lock. “What the hell happened?”

“Jiyeon... she seems to be working with whoever has been killing people around the city.” You said looking down. “It was all a trap. I can’t believe I fell for it.”

“Forget about that. Can you stand? Is there any way you can help me open this from your side?” Taehyung’s knuckles were white, probably from the strength he was putting to try and open the door.

You tried your best standing up, but having your hands tried made it difficult. Taehyung’s forehead was scrunched with how concentrated he was. “I think I got it.”

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” One of the men yelled, causing for everyone’s attention to turn to you guys but Taehyung ignored him and slammed the door wide open. He quickly got in and helped you out of the truck, untying your hands in the process.

“Don’t you dare get near us or I’ll short circuit all of you!” Taehyung snarled, lightning coming out of his hands and surrounding the two of you.

“Leave him to me.” One of the bigger men said, walking closer to where the both of you were standing. His body suddenly started to turn into rock and fear started to creep inside of you.

Taehyung charged at him, throwing punches filled with lightning but the man was too fast and the ones that Taehyung did manage to land did absolutely nothing to him.

“Kid, don’t you know that lightning does absolutely nothing to rocks?” And with that he swung at Taehyung, his punch knocking him to the ground.

“Taehyung!” You screamed in terror and ran to him but Taehyung raised his hand to stop you.

“Y/N stay back, I got this.” He said as he spit out blood.

“Give her up, boy or else I’m going to have to cause serious damage.” The man responded.

“You mean you were taking it easy on me? How insulting.” Taehyung mocked and charged once again. This time the man dodged each and every one of Taehyung’s attacks and counter attacked. This time you could tell that the hits were much stronger by the way that Taehyung’s face was quickly staining with blood. Wait, was that none breaking you heard?

After what seemed and eternity, Taehyung finally collapsed on the floor. He couldn’t take anymore hits but he was still trying to get up, to keep on fighting. Blood started dripping from your hand, taking the shape of a sword. You were ready to fight.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The leader said. “Come quietly Y/N or we’ll have to get rid of this boy for good.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You snapped as you raised your sword.

“Wanna bet?” With a snap of his fingers, the man that was fighting places his foot on top of Taehyung’s head. “If I snap my fingers once again, it’ll be the end for him. Do you really want to test me?”

You hesitated. He could be bluffing. You prepared yourself to charge at all of them but a grunt stopped you. It was Taehyung, the pressure of the man’s foot was too much in his state. Slowly, you lowered your sword.

“That’s more like it.” The blonde man said. “I don’t know why you had to make us go through all of this.”

“Y/N, no. Forget about me, just leave.” Taehyung said weakly.

You quickly kneeled next to him and tried your best to wipe away the blood with your shirt. “Taehyung, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry but I can’t let them hurt you, I love you Taehyung.”

“W-what?”

“I love you, Taehyung. I’m sorry, this wasn’t the way I wanted to confess my feelings but this is most likely the last time we’ll see each other.” You said with a sad smile. “Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me. For showing me that my power is not cursed and for always being so kind and good to me.”

“Y/N, how can you say you love me and expect for me to just let you go?” Taehyung tried standing up but his hands gave up from under him.

Everything after that happened too fast. You were picked up, tied up and thrown inside of that cage once again. Taehyung watched you being driven away to God knows where. He wanted to run after you, catch up and set you free. He wished he was stronger.

“Taehyung! Taehyung! Hoseok, call Kathie!” “Oh my God, Taehyung! What happened?” “Taehyung! Please say something!”

That and a million more things Taehyung kept hearing. However, they sounded far away. He wanted to keep on sleeping.

“Taehyung, where’s Y/N?”With that, his eyes snapped open. “Namjoon! They took Y/N and I couldn’t do anything to stop them. I have no idea what to do.”

Namjoon grabbed Taehyung’s arms to try and help him sit up. “Taehyung, was Y/N wearing the locket?”

“The locket?”

“Yeah, the one you were going to give her today.”

“Namjoo, I don’t think that’s something you should be worrying about right now.” Yoongi said confused.

“No, let him answer.” Avery intervened. “Taehyung, was she?”

“Yeah.” He muttered. It even hurt to talk. Stupid assholes. “I gave it to her last night.”

“Taehyung, that’s such great news!” Namjoon exclaimed.

“Um, care to fill us in?” Jin asked.

“Avery and I put a tracker in Y/N’s locket.”

[lifeofbouyd]

Mr. Davis

Dear Bouyd,

I wasn’t always a sex addict; after all, I started out curious and innocent just like any other girl. Church on Sundays, school till Friday and homework and house chores on Saturdays. For years that was the only life I knew and I never felt like I was missing out on a thing. I was considered a nerd for most my school years and due to that I never had a boyfriend. There were many I’d let fuck me but I guess they saw right through me. My tenth-grade teacher, on the other hand, was the only guy who gave me compliments; made me feel all important and shit. Even on my worst days, he made me feel pretty. He’d say shit like; “you’re glowing today, I like your hair, I wish all my students were like you, I think you’ll be a good wife someday”. Hearing him say that made me feel like nothing was impossible and this helped me to excel in his class. Mr. Davis stood almost seven feet tall with well-built arms and a broad chest. “The mouth dripping man” they called him. You couldn’t help but stare, even if you tried. He received multiple love notes daily from random girls offering heads, pussy and three sums. To be honest I wanted to suck his dick too, but I never had the guts to say so. I guess it’s cause I haven't raised that way; “no dick to yo face” mama would always say. Who was I to go against that? She had already lived her life so I guess she had a valid reason to say that. But still, I wanted to swallow his snake and choke on it like those girls in pornos.

I wanted him to be the one to take my virginity but I couldn’t even ask him for his number. Shit, the task seemed impossible. I noticed he was into the sexier girls in class; he’d watch their ass and bite his lips. His dick was always stretched across his pants like a garden hose which made me imagine how he sprayed most the teachers and the badass bitches in class. His name was written all over the girl's bathroom; the doors, the walls and even the mirror. He was like peas in rice and peas, a key ingredient. I was minding my own business in the bathroom one day when some girls came in. I overheard Rochel yapping about how she went to his house twice and they had great sex. Knowing her I really didn’t doubt it; she was the school’s pussy or the “come to help us” as most the boys called her. She was sexy, pretty and smart but also a badass bitch. I wasn’t the kind to wear makeup or fuss about how my hair looked, but that all changed when Mr. Davis told me I should take pride in my attire as I do in my school work. What a son of a bitch, if I didn’t like him I’d probably slap him across the face. I took it as a compliment though because he said it with a smiling face, and to be honest; I would do anything to make him happy. I went home that weekend and had my mom transform me. New hair do, tighter, shorter clothes and smelling like a Victoria Secret splash mom had bought me months before. Heads turned that Monday morning. For a second they thought it was a new girl. They looked from head to toe then toe to head.

Mr. Davis: Sammy, what happened to you over the weekend?

Me: I put myself together as you asked

Mr. Davis: Wow, I love the look

In an instant, he undressed me with his eyes. I could feel the tension fuming from those bad mind girls, most of these bitches hated me for my brain but now they had my new look to deal with. I got in a fight in the bathroom with an ugly chick over who was prettier 🤦‍♂️. My first fight in years, and I defended myself but still got my ass kicked. If I wasn’t so focused on protecting my face I could have won the fight. I didn’t wanna go home with a swollen face after leaving like a princess. I had aches for day. Mr. Davis and I grew closer over the next few days as I stayed back in extra class each evening. I had no reason to stay back because I was damn good at my work. It was the only way I could get some extra attention; after all, it was free. I was dying to feel his wrath. I thought of all the ways I’d let him fuck me and all the things I’d do to him but I never had the guts to approach. I didn’t even have his number. The only thing I had was his class three times a week, and wild sex thoughts of him in my head. Most the chicks had already got his number and some even got his dick. Given the odds, I realized I was moving too slow. I needed a plan and I needed it quick. He knew I was into him and he knew I loved to read so occasionally he’d suggest a book for me then ask me to summarize for the class.

Mr. Davis: Sammy, I brought one of my personal Favourite’s for you today. Please collect it before you leave.

Now normally, he’d give me the book right there in class but this time was different. He waited until everyone left before digging down his one strapped leather bag 💼.

Mr. Davis: Sammy, you can't afford to get caught reading this book, and if you do get caught you never got the book from me.

He took my bag and slipped it in. You have the next two weeks off for the Easter holiday. Read it and let me know what you think. I didn’t even see the cover when he slipped it in, and I felt way too nervous to take it out and check. Why did he say that, could he be joking or did he want to see if I was a coward? Either way, I had to wait till I got home to find out. Curiosity became my best friend. I guarded my bag as my life depended on it. One sudden movement and I’d pop a cap in a “nigga”. As soon as I got home I opened my bag to view the book. My eyes popped when I saw the image on the cover; a girl in nothing but her bra on. Her womanliness was exposed and the title read, “How to Catch a Man”. I had never been so shocked in my life. No wonder he said what he said. I couldn’t help but laugh as I was so confused by this strange book. I was still a virgin, not even a kiss to my lips. Sigh, it’s not like he’d ever say anything to me like he wanted us to be together or anything, so why this book? I was confused. My body got tingly, butterfly tummy and cold chills. The first story had me hornier than I had ever been in my life. I had to sleep with a pillow between my legs. Jessica’s fantasy was getting fucked in the bathroom of a flying plane. To me, that’s just intense. She explained how she’d suck his dick, then stuff her head in the toilet and have him strike her hard. “I wanna push him off then suck his dick till he cums in my face, droplets down my throat”. That line alone was worth the read. My mind ran wild imagining Mr. Davis driving me and swallowing his babies. I spent my two weeks reading and dreaming. My appetite was supersized with the urge of losing my virginity to Mr. Davis. I had no idea how I’d do it but I sure as hell was not gonna miss the opportunity.

I got myself all dolled up for school the following week. I had planned to blow his mind one way or another if you know what I mean. I stayed back for extra class one evening with intentions of getting his number to pass on my feedback about the book, and probably beg some dick. I waited until I was the last person in the room before I uttered a word to him.

Me: I read the book.

He looked around to see if anyone had heard before answering.

Mr. Davis: What book?

Me: 😳 what is he really asking me, is he senile or something? I didn’t know what to say so I just kept staring at him as if I was lost.

Mr. Davis: 😏 I bet you liked it. If you’re finished I’d like to have it back.

I stood there staring at him wondering if someone had switched the book. He walked over to me slowly and reached for my bag, but I grabbed it.

Mr. Davis: Can I have my book, please?

Me: What book?

Mr. Davis: The book I gave you to read Teo weeks ago, the same book you just said you read. I hope you didn’t misplace it.

Me: What kind of book was it?

Mr. Davis: A sex book.

A smile slid across my as if I was the joker. I handed him the book and he started asking a few questions. Having him that close to me made me drip like a pipe. I kept staring at his lips while he spoke, I wanted to kiss him so badly. I grabbed him by the neck and laid one on him. I had never kissed anyone before, but I had years of practice kissing my hand. I opened my eyes to see him shocked; with a what the fuck just happened kinda face. He was looking at me as if had broken his car windshield or thrown his phone in water.

Mr. Davis: Are you ok, why would you do that?

I felt so ashamed I held my head down and grabbed my bag to walk away. He grabbed me by the shoulder and shouted, “sit down”. My nerves trembled as I’d never heard him with that tone. He closed the door then sat on the desk next to me. I wondered what was about to happen. I felt as if he was gonna give me a good cussing. He stared at me in silence for about a minute. His eyes trembled and he seemed a bit uneasy. To my surprise, he grabbed me by the neck and kissed me. Instantly my body gave in. I was sent afloat to cloud nine and he hadn’t even done anything yet. My eyes remained shut even when he stopped. My legs vibrated and my heart was beating like a drum.

Mr. Davis: I hope I don’t let you do anything you don’t want to do. If you want me to stop just let me know.

What the fuck was he saying? I needed his sick deep inside me, in my mouth and all over my face. I didn’t even answer him I jumped up and rolled his zipper down, trying to take his dick out. He grabbed my ass and ran his tongue in my ears and down my neck. By the time I flipped it out, it was rock hard, pointing up in the air and jumping as if he was cumin. I stroked it slowly with both hands and watched the head flick in and out. I just had to put it in my mouth. I ran my tongue over it like those girls with the banana 🍌 on YouTube before going throat deep. You know that feeling you get when the toothbrush goes too far while brushing your teeth? That’s how I felt as if I was gonna die. He looked at me and smiled; grabbing on my tits. I was wetter than the sea. I kept stroking and sucking till my mouth got tired. He slid my zipper down with his right hand while taking off my clothes with the left. As much as I wanted to fuck him I sure as hell didn’t want to get caught with my clothes off. I laid flat on his table and had him shift my undies instead. He rubbed his dick up and down, passing my tight entrance. “Slippery”, he whispered and smiled. If I hadn’t known better I would have thought I pissed myself. He stuck his tongue in my ears and slapped my pussy with his hard dick. I was dying for him to go balls deep. Kisses on my neck and a wet tongue running all over my cheeks. I exploded from the excitement I was feeling. He slid the head inside my creamy heaven and watched it run to his balls before stroking me sweet and tender. I trembled like a leaf in the wind. Front way, back way, sideway. I was getting dick for days. We fucked until I was numb, but even then I didn’t want to stop until he bust a nut. Out my pussy and in my mouth his dick went. Squeezing his pecks, scratching his balls and grabbing his ass. “Drip, drip, drip” went his kids down my throat.

It tasted like spoiled soursop or maybe it’s because I ate that “sour sour” a little before 😂. We were about to start again when the janitor pushed the door. Nigga turned Bruce Lee, acting like he was doing press ups. 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. I couldn’t help but laugh although I was mad she interrupted my dick session. I smiled all the way home feeling like I had accomplished a mild stone. I had never gone home that late before and caused more drama than pleasure. I could hardly explain myself to my mom and that earned me several slaps across the face. I went to school the next morning looking like I had a conflict a beehive. Again, I became the class clown. And after giving him such high standard A+ pussy, I thought the nigga would have picked up for me. He acted like he didn’t know me and even made fun of me. I hated him so much, I didn’t even remember he had taken my virginity.

I bumped into him today and god damn, I wanna suck his dick all over again 🙄😔🤦‍♂️. I took his number but I don’t even know what to text and say. Fuck you Bouyd lol, do not judge me and do not post my name 😂. I want to fuck him so bad. “Bun mi man fi Christmas”

Yours truly,

Jade ❣️

[jadeswritinggarden]

Guardians - Chapter 1

(2768 words)

I didn’t want to leave.

Not this soon. Not now. Not today.

My stomach twisted at the thought of leaving my home that sits on the edge of the capital. Sasaka, my city, was quaint compared to Amosaia. Just outside of the capital’s region, Sasaka is the capital of the region of Cao Toa.

My lessons usually feel like an eternity. The royal house issued private tutor spends hours droning on about my history. How the original guardians were the only eight people who prayed to the gods. It was always boring. But today, I couldn’t be less eager for my lessons to end.

The library we studied in was empty besides me and Ms. Anantasu. Her words echo in the dusty old room with bookshelves lining the walls.

I’ve been to the one in the palace. It puts our library to shame. Light clung to the floors as the afternoon sun hangs in the sky. Thin curtains dyed a shade of indigo reserved for royals and nobles try their best to keep the light out. Dust floats around lazily in the air. I can almost feel it in my lungs.

The wooden table I sit at is plain. Much unlike the dining room table or the tea table in my room. The chair is plain to match. A set of boring furniture that would most likely be the centerpiece of any normal home. Both Mother and Father are from noble families so this is the only piece of boring furniture in the entire mansion.

Time ticks on all too fast.

Clinging to every word Ms. Anantasu speaks, I suddenly find myself wanting more history. Not for the sake of learning but to keep me here. If she never stops talking I can never leave. I’d be forced to stay here. Safe in my home. Far from the palace and the royal family.

Tell me about the Festival of Prayers again! I plead in my head, not daring to speak aloud. Tell me about the Feast of Oceans! Anything! Everything!

“Before the gifts of the gods, we fought like animals. Always at each other’s necks over things that almost seem ridiculous nowadays. Control of land. Control of waterways. Control of precious resources. Control. We as a society have always craved control. Like water or food, we called to it till it became apart of our nature.” Ms. Anantasu spoke elegantly with great dictation. Her words were never mumbled or tangled.

“Eight strangers from the eight kingdoms gathered in the most spiritual place in all of Ducrieca, the temple of balance between the kingdoms of life and death. Five royals, three normal people. Nestled high up in the mountains, standing in the clouds, the temple of balance was the birthplace of the guardians.” Ms. Anantasu continues. I knew this all by heart. Though this did seem to be a new book.

The eight gained powers but two had them revoked, thus war ensued. The two kingdoms fought over land, resources, and just about anything else they could. Anger over the gods taking the only glory the two kingdoms had, they warred against each other.

“Thus the remaining guardians worked together, using their gifts and social power, to end the wars.” She attempts to toss interest into the story, aware I have heard this all before. It doesn’t really work. If it was a normal day, I would be ignoring her, daydreaming. But I listen to every word. I savor every word.

Once you hear something for the millionth time in a row, you start to tune it out.

Over and over again, I heard of the Council of Ducrieca, who protected the three mainlands of Ducrieca. Ziukoa, Esca, and Florela where the three lands which eight kingdoms stood. Once warring for centuries. Blah blah blah. There was nothing more for me to learn. I knew it all. And everything after that seems bland in comparison.

Nothing interesting happens anymore. Though I suppose that isn’t an entirely bad thing. People rarely die at the hand of another kingdom.

We fight, sure, but no wars have been waged since the war of life and death. Which has the most ironic name because it was by far the most docile war we ever had. But that was still far before I was born. Over one hundred and seventy years ago. Nothing ever happens now.

Yet here I am, listening to Ms. Anantasu go on and on about something that could have happened yesterday with the way she speaks of it.

“And that’s all for today.” She snaps the book shut. The loud crisp sound brings me back from my soft daze. Ms. Anantasu looks at me with a soft smile. She reminded me of Mother. If Mother was kinder, smarter, and focused on greater education. “We will continue when you return.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I rise from the plain wooden chair. The table was covered with various books and parchments from today’s lessons. Maths, history, geography, diplomacy, politics, everything useful for a future member of the Council of Ducrieca. One day I will work hand-in-hand with Princess Dieu to run the kingdom. Her and her council. Which I will also be apart of. When I am of age I will be a member of both the Council of Ducrieca and the Amosaia Council.

I help gather the papers and books to put them away. Ms. Anantasu and I work silently side-by-side. The work goes by quickly.

Ms. Anantasu is tall and lean, like my mother. Her face carries wrinkles on the same places. Smile lines, crow’s feet, and lines creasing on her forehead. They show not age but knowledge. She is barely Mother’s age yet she has years of knowledge on her. Whispers of where she got her knowledge surrounds her like dust.

After about twenty books and ten papers, we finish. The table is as empty as it was this morning.

Ms. Anantasu still weaves in and out of bookshelves, the gray tail of her dress the only sign of her presence. Not even for a moment am I relieved that our lesson is over. Not for one breath. Today was a normal length for our studies yet it felt so much shorter.

It was around midday. Luncheon would be soon if we were even having it today. Give it a few more hours and the sun would set happily over the oceans in the west. With winter upon us, our days has grown cooler. The only drastic change I notice with the change of seasons is the thunderstorms. In summer they rage on every day at almost the exact same time. In winter the skies are cloudless.

In kingdoms such as Helvannar and Terratrone, the northern kingdoms, I hear the change is much more drastic. It even goes as far as only a few hours of sunlight in winter. I don’t think I’d be able to handle that.

Reluctantly, I step out of the library. As much as I want to stay, I don’t want to stay enough to be in there alone. Ms. Anantasu stays in the library, blissfully alone. Where she enjoyed being alone in the library, I avoided it at all costs.

The history of it was like a nightmare. Even thinking about it sends chills down my back. Not only had it survived three fires, but it has also been the scene of many deaths and murders. The most recent being my aunt Tasanee’s death.

If you are in the room for too long when alone, you can still hear her singing. A haunting voice. How a room like that still was occupied every day was what scared me the most. It was like the room was slowly drawing in souls to feed the constant knowledge. Sometimes I swear an evil spirit keeps the room safe.

Outside the library my handmaid Kannika waits. Standing with me she could almost be considered short. She knew my lessons would end soon. They always end at the same time of day. Rarely stretching on longer, even less frequently shorter.

Lamon, a guard sent by the royal house rounded the corner to join us. He’d be accompanying me and Father for our trip to Amosaia. It was barely a two-hour trip yet we always planned it to be an entire day. Not only would Lamon be joining us but a guard for Father and a few others for both of us. Lamon was considered my personal guard for these types of trips.

The aching in my stomach only grew as I walked through the halls. As I walk, I am painfully aware of the guard who flanks my side.

My family didn’t have many guards. Some at the front gate, some who patrol, but not many. And they were all council issued. Despite the fact that Father and I could very easily protect ourselves, the Amosaia Council didn’t feel the same.

Mother appreciated the extra protection. Father didn’t.

Despite being the daughter of one of, if not the wealthiest governors in all Mercycaea and being the most influential nobles alive, Mother tends to spend her time gardening. Outside, in the humidity and heat. Among the soil and plants is where she shines. Her love of the fine things in life shows in her plants, our furniture, and her wardrobe. And her childhood ideals show in her strict rules.

Part of me longs to abandon this place. Change into my riding clothes, take my horse Quy, and leave. Go north through the region of Sa Tau. Leave Mercycaea altogether. Take on a new name in Etha, live as a fisherman. Never speak to the people who raised me again. Become a myth. No more than a children’s tale.

But those, as Kannika calls them, are just intrusive thoughts. They don’t reflect who I am or what I want. Not truly. That’s what Kannika tells me.

My midnight blue gown flows behind me as I walk down the halls. I don’t turn towards the hall leading to my room. No matter how much I long to.  My hands don’t find my riding boots or Quy’s reins. I’m left empty handed and longing for the rush of a ride far away from here.

My quick pace through the halls keeps both Lamon and Kannika on their toes. I might not be leaving on my own terms for a long time, but I am headed outside. That’s where I’ll find them. Beelining for the door that leads out of the palace-like mansion I live in, I’m suddenly thankful that Kannika does not report my every movement to Mother.

My last handmaid did that. She told Mother everything I did, from eating to leaving the home. Me and Achara did not get along well. It was nearly impossible to get anything done with both Mother and her breathing down my neck. She was more of a nanny rather than a handmaid. I outgrew her and she knew it. Having ‘retired’ over a year ago, Kannika jumped in the role.

Lamon and I have spent very little time together. He only comes around when Father and I need to visit the capital. He doesn’t speak often. I think I’ve heard him speak a combined total of ten times.

I don’t care to get to know him. He is sent here by the royal house to insure I don’t turn up on their doorstep dead.

Whereas Kannika was short and plump, Lamon was tall and lanky. His experience and speciality was apparent. A runner and archer. Not a swordsman. Still, a blade sat at his side and his bow and arrows on his back. His age was as clear as his black hair and tan skin. He isn’t much older than me but has years of training. Lamon could easily defeat me in a hand-to-hand battle, whether or not his speciality is bows.

The door I’ve worked so hard to get too swings open with my hand. It reveals a hot afternoon garden. Guards on break practice sparring with both real and wooden weapons. It isn’t an odd image to me. I spend many hours here with Pensri and Daw, friends who are in the private guard that are stationed here year round.

This is what Mother calls the servants’ garden. A green space by the barracks meant to be a training ground for new recruits. Eventually, once the guard was full and there was no need for new recruits, it became a recreational space for those overworked.

It is bright outside today. The humidity immediately clings to my skin and lungs. The air feels like a thick syrup. Thunderheads loom over the horizon, just out of sight. The sky is preparing for the evening thunderstorms. A telltale sign of summer.

With Kannika and Lamon in tow, I push myself further into the outdoors. This is one of three gardens on our property. Really, if we were royals, this place could be considered a palace. One for fruits and vegetables, taken care of by servants. This one for the guards and a third for Mother. Only the professional gardeners, Mother, and her closest advisors are allowed. I might be allowed if I asked but I’m not sure I want to go there.

The gold-tinted grass under me crunched under every step of my small heels. Palms waved in the wind even though the ocean is around two hours away by horse. There were no exotic or elaborate plants but it was enough. Guards, some in armor others in tunics and leggings, laid out on the grass under the palms.

I scan the area for Pensri or Daw but they are nowhere to be seen. Daw and Pensri normal work early morning and late night shifts guarding the grounds. Pensri likes to spend her extra time sparring with anyone willing. She even likes to train me whenever possible. I enjoy the physical outlit. Daw likes to join the table of card playing guards in the barracks. Not always gambling money but their games are always interesting to watch.

I’ve known them both since I was a young teen. Back when they had only just joined the guard. Both were so scrawny and weak. We were all evenly matched back then. Just as equally scrawny. But their captain whipped them up into shape in no time. It wasn’t long before they both could over power me.

“Are Daw or Pensri out?” I walk up to one of the guards I recognize. As far as I know, he shares many shifts with them.

“No, sorry. They are working double time. Something about being caught gambling.” The boy replies nonchalantly, not looking up from the sword he works to shine.

Ah, that makes sense. Though very lenant, their captain, the man Mother hand picked, does not allow gambling. Hopefully that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to see them before I leave. I’ll be gone at least three days, with meetings and dinners.

The boy’s copper hair reflected easily in the sword. It acted as a dull mirror. I let a low sigh escape me.

“Do you know when they will have a break?” Searching for any kind of time to see them, even if it’s right before I leave, I ask a most likely stupid question.

“I think cap’n has them working all evening and night. Sorry, ma’am.”

Of course they wouldn’t be free. Curse the skies. Why did they get caught gambling the day I leave?

“Alright. Thank you anyways,” I turn back to Kannika, disappointed the garden has nothing for me. Much to my dismay, Lamon is still standing right next to Kannika. Watching me like a hawk. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the people in the garden eye Lamon’s royal crest that is painted clearly on his armor. “Let’s go inside.” I mumble.

The lack of being able to see Pensri and Daw before I leave for a big visit to the capital puts me in a foul mood. They definitely won’t be coming with us.

“We have to finish your packing anyways.” Kannika states. “And you have one last early supper with your mother before you and your father leave.” She knew of my disappointment with everything happening today. If someone didn’t know I’d wonder if they were blind and deaf. The supper with Mother would be icing on the cake. A really crappy cake that tasted of mushrooms and beef.

“Very well,” Reluctantly I head towards the door that would eventually lead to the dining room.

Tonight would not be easy.

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