#this reminds me of when I was five and I fell and scrapped my knee only I was changing after a Turkey instead of a cat

[nythroughthelens]

(This is one of the most personal pieces of writing about myself and my snow photography that I have ever shared. It includes Cure lyrics, a smattering of beautiful painful memories, etc. It was shared 5 years ago when my book New York in the Snow made it into The NY Times.)

It's early morning. I am 10 years old.

I'm sitting at the kitchen table furiously scribbling details onto a blueprint that I've painstakingly drawn over the course of the last five days.

The blueprint is for my own chocolate factory fueled by my fourth reading of Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

The drawing and its details are etched onto blank newsprint sheets that my family refers to as scrap paper.

---

My father fell into his job as a union pressman for the Daily News out of necessity.

He had just moved to New York City with next to nothing aside from his wife, a suitcase full of clothing, and a few dollars.

Having only completed a Junior High School level education in the poor farming community he lived in growing up, he didn't have a lot of choice when it came to joining the workforce.

When someone introduced him to the newspaper Pressman's Union, his life changed. The union took him in and trained him in the brute art of loading printing presses endlessly.

He worked nights for the next 20 years loading printing presses for the Daily News. His knees and back suffered as did his general mood. He was an irascible character that I rarely saw. But he was an irascible character that kept a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs.

In 1993, he moved from loading printing presses for the Daily News to doing the same exact thing for the New York Times. This was a huge deal for him. Even though he was still breaking his back literally and metaphorically, the clout of working for the Times vs the Daily News was enough to make him smile (a rarity) and celebrate when he got confirmation of the upward move to the Times.

I grew up with an understanding that the New York Times was a paper that held weight in the minds of many. But it was the place where other people got mentioned and written about. It was a place to admire other people, not the people I grew up with or even people like myself who were living on the bitter edges of poverty barely eeking out an existence.

Because of my father, I grew up with newspaper.

I relished the large amounts of blank newsprint scrap paper that existed in our house. It was the kindling for my escapist imagination.

On this blank newsprint canvas I would scrawl out information about my endless Dungeon and Dragons campaigns and story arcs, and draw blueprints for my future fantasy wardrobes reminiscent of the one in Chronicles of Narnia.

---

It's a grim, rainy afternoon. I am 25 years old.

I have just celebrated my birthday and I am sitting on a couch I rescued from the trash at one point.

I have been living on my own for the last seven years having been disowned by my parents due to religious differences.

The only break in the loud silence of being disowned came in the form of a phone call from my mother when I was 20 years old. She called to let me know that my father died.

I start listening to a Sigur Ros album.

The music swells to an emotive crescendo. It's the type of crescendo that propagates self-reflection. I start to try to imagine my future and start bawling. It's not pretty tears that I cry but rather it's soul-wrenching ugly streams of futility and despair that pour down my face.

I've been working seven days a week in dead-end jobs for years and I am so tired.

My roommate and his girlfriend come home right at that moment. He sees me on the couch bawling and sits next to me. Without any words exchanged, we hug for a good half hour while I sob uncontrollably. I feel his ribs poking out and it reminds me of how fragile existence is.

I go to sleep that night the same way I have been going to sleep for years, recalling a blizzard that happened when I was a child.

My father had to stay home from work that night since the trains were not running. Our neighbors offered use of their sleds and my parents happily took them up on the offer.

As soon as my father stepped outside, his face erupted into a huge grin as he pulled me and my brothers on the sled through the streets of Flushing.

The wind kissed our faces and the snow swirled like confetti in a ticker-tape parade.

I looked up at the street lights and realized that in that moment, everything was full of wonder and magic.

And I returned to this moment every night for years when bedtime was the only thing I looked forward to.

----

It's almost midnight. It's the Winter of 2012.

I am feverishly checking the weather forecast to figure out when the first snowflakes will fall to the ground.

I listen to The Cure - Plainsong on repeat. It's my ritual before every snowstorm.

The chimes start and as the lyrics kick in, I get goosebumps:

"I think it's dark and it looks like it's rain, you said

And the wind is blowing like it's the end of the world, you said

And it's so cold, it's like the cold if you were dead

And you smiled for a second

I think I'm old and I'm feeling pain, you said

And it's all running out like it's the end of the world, you said

And it's so cold, it's like the cold if you were dead

And you smiled for a second

Sometimes you make me feel

Like I'm living at the edge of the world

Like I'm living at the edge of the world

It's just the way I smile, you said"

I have felt like I've been living at the edge of the world for what seems like an eternity.

It's these lyics I hear in my mind when I walk seven or eight miles in snowstorms trying to capture what loneliness, isolation, and nostalgia have felt like trying to survive alone in New York City.

I lose myself everytime I go out in the snow.

I lose the feeling of hunger gnawing its way through my stomach for years.

I lose the crushing feeling of futility I used to feel heading to endless dead-end jobs hoping to keep the lights on for another month.

I lose the years of wondering if my family ever thinks of me.

I lose the bits of myself that suffered the most.

I lose the anger, the sadness, the loss.

I am cleansed by the flakes as they flutter in the night air and land on my nose and eyelashes.

I am, momentarily, that child in my neighbor's sled looking up at streetlights marveling at the wonder of existence.

----

It's today.

I walk to the newsstand.

I open the New York Times and see my book, New York in the Snow, staring back at me.

I grin for what seems like an eternity.

----

(shared before another season of sharing my snow photography)

[tteokdoroki]

✉️; RAIN ON MY PARADE. - D.RAGNIVINDR, K.ALBERICH.

💌; synopsis - every time it rains, diluc is reminded of the girl he loved and lost - you’re reminded of the man you left before running away to New York and kaeya is stuck between the two. when it rains again; only the skies above will know who you choose.

↳ length: 3.9K

↳ warnings: smut, mdni 18+, fem!reader. modern!au, heavy angst, love triangles, break-ups ( between reader and kaeya ), friends to lovers, mutual pining, unprotected sex, soft sex, fingering, oral ( f!receiving ), marking, biting, praise!kink, mutual orgasms, creampies.

↳ notes: hello !! happy wednesday, i hope you’re all having a good week so far— this was a lovely little commission from @xshinigamikittenx who was kind enough to let me post this !! i loved writing this and hope you all enjoy <3 m.list ♡

the pitter patter of heavy rain against the window pains with peeling paint is usually enough to comfort a person. it’s cooling, the air rain creates acting like an ice pack on open wounds. the sound of rain is repetitive, can easily take a frenzied one track mind off of its course and settle it to a steadied speed. the rain smells like hope and new beginnings. all this about rain, and more…but to diluc, the rain is a painful reminder, a symbol and culmination of all that he’d lost. it doesn’t wash away anguish for him like it does for others, it isn’t cleansing or healing or reshresing. instead it stings to touch, hurts to hear— rain is as big an enemy to diluc ragnvindr as he is to himself. 

he hates the rain even as it pours outside, slipping through the cracks and holes in his childhood home— momentarily distracting the red head from the warming drinks that he’s making.

“diluc, did you hear what i said?” kaeya’s voice just barely cuts through the clouds and doubts that hang heavy over his mind— threatening to thunder at any moment. “i’m going to propose to her today, maybe ask her to move in too.” 

the kettle that the elder brother is brewing whistles as a sign of the water being boiled— bubbling over until diluc makes a move to pick it up and finish off making the tea. he fumbles with chipped mugs that have been gathering dust in the cupboard under the sink, clinking them together as he glances up at his brother. the mere mention of your name is enough to make the man a mess. “you’re going to what?” he stumbles, words clumsy on his tongue and unusually so for someone so typically stoic. “don’t…don’t you think it’s too soon? for something like that?”

“it’s actually been a year, and it feels right. dad would have approved too,” the blue haired man’s voice softens only just, a slight bit of sympathy etched into his tone. “it would be better for her to move in too, her new writing job will be bringing her back to the city.”

the day you moved away is so much clearer than the current one— the memory scribbled into the back of diluc’s mind in your not-so-neat handwriting he knew so well. before then, you had always been close with the redhead, even as children you were practically inseparable, where diluc scraped a knee you had a nasty gash to match. if his tooth fell out, yours would be wobbly the very next day, there wasn’t a thing either of you would do without each other. during your teen years, things changed ever so slightly— playful smiles turned to shy gazes and pinkies brushing in the fields behind your house, diluc had tasted like cherry cola and chewing gum when you’d kissed him on the swing set not five minutes from his dad’s house, and a year later he’d gotten into a scrap with a boy half his size in the same spot for trying to kiss you there too ( against your will ).

kaeya had taken you home for hot cocoa, your favourite, but he didn’t quite make it the same way as his brother. back then, the younger ‘ragnivindr’ boy hadn’t realised how much his sibling had liked you, simply too blinded by his own unspoken feelings to even notice and get, both you and diluc knew the way you yearned for one another was different than loving a family member or a friend, it was warmer, brighter and more heated. 

he still doesn’t know why he never made a move.

a part of diluc blames the death of his late father, and how easy it was for him to shut out the ones he cared about following the event. he was given everything his father owned at such a young age, shutting down felt like the best choice at the time. he didn’t know it would mean losing you, seeing your somber face framed by the raindrops pattering down on both of you— you were giving diluc a chance before you left for university, asking him for a sign, holding an umbrella over both of your heads as you looked up at him with need.

diluc never made a move and you took the first flight to New York City the next morning to pursue your dreams in professional writing.

you don’t come back after that, and kaeya finds you out there whilst looking for something within himself, and who was diluc to put a wrench in the happiness he couldn’t give you— even if it meant hurting in secret for realising that he loved you a little too late. 

“i’m going to do it anyways, marry her,” kaeya says, once again pulling diluc from the deep pool of his thoughts. “i just don’t see why you don’t approve?” the blue haired male goes on to question. “i can provide for her, i can love her. i can do all the things dad would have wanted me to do for her…” he takes his tea from diluc, blue eyes reading deep into him.

diluc answers his brother with silence, knowing that the younger is already aware of his feelings towards you. brothers shouldn’t fight, bound by blood more so than trivial emotions such as love and kaeya hums, reading deep into the silence.

“that’s what i thought,” kaeya murmurs, with a slight nod of his head. “it’s a shame, i really wish my brother could be there for this important moment.” 

those are his last words to his brother, before departing into the cold rain and leaving diluc to deal with equally cold tea.

you despise the rain for obvious reasons— it reminds you of one of the loneliest times in your life and the sad solitude that followed you throughout your first few months in New York. the rain that had welcomed you felt like some kind of sick prank pulled upon you by whatever supernatural forces were working up above— to make a joke out of the girl who had her heart broken.

however, years later, you’re somehow grateful for the rain now…since it masks your shaky tears when you tell kaeya no.

“i can’t marry you, i can’t move in with you. i’m sorry but my answer is no.” 

the words feel like cotton in your mouth, strange to you and like knives to your boyfriend. or rather, ex boyfriend now. the both of you stand staring, eyes  locked on each other outside of kaeya’s little apartment on the corner of the street— you’re fond of the place, it’s located above a local bakery and always smells like peppermint and fresh bread, you won’t take advantage of the memories you have there. but it can’t and won’t ever feel like a home to you, it’s a shell of a place where you don’t belong and if you’d have said yes to kaeya, you would feel as though you were just a trophy item to be housed on his shelf.

your, now, ex stands on the concrete steps outside his front door, the ones that lead up to his apartment but shields himself from the acidic burn of the rain with an umbrella while you remain soiled to the bone— holding back sobs you know that you don’t deserve to cry. “why?” is all he asks you, not trace or hint of emotion coating his face nor his voice, as if the rainwater has wiped kaeya into becoming a clean slate.

guilt consumes you, since you don’t have an answer. it takes root in the pits of your stomach and intertwines precisely with each of your ribs— thorns sprouting from the stem and prodding at your lungs like a red rose, typically unsuspecting. the guilty flower making it difficult for you to breathe as you hold back your sobs. maybe it’s just that your answer isn’t something he’d want to hear…you can’t move in with kaeya, because you can’t love him in the ways that he wants you too and you’re apologetic for the parts of you that you thought you could. 

kaeya is brave, he is witty and charming and everything someone other than you deserves in a partner— but he is not the man you left in the bittersweet rain before going to New York, the red headed man who was a fool to stand in the rain in expensive cashmere while not saying a word as you begged him to say everything. diluc had turned cold that day, despite the warmth of him that radiated through your childhood memories. and while, kaeya had followed you to New York and claimed to have stolen your heart, you had really left it back in your hometown with the man who had grown up by your side. 

diluc ragnivindr has always been the man you wanted and you know that’s the reason why you could never fully commit to his brother. why you’ve never left a toothbrush or a set of clothes at kaeya’s place for overnight stays, why he doesn’t stock up on your favourite teas because he doesn’t know you prefer it over coffee, why you by candles that smell like sandalwood on fire because they remind you of diluc rather than the minty ones you associate with kaeya. in a way, it’s almost sad— that kaeya would think to propose and ask you to move in without hardly knowing you after a year of dating. 

after spending nearly your entire life as kids together. 

“i-i’m sorry,” you manage between choked gasps for clean air, but kaeya shakes his head so you don’t see his lips tremble as he holds back tears. 

he knows that you are, he’s familiar with your face of regret. it was the same when you lost diluc to the darkness of death after their father passed away and it was the same when he followed you to NYC and told you all about how his brother had been. but, kaeya also recognises the glimmer of hope in your eyes—the same brightness that burned in them whenever you looked at diluc. the younger sibling, he knew you still held some sort of feelings for his brother. 

you’re not over him. 

“you still love him.” kaeya says simply and the rain fills the silence between you, the one that speaks a thousand words.

“i’m sorry,” you repeat, though your words are futile and weak. kaeya had expected you to scream, maybe cry and say that you didn’t mean it— that you really did love him and not his brooding brother. “i’m so ucking sorry, kae…” 

“ah.” 

“i-i’ll pay you back, for the ring. the one i can’t take..i’m sorry i—“ 

kaeya shakes his head again, turning his back to you so he can unlock his apartment— heading inside. “you should go, get somewhere warm before you catch a cold.” you know that there’s a double meaning to what your ex says, like he’s sending you off into the arms of his brother. 

he leaves you on his doorstep, a pathetic mess in the rain— shooting a text to diluc as he does. 

‘you win, congratulations brother.’

on the day that kaeya is meant to whisk you away, take your heart for the keeping— it rains once more and diluc is selfishly grateful for the downpour, hoping that it ruins days and spoils any engagement plans his younger brother may have for you. it’s spiteful, petty— even more so, but the elder ragnivindr son can’t help but bask in the awful weather, though it hides the sadness he truly feels. if you were here, you would have laughed and called it pathetic fallacy and perhaps, that makes him feel a little worse. or better, he really can’t tell.

yet, hours go by and there’s not a word on social media about how kaeya’s plans for you have gone— even though diluc constantly checks. he waits for pictures on your feed or stories, scrolls through and refreshes your Facebook just to see if you’ve updated your relationship status, and still, nothing changes. 

all he wants is a glimpse into your life without him, what he doesn’t expect is the text from his younger brother calling it off, saying it’s over.

and maybe diluc is a little extra selfish for feeling his heart lift at the message notification flashing across his screen.

the redhead is quick to shoot you a text afterwards, asking if you’re okay— if you need anything. for above all else, diluc is still your childhood friend and someone who you’ve been able to count on since you were both in diapers. he would hope that you’d come to him, despite all that you’ve been through. 

and you do.

when the doorbell rings, he flings it open a second later, revealing you and how you’re just as beautiful as the day you left for New York—soaked to the bone by the cool, heavy rain, your makeup a mess, your eyes puffy and nose snotty and still so gorgeous. as if the halo of the grey skies up above make you look like an angel. 

“you’re—“ here. you’re really here, is what diluc wants to say— his mouth already forming the shape of the words before you cut him off.

your voice wavers when you speak, just like that night. “you should have come after me,” you croak, gazing deep into his fire lit soul. “followed me to New York.” 

diluc knows that, it was his biggest regret. “please, just come inside.” he opens the door wider to let you in, trying to entice you with the heat of the fire running through his place but you don’t budge.

“you should have come after me.” you repeat, sniffling from tears or from the cold, he doesn’t know. “so i didn’t have to waste a year with your brother, with my friend, especially when all i could think about was you.” 

the redhead grips the door handle a little tighter, knuckles turning white as the rain beats down on the world outside, on you. it’s humiliating to have you throw this in his face— but you’re so fucking right, he should have gone after you. 

“please...” he says your name too.

“you should have called.” 

“i thought…i thought you needed space! time!” 

his chest hurts.

the rain gets harder.

“i wanted you! god…for fucks sake, diluc! you’re so stupid it’s infuriating—!” you scream in his face, pain in your voice as you step closer to his doorstep. 

diluc’s cheeks flush red with embarrassment, screaming back at you until your voice both hurt. “just come inside, please! before you get sick—“ 

“diluc, for christ’s sake, i’m standing in the pouring rain, telling you i fucking love you and you’re doing it again!” you cry, heart on your sleeve just like it was for him before you left. “why are you doing it again? why won’t you say it back? that you love me—!”

before you can finish, he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the warmth of his home— pinning you against the hard oak door after he kicks it shut, both of diluc’s muscled arms either side of your head. “i do, i do love you,” he damn near sneers, red eyes hooded, causing your heart to stutter in its place. “i burn for you, i always have and you’re right i’m a fucking coward.”

he kisses you then, when he’s done breathing the words you’ve always wanted to hear against your lips. your hands find the thick tresses of his bright and fiery hair— and diluc moans at the taste of rainfall on your soft lips, tongue sliding over the seam and begging you to let him in. neither of you pull away, lips locking and sloppily sliding against one another like you need the action to breathe— pouring long lost words into one another’s mouths, tongues rolling over each other’s. 

“you are,” you breathe wetly, the elder ragnivindr pushes off your wet clothes, regretfully parting from you as he does so— scrambling to shove down your skirt and your panties, all the while spinning you and backing you up into his living room until you both collapse a mess of passionate limbs on the soft rug covering his floor. “d-diluc!”

your body burns brighter than the fire sending warmth through the room, runs hotter than diluc’s heat as he presses his body over yours— fingers fumbling between your bodies to toy with your clit. “i know…shh, i know,” he coos to you softly, though he’s just as riled up as you are— desperate to make you his. “god, you’re so wet and all i’ve done is kiss you, darling.” diluc plays with your puffy folds, gathering your slick and dragging it along the length of your slit to rub into your clit. “you want me? my fingers, darling?” 

“y-yes! diluc please, don’t make me wait,” you sigh, lip caught between your teeth as your back arches from the floor into his blistering chest. he’s temperate compared to the chill outside and the one that you’re used to. he relents, pushing two digits into your eager cunt, thumb taking over on drawing his name against your pleasure nub. “oh…oh—fuck!” 

diluc can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes his swollen and spit slicked lips, when you cry out from his fingers curling against your velvet walls— searching for your g-spot. “there you go, you’re so pretty,” he hums against your skin, smiling when your walls flutter around him and your cunt gushes sweetly into the seat of his palm. “i can’t even tell you how much i’ve dreamed of your pretty hole,” his words are not lost on you, despite how void of thought you might be— feeling him stroke you into shape until pleasure tingles from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. “how desperately i’ve wanted to make you mine.” he says these words while pulling away from you, slipping sweetly between your thighs to suckle on your clit before you beg for a kiss again.

it’s wet and obscene, how he fingers you to an inch of your life, pulling gasps and little moans from deep within your chest along with the tune of lewd squelching cunt. your thighs are trembling, your hands cascading through bundles of diluc’s hair, tugging him to your lips— pushing his face into your neck where he marks his claim on you, removing any traces of your ex ( his brother ) from your body, mind and soul.

you can feel it building, an orgasm twisting knots in your lower stomach— your blood carries mixes of dopamine and sex hormones around your body, sending you spiralling towards your high the more diluc works on you, playing with your creamy sex to his heart’s content. “you gonna cum, love?” he asks you tenderly, finger fucking you faster, licking hotly up the side of your face and into your mouth. “yeah? can feel how you clench down on me so good,” nodding feverishly, you let your nails sink into diluc’s bicep, his name like a prayer on your lips as his digits scissor inside of you— dragging you by your ankles to your impending earth shattering high until….

until he pulls out, slapping three fingers against your pulsating pussy with a gentle pout on his lips.

“not quite yet darling,” you manage to catch him say over the blood rushing through your ears. “i want to feel you let go on my cock, okay?” 

“m’kay, hurry ‘luc,” you babble, your chest heaving and a lovesick expression painting your face as you look up at diluc—spasming from the release you’d had ripped away from you. you barely register his calloused, warm hands slipping under the curve of your ass to pull you into the redhead’s lap, your head spins as he fumbles to pull his heavy and leaky cock from his sweatpants— letting the mushroomed tip prod at your entrance while he steadily pushes into you, the burn of his size setting your nerve endings on fire. 

he’s your childhood best friend, but right now he’s the man you’ve loved your entire life— and though he put you through hell and back, you can forgive him since the way he makes you feel right now has you weak in the knees. your limbs are like jello as you push your hips down, coaxing more of diluc’s girthy cock into your squishy, soaking insides. 

“god— you’re fucking perfect, so beautiful, s-so…oh god,” diluc simpers, finally sheathed inside all of your slick heat. “c’mere darling, c’mere let me love you,” his arms hook around your shoulders to keep you anchored down on his throbbing dick, his forked veins pushing against pleasure spots that only he can discover, filling you with all of his love. 

neither of you will last long like this, both of you shaking and sweaty messes in one another’s arms—diluc fucks you, claims you with slow rolls of his hips up into yours, tip that leaks unbeliavle loads of precum smearing that same mix of milky white against your insides, churning you up and making you see starts. you gasp and claw at his broad back, bite down on his flexing shoulders as the redhead sucks bruises and love bites into your neck— knowing they won’t be fading any time soon.

he hisses when your sensitive nipples brush against each other, when you start to circle your hips and grind your slick pussy down on him in tune to his rhythmic thrusts, his balls heavy with cum just for you slapping up against the curve of your ass. “i love you,” diluc moans heartily, pressing his forehead against your own while your bodies dance together in feverish movements, smearing your arousal against his thighs and stomach. “i love you, you’re so—fuck, you’re so good sweetheart.”

“‘m gonna cum f’you, ‘luc,” you tell him earnestly, hiccuping over the salacious squelch of your pussy as he rams into you— your juices dripping down his balls. “love you s’much, don’t stop…please don’t fucking stop—!” you pant onto diluc’s mouth, hot and heavy while his adoration and lust for you spreads through your body like a wildfire, heating you up from the inside out. 

“yeah you love me…i love you, never gonna stop,” he grunts back, fingertips digging into your shoulders and your waist as he lifts and drops you down onto his aching cock. you’re tight around diluc, locking him into your sweet pussy until he can barely pull out— jamming into your g-spot over and over, sending you both hurtling over the edge as you clamp down on him for the final time.

gentle ‘i love you’s are thrown into the sex tainted air, your cunt streaming with your arousal as you shake and quiver and cry in your lover’s arms— and diluc barely lets you go, filling you up to the brim with thick waves of his hot white seed, his hips stuttering and fucking more of his cum into you. 

“p-promise, promise you'll always come after me,” you murmur against diluc’s lips when you finally come down, sharing a sweaty and teary eyed kiss with hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat steady. “s-swear on it.” you say.

and all diluc can do is smile lovingly, realising the rain has stopped as the sun shines through the curtains of his living room. 

“i will always come after you, for as long as i live.” 

[serostuffsmh]

debt collection | geto suguru

content warnings: established relationship, power imbalance, mentions of death, suggestive implications, groping, no pronouns given to reader, pre cursed child arc

description: you unknowingly agree to take on a man’s debt to geto

I.

A young man with a curse clinging to his waist had come in the temple that afternoon. Soma, he believes his name was. Just from a glance it wasn’t hard to presume he was in dire straits. 

Soma had keened on and on to Geto about his troubles while he graciously listened, acting as his false persona of a self-proclaimed Bhikkhu and the one who non-sorcerers liked to call, “Buddha himself.”

While listening to the particularly boring sob story, Geto needed to remind himself that Buddhism teaches that patience was a virtue. It was vital in order to achieve enlightenment.  Although, Geto had begun to suspect Buddha himself never had to deal with something so tedious when he preached such a ridiculous notion...

“I can hardly stand for too long, and I can’t even keep food down. I haven’t been eating right in weeks.” Pulling up his untucked button up, he pointed to his prominent ribs as emphasis. 

“I tried going to the docs, but they say there’s nothing wrong with me! I heard you’re the spiritual priest that can help though, right? I spent my last paycheque here and I don’t know who else to go to.”

Pretending to mull over his thoughts, Geto leaned his head in his hand. “I see…” 

The dark circles of weariness in his eyes from days without sleep were apparent as were the thinned cheekbones from malnutrition. Without a sorcerer's intervention, it would be a slow death. Not that he cared about the life of a monkey.

Geto eyed the curse that was digging its fingers into the man’s abdomen. At first glance, he guessed it was a fourth grade. It was scrawny and parasitic in nature, much like fly head.

Too weak, he thought. There would be no use in going through the trouble of using his technique on something so puny.

“Manami, how much did he give you?”

“Sixty-five thousand yen.” She stated plainly.

Unimpressed, the polite smile on Geto’s face fell and so too did his facade of a benevolent Buddhist priest.

“Hmph, that’s all? Not enough.” Waving his hand in the air, he signaled the man to leave.

“What? No, please, it’s my rent! It’s all I have!” Blurting out, he took uneven steps forward before clutching his side and stumbling over his own feet. It was a humiliating sight to look at and Geto almost wanted to laugh.

Instead, he scoffed at his pleas. “It’s scraps, and like I said not enough. I suggest leaving now.”

“I can try paying you more when I have some!” Desperately clasping his hands together, Soma begged further in hopes of changing Suguru’s mind.

What’s a promise worth from some m—

“Your promises hold no value to me, and it would be a gamble to accept. Try to understand.” He said, not bothering to hide the condescending nature of his words.

“Suguru…” 

Failing to notice your presence beside him, Geto had forgot you decided to attend this appointment with him. When he looked at you, your face was scrunched up in remorse like you were actually taking pity on this animal.

“Please, help him.” Your voice was low and pleading.

Don’t look at him like that now...

Advocating for the life of an afflicted monkey would have been laughable, if it weren’t you speaking on their behalf.

Sighing half-heartedly, he raised his arm. “Hold still.” 

Before anyone had the chance to blink, the curse had been removed from him and absorbed into a pitch-black sphere that rested in his hand.

Soma quickly checked over his body with his hands and immediate relief washed over his face and relaxed his shoulders as if an enormous weight had been lifted from him.

Falling to his knees he presented himself in dogeza fashion towards you both, pressing his forehead to the tatami flooring as a sign of gratitude. Geto almost wanted to roll his eyes at the sight but at the very least, the monkey had known his place.

“Thank you!” He had exclaimed.

“The one you should be thanking is my spouse.” Had you not been present, he would have let the curse kill him or maybe done it himself.

“Yes, of course! I can’t thank you enough!”

II.

There were no other hiccups that day, every other client had paid their dues and minded their manners in the temple. Even you had been keen on staying quiet after what happened and when the sun began to set, Geto had dismissed everyone from his company.

Upon hearing his announcement, you had also tried sneaking away from his side. But before you could slip out of the door, he called for you to come back.

As if caught in headlights, you froze upon hearing your name. He watched you hesitate but nod and eventually drag your feet to meet him.

Sensing that you may have been anxious about facing him after earlier today, he offered a fond smile that was only saved for you.

“Come sit with me.” Prompting you by patting his thigh.

Once within arm's reach, he pulled you down to him. Seating you comfortably in his lap, he embraced you closely from behind. Enveloping your form in the thick blue fabric of his yukata.

Happy to have you in his arms the corners of his lips tugged into a smile. Tenderly parting your hair aside, he tucked himself just beneath your earlobe.

“My dear, dear, [first]...” Geto sighed into the taught skin of your neck.

“I’m disappointed in you.” He hummed in your ear. The tone of his voice contradicted his words. 

Although, he could never truly be angry at you, he often played coy to mask his displeasure. Even as his spouse, you were not immune to his targeted teasing. In fact, you were his prime victim when he was in a playful mood. Whether it was prodding at your cheeks or listening to one of his tongue-in-cheek taunts, you fall prey to most if not all of it.

“You shouldn’t have spoken for that animal.” Even now Geto couldn’t hide the distaste in his voice as he spit out the last few syllables. 

“He needed your help.” 

Ignoring your comment, he instead chose to dramatically slump his shoulders on top of your figure. This conversation seemed to be going nowhere quickly. You were far too altruistic towards others, a fine quality he’s willing to admit but bothersome in this case.

“Hmm, I did always find it hard to say no to you.” His cheek now resting on your shoulder blade, he caressed the sides of your arms aimlessly.

Earlier that afternoon, he remembered a fine idea had crossed his mind after he had agreed to remove Soma’s curse.

“I’ve decided that you will resume his debt and pay me in full instead.”

Of course, by no means was he going to make his little spouse a debtor and pay the remaining sum with money. He would have been no better than a loan shark. What kind of husband would he be if that were the case? No, he would be paid back by less conventional means. Certainly, more pleasant and he thinks you would agree.

“What?” You shifted yourself in his lap to look at him from the corner of your eye.

The coquettish expression on his face was blatant enough to tell of his intentions.

“You heard me. I need to get what I’m owed. One way or another.” Trailing his hands beneath your shirt, he squeezed at your sides. Enjoying the way your body instinctively shudder beneath him.

That worthless monkey gave him something of value after all. What was a few hundred thousand yen in comparison to indulging himself in your private company. No, you would be well worth more than that. Absolutely, priceless, he thinks.

“It would be in your best interest to take responsibility, don’t you think?”

[patt-writes-stuff]

Veles, you are a complete writing genius, did you know that? ILYSM!!!!! THIS WAS SO SO GOD AND I LOVE HOW YOU PORTRAY HIM TYSM (x♾)!!!!!

Hello Veles, you absolutely awesome human being, could I perhaps bother you for a crum of Sakusa or Kenma content on this fine day? Tysm and take your time and don’t rush yourself or else I’ll be sad tho >:c

hi patt!! ik i already wished you hbd but happy late birthday hehe <3 anyway this is my first time writing for Sakusa, i hope i did his character justice + enjoy!! 😚

-

disinfection

sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader

domestic fluff, description of blood and small wounds. 

578ish words 

"Ow-! Could you be any rougher!?" You grumble, wincing from the pain. Sakusa sighs, glancing at you before continuing to dab at the bleeding wound on your knee.

"Hush. I'm trying to disinfect your cut." 

You bite down a whimper of pain as he presses the towel damp with sterilized alcohol against the wound, pain shooting up your leg. God, you hated having wounds like these. Disinfecting them was the absolute worst, but if you didn't disinfect them, it'd only get worse.

Sakusa is quiet as he finishes disinfecting the wound, reaching for a bandage from the medkit. You notice the way his arms flex, his long eyelashes fluttering when he blinks. If you weren't dating him you'd be jealous of his eyelashes (you are dating him and you're still jealous.) You stare at his relaxed yet sharp gaze and the mole above one of his eyebrows. His black hair is soft, begging to be touched.

"How did you get hurt?" His voice is surprisingly soft, and his movements are soft and gentle too. You sigh, shifting your gaze to the bathroom's white wall. It's too embarrassing to admit and you'd rather keep it to yourself.

"Y/N. How did you get hurt?" Sakusa is a stubborn man. You roll your eyes and sigh, looking at the floor as you grumble, "I tripped." 

He furrows his brows, confused. "Tripped...how?" 

"I tripped running after a stray cat because I really wanted to pet it," you rush out the words, eyes lowered as you frown. Sakusa is quiet for a few moments before he bursts out laughing. 

"What?" You groan, mostly trying to cover up your embarrassment. He'll never let you live this down. 

"I can't believe you tripped trying to pet a stray cat," he snickers and you harrumph. 

"Don't make fun of me! It was a very cute cat." 

Sakusa continues snickering until his snickers turn into full-blown laughs but it's hard to stay mad at him. Instead, you smile as you watch him laugh. It's not that often he laughs; so when he does laugh, you think it's a blessing brought down from the heavens for you to revel in. His eyes crinkle at the edges, his lips part widely, and sometimes he even snorts unintentionally which leads to him being silent in a corner for twenty minutes or so, basking in embarrassment. You don't understand why; you find it endearing. 

"Well, if it was that cute, why don't we adopt a cat? So you won't go chasing and tripping over every stray cat you see." There's an easy-going grin on his face but your heart skips a beat. Pets are a topic you've discussed often with Sakusa which ends up with him always shutting you down. Pets bring in dirt and filth- more stuff to clean, he says. So eventually you dropped it. But your eyes are wide as you lean forward, heart racing.

"You mean it?" 

Sakusa snickers at your excitement and nods. "If it gets you to stop tripping and getting injured, then I'm okay with having a cat." 

Nothing holds you back as you cheer victoriously, launching yourself into his arms. Sakusa gasps with surprise, laughing as he barely holds you up before the two of you end up laying on the bathroom floor.

"Careful. You've still got an injured knee," he reminds you, and you huff as you brush hair strands out of his face before leaning forward.

"Shut up and let me kiss you." 

a/n: this was v sweet to write hehe i hope you enjoy patt <3 

-

Copyright © 2021 by Veles. Do NOT repost, plagiarize, or read my content as ASMR or audiofics.

[margaretbellaware]

The Azarola Girl - Chapter 03

Masterlist

Warnings: Vomiting and arguing.

Heisenberg and Y/n stood off to the side, watching as Alcina scolded Moreau for throwing up on her carpet. Y/n let out a small chuckle, although she wasn’t amused by the current situation.

Karl glanced over at the shorter woman next to him, noticing she was looking up at him. “What?” Heisenberg chuckled. Y/n just shook her head in response, a small smile gracing her lips.

Right as Alcina was done scolding Moreau, a swarm of black blowflies came rushing through the doors, a fit of crazed giggles coming too. Just then did Y/n and Karl notice the woman being dragged behind the swarm.

Heisenberg’s face went pale, anxiety flooding his senses. The woman he had an ongoing fling with was now laying on the floor with Daniela’s sickle hooked in her leg. “Found this one wondering around in the castle.” Daniela giggled, her body fully appearing, as did Bela and Cassandra’s.

As the woman took in her surroundings, her eyes immediately fell on Karl. “Heisenberg! Help me! Please!” The woman cried.

“Celine, I-” Karl was cut off by a laugh.

Specifically Y/n’s laugh. “Oh this is just too good.” She laughed, a crazed hint in it. Y/n let out a small sigh, trying to calm down.

Y/n started walking towards the door. “Heisenberg, please. I love you.” Celine sobbed. Y/n’s steps came to a halt beside Celine’s head.

The whites of Y/n’s eyes turned black. The calming E/c completely replaced with a harsh white, a bright red brimming her pupils.

A black and red, smoke-like force danced around Y/n’s fingers. With a slight flick of Y/n’s fingers, Celine’s eyes completely dulled, sending her into an illusion.

“Ну, развлекайся со своей маленькой игрушкой, Гейзенберг.” Y/n said, venom laced in her words. She turned to look at Heisenberg dead in the eyes.

(Translation: Well, have fun with your little toy, Heisenberg.)

Celine’s cries echoed through the room. All the lords were in shock, not knowing how to react, not knowing what to say. With a small exhale from Y/n, she turned on her heel, throwing the doors to the dining hall.

When Y/n finally made it out of the castle, she started coughing. A painful stinging forming inside her chest, it felt as if her lungs were being filled with liquid. Y/n’s coughing slowly became more violent.

Y/n collapsed to her hands and knees, a thick, black substance started pouring from her mouth when she coughed. The ink-like substance dyeing the snow, even melting it in the process.

Y/n’s eyes started to slowly fade back to her normal E/c ones. Her violent coughing slowly dying down. Any breath she took came out as a struggled wheeze.

Y/n fell on her side to roll on her back. She looked up at the stars, her body adjusting to the temperature of the snow and the air around her. Y/n brought the back of her hand to her mouth, slowly wiping off the black liquid.

Y/n closely inspected the inky substance, reminding her of the fungal roots that she was all too familiar with. A faint sigh escaping Y/n’s lips, causing a burning pain to shoot through her chest, “Ah fuck.” She hissed, grasping at the soft fabric on her chest.

A faint sound of horse hooves and a carriage were heard in the distance. They started to get closer and closer, a small chuckle coming from the abnormally large man.

“Ah, Miss Azarola.” The Duke chuckled, slowly bringing his carriage to a stop, just a few feet away from the woman sprawled out in the snow.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The Duke stopped his carriage at the Azarola Castle. “Miss Azarola, we’ve arrived at your home.” He said with a caring tone.

“Thank you, Duke. How much will it be?” Y/n asked, looking through the small hand bag.

“Don’t worry about it dear, just get some rest when you get inside.” Duke smiled. Y/n’s jaw slightly dropped, shocked that she actually got something for free from him. Duke let out a small chuckle as he drove his carriage away.

Y/n turned around to look at the doors of her castle. Just as she was placing her hand on the cold handle of her door, Y/n heard a small whimper. Turning around to look towards the direction it came from, the woods.

Y/n reluctantly walked closer to the woods, that’s when she noticed the faintly growing red eyes. That’s when a huge Varcolac Alfa jumped out of the darkness and tackled her.

Y/n tried using her power, although it wouldn’t work. Tears brimmed her eyes, she was practically frozen in place, right back to where she was twenty-five years ago.

She stared up at the Alpha, it wasn’t really doing anything, just looking at Y/n. Her body shook, from both the cold and fear. The big creature leaned down and sniffed her neck. Then it slowly backed off, looking like a puppy that just got yelled at.

Slowly sitting up, Y/n sighed, looking at the Alpha, completely dumbfounded with what just happened. Tears slowly rolled down her face as she finally found the ability to breathe again.

Y/n slowly looked down at the hand-like paw of the Alpha. Noticing a metal scrap of mental lodged into the palm of it.

“I umm…I don’t know if you understand me, but I can get that out for you. Just please don’t eat me, it’ll hurt, so just stay calm.” Y/n said, her voice shaky and slightly broken from crying.

The Alpha sniffed in her direction, taking slow strides to Y/n’s side. She held out her hand for the big lycan to smell, giving it a sense of trust.

Y/n started walking back towards the doors of her castle, the Varcolac Alfa trailing being her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n was now wrapping up the big lycan’s paw. “Hold still!” Y/n scolded, struggling to wrap the cloth around its injury.

Just as Y/n was finishing up the wrap, the castle doors flew open. The shadow of the floor clearly resembling Heisenberg. The lycan practically jumped in front of her. Growling at the man that controlled it’s kind.

Y/n jumped a little, the growling giving her flashbacks of the sight of her baby brother’s corpse. Shaking her head, trying to get the images out of her mind.

Y/n’s eyes met Karl’s. “Can I help you?” Y/n asked, annoyance evident in her voice.

“Azarola, we need to have a little chat.” Karl said, venom laced his words as he walked closer. The Alpha ready to pounce on him.

Y/n hesitated but brushed her hand along the huge lycan’s spine. “Go outside.” She whispered to the creature.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Oh but it’s okay for you to be a two timing asshole? Real nice Heisenberg.” Y/n taunted, crossing her arms to look at the man.

“Y/n, we kissed once! How does that give you any sort of authority over my love life? My god, you’re just like Miranda.” Heisenberg mumbled the last part, but clearly not quiet enough.

“I’m like Miranda? That’s really cute coming from you.” Y/n said, taking a step towards Heisenberg. Y/n was about to continue but a thick, black liquid slowly dripped from her nose.

She touched her fingers below her nostril, pulling her hand away and glancing at the liquid. Y/n quickly glanced up into Karl’s eyes. That familiar pain in her chest came back, the burning sensation even stronger than before.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

While Y/n and Heisenberg were fighting, a small BSAA squad were at the Megamycete, taking shots to it every few minutes.

This was now the second year looking into Y/n Azarola. Finally going to the village, the start of a cruel and twisted rabbit hole.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Make it stop.” Y/n struggled to get out. She was currently on the floor with Karl kneeling on her side. She had a death grip on Heisenberg’s hand. Her back slightly arching from pain.

Karl looked down at Y/n, worried, confused, and just lost. She was perfectly fine a few seconds ago, fighting with him, pissing him off, being feisty, just doing the things that drew him in. And now it seemed like she only had a few moments of life left.

“The Megamycete.” Y/n cried out. Her mouth opened as if she was about to say something else. Although, she gave into the exhaustion and slowly closed her eyes.

“Hey hey, you gotta stay awake for me.” Heisenberg said, using his left hand to cup Y/n’s face. He received no response, just silence, he was thankful she was still breathing, but it was clearly struggled.

Heisenberg gently lifted Y/n off the floor. He let out a loud whistle. Thousands of lycans started to rush towards her castle. Only some of them making it through her door.

“Go to the Megamycete, kill anything in your path and bring it back to my factory.” Karl said.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @imagine-yourself-happy @the-soldats-kitten @ktdragonborn @ella-dragneel @jellyroom2 @frietiemeloen

If you wanna be on the taglist, please let me know.

[binniesthighs]

hellooo i have read your Han fic and it's so gooooooood you really know how to portray the one and only Han Jisung omgggg. can i ask for a seventeen smut? if it's okay with you. since I'm into Jeonghan these days i really want to know how will Jeonghan react if you two arw bffs since high school then one day things changed, both of you began being so touchy and flirty then he challenges you if you can resist him omgggg like he is so cocky and confident aaaaaah BYE-

aweee thank you so much! I love love love writing for the one and only Han Jisung!! thank you so much for your patience as well anon I’m soooo sorry that this took me an age to get out, but I hope that ya like the product hehe 💕

yjh was here | reader x jeonghan |

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x yoon jeonghan

Genre: fluff n’ smut

Tags: friends to lovers, bit of a comfort fic, bestfriend!jeonghan, cockyandflirty!jeonghan as we love him, lowkey mutual pining, mingyu, wonwoo, soonyoung side characters, coworkers au, mentions of food and mild food dares, mentions of alcohol+getting drunk, mentions of divorce (past), marking, reach-around teasing (r receiving), fluffy unprotected sex, body praising, spicy truth or dare, cuddles

Word count: 4.4k

Yoon Jeonghan had a habit. It wasn’t the worst of habits, but it was the kind that would clutter up your life. Often, you would wonder why he would do it, and why he hadn’t stopped: not even after you had mentioned it so many times.

It had started in high school. High school, that eternity away now. Luckily, your past was riddled with memories of him, and all of the little things that you had shared together; lunches, late nights studying, throwing littler paper wads at eachother from across the room. He would pull at the tie around your neck that was a part of the school uniform just to get a rise out of you. Jeonghan would nap during class, and you would be the one to wake him up with the flick of your finger. On cold walks to school, he would lend you his scarf, and on hot summer nights you’d stay out searching for snacks until sleep drew your eyes down, and he’d let you lean on him the whole walk home.

yjh was here

He wrote it on the first exam you had ever failed in your whole life.

Conversely, he had gotten nearly a perfect score. He was annoyingly good at everything he did. That, or he was just really good at cheating his way through things. When you thought about it, it was likely the latter that was more accurate.

At first you thought it was a joke. It was as if he was taunting you for failing miserably at mathematics II. You were never good at math anyway.

The second time he wrote it was when you had fallen asleep in class. It wasn’t a common occurrence. He’d call you a baby for being scared to fall asleep during class for fear of being startled awake by the teacher. However, this was the week that had been the longest for you: the week that everything fell apart.

Even into your mid twenties, your mother still would never tell you why your father had left that week and you never saw it fit to prod more.

He had written it on a scrap piece of paper after getting you a strawberry milk and leaving it for you on your desk.

yjh was here

Since then, he had taken the opportunity to write it everywhere he could manage. Suddenly his little scribbles filled up the margins of your notebooks; on post-it notes--he’d even etch it onto the skin on your arm in soft blue pen ink. Later, when the two of you had gone on to college, he would sneak into your dorm to write it everywhere he could find. No matter how many times you would erase it from your little whiteboard by your desk, he’d always manage to write it over, noticing immediately that it was gone.

Today, you had noticed that he had slipped it into your legal folder, among other more boring and business-y things and you had no idea how it had gotten there. It must have been sometime the day before, as he had written it on a napkin from the catering company.

yjh was here.

In all the many years that he had followed you from place to place, you must have amassed hundreds of his little notes. You kept the ones that he would give you at work tucked away in a desk, often forgetting that they were kept there until you would stumble upon them, tugging a little smile at your face. The rest of them you kept at home in a little box in your closet, even deeper away, never really knowing why. The act of simply having them was satisfaction enough, in fact, you never really minded a little clutter.

☆彡

With eyes drooping, you scratched away on your yellow note pad, writing a string of nonsense words that sounded important from the presentation. The red setting setting sun reminded you that it was your least favorite time of day: the time where the last work hour of the day would appear to stretch into twenty. Under the table your scratchy cotton work-pants felt even more scratchy than usual. Somewhere above you, the penetrating white fluorescents buzzed like flies.

With a little tap on your shoulder, Yoon Jeonghan was sitting next to you as he always was. Compared to him, you felt as if you looked like an utter mess. Just as he was annoyingly good at everything, there was never a day that he came into work looking less than perfection. Today it was a tweed two piece with a pressed shirt underneath as well as a navy tie adorning his beautifully slender neck. Around his face befell his deeply dark strands of hair which pricked the edges of his rounded wire glasses.

“This is so boring.” He had mouthed to you, adding a pout to the end of his sentence.

You formed the sound on your lips, “Shhhhh”

“I’m just saying!”

“Pay attention.”

You turned your head back to pretend to care about what your boss had to say. Every fifteen seconds or so you would nod your head to make it appear as if you were diffusing the information he was giving out.

Another tap on your shoulder and Jeonghan displayed his pen to you to draw your attention to the margin of your quarterly report print out.

you look really beautiful today, he had written

“Stop it!” You accidentally hissed, garnering the attention of your nosy and equally bored coworker sitting across from you.

This time you mouthed out the words, “No I don’t.”

“~yessss~” Jeonghan curled out his words with his tiny creeping smile

Your knee bumped into his under the ginormous desk.

“Pay attention, ‘Han.”

“Is there something you would like to add L/n?” Your supervisor’s voice cracked in the silence of the room.

“N-no sir.” your head bowed in repentance.

He elder man tsked in a little sound with his teeth. “I know that we’re getting to the end of the day folks, but let’s just get through this all so we can get home...”

Jeonghan’s tweed pants made a little screeching sound against the fabric of yours when you bumped him again under the guise of the desk.

“Screw you.”

Your friend met your remark with a wink, biting the cap of his pen while his eyes wandered down to show you another little message:

yjh was here

and I’m excited for tonight

☆彡

Wednesdays were customary somaek nights where each of you and your coworkers would gather in your cruelly tiny apartment with their own separate dishes for all to share and forget about the troubles of the midweek. As the year was winding down, it was these nights that would get you through the week. With the bodies of the five of you in your tiny living room cramped around your low-set table, you had almost forgotten that the heating in there barely worked.

With each of your coworkers entrance, they would bring in the smell of autumn with them, and the chill of the air outside. On each of their long coats, bits of leaves would cling to the edges of the fabric. Each Wednesday there would be a royal mess to clean up after, but it was Jeonghan who would often stay after to help you. The two of you would end up in your cruelly tiny kitchen, throwing soap bubbles at each other’s faces drunkenly with socks sliding all over the wooden floors. Jeonghan would write another note to stick on your refrigerator, then he would take you by the hands to twirl you around to some unbearably cheesy sounding OST.  

Perhaps it was the way that your head would get fuzzy from the soju and beer, but you loved the way that he would twirl you; it was almost like a waking dream.

“Nobody worry! Nobody! Worry!” Soonyoung burst through your door, case of beer in hand. “I’m not late, I’m actually early! Don’t you know that it’s trendy to appear an hour into the party?” When Soonyoung spoke, he had a habit of speaking with his whole chest.

“Took you long enough,” Mingyu whined, popping in another strip of galbi.

“You don’t enjoy our presence, ‘Gyu?” Wonwoo’s mouth upturned into a teasing grin.

“N-no,” The biggest man babbled, “It’s just that...Wednesdays are somaek evenings.”

“--Then I am here to help you out my friend.” Soonyoung plopped himself right down on the floor with the poof of his blond hair popping from his beanie. “Ahhhh this all looks so delicious.”

“You better pay me back.” You griped while serving him a plate of the assortment.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you, Y/n?”

“Nearly every time I do something for you? You still owe me from the last time we went to karaoke.

“--And for covering for your ass last week...some hangover that was, huh?” Jeonghan scooched over his leftover rice to you.

Soonyoung scoffed while twirling his bottle of soju in the air, the admiring the little tornado swirling inside. “-Was worth it though. We always have fun don’t we?” In his affection, he threw his arms around you and Wonwoo beside him.

“-Food’s gonna get cold.” Wonwoo poked his finger in the general direction.

With his full glass raised in the air after a minute of preparation, Soonyoung lead you all in a toast, cheeks already rosy. The second that your glasses collided, liquid came downpouring to the table, but none of you seemed to mind. Before you could bring your drink to your lips, you caught yourself having a moments pause, watching all of your friends before you. If you could have, you wished you could fold up little moments like these as well to put in your drawer to see when you would feel down.

Jeonghan caught your wistful sigh, sending you a wink. In many ways, you knew he must have known your thoughts.

Under the table, his hand brushed up to your crossed knee, letting his hand linger. He let his hand rest there for a moment, as if he was soaking up your essence in the moment. He had never done it before, but his thumb gently rubbed at your knee, and it felt like a waking dream.

☆彡

The night had ticked on, and you and grown more tired than you had expected by pass of the clock hand. As the night would normally progress, drinks would be had, then each of you would take turns updating the others on what you had been doing or working on. All of you would gather advice or support if needed. There had even been times when you would even provide a shoulder for one to cry on, although that didn’t happen most times.

Others, like today, the five of you would simply sit and enjoy each other’s presence with the window slightly cracked open to let the autumnal air cool your burning bodies. Jokes would be cracked every once and a while until yawns would escape your mouths. By then, another joke would be made about how you were all getting to old to be staying up that late.

Jeonghan played with your hair as you had leaned into him, swirling your final glass of soju in your wrist. While you were hot yourself, the heat from his body was still calming, and the way that his chest would rise and fall was a bit like a lullaby.

“I’m falling asleep, we should head out,” Mingyu clapped Wonwoo by the back.

“Another one for the books.” Soonyoung sighed, then rose up with a stretch of his arms, wrinkling up his white button up and loose tie.

“Sweet dreams everyone.” You shift off of your best friend, shuddering a little at the lack of contact, to close the door after them.

“I’m looking forward to next Wednesday!” Soonyoung beams with a little salute, then bows before shuffling away.

“What time is it?” You yawn out the words, rubbing your eyes.

“Too late. We still need to go in tomorrow, remember?”

Dirty dishes clink in your hands as you bring them to your sink. “We really should start doing this on Fridays.”

“I don’t wanna start cleaning just yet, can we stay here for a while?” Jeonghan spreads his arms out, beckoning you to fall back into him. You laugh a little at the motion.

“Why so touchy? We haven’t done this in so many years...I can’t remember the last time...”

You oblige him, nuzzling right up to his chest once more. He smells a bit of the somaek, but mostly of his usual scent: that cheap cologne that you had bought him about a year ago. You had mostly gotten it as a gag gift, but he had worn it every day since.

“Must have been in high school.” His words are long and breathy.

“How come we stopped?”

Jeonghan takes a minute to answer you, and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Instead, he raises a hand to rub at your arm lightly, just as he had done with your knee.

“Dunno. We got older?”

“What does getting older have to do with it?”

You watch in the silence as his thumb continues to rub over the fabric of your long-sleeved button down.

“--Do you want to play a game?” Jeonghan says at last.

“A game? What do you mean?”

“For fun. I’m trying to find something to do so we don’t have to do the dishes.”

“Okay,” You perk up slightly, still not removing yourself from his encircled arms. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Psh what are we, back in high school?”

“Seeing what we are doing right now, wouldn’t you say so?” The words escape Jeonghan’s mouth with a growing grin.

You ruffled to top of his head, messing up his perfectly primped hair. “...Fineeee. You going first or me?”

“I’ll go. Truth.” Jeonghan pulled you back into him, settling your back flush with his chest.

“Okay, truth: did you really mean it when you said that you liked Minji’s power suit? I know you thought it looked tacky.”

Jeonghan’s breathy laugh miffed up your hair. “I’ll say anything if it keeps me in the supervisor’s good graces.”

“HA. I knew it.”

“Which do you pick?”

“Mmmm-truth.”

“Not dare? You’re no fun.”

“I said truth!!!”

“Fine, fine.” His slender arms squeezed at your body to situate you better in between his legs. “When was the last time that you brought someone over to your place?”

“Yo-you mean like “brought someone” over?”

“You know what I mean.” In his voice you could nearly see his mischievous smile.

“I’ve told you about all of them so I don’t know why you’re asking. It’s been about a year.”

“A year? Really?”

“--Nope! You don’t get to ask any more questions. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Jeonghan said without a moment’s hesitation.

Your eyes wandered the room for his perfect punishment. “Ah! Take that soy sauce, the one with the wasabi bits in it...and drink it.”

Your friend sighed, but took the tiny cup in his fingers to down it all in one shot. He shivered a little and you could feel his face scrunch up, but he held his reactions back best he could.

“That was such a high school dare. You really haven’t changed.”

“I thought it was funny.”

“Truth or dare Y/n.”

“Truth.”

“Ughhh truth again?”

“ ‘Hannnn--”

“Just say dare! I promise that I’ll go easy on you.”

“Fine then. Dare.”

“I dare you...to take your shirt off.”

“What?!” Your head snapped back to send him your deathly glare. “Are you being serious right now?”

“What? It’s nothing that I haven’t seen? Are you forgetting that we’ve been friends for nearly our whole lives? That and college you were someone who would go to parties and take your shirt off. Remember that?”

“...yes.” You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Fine then.” In one motion, you pulled your shirt over your head, jumping a little once you felt Jeonghan’s hands help tear it off your arms. You hesitated to lay back, but his arms made a decision before you could, and pulled you back into his chest. Now, it was the skin of his fingers on your bare arms that you were painfully aware of.

“T-truth or dare?” You squeaked out.

“Truth.”

“No fair, you made me do dare!”

“I already did a dare. Truth.”

From the other side of your room, your refrigerator clacked with the sound of ice cubes falling into their tray. On the door, dozens of multi-colored post-it-notes had been suck there with clear tape.

“...Why is it that you’re always writing me those notes? “yjh was here?���“

“Hmm.” He breathed out. “I had a feeling that you might ask me that one.”

“...And?”

“--Because I like to. And...”

Your anticipation hung tangibly in the air. You didn’t quite know it, but you had been waiting for his answer for so many years, you had lost count.

“...And I like seeing them around you. -Reminds me that I’m a part of your life. Kind of like how we exist together. They’re little reminders for you as well...to know that I’m around for you.”

“Jeonghan...” You wouldn’t have expected it, but tears singed the corners of your eyes.

“Truth or dare?” He cooed into your ear.

“D-dare.” Your voice shook, realizations flooding you like rain.

“I dare you to take off your pants. Can you do that?” His voice had dropped, low and gravely.

You nodded your answer, and took to unbuttoning your pants, shimmying them off where you sat on the floor. As soon as your bare legs were exposed, he had found a new place to rest his hands; you never would have guessed for them to be so beautiful-looking there.

“I choose dare.” He breathed onto your bare neck.

“I-I dare you take off our shirt too.” Your face felt furiously warm as you uttered the words and he did exactly as he was told. The sensation of your skin on his skin then sent your head spinning with just how close you had been in that moment, closer than ever before.

Jeonghan’s hands explored your bare legs with a touch as soft as butterfly wings. His light touches sent an aching pain to your sex as it had never felt so needy and neglected.

“Truth or dare my love?”

In an attempt to hide your frustration, you could only form the word, “T-truth?”

“Hmm...truth...” Jeonghan began to kneed into your legs, digging his nails in every so slightly. “Have you ever kept secrets from me?”

“Secrets? Why-why would I, I don’t-mmph-have any secrets to keep from you.”

“I think that’s a lie Y/n.”

Indeed it was a lie. You had kept secrets from him. Two secrets to be exact; one of them being near the precipice for the whole universe to see.

“I’ve kept secrets from you, you know.”

“What?”

“Do you dare me to show you?”

Your anxious breath caught in your lungs, full of confusion but even more excitement. Jeonghan’s hands crept slowly up to your hips.

He repeated, “Do you?”

“Ye-yes. I dare you to show me.” Your eyes had closed feeling his hands draw even farther up your body.

Your best friend surveyed your whole chest with his hands, swirling around as much skin as he could touch. He was careful not to tickle you, but rather give every ounce of your being his careful attention. For a moment, his fingers grazed over your nipples, but went to cradle your neck in his hands. He turned it to the side to expose the beating vein there, and placed the slowest and most tender kiss upon it. From the feeling of his fleeting lips, you whimpered at the sensation.

“Dare.” You managed with a dry mouth. “I dare you to touch me...anywhere you want...please...”

Jeonghan chuckled slightly into your neck. “I just had my turn, but...I’m listening.”

Your entire body keened under his fingertips, writhing messily between his legs. This time, he was careful in touching you nearly everywhere: your chest, your nipples--pinching them slightly--and down your legs, to your inner thighs where he traced up to your underwear, now wetting a little with your arousal.

“Tell me the truth.” He bit into your skin. “Am I one of your secrets?”

Your answer was given to him in the form of you forcefully tearing from his grip to push his legs together so that you could straddle them. The way that his shoulder blades flexed under your firm grip was dizzying. Your eyes fell to his lips: your secret.

“I dare you to kiss me,” You breathed onto them.

“I thought that you’d never ask.”

Jeonghan was smiling as he pulled your lips into his, and he never quite seemed to stop. Every bit of your love for him spilled into his mouth where you found the comfort from him that you had craved for years. You had felt first kisses before, but nothing was quite like this one. With Jeonghan who you had known for so long, you were thrilled to get to know him in this new and different way, and you wanted to absorb every little bit of it: the way he would caress the sides of your face so gently, or the way that he would angle your neck to meet his lips. You would never have guessed to feel so complete with him like this, but it also made all the sense in the world. It was you that he wanted, and you that he wanted to stay next to through all those years. He had never let you go, and you had never let him either.

In between kisses, you found both of yourselves giggling hysterically.

“Are we really doing this right now? Are we...?” You bit a laugh into his lip.

“Yes. I think that we are.” He engulfed you in his grasp. “I’ve wanted to do this for years, Y/n.

Jeonghan scooped you up, moving both of your bodies to the couch where he clinked with his belt buckle to remove his pants. “You really do look beautiful. Everyday. I’m not just saying that.”

You practically clawed at him to lay his body on top of yours, then wrapped your legs around his waist to align him with your own. In your unadulterated intoxication of him, you hopelessly grinded up into him, seeking some kind of stimulation from the mashing of fabric together. After a little scoff, Jeonghan’s hand cascaded down your body to rub at your throbbing sex, marveling in the way that you had soaked though your underwear just a little.

“Wow. This is how you feel about me?”

“Do you want me to say sorry?”

“No--it’s just...I wish that I had known sooner.”

Your lust brought his lips back to yours as you kissed him over and over and over, trying to make up for all of the times that you wished you had done before. His touch on your sensitive skin sent you mewling onto his tongue.

“Can I make you mine now?”

As for your response, your widened legs told him exactly what he needed to know.

In one swift motion, he had tugged off his own briefs, letting free his deliciously hard cock, sparkling at the head with his pre-cum. Looking at him like this, all for you, was like a walking dream.

Jeonghan gathered spit from his tongue to glide over his dick, then teased your impatient entrance while he watched your face contort into the most beautiful shapes he thought he had ever seen. He entered you slowly, letting each of you take in the moment as if you could forget it the next. Once you were together, his brows twitched a little as his closed eyes focused only on you. He filled you up perfectly, as if you were made for him--which you had convinced yourself that you were. Jeonghan buried his face in your neck to suck into the skin, marking you as his.  

Your orgasm built much quicker than you had intended, and soon you were begging him to make you cum--which he gladly did. Your heels dug into his back upon your release which gathered more heat between your two bodies. Jeonghan didn’t skip a beat as he chased his own orgasm, fucking you into your own overstimulation and leaving you to melt under him.

“Jeong-han.” You gasped out his name through your teeth as your body quaked from the snap of his hips.

“oh god,” He uttered, tangling his fingers deep into your hair, then smashing his lips back into yours. “you’re so good for me my love...so good...”

Jeonghan let out little grunts as he came and filled you deeply with the warmth from his cum. As he throbbed within you, you knew it really was him you were made for. He lingered inside your walls as your bodies shook together with the aroma of sex fogging the air. After a while, it didn’t take long for both of you to be laughing contentedly into each other’s mouths once more.

Your best friend reached for your hand to bind all of your fingers to his. "No more secrets.”

☆彡

“Do you want the sweatpants from the top shelf or the rack?” Jeonghan called to you through your cruelly tiny apartment. “Wait...i-is this...?”

Once he had returned, in his hand he held the aged strawberry milk carton with the little cartoon fruit on the side and the scrap piece of paper wrapped around it. In the other was your little box of notes.

yjh was here

“I can’t believe that you’ve kept it this long. Why--”

“--I’ll tell you why...it’s my second secret.”

Your best friend cocked his head. “...Second?”

“Ever since that day, I’ve known, Yoon Jeonghan. I love you.”

☆彡

if you’ve got to this point, hehe hello I’m Ro, I write for skz and svt, and I’d love to write some more svt! If you’d like, you can send me your asks

[suchalonelysunflower]

Between The Stone And The Sword (c.h)

Where The Roses Bloom - Chapter 6

Pairing: Stable Lad! Calum Hood x Princess! Reader

Summary: Conversations are held and secrets are uncovered while you are left to wonder Calum’s state after the beating.

Warnings: Angst. Drama. Mentions of violence, abuse, death, humiliations, alcohol. Language. Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 6.8 k

Author’s Note: I do hate Richard so much. The next chapter is the official ending and then comes the epilogue! Stay tuned ❤️ Remember that Reblogs, Feedback, Comments and Likes are very important! You don’t know how much they help me 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋✨🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

Series Materialist || prologue || chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four || chapter five || chapter seven || epilogue

You spent hours looking at the bruise in your arm. It was a bright purple mixed with spots of blue and green. It reminded you of the drawings of galaxies you studied as a kid.

Your tutor used to tell you stories about how the world was born out of a star, and that every single being is made of stardust and we are all born to be stars. The problem is that some of them burn out too bright and they won’t even make it to sunset.

Now, you were sure your fire had burned as you found no will to get up from your bed. You lost everything. You lost him.

You wanted to stay at the tree, to let the gods take you at that moment after seeing Calum being dragged away by your father’s guards. You remembered how Ashton tried to get you up, but you kept weeping as you held tight to the patches of grass underneath your fingers. The grass that was tinted with his blood and yours. In the end, Ashton had to carry you back to the palace once you passed out from exhaustion.

The nurses in the infirmary didn’t ask questions as they gave you some healing beverages and covered up your wounds. Still, you were thankful they told your father that you needed a few days' rests before moving on with the wedding plans and he had no choice but to accept. Even though he was the one who caused the wounds, he didn't need the kingdom to know what kind of man he was when seeing his daughter’s bruises and cuts.

Three more days is what he gave you. Three days where you would allow yourself to grieve the loss you suffered.

You didn’t know where Calum was, or if he was okay or even if he was alive. All you knew since you woke up is that the sun has set upon your room. At this time you were supposed to be married, you were supposed to be sailing away to the Northern Kingdoms. You were supposed to be happy instead of this empty feeling of nothingness.

Now everything was ruined. You were forced to marry a man that loves another while your heart is still uncertain about your lover’s condition. You were going to be taken away and paraded around like some kind of puppet, impossible to get out of the strings your father cursed upon you.

You just lost everything.

You turned to your side and cringed at the pain you felt under your ribs. Still, you managed to get out of bed and walk towards the window you forgot to close before you raced to the old tree where Calum was waiting.

The memory of that forged letter burned at the back of your mind as you thought just how stupid you were for ever believing it. You let yourself trust too much and lost yourself in the plan, just hoping that it would’ve turned out perfectly. How naive of you.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet” You heard Ashton said softly as he opened the door. But you didn’t turn to look at him.

“I shouldn’t be here at all”

Ashton fiddled with his hands, looking up and then down and then to you, giving your back to him as you stared out the window while your arms wrapped around yourself and started to softly run your hands over your arms.

If you turned around you could see the desperation in his eyes, the utter sadness that took over him since the moment he witnessed the fateful scene. He was too late when he got there; your father had already captured you and Calum and there was nothing he could do about it.

He tried to find the right words to say to you, but his mouth remained dry with unsaid apologies that would later find their place, right now he needed to be the big brother he knew you needed but didn’t get.

“I should’ve left when he told me to”

Your voice was weak, raspy, and childlike at the same time, bearer of grief that you didn’t want to talk about. The tears were already running down your face silently, falling into the stone and creating dark circles that grew with your sadness.

Ashton felt as if his heart was wrapped in thorns that sunk deeper while hearing the sound of your voice. You should’ve never been this broken, he shouldn't have allowed it, and yet he is now standing there watching how the pieces of you fall and break like crystal.

“I thought we would be okay. I really thought that this could all be over…” You turned to Ashton and you saw how he took a step back, eyes glossy as he took you in “Why isn’t it over?”

Whoever was standing in front of Ashton was not you. This person had bags under her eyes, bruises all over her arms, and a sadness that could make every god look at her with pity and compassion. It was almost as if he was seeing you for the first time in a long time; you were skinnier, fragile-looking with your white nightgown and your hair falling freely down your back, your eyes were never-ending waterfalls as every tear that ran down your cheek was followed by three more, but you didn’t even make a sound.

You were a ghost from the person he once knew. The person he saw die and did nothing to prevent it.

“Did you see him?” You asked in a small voice, looking at him with hope hidden behind your eyes.

Ashton didn’t know if he should lie, but after seeing how you were looking at him, he swore at that moment never to lie to you again.

“No,” He said, almost whispering. He looked disappointed, but you were heartbroken. “They took him to the dungeon, that’s all I know” He added when seeing your trembling lip “At least we know that he is alive”

Your mind kept going back and forward with the image of when you last saw him being dragged out of the woods; unconscious, bleeding, beaten… He’s alive but for how long?

A silence fell over the two of you. You hugged yourself tighter and Ashton pretended not to notice as he searched for something that could give you some kind of comfort, but that was not an easy task. You can still smell the grass coated in crimson red, feel the dirt under your fingernails and feel your heart jump in your throat as you called his name. It was a pathetic sight and a desperate one. A sight that neither you nor Ashton would ever forget.

“How could this happen?” You asked in a whisper, breaking the silence in a heart-wrenching question neither of you had the answer to.

Ashton felt the sob that escaped your mouth as if it were his own, he tried to take a step towards you but you took one back.

“Y/N…” He tried, but you backed up again. Your eyes were filled with tears as you looked down at his boots, wincing as you felt the pain of your father’s kicks come back again.

“How could this happen, Ashton?” You asked again, addressing him directly as your eyes avoided his.

“I- I don’t know, I-” He stuttered, noticing how you started to shake and press your hands to the side of your ribs “Y/N, is your wound-?”

He walked towards you with firm steps, forgetting for a moment that the distance between the two of you was something much deeper than just physical.

“Don’t touch me!” You yelled when you saw him approach. But Ashton did not listen, he stood by your side and caught you in his arms when your knees started to tremble, too weak to make you stand any longer.

You fell into his chest, sobbing as he held you just in time before your knees hit the ground. Ashton sat next to you, cradling you on his lap as you gripped his shirt tightly, his hands running up and down your back at a soothing pace, just like he did when you were children and he took the role of the parent as his own.

His fingers graced your side and you hissed, he immediately took his hands away in order not to make any more damage.

“Can I see?” He asked softly.

You pulled away from him letting your teary eyes meet his hazel ones, an indescribable emotion set on them as you nodded softly.

You sat up straighter, letting him help you get on your feet and walk towards the bed as you set yourself at the end of it with your brother by your side.

With your consent, Ashton started to lift the hem of your nightgown, letting you cover your legs with a blanket as he reached your waist and stomach. You felt how his movements came to a halt when he saw what was there.

A black and blue bruise took over most of the sides of your ribs and waist. Ashton saw the bruise expand with every breath you took, knowing it might hurt to breathe at this moment as well; you had scraps all over your body, red skin showing and burning with every move, threatening to bleed again at the minimum touch.

“The green ones don’t hurt anymore,” You told him in a whisper referring to the green spots that covered some spots that the other colors couldn’t reach “Those are the old ones”

“The what?!” He snapped, horrified at the confession.

Ashton put the nightgown down, kneeling in front of you so he could see your face but you were already looking at the floor, ashamed that he had to see you like that.

“This… this has happened before” He wasn’t asking and your nodding only confirmed it “When? Who?!”

“It started a few months ago when you left for the Southern Islands,” You started, still not looking at him but at your hands intertwined in your lap. Ashton placed his hands over yours, squeezing them softly to give you strength to continue “We were supposed to have dinner together that day and I wanted to wear a dress that belonged to mom… It was her birthday, you know? But father didn’t like it”

The memories ran through your head as it happened yesterday. The rage behind your father’s eyes was apparent the moment he sat his glare on you, ordering everyone to leave the room and leave the two of you alone.

It didn’t matter that your intentions were innocent, you were actually excited to use one of your mother’s old gowns now that you were able to fit in them without having to make any alterations. You wanted to honor your mom’s spirit, but your father saw that as an insult to her memory.

“He asked me to take it off right there but I refused to be naked in the middle of the castle with no way to go back to my room. He got angry… God, Ash, I’ve never seen him so angry before”

The insults he threw at you sounded like soft lullabies compared with the first blow he threw at your face. The sound of his ring-cladding hand smacking against your cheek made echoed throughout the room, but he was not satisfied as he continued to hit you and pull on your hair, demanding you take that dress off.

Your father threw his goblet of wine at you, ruining the dress with the red stains as he laughed. You felt humiliated and ran from the room, dinner forgotten as you tried to escape your father’s cruelty.

“Calum found me by the old tree that night, he asked me to run away with him so my father could not hurt me anymore,” You said with a broken voice “I should’ve listened”

“How many times-?”

“I didn’t want you to go on all those travels just because I missed you, Ash”

Ashton’s eyes widened in horror at the words you spoke. You could see he was doing the math of how many times he left since that first trip and how long he was gone while you…

“I’m going to kill him,” He said “I’m going to fucking kill him”

Ashton clenched his jaw, the knuckles in his hands turning white as his breathing became elaborated. You could see every vein pop out in his neck and his eyes just screamed in rage as he tried to control himself while he was still with you. It was not the same look he gave to you all those weeks ago; no, this one had actual hatred behind it.

“Ash-'' You tried, but he was already getting up from his place on the floor in front of you “Ash! Where are you going”

“To give daddy dearest a talk,” He said in between his teeth, clenching his fists at his side.

Panic started to rise in your heart, jumping off of your bed and running towards him before he could even leave the room. You grabbed him by the arm, squeezing his bicep and pulling him slightly back inside the room, hissing at the movement.

Ashton turned to you harshly, making you take a step back. The look in his eyes softened when he saw you standing there, but his body was still tense as he gripped the doorknob till his whole hand turned white.

“Y/N-“ He started, trying to get you back to bed and to stay there.

“You are not going anywhere” Your voice was strong despite having been crying all day.

“He can’t just-!”

“And what are you going to do Ash!? Put yourself on a silver plate so his guards could back him up?!”

Ashton rolled his eyes “He is not going to do that!”

“What makes you think he won’t?” You asked with a raised brow “Just because you’re his son? Ashton, I’m his daughter! And that never spotted him before. You know what he’s capable of, you’ve seen what happened in the woods. You saw how he ordered the guys to practically murder the love of my life in front of us. Do you think he will care if you stand up to him?!”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, reflecting on the words that just came out of your mouth.

“I don’t want to lose you, too,” You said barely above a whisper “Not when I already lost him”

Ashton’s demeanor softened when he saw you show some vulnerability again. He let go of the doorknob and wrapped his arms around you, carefully enough not to cause any more friction that could cause you pain. You felt his heart beat strongly, still very caught up in his emotions, so you hugged him tighter.

“You didn’t lose him, Y/N/N,” Ashton said in a sigh “Calum will be okay”

You felt yourself starting to break down again. You thought about how many times you cried over him, mourning him because you knew that might be the only way of letting him go even if you didn’t want to.

Calum fought for you. He stood up to your father, to his King, for you. He called your name over and over again and you couldn’t answer him, you failed him. You failed him and he was the one apologizing.

“I’m sorry, my rose” were the last words he said to you. If only you could tell him that this wasn’t his fault. That you’re the one who's sorry because your father was right…

“This is all my fault”

The tears were rolling down your cheeks again, burning you with shame and grief.

“If I hadn’t suggested the idea of looking for ways to get out of that marriage. If I would’ve been more careful with our meetings. If I would’ve said yes when he asked me to run with him. If I hadn’t told him that I loved him… if I hadn’t been so weak then maybe Calum would still be free and happy. I caused this, I sentenced him because I was too selfish for loving him”

Ashton placed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you away slightly as he looked into your eyes.

“You are the strongest and bravest person I know, Y/N,” He said “You loved him despite what everyone told you, you fought for your love and did everything you could to make sure you two would survive this. What happened wasn’t your fault… It was mine”

You noticed how Ashton’s gaze graced the floor, unable to look at your face as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“If I had known… God, Y/N, I had no idea you loved him. If I knew you were in love I would’ve never pushed you to marry King Luke. I would’ve helped you get out of here or find a way to break the deal… I could’ve stopped father from doing this to you” He lamented, brushing his finger over the bruise in your arm “But I was so blind to all of it. I thought you didn’t want to marry Luke just because he was a stranger, I couldn't comprehend why you were being so stubborn, why you hated me and now everything is clear”

“I never hated you, Ashton” You admitted.

“But you didn’t trust me. And it’s okay, I get why you felt like you couldn’t. I was an idiot and I should’ve never said the things I said”

You placed one hand on his cheek, lifting his chin just a little bit so you could look at him in the eyes. At that moment you swore Ashton looked younger, almost as if he became a child again and was being comforted by his mother. You thought about all the times you found yourselves in the same position but with the roles reversed and wondered how much he might’ve hurt in the past without having anyone to give him some kind of comfort.

Ashton felt somewhat ashamed to look at you. His eyes held truth, fear, and regret as he couldn’t comprehend why you were being so kind to him even when he played a part in your unhappiness.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N/N” The young prince whispered “I didn’t know how bad things were until that afternoon when I came to apologize and found the snow globe next to your bed. I didn’t want to believe you were gone but… I guess that would’ve been the best outcome for this situation”

“Is that why you came looking for me?” Ashton nodded “Oh god- I thought you were the one who-“

“Who told father?” He asked in disbelief, shaking his head “I could never do that to you, Y/N. Your happiness means the world to me and if you found that happiness with Calum, then what say do I have in that? All I wanted to do was protect you, I just- I guess I didn’t realize you could protect yourself”

You pulled away from your brother, wrapping your arms around yourself again.

“I don’t know how anyone could protect me when the danger lives under the same roof as I”

Ashton shook his head “That is not the only thing you should be careful with”

“What do you mean?”

Suddenly, heavy footsteps were heard outside the door. Ashton immediately pushed you behind him, getting himself in position as his hand rested over the handle of the sword he took from your father, ready to unsheathe it at any moment.

The door opened forcefully, with Michael panting at the other side as he frantically looked for you.

“Princess!” He called breathlessly “You need to come with me, now!”

“What’s going on?” Ashton asked, putting his blade away.

Michael’s green eyes looked desperate and sorrowful.

“The trial,” He said “They are putting Sir Hood through trial in front of the court”

*

The sound of your stomps could be heard from all over the palace. You ran as fast as you could with Ashton and Michael trailing behind you. You didn’t even care about changing your clothes, throwing a silk robe over your nightgown before sprinting out of the room with the thought of Calum being in trouble.

“King Richard asked Luke to be part of the sentence” Michael filled you in with the last events that took place without your knowledge as you ran to the throne room “He claims that Sir Hood plotted for your kidnapping before the wedding”

“And what does Luke have to do with all of this?” Asked Ashton, enraged.

“It’s another punishment,” You said confidently “He wants me to hate him because he condoned Calum. He wants me to hate the person I’m supposed to marry”

All trials were held in the throne room, the only room in the whole castle that could fit a crowd of thousands while still putting the King on a pedestal and asserting their authority in front of the whole court.

You’ve participated in trials before, hiding in the back with Ashton or Calum as you watched poor souls being judged in front of your father, who was as merciless as usual and enjoyed the punishments he dictated on people, innocent or not. Trials allowed him to be brutal and cruel in front of an audience in a way in which it was completely legal and no one could go against him.

Your heart was beating loudly with every step you took, praying that you weren’t too late and hoping you could stop him.

Calum would be at your father’s unexisting mercy, unable to defend himself before the King “They should have given him more time” You thought, not knowing Calum’s state after the beating. For all you know, if he wasn’t dead then he would be soon and he’d probably still be unconscious. Your father would take advantage of that for sure, making his power known in the most unjust way possible.

You took the shortcuts, everyone was already at the trail so no one dared to stop you as you sprinted your way into hallways and passages that most people haven’t even heard of, soon appearing at the right corner of the throne room through a door hidden behind red curtains with roses painted on them with gold streams.

King Richard sat on his throne with the rose crown placed over his head as the symbol of his power and a smile so cruel it gave you shivers just by looking at it. He still didn’t take the rings he had on when he hit you, in fact, he was wearing them proudly as if they were his own little secret.

Luke was standing next to him - just like every other member of the court - standing straight as a statue while surrounding the King and enabling his power. But while everyone looked at the center of the room, the Young King of the Vail had his eyes wander around the room, surely searching for Michael among the crowd.

And, as your fiancé searched for his beloved, you did the same. You felt your breathing calming down as you realized that Calum was not in the room, feeling relieved at the thought you got there early.

“He knows he’s innocent, right?” You asked Michael “Luke knows Calum is innocent”

Michael nodded, looking straight ahead at Luke. You could tell he was nervous as his crystal green eyes become glossy with worry, he didn’t trust your father, and the thought of being so far away from his King while he is at a close distance with a possible enemy made him anxious.

“My King knows to trust the stable lad, but I’m afraid your father might coax him into thinking otherwise”

Both, you and Ashton stared at Michael with confused expressions. Michael continued.

“You are not the only ones who King Richard doesn’t trust, Your Highnesses. The crow I heard today, Princess? It was not meant for you, but it was meant for me”

“The crow?”

“Spies” Ashton finished Michael’s thoughts “Father has spies all over the Kingdoms, Y/N. He calls them crows because no one ever suspects how lethal they could be until the time comes to attack”

Michael nodded “The King is planning something with them. He cannot be trusted”

“And you knew about all of this?” You asked your brother, he looked ashamed.

“I knew about the crows. In my travels, my tasks not only consisted in forming and securing alliances,” He admitted “But to plant the crows in every Kingdom as well”

You took a step back, horrified by Ashton’s confession as you placed a hand over your beating heart.

“I didn’t know that I was doing it!” Ashton soon excused himself “Father told me they were liabilities; he never told me what he was planning. I never connected the dots until he announced to us your sudden engagement”

“What does that have to do with anything here?!” You asked, feeling dizzy with all this new information.

“We still don’t know,” Michael interjected “But ever since we came I’ve been doing some research on the King’s motives, guess I have to thank you for giving us so much unsuspected time in the library, Princess. But I guess that they found out pretty quickly, that’s why they sent the crow to me”

“We might not know, but it’s not hard to guess either” Said Ashton with a serious tone “Think about it; Father sends spies all over the neighboring Kingdoms from the West and the South, even when their alliances were sworn as well as their loyalties to it. There was only one Kingdom that could not seal the deal before, an Eastern Kingdom in which the crow disappeared before he could assure the alliance…”

“The Vail”

Ashton nodded “That’s one of the reasons why I wanted you to go there. He still has no power there. The Vail is the most powerful Kingdom in the East, having the biggest and strongest army that the Earth has ever known; every King would be jealous of it and seek to have it for themselves. Now, how do you obtain an alliance that powerful that could give you some sort of power over the army as well as the loyalty of their monarch?”

Both, you and Michael stared at Ashton, astonished by the realization of your father’s plans. Michael let out a curse under his breath as you tried to wrap your head around it. He was willing to give you away for an army?

“But he will not have control of the army if I marry Luke” You tried to reason “Besides, why would he even want an army that big, anyway?”

Ashton’s gaze broke your heart, he looked as sorry as you did.

“Y/N, father is preparing for war”

The words you were ready to say got caught up in your throat at the sounds of the horns, ready to announce the next convict, making the three of you pay attention to the center of the room where Willsburg stood with a large parchment, reading from it to the entire court.

“The Court of Roses and Your Majesty, King Richard, fourth of his name, call the next prisoner in row to trial” The voice of the page resonated through the walls “Please present yourself, Sir Calum Thomas Hood from The Palace of RoseWood”

The big wooden doors opened and you felt as if you might faint. Your heart was beating violently inside your chest, begging for a way out of the pain as you heard the shackles drag against the marbled floor at a slow and agonizing pace, still unable to see his face for he was still too far away.

It wasn’t fair that they made him walk in his state. It wasn’t fair for him to be here at all.

All around the room you could hear distant murmurs about what happened. Some people would whisper about how the stable lad kidnapped the princess in her sleep; others claimed that they saw him taking the princess in a bag, while others praised the King because he was the one who rescued his daughter from the hands of this evildoer.

All lies. They were all lies. But your father twisted the story again, making it impossible for others to believe otherwise.

You held your breath with every step you heard Calum take, reaching for Ashton’s arm to hold on to it as you felt as if your knees might not be able to stop shaking. You knew he was in bad shape; the last time you saw him he was practically dead before your eyes, so you tried to stay strong for him. But nothing could prepare you for when he finally stepped into your line of view.

A sob died in your throat as you placed your hand over your mouth, silencing it before it even began. Your eyes filled with tears that quickly started rolling down your cheeks as you felt how Ashton and Michael tried to catch you before you fell.

The sight of him was more painful than you could ever imagine.

Calum stood there in front of your father. His white shirt was covered in his, now, dried blood. The pants he wore that day seemed more like rags as they were ripped from the knees down, leaving his scrapes and wounds open for everyone to see.

You wonder if they sent a doctor down to the dungeons when he arrived. His wounds seemed to be covered, but not healed. The sides of his face were swollen and both his eyes had black and blue spots around them. The cuts he had on his face did not bleed, but they seemed raw at the sight, and they would probably open easily if someone were to touch them.

He was almost unrecognizable if it weren’t for those brown eyes you loved your whole life. Even when beaten, those eyes still fought for you and prayed for just one look from your eyes before he passed out. You dreamt and loved those eyes for so long you couldn’t imagine a life without them, and, even now, they still looked as beautiful as ever.

His hands and bare feet were trapped in chains, manacles, and shackles, but he was still standing, straighter and braver than ever, before your father. Calum would never coward before him, would never give him the satisfaction to see him on his knees, defeated. Not after what he’s done.

Calum defied your father with his stance, any fool in the court could see it. Most prisoners beg on their knees for forgiveness, but Calum was still standing. For him, it didn’t matter how much it hurt to stand, or how the iron of his restraints drugged into his skin, scraping his flesh raw. He will never kneel before a man who would hit a woman.

However, your father did not take that as an insult, on the contrary, he seemed very amused by Calum’s act of rebellion.

“Sir Hood. You are accused of kidnapping and plotting against the crown” King Richard’s voice reverberated through the whole room, making everyone stay in silence as he spoke, “How do you declare yourself?”

You counted the seconds for his answer, holding your breath with every beat of your heart.

Calum held his head high, but he didn’t say a word.

“Cat got your tongue, horseman?” The King let out an obnoxious laugh and soon enough the rest of the court followed, too scared to go against it.

Luke stood there with his mouth shut, looking at Calum with pleading eyes. They all knew how the situation would go if he didn’t say anything.

But Calum ignored the Young King’s stare, choosing to look straight ahead with utter hatred at the King he once was taught to respect.

“So,” Your father continued “Am I wrong to assume that you kidnapped my daughter from her room and were planning to take her away from the Kingdom days before her wedding?”

Still, not a word. Your father was getting impatient.

“Are you in love with her, boy?” He teased in a mocking tone “Is the stable boy in love with the little princess?” Calum clenched his jaw at the comment, making the King smile “Awww, isn’t that just sweet? The stable lad and the princess! What a beautiful fairy tale, isn’t it? Too bad it’s all in your head, boy”

People were laughing at Calum, mocking him and pointing at him and the fact that he was being humiliated in front of everyone. You stood there with your fists clenched to your sides, knuckles turning white at the thought of making every single one of those people pay for your pain. You were sure that if it weren’t for Ashton holding you back by the shoulders, you would’ve been standing right in the middle of the room next to Calum.

“You really think she could love you? You, a poor stable lad without titles nor riches? Maybe that’s why you tried to take her away from me, her beloved father” The King placed a hand over his heart, playing the part of a loving father a little too amateur compared to his other acts “What poor excuse of a man you are. Thinking you could win her love by-”

“I think this has gone too far for two men who know the truth. Don’t you agree, Your Majesty?”

Calum’s voice was not loud, it was hoarse and damaged but still strong enough to answer.

Everyone in the court stood silent, even the King who looked at Calum with curiosity and rage behind his eyes.

“So he speaks…” He said, “And what’s that truth you talk about, boy?”

“Don’t…” You whispered under your breath, praying to every god there is to have mercy on him. “Please, please don’t”

“The truth is that you’re a coward, Your Majesty” Calum stated, making everyone in the room - including the three of you that were still hidden behind the curtain, gasp.

“Oh, shit,” Michael said, representing all your thoughts in one simple utterance.

“The truth is that you sit in your throne all high and mighty when in reality you are afraid of a dress. You are scared of a past and a future you know won’t come your way because you, you sick son of a bitch, don't deserve it. The truth is that you abuse the ones who are under you, even the ones who held your titles with more honor than yourself. You are a bully that enjoys making people suffer.

You abuse your powers and titles and then parade yourself as a hero when you and I both know you are far from one. How dare you stand there and act all innocent when you were the one who laid hands on your daughter and made her bleed countless times just for your entertainment?

How is that not the truth, Sir?”

The room erupted in gasps and murmurs, all talking about the King and how this man dared to call on him that way, not even addressing him properly and insulting his name.

“Is he telling the truth?”

“King Richard would never, would he?”

“The Princess always looked scared when she was around him, it must be true!”

“He hits his daughter? The King?”

“Who is this man anyway?”

“Such a disgrace for the crown…”

“Enough!” King Richard shouted, silence falling over the court and guests.

Your father stood from his throne. Eyes filled with untamed rage at Calum’s words. With one simple statement, he was capable of turning the whole court into a shitshow, people were taking sides and talking about their King as a joke.

But he was still the King and he was going to make sure everyone knew that.

“Blasphemy!” He shouted, pointing his finger at Calum who stood proudly before him, still not caving nor surrendering. “You insolent peasant don’t know what you’re talking about! You conspired against the crown, do you deny it?”

Calum’s chest raised when he took a deep breath.

“I deny it,” He said loud enough for everyone to hear “I never conspired against the crown, I only conspired to have the engagement of the Princess and King Hemmings annulled”

A wave of gasps was heard all over the room again, but this time all eyes laid on Luke, as he stood awkwardly with an emotionless expression. This was no news to him and he had no intention of showing surprise.

“You kidnapped the Princess, do you deny it?”

“I deny it. I asked for her hand in marriage, she accepted. She left willingly with me so we could escape the Kingdom and its abusive King. I only tried to save her”

Tears rolled down your cheeks and to the floor. All he ever did was try to protect you, to keep you safe and you couldn’t do the same for him.

If it wasn’t for you, neither of you would be in this situation.

“You love the princess, do you deny it?”

You knew that was a cruel play from him trying to humiliate Calum again. But Calum smiled.

“I don’t deny it,” He said “I would never deny my love for Y/N. I would declare my love for her to every god there is and still, that would not be enough. She is everything I have and everything I need and I’m lucky to love her and to be loved by her. That’s something you could never understand and I pity you for that”

You felt your feet moving on their own towards him, trying to reach him and be consumed by him. But Ashton's grip tightened around you, making you stay in your spot, unmoving and unable to do anything.

“Don’t” He whispered “They can’t know we are here, Y/N. They will lock you up as well”

You knew he was right; if your father sees you he would command the guards to take you to your room and forbid anyone to come in or out of there until the day of your wedding. And, even though you were willing to risk it, you knew neither Ashton nor Michael would let you do something so reckless.

But before you could try and fight him for it, the laugh of your father interrupted your every thought.

“Isn’t that just adorable? Too bad love can’t save you this time, boy” He said with a sinister smile “Sir Calum Hood, I declare you-”

“Wait!”

The King turned to his side, a questioning look on his face as he stared at Luke with disdain.

But the Young King didn’t cower, instead, he stood straighter and looked at your father straight in the eyes.

“We haven’t deliberated, Your Majesty” Luke said as politely as he could, gaining the approving murmurs of the court.

Your father was fuming.

“Sir Hood presented his statement” Luke continued “He denied the accusations and provided his own countercase. The court must take that into account before declaring any sentence”

Luke spoke clearly, like a King. You noticed how Michael’s chest raised with pride and adoration. He was giving Calum a chance.

“I’ve taken Sir Hood’s statements into account and I’ve decided to ignore it” Your father then claimed, taking a step closer to Luke who was almost as tall as he was. Still, he stood his ground.

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

“What happened to respect your elders and your superiors?!” King Richard shouted in Luke’s face.

“Superior?!”

“Sit the fuck down, boy” Your father spat at him “This is my Kingdom and you have no power here. You are swearing to me after you marry my daughter so fucking watch and learn how a real King deals with their subordinates”

The room fell silent, all witness of how the King of RoseWood degraded the King of the Vail, no one dared to move a muscle as the King turned back to Calum with a devilish smirk.

Your chest felt heavy with anticipation, not being able to take your eyes away from Calum as you stood there helplessly with Ashton holding you by the arms and Michael ready to take you away the moment the King declared his sentence.

“Sir Hood. I found you guilty of all charges”

The murmur of the people grew around you as you were starting to lose sight the more dizzy you got all of a sudden.

Calum stood straight, waiting for the sentence with his head held high. You wanted to scream, tell him to run while he still could. Beg your father for mercy... but all you could do was stand there and watch how they kill you while still being alive.

This can’t be happening.

“I, King Richard of RoseWood, sentence you to death by hanging”

*

*

tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @1980holland @wiiildflowerrr @hoplessromantic727 @fivesecondsofonedirection @another-lonely-heart @aabc5sauce @dudethisiswhyyoudonthavefriends @major5sosstan @myloverboyash @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @the-ghost-of-luke @alltimesos @girlwhosimps @wontlastimokwiththat @ttinahood @yeah-and69 @fckingpernico @multistann @averageantichrist @a-darneddarling @tpwkcth @f-mu @kindahumanbutalsoinsane @floweronyourskin @ihavenoideawhattodowithyou

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Nothing Alike: IX

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: (future as well as present) violence, angst, smut, fluff, language

MASTERLIST

The journey to the palace should have only taken three days max. And the Geralt should have been free to go about his business. However, the prince had other ideas up his sleeve.

Upon awaking the morning after the incident, he proclaimed with great elation that Y/N would no longer be allowed to ride on a horse.

“If she’s going to act like a dog, she shall be treated like one,” he had proclaimed with great enthusiasm, as if it had taken him all night to think of it.

It probably had.

So, instead of moving at the reasonable pace of horses, they were subjected to the pace of a stubborn, disgruntled girl who wanted nothing more than to throw a tantrum.

A thick iron collar was padlocked to her neck, and her wrists were shackled together. They had considered her ankles as well, but Geralt had claimed it would take them too long if she couldn’t take large strides (not that she was taking them anyway). The collar and the shackles were connected to one another by a long iron chain that led to the prince’s horse, and to keep her compliant, a crossbow was trained on her at all times.

Geralt was forced to ride directly behind her, a silent reminder as to what they could subject him to if he put a hair out of line. He was forced to watch as she dragged her feet, slowing down until the prince gave the chain a tug, sending her to the ground. For a moment, she was being dragged across the floor, shoulder digging into the soft soil. Then she would struggle to stand, a difficult task when your hands were bound, and the horse never stopped moving. Eventually, she would get it, and for a while she would keep up an appropriate pace, but the indignation always returned and the cycled repeated.

When they camped, she was kept away from the fire’s warmth and given only scraps, a desperate attempt to break her spirit. Every night she was led into the prince’s tent, an offer, a bribe that if she were to take, small ounces of luxury would be granted to her. Every night she was tossed back into the cold.

It was those moments when Geralt didn’t mind the pace, because if they were moving slowly it meant that she hadn’t become another piece of land conquered by royalty.

When they did finally reach the palace, it had been a week and a half, and Y/N had been silent for three days (to the great annoyance of the prince who had screamed for an answer). While they had not harmed her, just as his threat had made them promise, she had still been abused. Her cheeks were shallower than they had been when they began. Hair matted; face covered in dirt, arms covered in cuts and bruises from hitting the ground. They burst through the door, the prince dragging her prize behind him as he entered the throne room.

All eyes turned to them, some interested, some full of hatred, all recognizing the woman who was being led forward like a wild animal. The prince pulled her forward, slamming the blunt edge of his sword into the bend of her knees, laughing as she dropped to the floor. He was going to soak in every moment, now that Geralt could no longer threaten him.

“I have returned,” the prince announced, arms outspread as he basked in the gasps of awe and wonder. The uncatchable beast had been caught, brought to her knees before their wealthy feet. The prince turned around to look at his prize, sprawled across the ground, but there was no such luck. She stared ahead, situated on her knees all while retaining a sense of entitlement. He had never seen someone look so regal while being mocked. “Bow before your king,” he growled, but she didn’t move. The only hint that she had heard him was a small moment where her lip twitched into a smirk. Struggling to maintain his composure, he motioned for a guard to step forward. A sharp sole slammed into her back and her forehead hit the marble forehead. When she sat up, emotion unchanged, a trickle of blood was running between her eyes. “I said, bow,” the prince howled, marching forward to do the job himself, but a booming voice stopped him.

“She is not my subject, therefor there is no need to bow,” the king said, standing from his throne, wrinkled finger pointing at his son. The prince looked ready to argue, to tantrum in front of the entire court, but for the first time since Geralt had met the pathetic boy, he held his tongue. “Do you seek trial?” he asked her, but she remained silent. Geralt willed her to speak, but she said nothing, only stared forward, daring them to execute her now.

“She does,” Geralt called, unable to bear the silence any longer. All eyes turned to him, including an extremely interested king’s. “She would like a trial.” Eyes returned to her and there was a small nod. Instantly, whispers filled the room like a tidal wave. “She will speak in front of the king, but the king only.” Another wave of uproar.”

“And I suppose you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then it is settled. Everyone out.” Protests erupted, but they were followed by quick footsteps exiting the room. Within moments all the remained were the king, Geralt, and Y/N. “You may unchain yourself,” the king murmured, almost with amusement, as he settled himself back into his throne.

Within an instant the cuffs fell to the ground and she stood, eyes dark as she studied the man across the room. Her fists were clenched to her side, but she did not advance as Geralt presumed she wanted to.

“Pull out a chair, sit, we have much to discuss.” Geralt was surprised to see she listened, dragging an ornate chair to the center of the room. “You may sit closer.”

“It is for both our safety that I do not,” she responded, voice harsh and rough from the lack of care.

“Both our safety?”

“If I sit any closer, I will want to harm you, and then your guards will be forced to kill me. Do not consider me rude, just realistic.” The king laughed and nodded in agreement, fingers drumming across the arm of his chair. The two stared at each other across the large expanse of the throne room before the king pulled a scroll from a beaded purse that sat beside him.

“Do you know what this is?”

“My crimes against humanity, I assume.”

“That is correct. Now, I will not insult you by assuming you are not capable of these acts, so you shall not insult me by lying about them.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Let’s begin then. I shall read your crime and you will defend them to the best of your ability. The swindling of towns people across the continent, namely within my own kingdom.”

“It was not a swindle; they were simply overconfident.”

“They knew you were a Witcher than?”

“Absolutely.”

“The murder of five Witchers who attempted to capture you under the order of the crown.”

“They had no intention of capturing, only killing. I was merely defending my right to trial.”

“Six counts of horse thievery, including from my own stables.”

“It was my horse, wrongfully stolen from me in an attempt to disable me.”

“The massacre of one hundred men and women.”

“They were taking part in slave trading; I was merely protecting the freedom of the people.”

“Slave trading!”

“Yes, slave trading. I was being held as well, and I have marks to prove it. Torture, branding, had I not killed them both my liberty and the liberty of a few dozen others would have been taken.” The king paused as he pondered her statement before continuing.

“Evading arrest.” She only smirked at him, a smirk that he returned. “The murder of your mother and father.” Geralt could barely hear what was said after the accusation. She had murdered her own blood, that was a crime he was not acquainted with. He strained over the blood rushing through his ears to hear her defense, but it did nothing to console him.

“They sold me out.”

“That is not a defense.”

“It was not meant to be.”

“You cannot take the law into your own hands.”

“You do.”

“I create the law.”

“So do I.” He stared at her before he began to chuckle, the deep sound quickly turning into a rolling laugh that echoed around the room. She didn’t flinch a muscle, merely watched him as he laughed away her statement. When he had finished, noticing that she was not smiling along he quickly righted himself.

“You are full of insolence.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“I cannot in good conscience allow you to return to the outside world, but I can offer you a deal.” She raised an eyebrow, a silent gesture for him to continue. “We will either execute you, or you will work for me, and uphold my law.” Geralt’s heart sunk again, an offer she would never take. As she had said repeatedly, no one controlled her, and if that meant death over chains, she would take it.

“Then ready the gallows,” she replied coolly, confirming Geralt’s suspicions.

“You are making a mistake.”

“No, the only mistake made here today was the offer you just made me, as it was both a waste of words and air. Send me your dungeons and tie the noose quick because the only day that I will reside beneath you is the day you walk over my grave.” Geralt wanted to scream, to snarl and spit in her face until she accepted the man’s offer but he remained still, silently seething.

The king laughed once more, but it was not full of humor, it was full of hatred. He had not expected to be refused, and yet she had thrown it back in his face without an ounce of regret.

“Guards,” he called and two entered the room, swords already drawn, expecting the worst. “Escort our prisoner to the dungeons, and the inform the executioner there will be an execution tomorrow at sunrise. Call all to see for this will be their greatest victory.” They dragged her from the room, and even without the chains she did not struggle, merely smiled as they dragged her away, already readying herself for the final moments of her reign.

 Taglist: @stuckupstucky​ @aurora-sweet​ @holyhumorliteraturelight​

[tsarisfanfiction]

Whumpy Prompt list

Given as a gift, Eos

Suspicious Parcel

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Friendship/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Penelope, Parker, EOS

Okay, so I know I whump a lot, but I have to say I've never attempted to whump an AI before, so this was definitely a challenge. Big thanks to @janetm74 who reminded me about the existence of her portable drive from Growing Pains! That was the little nudge I needed to figure out how to tackle this.

There is actually surprisingly little EOS or John in this, but this was the way my muse wanted to handle it, so this is what happened.

Whumpy Prompt List

“There’s h’a suspicious parcel f’you, m’Lady,” Parker announced with no prior warning as he entered the large drawing room, tea tray in his hands. Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward looked up from where she’d been reviewing the latest fashion critiques and raised a single eyebrow at her long-term companion and confidante.

“Have you checked it over?” she asked him, one hand gently carding through Bertie’s short fur where the pug was curled up on his cushion beside her. “I don’t suppose they were kind enough to leave a return address?”

“Not h’at all, m’Lady,” he replied, setting the fine bone china cup and saucer on the low table by her knee and, at a gesture, beginning to pour it. “But h’I could not see h’anything h’alarming when h’I, uh, investigated it.”

“Well, in that case you might as well have it brought up,” she decided, watching the man feign heavy reluctance as he set out a second cup for Bertie. She’d long been aware that the animosity between the two of them had faded away, and that their current relationship was one of a steadfast friendship. Both parties were just dramatic enough to want to put on an entertaining show about it.

“Very well, m’Lady,” he agreed. “h’It will h’arrive momentarily.”

Serving duties finished, she watched him leave the room. With the arrival of this so-called ‘suspicious parcel’ – and if Parker, of all people, considered it suspicious, then she was inclined to listen – there was surely no point in continuing to read the scathing remarks about Lady Bottomsley’s dress at the Royal Gala two days ago, even if she did quite agree that the woman in question had made quite the ridiculous clothing choice for the occasion.

Setting it aside, and making sure to leave the table clear for the parcel, in case it contained a surprise neither Parker nor the Manor’s security had been able to detect, she picked up her cup and took a delicate sip of the tea.

True to his word, Parker didn’t take long at all to return, carrying the parcel warily yet firmly. It was entirely unremarkable – a perfect cube, wrapped in plain brown paper. The stamped code that would project her address if exposed to the correct technology was the only marking to be seen, and even that appeared to be faked, upon closer inspection.

As expected, there was no evidence that pointed towards the identity of the sender.

“Your gloves, m’Lady,” Parker said, after setting the parcel down on the cleared table. He’d already swapped his own gloves for full-cover, she noticed as she accepted her own, heavy-duty gloves.

“Thank you, Parker,” she acknowledged, pulling them on and making sure they sat securely and comfortably over her recently-manicured nails. “Now, shall we see what this mystery parcel contains?”

Despite donning her own protective gear, it was Parker who carefully slit the paper open, revealing an equally plain, innocuous box. The former crook carefully peeled the paper away in its entirety, inspecting both the inside of the paper and the exterior of the box with a highly experienced eye.

“h’It seems clean, m’Lady,” he announced after several long moments. “Should h’I open the box?”

She cast her own eye over it, although with little confidence that she would spot something Parker had missed, before agreeing. “Yes, Parker. Open the box.”

As with the paper, he carefully sliced it open with a blade rather than opening it conventionally, and the sides fell away to reveal-

“Oh,” she said, as Parker drew in a quick, sharp breath. “Well, this is rather distressing.”

John had been beside himself with frantic worry ever since he’d brought EOS, confined to her portable unit, down to Earth on a rescue, only for the device to be stolen, AI and all. While it was true that he had, as always, backed her up thoroughly on Thunderbird Five’s systems, and the AI herself was, as always, his constant companion up there, the idea that he’d lost the original version of the code – not that she was mere code to him, no matter what he claimed – had devastated him.

Even EOS herself seemed disquieted at the fact that a version of her was in unknown hands; she knew as well as the rest of them, if not moreso, how dangerous she could be in the wrong hands, although in a deflection Penelope was well aware she’d picked up from John, she had taken to reminding them of the damage she was sure her original was inflicting upon whatever substandard technology she was exposed to.

It was a transparent attempt, and Penelope knew that, despite intentions, it was doing nothing to cheer John up. He was absolutely terrified what would become of her – not only was her existence sure to be revealed, but they had no idea whohad her, or what condition she would be in if she was ever returned.

As Penelope gazed rather miserably upon the contents of the box, she thought that at least they had the answer to one of those questions, even if it was not an answer she cared for. Part of her didn’t want to inform John, but it would be far crueller to keep it from him.

“What should we do, m’Lady?” Parker was looking at her, no doubt thinking the same but waiting for her decision. She resisted the urge to swallow, strict upbringing rules refusing to allow such a weakness even now.

“Contact John,” she instructed, reaching out with gloved fingers. “Perhaps he will be able to get the answers we seek.”

Once he was recovered from the sight of the ruined drive, charred and partially melted as though someone had thought it was possible to physically torture an artificial intelligence with no nerve endings, she knew that nothing would stop him from tearing apart every piece of data, every scrap of code he could get his hands on, until he found out what had happened to EOS.

Penelope also knew that she would do everything she possibly could to help him in this endeavour. While she might not be as close to EOS as John, the sight in front of her truly was rather distressing.

[retvenkos]

rolled up messages | n.e.

Blades of Light and Shadow - Nia Ellarious x platonic!MC!Reader, slight angst, fluff requested by @brokenandheadoverheels

tw: mentions of death, seasickness, grief

word count: 1.7 (okay, but in my defense, this is nia, we’re talking about.)

song: message in a bottle - the police | 🔍

Summary: The sea worked in mysterious ways. This time, it brought you someone to grieve with.

When you had been little more than a child, your work knee-deep in the earth and all your life in your small and calloused hands, one of your favorite fantasies to spin was being a pirate. Kade had heard plenty of stories of life on a schooner, and seeing as you had never seen the sea, it was the most beautiful daydream your mind could concoct and escape into. It was a world beyond anything you had ever known. It was a romantic and daring vision - full of sea spray and gulls, the bright blue sky and the enchanting waves.

Life aboard The Wraith was anything but the stories Kade had once told. The hypnotic sway of the ship kept your mind in a constant and muted haze, and the endless skies muddled your sense of direction. Mostly, the days were dull, but on occasion, something more sinister lay within. Restlessness seeped into your veins - slowly, then all at once.

Only a handful of times in your life were you equally as rattled as you found yourself, now, and in each life-changing circumstance, what grounded you was working - the steady drudgery of tilling the earth, the resolute swing of a hammer, the clang of iron against an anvil. But here, there was no task to complete. There was just the open ocean and the ceaseless sky and the insanity that slipped in slowly. It was an itch, and soon, it would grow into a scream.

Most days, you sat around, waiting for things to happen. On occasion, the Captain - the fearless and headstrong Imtura - threw some meager task your way. You almost hated the way you jumped up, eager for something to do. The last thing you wanted to be was a dog begging for someone else's scraps. 

The sea was lawless in its corruption; you would be damned if you let it turn you.

If Kade were here, he would have known what you were thinking before you were able to put it into words yourself. He was always perceptive like that - annoying, too, because he knew it. He would have teased you about your restlessness, and before you could register the stir-crazy feeling in your belly, he would have told you stories about how the sea could charm you into doing her bidding. She'd cut you down slowly and carefully until your will was broken and your mind was jelly. Then, she'd use the rhythmic sway of the boat to hypnotize you into becoming her servant.

Was Kade somewhere out there, now, being drawn and quartered, broken down by the shadow and being built up again, against his will? Was he sitting in the cargo hold of a ship or a dusty cell beneath the ground, insanity visiting him in the night? Was Death a new companion of his, gnawing at his skin until he was foaming at the mouth? If you found him, would the shadows cling to him the way ghosts once did? If you discovered him alive, would Kade beg you to end his suffering?

And would it be a mercy to give him what he desired?

The sea was churning your stomach, the acid within burning up your throat. The world - a flat blue that couldn't divide sky from ocean - spun. You needed a quiet place to sit down. You needed a moment alone to grieve.

You stumbled your way below deck, gasping for air. The ship rocked to one side, and you staggered to a wall, throwing one hand out in front of you, catching your breath. You couldn't think about Kade, but you couldn't damn well forget about him either. Not when—

"(Y/n)? Are you alright?"

You snapped your head to attention and found Nia blinking back at you, her delicate features sculpted into light concern - mouth turned, eyebrows knitted. On her lap, she held a leatherbound journal, one hand holding a pencil, paused in its scratching. 

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself not to grimace. 

"Yeah, I'm alright," you breathed. You could hear the irritation in your voice. You hadn't meant to direct that at her. "What are you writing?" you asked, trying to smooth things over - steering the conversation to a place you could handle. "Keeping a harrowing account of our journey?"

Nia stiffened like a child caught when acting out. If you weren't so seasick, perhaps you would have waved your question away, content to sit in baited silence. But you needed a voice in the din - something to take off the edge - and you knew Nia would comply.

"Not exactly," Nia said slowly, worrying her bottom lip. "I'm writing a letter."

"To who?"

"Oh, umm... you'll probably laugh, but Scholar Vash." Her words hit you like a bullet. In all of the chaos surrounding your quest, you had forgotten about the loss of Scholar Vash. When had your company ever allowed Nia to truly grieve? You had spared her a few moments after the shadow took him, but you hadn't given her such mercy since. You should have never been so thoughtless in your mission. Nia let out a breathy sort of scoff and shook her head. You wondered if she was blinking back tears. If the light were better, would you have recognized it when you first came down?

"I just want him to know that I'm well and that I'm staying true to my faith," Nia played with the ends of her long, red hair. The shimmer of her dress caught in the orange lantern light. She looked like an angel in mourning. "I also thought that I'd write down the questions I still want to ask him. Maybe somehow - through the Light - he'll be able to send some kind of answer."

"Kade and I used to do that with our parents," you commiserated, your voice choked. "Write them letters, I mean. People in Riverbend thought it was a way for orphans to appease the spirits of their parents. Connection. We used to send our notes in glass bottles down the river."

Nia looked at you and gently smiled. Her expression turned wistful, something that made you draw nearer, sitting on a crate next to her. You were closer, now, and you could see the tears welling in her wide, brown eyes.

"We used to do something similar in Whitetower. On days when we were left in the archives for studying, we'd all gather around and write notes to would-be kin. Of course, we didn't have a river, so our letters were tied to the feet of birds. Little rolled up messages saying 'I'm here. Don't forget me.'"

For a moment, Nia's voice drifted away. The ship continued to rock, but in that time, it felt like a mother rocking a cradle, soothing the weeping child within.

"Most of us are adopted by the Temple of Light when we're infants," she sniffed. "I guess it's universal to want to know where family might be." 

Nia touched the journal before her, where loopy cursive graced the page and spelled out the name of Scholar Vash. You hadn't known the High Preist long, and while Nia spoke of him often, she was brief with her words. It was as though, on occasion, she forgot all that transpired, and she talked about him when she thought of it, only to have the abrupt realization that he passed, and his final moments were spent doused in shadow. Vash Vallerin had been more than just a teacher - the Scholar had become that of a father, the only one Nia had known. You could see the way the loss gripped her. It reminded you too much of the way you felt about the kindly farmer who took you in, of the little life you had created in the heart of Riverbend that was slowly fracturing - falling apart.

You grabbed Nia's hand - gently, at first, but squeezing it tightly when you got a firm hold. "You are here, Nia, and Scholar Vash may be somewhere out there, but I've known too many ghosts, and I know he won't forget you."

A tear fell down Nia's cheek, and you could feel your own doing the same. How comforting this was - feeling how deeply your grief ran but sharing in its bittersweet bite.

"It's only the living that struggle with forgetting those that we love. The dead have memories that outlive eternity and infinity - at least they have that on us."

Nia laughed - a mix of a chuckle and a sob.

"Scholar Vash will get your letter - no matter how you choose to send it - and I believe he will find a way to answer."

Nia squeezed your hand before letting go and dried her tears. She looked down at her journal to find a tear had wet the page, and she laughed. "I think Scholar Vash would have liked it better that way."

You smiled and wiped your own tears with the palms of your hands. You waited as Nia finished her letter, standing up and digging through the cargo in the hold to give her privacy. You found a bottle of good spirits and took a long drink. You debated on whether or not to offer the priestess some, but you decided it would be better to spare her the headache of refusing and made a mental note to give some to Mal later.

Nia finished writing her letter and tore the page out of her journal carefully. "I think a bottle would be the best way to go," Nia said, rolling up the parchment and turning to you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Nina affirmed. "It'll wash up on shore somewhere and—"

"And maybe the world will know we were here?"

Nina smiled. "And maybe they'll know we were here."

-- taglist: @fives-cup-of-coffee, @musicallisto, @missameliep, @brokenandheadoverheels​ // message me if you want to be added!

[arotechno]

The Heartless: Chapter 1

Next

Read on Inkitt

(A/N: HOOOO boy here we go, after five years of staring down the barrel of this thing it’s finally done! Important question: does it matter to y’all if I don’t post the text of the chapter directly below the cut in the future and just link to Inkitt? I ask because formatting for tumblr was beyond annoying and I’m not looking forward to doing it for like 20 more chapters. But if it’s necessary for accessibility reasons, I’m willing to do it.)

Chapter I: in which the story begins

When the winter first melted into spring, Basil and I crept to the edge of the woods behind our houses to pick wildflowers in the meadow. It was still too early for raspberries; in the summer, we’d fill our baskets and our stomachs with them until our mouths were stained red with juices. Our mothers would bake pies in the afternoon and we’d eat them in the evening, cleaning every last scrap from our supper plates with the promise of a sweet dessert. Now, the earth was still cool beneath our bare feet, our toes wiggling in the soft dirt. Once we’d filled our fists with flowers, we settled in the tall grass and began weaving together goldenrod, daisies, and violets into flower crowns and daisy chains.

Basil presented his work and beamed at me, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun with the back of his hand. “Take it, I want you to wear it,” he urged, thrusting the flower crown into my lap.

“But you worked so hard on it,” I replied.

He shrugged and brushed the dirt from his tanned knees. “I want you to have it,” he insisted, reaching forward and taking the crown from my lap to place it gently on my head.

I stared down at my own work in my hands; it was not nearly as beautiful as the one Basil had made. Some of the stems had split, and many of the flowers had lost some of their leaves and petals. I didn’t have the same steady hands that he did.

“In that case, I want you to have mine, too,” I decided, pressing the crown onto Basil’s head as a couple more leaves fluttered to the ground.

Basil grinned a mile wide, practically radiating sunshine with every inch of his being. “Now we match,” he beamed.

A peaceful silence fell over the meadow. Behind us, the trees rustled in the woods. Insects hovered in the grass, hopping from flower to flower; Basil jumped when a bee buzzed past his face to land in the flowering raspberry bushes that bordered the tree line.

“We’ll be friends forever, right, Basil?” I asked after a while, sheepishly adjusting my flower crown.

"Of course we will,” he responded. “Even when we’re old!”

 “How old? Like, eighteen? That’s super old!”

Basil laughed. “Yeah! Eighteen and then even older!”

I smiled hopefully. “And we can still make flower crowns like this?”

“Ace, when we’re eighteen, I’ll still make you all the flower crowns you want,” Basil decreed with a grin. “That’s a promise.”

* * *

The warmth of the sun and Basil’s innocent smile faded as I woke up to last night’s rain dripping down on me from the cracks in the ceiling above. Bertrand stood over me, jostling me awake with one hand while the other held a vial of another one of his concoctions. I assumed I had fallen asleep after supper, because the dishes remained untouched by the washbasin and twilight was just pouring in through the window.

“Drink up,” Bertrand commanded in that voice of his that just begged to be disobeyed, holding the potion in front of me expectantly as if to remind me of the curse that filled the vacant space within me. He stared at me with piercing eyes over the top of his dull gray beard, swishing the vial back and forth for emphasis.

I grabbed it from his wrinkly hand and sloshed the red liquid around in disgust before shutting my eyes and downing it in one gulp, just to appease him. Even so, I could not resist the urge to lay a hand against my chest, but still I felt nothing. Shaking my head, I rose from my cot and pushed past Bertrand, grabbing my bow and arrow off the hook by the door and slinging it over my shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Bertrand called after me.

“Out,” I answered, already halfway out the rickety wooden door.

“It’s past nightfall, Ace, it’s dangerous out there!”

But I was already gone, walking away from the old house as the door slammed shut behind me with a satisfying thud.

Over the seven years I’d spent under Bertrand’s leaky roof, I had slowly become disillusioned with the idea of ever finding a potion strong enough to light a fire in my ribcage. Bertrand had tested a lot of his spells on me throughout my life, but the love potion had always proven to be the least effective.

But I suppose that is to be expected when you do not have a heart.

The Village of the Heartless was smaller than the town where I grew up. A single dirt road ran from the village gates to the top of the hill, through the neighborhood before coming to a stop at the edge of the woods that surrounded the kingdom of Amistadia. We were a close-knit community, learning to provide and look out for each other through thick and thin, through every harsh winter and plentiful spring.

Bertrand’s house stood at the edge of the village, where the hill dropped off toward the gates below. At the base of the hill stood a large, sturdy oak tree where I perched some nights with my bow and arrow on the lookout for trouble.

Nights in the Village of the Heartless were always dark, as we could never afford enough oil to keep all of the town’s lamps lit, but they weren’t always quiet. Kids from neighboring towns sometimes wandered the area at night, brandishing knives in their grimy hands, looking to stir up trouble. Tonight was no exception; as I neared the village limits, I caught a glimpse of a pair of boys making their way down the road, and a thrill shot up my spine. I climbed swiftly up the oak tree and perched in the shadow of its lush, leafy branches, fingers itching for my bow.

The pair dragged a child behind them by the arm, yanking her across the dirt with them as they cackled and cheered triumphantly at their prized catch. The girl held tightly to a canvas sack, trying fruitlessly to pull away from her captors.

“Get away, get away!” she shrieked, dodging a blow as she fell to the ground, clutching the bag to her torso desperately.

“What’s the matter, little runt?” one of the assailants sneered. “You’re not afraid of a couple of kids, are you?”

“I just wanted something to eat!” the girl cried out as a likely filthy knife narrowly missed her cheek.

If I had been in my right mind, I would have simply shot the pair of boys in the shoulder, snatched up the child, and run away, but Basil’s face kept flashing in my mind; an anger was boiling in my gut that demanded confrontation.

“Hey, ugly!” I shouted, pulling back an arrow and pointing it in their direction.

The kid with the knife froze, eyes darting up to my place on the tree branch. I was yards away, but I could see the glint of light from the last of the setting sun on the knife as his fist tightened around it. His partner, as well as the child still laying on the ground with the sack clutched to her chest, stared wide-eyed as he

“Who’re you talking to?” he grumbled.

“Doesn’t matter,” I quipped, hopping down from my perch and tightening my grip on the arrow. “Just let the kid go.”

“Why should I?” he retorted, nonetheless taking a step back when he saw the arrow aimed directly at his head. “Y-You’re not really going to shoot that.”

“How do you know?”

The other kid called out, “Hey, let’s just get out of here.” He was ignored.

Pointing to the little girl, Knife Boy puffed out his chest and continued, “There’s no way you’re really worried about her. You Heartless are all the same; you don’t feel a damned thing. No way you’d go out of your way to save her.”

I allowed myself a bitter, self-indulgent smirk, too brief to be seen in the thick darkness. “If that’s what you believe, that I am entirely emotionless, then wouldn’t it also stand to reason that I would feel no remorse about ending your sorry life right here and now?” I drew my bowstring further; the wood audibly creaked. “If that’s the case, then it would seem you had better start running.”

Knife Boy froze, taking a few steps back before he and his friend took off running in the direction they came. “Cursed bastards!” he yelled over his shoulder as he hopped the gate and disappeared. Once they were out of sight, I let my arms drop to my side and slung my bow back over my shoulder. I felt my brow furrow in frustration; life in the village had become so mundane that I was almost hoping for a fight. I quickly stifled that selfish thought, pushing it to the far recesses of my mind; the girl, who had stayed completely still on the ground throughout the whole ordeal, now scrambled to her feet, still clutching the bag in her white-knuckled hands. Now, no longer squinting through the dark, I recognized her immediately.

“That was awesome! How did you know what to say?” she beamed, slinging the canvas sack over her shoulder and wiping the dirt from a pair of ratty pants that fell three inches from her ankles.

"Petra, you’re the one who I keep hearing has been stealing food from the neighboring villages?” I asked her, and her expression soured immediately at having been caught.

“Yeah, that was me,” Petra admitted under her breath. Then, scrambling to justify herself, she added, “But I only do it because there’s not enough food in the village and I gotta eat something!”

I nodded, mulling it over. “Sure, now I suppose I can’t blame you for that, but stealing is wrong. You’re plenty old enough to know that.”

“Of course, I know that, but I needed food!”

“Fine, I get it, I get it,” I sighed. “Just don’t make this a habit, got it? I promised Annie I would keep you out of trouble.”

Petra pouted. “Fine,” she mumbled. I started back up the hill, with Petra trotting silently alongside me.

At thirteen years old, Petra had been living in the Village of the Heartless since she was a baby—which was still longer than I’d been in town—left outside the home of one of the village women, Annie, in the middle of the night. I’d met her several years ago, and she quickly became enthralled with my stories of life outside the village. Annie was dead several months now, leaving Petra to fend mostly for herself, though the community kept a watchful eye over her (Not watchful enough, I thought ruefully).

“You didn’t tell me how you knew what to say to that kid,” she urged, struggling to keep up with my strides.

“I used to spend time around those kinds of people a lot when I was a kid,” I explained, deciding to humor her. “I’ve learned how to turn their own words against them by now.”

I did not tell her that had I learned how to do so sooner, things may have turned out a lot differently.

 * * *

I eventually sent Petra home with a warning that I’d be watching to make sure she didn’t get into any more trouble. When I crossed the threshold back into Bertrand’s musty old house, the palm of his hand came down hard across my face, leaving a sharp stinging sensation behind on my skin.

“What on earth was that for?” I yelped. Bertrand grabbed me by the wrist and dropped me into one of the rickety dining chairs in the center of the room, bearded face practically sparking with rage.

“You must not keep doing that!” he scolded.

“Doing what?” I asked innocently.

“Getting into confrontations with… hooligans! What else?”

“I did what I had to—”

“Don’t think I wasn’t watching, Ace! I could see the entire ordeal from the window!”

 “Well maybe if you’d actually done something to help instead of just watching—”

“Unlike you, Ace, I value my life and am not going to get myself killed just to feel like the hero!”

I couldn’t help but bristle at his comment. Something in my soul shattered, and I sprung to my feet, the wooden chair tipping backward onto the stone floor behind me with a loud clatter that would have rang through the eaves had I not immediately erupted into theatrics.

“What do you mean you value your life? All you do is sit around making futile potion after potion and you still think it’ll work next time!” I clenched my fists at my sides, willing the confrontational energy in my veins to burn out before it swallowed me whole. “So maybe I need to tell off some asshole every once in a while to finally feel like I’m doing something meaningful. So you can keep pouring bile down my throat all you want, but I can assure you it’ll never make me happy!”

Bertrand’s face fell, and I knew deep down that I had hurt him, but I could not bring myself to feel guilty. He had it coming, I thought, stalking across the room to my cot by the window. I sat down on the thin mattress, kicked off my boots, and pulled my knees up to my chest.

“Ace—” Bertrand, having followed me, reached out a hand as if to lay it on my shoulder, but I flinched away from the touch and he retracted the appendage as if he had been burned.

“Don’t touch me,” I muttered, directing my gaze out the window at the dark, lonely night creeping across the landscape. “Just leave me alone.”

With a sigh, Bertrand retreated from my bedside, retiring to his back potion room to conjure his demons away, and I sat back against the wall, longing for home and the warm voices of my parents.

That night, I dreamt of Knife Boy, and his words reminded me of Carita, the girl who kissed me under an oak tree when we were younger and told me I was weird for flinching

Next chapter releases 7/25!

[hermannsthumb]

Prompt where both Newt and Hermann wake up from the same (drift-fueled) nightmare and try to console the other while still shaken up themselves? 🥺

oh the romance of it all...meant to post this yesterday but i was too lazy to finish

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

The laboratory is not empty when Hermann--wrapped tight in a dressing gown, head pounding--shuffles through the door some time between four and five in the morning. He’s not surprised, as he thinks he ought to be. And wishes he were. He knew the instant he snapped awake in bed (shaking, choking back shouts) that the laboratory would not be empty, which he knows entails a rather worrying set of implications about his drift with Newton and the aftereffects thereof. None of which Hermann feels much like contemplating at the moment.

Newton is wrapped in a blanket on the couch and shaking one leg up and down. He doesn’t so much as look at Hermann as Hermann collapses next to him. “Bad dream,” he says.

It’s not question. “Yes,” Hermann agrees. 

It’s been three days since they closed the Breach, three days of packing up Newton’s samples, of wiping down the chalkboards in the lab, of sorting through every last singular scrap of paper, each one followed by a night of bewildering, incomprehensible nightmares that have Hermann waking practically on the hour in a cold sweat and dry-heaving into his pillow. Nightmares that have Newton waking, too.

Newton lifts one edge of his blanket and offers it out to Hermann, and after some deliberation, Hermann tucks himself in against Newton with a grunt of thanks. “Sure,” Newton mumbles. 

Newton is in the clothing he wore in the laboratory earlier, and Hermann wonders if he even bothered changing. Or if he made it back to his quarters in the first place; his boots and glasses lay in a haphazard pile on the floor, and he’s as groggy as if he’d woken only seconds before Hermann. Hermann wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep here. “Yours?” Newton says.

Drowning in a sea of blue so bright it stung his eyes. A cement ceiling caving in on Newton, glowing tendrils reaching for him as he shook and shook. Hermann, age eight, crying alone in the school lavatory after a larger boy pushed him down in the hallway. “One I’d rather not remember,” he admits.

“Mine were memories,” Newton says. “I think.” His eyes flick up to Hermann. “Not all mine, though.”

Newton has not divulged the specifics of his venture out into Hong Kong’s underbelly for a second kaiju brain, but considering Otachi ravaged the city in the midst of it, Hermann suspects the glowing tendrils were not a fictional concoction of his nightmare. (He wonders if that also means Newton had to see him crying in a toilet stall, and hopes that’s not the case.) “It was...unpleasant.”

Newt shrugs. “They’ll probably stop in a few days.” He pushes his half-cracked glasses up and tucks his side of the blanket closer around himself. “Or weeks. I’ve been reading up on all the old case files from the very first drifts, you know--”

“Highly classified case files,” Hermann points out. Highly classified case files Newton presumably dug around for in the hard drive of Hermann’s desktop computer--perhaps that’s why he was in the laboratory so late.

“If you had a better password, maybe,” Newton says. “Anyway, a lot of the original side effects mention weird fucking dreams, mostly reliving old memories, and your drift partner’s memories--and I kinda threw together the shit we used from old garbage, you know. I don’t think the, the fucking hivemind is helping things either. Probably just making the leftover connection stronger. You know I dreamt I was a kaiju last night?”

Hermann shakes his head mutely. If it was a week ago, he would’ve said something along the lines of lucky you, or isn’t that your dream come true?, but Newton has begun to tremble rather worrisomely, so instead he merely settles his hand on Newton’s knee in a way he hopes is comforting. Hermann thinks he may have dreamt of being a kaiju last night, too, and of tearing apart worlds he’s never seen the likes of before. 

“Well, I did,” Newton says. “It wasn’t--cool. I was dizzy all day, like I was gonna puke, like--like I kept expecting myself to be fifty times bigger. Fifty thousand. Or have claws. I don’t know, dude.” His knee has begun to shake up and down again, not slowed even by Hermann’s touch. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just thought this shit would be more fun, you know?”

“What would be more fun?” Hermann says.

“The world not ending,” Newton says, and laughs. “I don’t really feel like a rockstar.”

Hermann feels a rush of pity for his colleague. Friend. He wonders, now, if Newton’s staying late in the laboratory and accessing of old drift data was not merely a way to stall sleep. “You said yourself it’s likely just temporary,” Hermann reminds him. “Perhaps, in a week, we’ll be back to normal.”

“Hope my fucking eye is, too,” Newton says. He rubs at the bloodied left. The nurses in medical insisted on sticking a patch over it to prevent him from doing that very thing, but Newton ripped it off in the lab yesterday in a fit of rage after slamming his elbow into the edge of his workbench. I don’t have any fucking depth perception, he shouted. “I kinda like yours, though. That’s very rockstar.”

“Thank you,” Hermann says mildly. Compliments paid by Newton are rare, so Hermann never turns one down. “I think we ought to go back to bed. It’s getting late. Or, rather, early.” They have a long day of packing up more samples and cleaning more chalkboards and sorting more papers ahead of them, after all.

“Ugh,” Newton says.

"Mm.”

Hermann is not expecting Newton to curl in against Hermann’s chest and press his face to the crook of Hermann’s neck as he does. He does not mind it--the opposite, in fact. “Five minutes,” Newton says, his voice muffled. “Please. I like...having you with me. I feel better.”

He’s not being sentimental--Hermann chides himself--but purely factual; the anxiety that’s lingered in the back of Hermann’s head since the Breach collapsed subsides somewhat in close proximity to Newton, and when they touch, he might almost say he feels calm. At the very least, he’s able to disentangle the two threads of their thoughts and label them as either Gottliebian or Geiszlerian in nature. “Of course, Newton,” Hermann murmurs. He wraps an arm around Newton’s waist. (He likes having Newton close for sentimental reasons as well.) “We can stay here as long as you’d like.”

Newton dozes off within three of those minutes. Hermann does, too. 

[a-dorin]

the discovery - kylo ren

word count: 2,825

warnings: mentions of sex, cursing, teasing, some angst

a/n: this is the fourth part of my kylo ren series i have been writing. the first three parts are linked here! enjoy <3

summary: after kylo heads off to fulfill his daily duties as supreme leader, you receive a surprise visit from your guards, along with the return of your droid. you begin to experiment with your thoughts, which leads to you uncovering some shocking information about you and your abilities.

you felt soft lips press against your collarbone, causing you to stir. blearily, you opened your eyes, adjusting to the dim light. the only light filtered in through the viewports, provided by the stars. 

“good morning,” you murmured, sleep still thick in your voice.

“good morning, angel,” kylo gave your neck another small kiss, his morning voice ragged.

god, you loved the way he sounded in the morning. it was just so attractive to you. you wished you could hear it all the time, as it was about an octave lower than it normally was. it almost sounded the same as his voice when it was modulated by his mask. you didn’t want to admit it, but you also enjoyed the way kylo sounded when he wore his mask. it was just too attractive to you. 

“what time is it?” you snuggled into kylo’s warm chest, adjusting your head so that it fell directly on kylo’s heart. 

his heartbeat was rhythmic, thudding softly in his chest. it was slow, providing you comfort as cuddled kylo, grateful for the warmth radiating off his body. you couldn’t see, but kylo’s cheeks were a slight tinge pink. your action surprised him for a second, but he was adoring every minute of it now. the sight of you in his embrace filled him with a warm happiness. you didn’t realize it, but you were the man’s muse. his greatest weakness.  

“about six-thirty in the morning,” he answered, kissing the top of your head.

kylo began to run his fingers through your soft hair, inhaling your scent. it reminded him of wildflowers, which he adored. he even caught of a trace of his scent on you, which he loved even more. it only reminded him the night before. 

“it’s too early,” you whined, pouting. 

“i have duties to attend to,” he rumbled, “you can stay here, if you wish.”

“but you won’t be with me,” a sigh escaped your lips. 

“oh i will be,” kylo countered, “i hate to do this, but i really must go, angel. i still have to shower, dress, and gather my paperwork for today.”

“it can waitttt,” you rolled your body so you were now on top of kylo, your head level with his.

kylo’s eyes peered past your head, licking his lower lip as his hands ran down the sides of your body. you hadn’t been up long and you were already tempting the supreme leader, as your thighs were illuminated in the dim light. you lips were slightly swollen, and love bites trailed down your neck. kylo brought his hand to your neck, brushing the hair out of the way. 

“don’t tempt me,” he smirked, enticed by the darkness of the marks. the whole ship would know how you were his, and he enjoyed the thought of it too much. 

“how noticeable are they?” you raised a brow. 

kylo’s eyes met yours, “pretty noticeable baby.”

you couldn’t help but melt at the nickname. yet, you tried holding your composure, “i’m going to kill you.” 

“you won’t,” kylo countered your tone with a smug smile. 

without warning, kylo held you tightly against his chest as he rolled over, pinning you to the mattress. his lips met yours, kissing you forcefully. his tongue swiped your bottom lip, and he sucked on it slightly. you whined softly, turning him on even more. 

“i have to go,” his voice was ragged as he pulled away. 

a frown formed, “do you want me to complete any tasks for you today?”

kylo shook his head, “if i do, i’ll reach out to you.”

“do you have to go?” you hated how desperate kylo left you. how he made you ache for his touch. how even the sound of his voice made you flustered. how his kisses left you breathless. 

“i do,” kylo gave you one last kiss. he got off the bed, heading towards the refresher. 

you sighed loudly, pulling the cover over you. the sound of the water from the shower filled the room, almost lulling you to sleep. five minutes passed, and soon kylo’s footsteps entered the room once more. you rolled over, peering over at him. 

his muscles in his back rippled as he opened the door of his wardrobe, searching for a tunic. droplets of water glittered on his skin in the dim light, and his black hair was messy. your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him retrieve pants, his towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. 

kylo got dressed quickly, wrapping his cape over his shoulders. you continued to watch sneakily as he retrieved his paperwork for the day. it must have been a slow day, full of meetings. kylo muttered to himself as he laced up his boots, the words too low for you to understand. within thirty seconds, he was out the door, his mask shielding his face. 

minutes later, loud knocking startled you. hesitantly, you slipped out of the bed, kylo’s tunic hanging loosely on your body. you reached the doors, pulling them open. bubba and phoenix stood at the doorway, jet at their feet. 

“holy shit!” phoenix gasped, pressing a hand to his helmet. 

“you look drained,” bubba remarked, “did the supreme leader a little too rough with you last night?” 

“thank you,” you rolled your eyes, “good morning to you too.”

“we’re just teasing,” phoenix raised his hands in defense, “can we come in?”

“are you allowed to?” you snorted. 

“sure we are,” bubba nodded, the two troopers walking into the quarters. jet followed their lead, whistling excitedly when you kneeled, giving him a tight hug. 

“i missed you too,” you whispered, placing a soft kiss on his head, “did everything get fixed?”

“yes ma'am,” phoenix answered, “brand new parts and everything. only the best for you and your droid, jet. he’s a cute little fellow.”

“be careful,” you stood, smirking, “he can kill you both.”

“THAT THING CAN KILL?” bubba shouted, pointing to jet. 

“uh yeah?” you raised a brow, “it’s in his programming. it’s not his first duty, but he is a class four security droid. jet’s main duty is to protect me. my father bought him from a man involved in some smuggling droid ring. jet was almost scrapped for parts until my father stepped in. ever since, he’s bonded with me. he can take someone out, i promise. i’ve seen it.”

“oh wow,” phoenix gawked at jet, kneeling to the floor, “you’re really cool, little guy.”

“he doesn’t like ‘little guy’,” the two soldiers both glanced at one another, as if saying fuck simultaneously, “but he does allow it, since he is smaller than most droids.”

phoenix stood back up, dusting off his knee, “the thing i can’t believe, however, is how you literally had sex in that bed. how was it? is he hung?”

you almost choked, “phoenix.”

“sorry,” he coughed, “we should probably get out of here, though. we just wanted to bring jet to you, and ask you how last night was.”

“the two of you are pretty nosy,” you huffed, crossing your arms. 

“we’re your best friends,” bubba protested, “we just want to be in the know!”

bubba did have a point. the only three people you knew on the ship were kylo, bubba, and phoenix. you hadn’t really been in contact with many others. you wondered if it was kylo’s orders or if it was because you hadn’t ventured out much. it was slightly difficult, as your time had been spent with strictly kylo. 

“can i tell you guys at breakfast?” you raised your brow. 

the boys nodded enthusiastically, “of course! do whatever you need to do, then just buzz for us on that intercom when you’re ready.”

“what intercom?” 

“the one on the wall over there,” phoenix nodded at the wall behind you, “don’t worry, it’s not broadcasted over the entire ship. we have special radios in our armor. our contacts are on that list attached to the wall. just buzz one of us, and we’ll swing back through here. sound good?”

“yep!” you gushed, “i’ll see the two of you soon.”

phoenix and bubba waved goodbye, exiting kylo’s quarters. the doors closed, the echo filling the room. you let out a sigh when you realized you had no clean clothes to change into. maybe you could just wear kylo’s tunic temporarily till you were back at your own quarters. but what were you going to do about underwear and pants? 

marching towards a mirror on the wall, you inspected your reflection. when you saw it, an audible gasp fell out of your mouth. your hair wasn’t messy, which was good. however, a trail of love bites were painted down the side of your neck, ending on your collarbone. they weren’t light either. they were a deep purple, with tones of pinks. you swallowed, your fingertips subconsciously grazing over your skin. 

“fuck.” you mumbled as you lifted up the tunic to see more marks all over your chest. there were a few leading down to the waistband of your underwear, but they were already faded. 

the thing was, you didn’t even remember kylo being that rough with you. the sex between the two of you was gentle, as it was kylo’s first time. who knew what kylo was capable of as he got more experienced. you shuddered slightly, secretly enjoying the way kylo marked you up. 

as more light entered the room, a gleaming object came from the corner of your eye. you turned, focusing in on it. it was shiny, and small as it sat on kylo’s desk on the opposite side of the room. your curiosity compelled you to check it out, stepping towards the desk. 

as you got closer, the object looked like an ordinary hunk of shiny dark metal. you picked it up, inspecting it. however, a small realization washed over you as you held it, feeling the cool metal creeping into your skin. 

you were holding kylo ren’s lightsaber. his prized weapon. you swallowed, trying to find the button to turn it on. thirty seconds later, you found it, the lightsaber crackling as it came to to life. the room glowed a slight red color as you held it, illuminating your face. in awe, you flicked your wrist in a few experimental movements. the lightsaber followed, humming. 

put that down. kylo’s deep voice rumbled in your thoughts, startling you. you let out a yelp, the saber creating a loud clanging sound as it thudded on the floor. 

you pouted, a small feeling of guilt washing over you as kylo caught you in your act. it’s not like you meant to find it. he was the one who left it laying there in the first place. also, you were drawn to the saber by an unknown force. maybe it was the force itself. you were unsure. 

“how come you never let me in your head?” you asked the question aloud, challenging kylo. 

you have to be patient. kylo was more gentle this time. i’ll train you, angel. i promise. we might even have time to train today. it will come naturally to you, with time. 

kylo’s words were reassuring, and you felt slightly better about being scolded. the thought of a training session excited you, especially since kylo was the one teaching you. he was going to be your master. 

sighing, you sat on kylo’s bed. jet was speeding through the room, inspecting it for security. you giggled to yourself, watching jet as he checked every inch of the room for he slightest sign of danger. 

you closed your eyes, your mind wandering to kylo. maybe if you concentrated, you would be able to see him. after all, you longed to see him again, more than anything. his absence was creating a gaping hole in your thoughts. 

suddenly, you were transported to a cold room, the air hitting your exposed skin. you shivered, goosebumps covering your body. the room was full of other first order generals, engineers, etc. it appeared to you to be the control room of the ship, as there were mass amounts of control panels. kylo sensed your sudden presence, turning around. pure shock filled his face, his lips parted, an eyebrow raised.

“can you see me?” in fact, you could see kylo clearly. he was without his mask, which was surprising to you. from the moment you met him, you knew he didn’t take it off often, if at all, around others. 

“yes.”

kylo gazed at you, his eyes traveling down your figure, wandering back up to meet your eyes. he swallowed, “the sight of you is too much to handle right now.”

“am i being a distraction?” you frowned. 

“no,” kylo shook his head, “they can’t see you. only i can.”

“oh,” you sucked in a breath, “well, i’ll leave you be.”

“actually,” he put out a hand, “i’m going to excuse myself from my duties momentarily. we need to talk.” 

after his statement, you snapped open your eyes, sitting up on the bed, alarmed. what the hell just happened to you? how could you see kylo so clearly? why did he need to talk to you? 

confusion overwhelmed you, making your mind buzz. as soon as you searching for answers in your head, kylo entered the room. he closed the doors, and faced you, “you’re more powerful than i thought.”

“what do you mean?” his statement worried you. what power was he referring to?

“you’re more force sensitive than i initially believed,” kylo repeated, placing his hands on your shoulders, “(y/n) (y/l/n), who were your parents?”

“they were nobodies,” you were quiet, “i was raised on a neutral planet. my parents were just civilians. my father worked as a medic, and my mother was involved with childcare.”

“do they have ties with the siths or jedis?” kylo’s eyes desperately searched yours for answers. 

“kylo,” your lip trembled, “what are you talking about?”

“i knew you were special because of several visions i have witnessed,” he led you to the bed, sitting down, “something within me, the force, drew me to you. i just knew i had to find you. there’s a special bond between us, (y/n), and it was created by the force. do you know what the force is?”

“isn’t that a myth? isn’t it a bedtime story to tell little children?”

“no,” kylo shook his head, “the force is not a myth. it is very real. it’s the reason why we’re so drawn to one another. it’s the reason why i can see your thoughts, and you can view mine. the force is so powerful and mysterious, even i, someone who has been trained by a jedi master, cannot understand it. in time, we will learn more. we will learn about this bond together. i can promise you that i never intend to leave your side, (y/n). this all must be extremely overwhelming and confusing to you, and i apologize. but this is the best way i can explain it all to you.”

“it’s still pretty confusing,” the amount of information kylo just told you was extremely overwhelming. it caused you to panic, your palms beginning to clam up. your internal temperature rose, causing a small sweat to form on your forehead. you bit your lip, careful not to meet kylo’s eyes.

“you don’t have to be strong,” he murmured, placing a hand on your thigh, “it’s okay. i’m here.”

tears streamed down your cheeks, and you broke down. you were scared. in fact, you were beyond scared. you were terrified. what did this all mean? what was the force? what was a jedi? why were you, of all people in the universe, chosen to have this special bond with a man who was tied to the dark side? 

kylo wrapped you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. soft, gentle kisses peppered your forehead as you sobbed in his arms, “i’m right here, (y/n). i’m here.”

“i’m scared,” you cried. 

“please don’t be frightened,” his words soothed you, “you’re so so special, (y/n). i wish you could see yourself how i see you.”

“but you don’t feel that way, it’s that stupi-”

“don’t you dare start,” kylo’s tone shifted to frustration, “even though we possess a bond created by the force, i am the one who dictates my emotions. this hasn’t changed the way i feel about you. from the moment i saw you, i knew you were the most beautiful woman i had ever seen. i’m still attracted to you, in more ways than just the force.” 

his words eased some of your anxiety, the feeling dissolving. you nuzzled your head into his chest, grateful for his presence. you glanced up, noticing kylo’s small smile. 

“after all, you’re doing something to me that no woman has done before.”

“and that is?” a blush spread onto your cheeks.

“you’re making me fall for you.”

a/n: ummmm.. so i’m in love when it comes to writing about phoenix and bubba. would anyone want to read their backstories? i feel like they would be really interesting! and if you want me to add you to my tag list, lemme know ! 

tagged list: @kpatz @lookinsidemyhead​ @bqbyl0n​

[yjk-imagines]

"Will you marry me?"

"Out of every sentient in the galaxy, you are the only one who would propose over a fresh grave."

The assignment was simple. Get into the bar, get the message from their contact, and get off of Takonadona.

But when did anything ever go simple for the Solos?

Zekk noticed the bounty hunters first. He had been one of them, once. A quick scan of the bar proved no sign of the contact Uncle Luke had sent them after, and they quickly theorized who the bounty hunters were after. They followed them into the forest.

Jaina tried to keep her mind on the positives, like Mom was always telling her. For one, she had Zekk by her side. Two, running through the forest reminded her of her days running through the Massassi Jungles with her friends. And lastly, if they were still running, the bounty hunters definitely had the information they wanted, whether or not they had nabbed their contact.

Jaina swatted aside a low-hanging tree branch in time to see the three bounty hunters standing over a blue-skinned Twi'lek in a yellow poncho. The Twi'lek lay on the ground, all resistence beaten out of him as the red-haired bounty hunter in the mask aimed their blaster at him.

"No!" Jaina flew across the clearing between the trees, her lightsaber igniting mid-way.

The blaster hit the Twi'lek in the stomach, and Jaina's lightsaber sliced off the bounty hunter's arm.

The Twi'lek cried out, curling in around his wound. The bounty hunters, including the wounded one, all backed up several paces. The red-head with the face mask might have been human, but they were too obsessed with their arm to introduce themselves. The smallest one with the perpetually grumpy face looked somewhat like a sentient version of a kowakian monkey lizard, all wrapped up in bandoliers strapped with ammo and bombs. Their final bounty hunter was a Weequay, with at least five piercings in one ear, and a long braid hanging against the back of his jacket. He immediately drew his own blaster and aimed it at Jaina's head.

Zekk's lightsaber was already drawn. He stood just a few paces behind Jaina.

"Don't you know it's impolite to read other people's mail?" he asked.

"Finders keepers, eh mate?" The Weequay asked.

"If you're done, there's a man on the ground in agony," Jaina stood over the Twi'lek, shielding him with the hum of her lightsaber. Though by the sound of his ragged breaths she wouldn't be needed much longer.

"Make the shot, I dare you." Zekk warned, "By the time we're done, you'll be so full of blaster holes, you'll look like asteroids."

"I got a thermal detonator, Mel, let's see them try to stop an explosion." The tiny, goblin-like creature hissed behind pointed teeth.

The Weequay motioned his little friend back. Unlike his violent little friend, Mel was well aware that the detonator would kill them as well as the Jedi.

Jaina eyed the human member of the party, who held his shoulder and kept glancing down at his arm on the forest floor.

"Anyone else feel like ditching a few more limbs tonight?" She grinned her classic Solo grin, and narrowed her eyes at the human. He thought it over for a moment, and then took off at a run back in the direction of the bar.

Mel stared after him for a long time, and then glanced at the Jedi's lightsabers, dancing in the shadows of the forest.

"C'mon Grek, we're goin'."

"What?" Little Grek asked. Mel grabbed Grek by one large ear, and dragged him off after their friend. It wasn't until the bright red of Mel's vest vanished that Zekk turned off his lightsaber and took a deep sigh of relief.

"Do you practice little speeches like that?" Jaina sheathed her lightsaber as the bounty hunters disappeared.

"Like what?"

"That, 'you'll be so full of blaster holes you'll look like asteroids'?"

"No, it just came to mind."

"You practice, don't you?" Jaina asked.

Zekk didn't answer. He knelt at the contact's side, and Jaina joined him.

"Isseon Maud?" Zekk asked, his hand on the top of their head.

The contact nodded, his hands shaking as he tried to pull something out of his belt.

"Calm down, calm down, it can wait." Zekk urged him. Jaina tried to see to the blaster wound, but there was too much blood. Too slick, too fast. She tried to shake her head at Zekk without letting Isseon see.

"No," Isseon rasped firmly. With one arm, he grabbed the side of Zekk's head and pulled him closer to hear. With the other, he pressed a holochip into the palm of Zekk's hand.

"This," Isseon coughed, and a trickle of blood spilled out onto his lips. "This is our last hope for the Jedi."

Isseon's grip on Zekk slackened, and his arm fell, smacking against the ground as a slave to gravity.

Zekk breathed heavily, and Jaina reverently folded Isseon's robe back into place. Hope. Those were her mother's words when she needed to deliver the Death Star's plans to Obi-Wan Kenobi. She had heard that story many times before. She had been in that sort of situation millions of times before, and she wasn't so sure she wanted to be thrown back into that again. Whatever Uncle Luke wanted from Isseon Maud, it was worth dying for.

"Do you have a datapad?" Zekk asked suddenly. Jaina stopped her ceaseless wondering and pulled the datapad from her pocket. Zekk inserted the chip and sat back on his heels, waiting for the screen to load.

"It's a map," He said, blinking at the star charts that rapidly flashed across the screen.

"Several maps," Jaina came around to look over his shoulder.

Zekk shook his head, "They all go together, just like pieces of a puzzle."

"And what's the picture?" She asked.

The last of the pictures flashed onscreen, an ancient stone wall, carved in an unholy, jagged script.

Zekk's face went pale. "That's Sith writing." He said.

Jaina recognized some of it from the deepest, darkest parts of the Massassi temples, and she shook her head. "What does it say?"

Zekk exhaled deeply, "It talks of weapons, civilizations, a place called Exegol."

"Exegol?"

Zekk nodded, "Brakiss mentioned it once, he said the Emperor would meditate there sometimes."

"Sounds lovely."

"For a Sith, yes." Zekk shuddered. "How did Maud get his hands on this? This is dangerous, even for people who aren't force-sensitive!" "Uncle Luke mentioned he was a junker. He probably scavenged up something he shouldn't have."

Zekk looked over his shoulder, in the direction of Maz's Palace. "And the word got out a little too quick."

"The galaxy can't afford to get into another war," Jaina said definitively, "Especially not with the Sith."

Zekk turned off the datapad, handing it back to Jaina, and slipped the chip into his pocket.

"We gotta get back to Uncle Luke," Jaina stood, still gripping her lightsaber's hilt in her hand.

"We can't just leave him," Zekk said, looking down at Isseon Maud's body. He was eerily still, and the Jedi could sense the distinct absence of life emanating from him against the teeming flora and fauna of the forest. It wasn't so much of a gap in the force as a sort of dimness in the force. The force connected every living thing, which also meant connecting them to death.

Jaina sighed and looked around. They didn't have shovels, and digging would be a pain even with the force. She nodded to a couple of large gray rocks at the base of one of the trees. "Let's make a cairn."

Zekk nodded, and the two began the silent, monotonous task of collecting enough stones to properly cover the Twi'lek.

"What do you think your uncle will do with this information?" Zekk asked, weighing a smaller stone in his hand.

"I don't know," Jaina kept herself occupied with arranging the rocks in a perfect pile around Isseon's body, "The first thought is use it, but what would he use it for? I doubt he'd be teaching younglings how to create Sith Thought Bombs."

Zekk chuckled, "He's definitely not that crazy."

Jaina smiled at him. It was a sad smile, but filled with love all the same. She stepped back from the cairn, marked with a scrap of Isseon's poncho. "Would you like to say a few words?"

Zekk nodded, and Jaina waited patiently. He said nothing for a while, though his lips parted as if he were about to.

"Go on, then. Unless you'd like me to." Jaina encouraged.

"I will, I will," Zekk murmured. But he was silent for a few moments more.

"Will you marry me?"

Jaina's ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, and the fuzzy sensation slowly moved to her brain as she struggled to process the question.

"What?" she asked, though they both knew she heard.

Zekk nodded, and instead of looking at Isseon's grave, he looked over at her.

"The first time i held my lightsaber, I knew. It felt right, like I was finally doing what I was supposed to. And that's what I feel about you."

Jaina's breath caught in her throat. Zekk was her closest, dearest friend. She had been in his mind, she knew how he felt about her, and she loved him. But hearing him say these things out loud was so much different than feeling it in his mind.

Zekk continued when she didn't say anything. "Every time we go out together, I promise your parents that I will protect and look out for you. But it works both ways."

He held out the hilt of his lightsaber, "I take care of my lightsaber because it protects and looks after me. Together, we're stronger.

"So," Zekk got down on one knee in the soft dirt.

"Jaina, will you marry me?"

The classic Solo grin had melted into an ear-to-ear smile, the same smile that each of the Skywalkers allowed themselves to feel in their entire body when everything was going right with the universe for once.

"Zekk, out of every single sentient in the galaxy, you are the only one-"

"Is that a yes?" Zekk almost stood up.

"Will you let me finish?"

"Sorry."

Jaina shook with laughter. He hadn't seen her laugh like this since one of Jacen's particularly bad jokes. "--the only one who would propose over a fresh grave."

"Is that a no, then?" Zekk was getting ahead of himself.

"Zekk, stop," Jaina knelt on the ground in front of him, "I love you more than anyone else, and I would marry you in a heartbeat, I just..." She glanced down at his lightsaber and wrapped her hand over his.

"This comes with a responsibility. When Luke made me the Sword of the Jedi, he told me I'd never find peace. I don't know if I can drag you into that."

"I'm already wrapped up in it every moment I spend with you," Zekk told her with a soft exhale, "I dragged myself into it when I chose to drag you and Jacen from the underworld back to your home."

Jaina gave a huff of laughter and looked down at the dirt. "So you want this, then?"

"I want you. And whatever comes with it."

Jaina pressed a chaste kiss yo his lips, "And I want everything that comes with you."

"Then say it," Zekk said, pulling them both to their feet, "Jaina Solo, will you marry me?"

Jaina squeezed his hands in her. "Yes, yes I will marry you Zekk." Zekk grabbed her by the waist, and with just a touch of the force he lifted her in the air, spinning her around with their long dark cloaks. Jaina couldn't help but laugh as she soared in her fiance's arms, coming in for a soft landing a moment later.

"So we get back to Ossus, figure out whatever it is that's going on with Exegol, stop another war between the Jedi and the Sith, and then get married." Jaina grinned, her hands interlocking behind his head.

"And then get married," Zekk whispered, his emerald eyes searching her amber ones. They sparkled with joy in the sunlight that came through the trees, and he had never been more in love with his best friend.

[thegildedlady]

Old Friends

Gray dawn broke over Stormwind City. The last stars hung dimly in the sky overhead as more and more light slowly filled up the dark spaces of the human metropolis. These early morning hours were when most of the city’s working folk made their way out of their modest homes and trudged towards whatever task awaited them. The streets were just crowded enough that Kordya Pavlov could pass through them undetected. The layer of sleep still sitting on most overnight guard’s eyes gave her some protection from recognition. Normally she tried to avoid delving this deep into the city, but today Kordya had her own task to attend to. An old friend was expecting her, and she hated to disappoint.

As she cut through the back alleys of the Old Town, Kordya began to smell the coal ash chugging out of the Dwarven district. Right about now the smiths and craftspeople would be stoking the flames from last night’s embers, ready to start a hard day’s work all over again. The smell bristled in her nose and she shook her head to expel it. Kordya walked on by the Dwarves at work, not stopping to admire their constant drive or revel in a hard day’s labor.

“At least I’m not breaking my back like those chumps,” she thought to herself, as she tried to ignore how badly the smell of coal reminded her of a long lost home.

She finally reemerged at the canals, where the coal scent was blown away on a sea breeze funneled through the entrance to the harbor. She inhaled deeply, letting it wash the earth off her as she hurried down the street. The sky was turning from deep gray to lavender, and she would need fleet feet to make it to her destination by daybreak.

Kordya looked down from the ramparts and saw a large crowd gathered at the base of the docks. A wooden platform and gallows had been erected in the looming shadow of the gilded lion’s head protruding from the stone wall behind it. Before the Prince pulled a classic Wrynn Disappearing Act, he kept the gritty practice tucked away inside the stockades and far from public scrutiny. Ever since the regency began, the High Exarch has had no such issue and resumed public executions. A hanging would always draw a crowd, and served as a not so subtle reminder of what fate awaited those who would flee from the Crown’s justice. The bleak scene caused dread to settle in her gut like she’d swallowed a stone, heavy and uncomfortable. She pulled her hood up over her mop of copper curls and began her descent. Kordya disappeared at the edge of the spectators just as the provost began to read the sentence.

“Let it be known that Frederick Albert Lafollette, of the village of Lakeshire, has been convicted of the crimes henceforth stated: Fraud, thievery, assault, arson on five counts, murder on two counts, and piracy against the Alliance Navy. For these crimes, by order of High Exarch Turalyon, he is hereby sentenced to hanging by the neck until he is dead.”

The crowd booed and hissed as the crimes came one after another. Kordya had shuffled her way closer to the center where she might get a closer look. A giant of a man, Frederick looked like he could rip clean through the ropes binding his hands in front of his person, should the desire strike him. He had been worked over, that was clear even from where Kordya was standing. His eye was blackened and his nostrils were crusted with dried blood. Though he stood in the face of his own demise, his expression was serene like a meditating monk. To the strangers gathered to watch him die, he was just another criminal. To Kordya, he would always be Freddy.

Suddenly, a gloved hand pressed against the small of her back. Kordya went stiff as a board, her fingers hovering above the pistol slung around her hips. Before she could cause a scene, a quiet voice spat out an explanation from just over her shoulder.

“Don’t get hasty now, Kordy. It’s your ol’ pal, Earle. You ain’t wantin’ to lose two old scarabs in a day now, are ya?”

Kordya whipped her head around to match the voice to the face in her mind. Earle was already older than dirt when Kordya first met him some ten years ago. Now he was brown as a nut and wrinkled like an old saddle bag. He smiled a leathery grin, his few remaining teeth hanging down to match the tufts of white hair poking out of his ears. Earle was wearing a tattered hide cloak, and pulled his hood up to match Kordya as he took his spot beside her. She did not mind his closeness, but wished he had taken a dip in any body of water before showing up today. The pink hues of the sunrise behind them gave a faint glow to the early morning mist still hanging in the air and warmed their backs as the minutes dragged on.

“I wasn’t sure anybody else would show up,” mumbled Kordya.

“Oh, s’no trouble for me. I been stayin’ down round the cemetery, so I make it out to most of the hangin’s.”

“You got a room or are you roughing it?”

“You know me, kid. I’ll let you take a guess.”

Kordya nodded curtly. She got the picture. The two stood in silence for a while- unsure of what to say to the other. They were not the same people who had formed a comradery all those years ago. What tied them together in the past was just that; the past. Their time with the Blue Scarabs wasn’t a pretty memory for either of them. If nothing else, the hollow feeling that came along when reminiscing about those days was one thing that they actually had in common. Being here for Freddy, of course, was another.

The provost held his palm up to silence the crowd’s jeering. When the noise had settled, he continued reading from the scroll in his hands.

“If Mr. Lafollette should have any last words, speak them now.”

Freddy’s gaze was cast over the crowd and out to the sea, where deep blue waters crashed against the rocky shore. He cleared his throat with a rumble, and Kordya held her breath.

“Tell my mother I’m sorry, that it ain’t her fault I ended up the way I did. And tell her I’ll get even with Pop for what he did to us, when I see him in hell.”

His voice called out clear and true and his gaze squinted against the rising sun. A flash of copper caught his eye and dragged his attention down to the crowd, where two familiar faces looked back at him with recognition and sorrow. When Freddy realized who he was looking at, he smiled sadly. Kordya smiled back, but felt the hot sting of tears welling behind her eyes.

“We’re here for you, Freddy. We came. You don’t have to do this alone,” the words screamed in her mind, but there was no need to say it out loud. Freddy understood it all, just from the way she held his gaze.

The hangman looked shrimpy compared to his charge. Freddy had to lean down, rather courteously of him, to let the hooded man slip the brown sack over his head. The crowd murmured as the priest read his last rites. A noose was fashioned around his neck, the provost signaled the hangman, and the trap door fell out from underneath Frederick Albert Lafollette. The snap of his neck would echo in Kordya’s mind for the rest of her days. He died quickly, the sheer weight of the man mercifully sped along the process. Cheers erupted from the gathered spectators as he swung. It made Kordya hate them all for their cruelty. Earle gently squeezed her hand with his boney fingers and tore her away from Freddy’s fate.

As the sun crept higher in the sky the crowd slowly trickled away until only a few remained. Kordya and Earle waited on the fringe, each had nowhere else to be. The guards had taken Freddy’s body down and wrapped him in a dirty shroud; it took five men to lift him into the crypt keeper’s cart. A Gnome with lime green hair was arguing with the driver about its destination, and the ruckus was drawing all sorts of attention.

“Fifteen gold pieces!”

“Get lost, Gnome.”

“T-Twenty! Twenty gold pieces for the giant!”

“I done told you once, I’m taking this corpse to the graveyard. He’s not for sale.”

As the cart pulled away, Freddy’s body in tow, the green-haired Gnome shook his tiny fist and cursed the driver’s name. Another Gnome, this one with hair the color of candyfloss, was trying to calm him down.

“We can’t let such a specimen escape! We should follow him, wait til the burial is done, and then-”

“Think very carefully before you finish that sentence, pipsqueak.”

Kordya pressed the barrel of her pistol down onto the top of the green one’s skull, and cocked it. He dared not move from that spot, but still could not stop his limbs from trembling. The little wannabe-bodysnatcher reminded her of a tiny, yapping dog. One flash of Earle’s smile was enough to send the pink one running. The old man set to emptying the Gnome-sized pockets in the vicinity as Kordya spoke.

“Listen, I’m a reasonable kinda gal. I know you weren’t thinkin’ of doing something to our dearly departed friend’s body. Cause if you were, well…”

She dropped to one knee and slid her gun down the back of his lime pompadour to get within earshot.

“I’d have to hunt your little friend down, and make the two of you into a new pair of boots for them to bury him in. It’s the reasonable thing to do, for a guy like Freddy. He’s a big guy! I’d say you’re about as long as his foot…” Kordya eyed the trembling man up and down, and sized him up as if she might actually be serious. It was enough to scare the color from his previously rosy cheeks.

“N-NO! I wasn’tgoingtodoanythingyouHAVEtoBELIEVEme I- I- I-”

With a kick of her muck-covered boot, she sent the Gnome stumbling to the ground and freed him from her hold. “Scram. Now.” she ordered. He did not waste time. The Gnome skittered away as fast as his legs could carry him, Kordya and Earle watched as the tiny speck of green disappeared into the distance. The old man snickered a bit, but the somber occasion still sat heavily on both their shoulders. Kordya holstered her pistol and kicked the dirt in the Gnome’s direction.

“Good riddance, son of a bitch. Vultures! He’s barely even cold, and they’re tryin’ to scrap him for parts.”

“You got that little feller pretty good, Kordy. I’d say you ain’t got to worry about Freddy now.”

She let out a shaky sigh she didn’t know she was holding and fumbled for the brass cigarette case she kept in her shirt pocket. Kordya scraped a match across the stone walls and lit up two, one for her and one for Earle. Before handing it over, she met his gaze.

“Promise me you’ll make sure they get him in the ground, and that he stays there. At least for tonight.”

“I ain’t much of a fighter no more, but I’ll keep watch over ‘em. Course I will, Kordy.”

She bought his time with a smoke they shared on the ramparts. Neither spoke again until the cigarettes had burned down to nothing. Earle snapped his fingers as the thought hit him.

“Aw shit, kid. I almost forgot! Freddy let me in on a big score comin’ his way, somethin’ he ain’t never saw before. Gimmie anothern’ and I’ll tell you what it is.”

He waggled his eyebrows, focus locked on the shiny brass case. Kordya smirked and tugged two more sticks from her stash.

“I see you ain’t lost the touch.”

“I worked a lot of jobs in my years, but I never did nothin’ for free.”

He winked at her and popped the little rolled paper between his lips. After taking a couple puffs, Earle got back to the proposal.

“Fred was tellin’ me all about this big time job that falls into his lap, right? Some E-thereal feller in fancy armor wanted him to pick up some products for buyers and deliver ‘em to where they’s goin’. Only catch is, the feller’s real secret. Freddy said he was part of some kinda cartel, but not one he ever heard of.” He took a long drag, then continued. “You know where Freddy’s old place was? That might be a good place to start.”

Kordya had already risen to her feet before he could finish talking. She offered a hand to pull the bag of bones up off the steps, which he gladly took. Earle placed a hand on her shoulder before she could set off.

“Good luck, Kordy. Don’t get caught.”

“Thanks, Earle. You too.”

The old friends parted ways having savored the moment, albeit brief, after all these years. Earle kept his promise, and watched over their fallen comrade through the night like a toothless guardian angel. Kordya had caught the scent of her next payday, and there was no stopping her now. She couldn’t wait to get back to the Mogu.

[moonstone-blues]

A Spark By The River - Chapter 2: The Meeting

Nick Valentine sat in the leather chair of his prison, hat over his face in an attempt to drown out the annoying voice of Dino. His damn babysitter who was constantly trying to taunt Nick in an effortless quest to feel smart. Of all people, DINO had to keep watch on him!? He swore that Skinny chose him to keep watch of him purely to torment Nick. It wasn't like he was going anywhere anyway. His thoughts wandered to Ellie. She must've been so worried. He'd been here for at least a week. What on Earth were they planning to do with him anyway?

"How you doin’ in there Valentine? Feeling hungry? Want a snack?" The voice brought Nick out of his thoughts, forcing a scowl on his face.

Asshole.

"Keep talking, meathead. You'll give Skinny Malone more time to think of how to bump you off." Nick called out, unamused.

"Don't give me that crap, Valentine. You know nothing. You got nothing." Dino argued, trying to defend himself. He grimaced, looking through the small glass window. He frowned, seeing Nick, completely relaxed as if he was drifting off into a calm, peaceful slumber. Why did he get stuck watching the robot anyway?

"Really? I saw him writing your name down in that black book of his. 'Lousy cheating card shark' I think were his exact words then he struck the name across three times." Nick chuckled to himself, a small, slightly cocky smile working its way onto his rugged lips.

Dino paused, panicked. "Three strikes?  In the black book? But I never... Oh no... I gotta smooth this over! Fast!"

Nick rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair. There couldn't be anyone stupider-

Gunshots and the barks and growls of a dog echoed throughout the hall. Nick, surprised by the sudden noise, fell backwards onto the ground, taking the chair with him as he let out a short, loud yell. He grumbled a few curse words as he sat himself up from the cold, hard floor before he grabbed his hat, which had landed a couple of feet away.

Nick quickly scrambled to his feet, briefly composing himself as fast as he could. What the hell was going on out there!? Soon the gunshots ceased and a woman slowly stepped in front of window, looking off.

River was panting, holding her pipe pistol with shaking hands. Her hair had become a mess and what little makeup she had before was smudged or gone now. She turned to the circular window, spotting a figure across the room. River squinted her eyes, trying her best to get a closer look at them. She presumed that was the detective she was looking for. She did hear the guard call him Valentine while she snuck up the stairs to find him. She was quickly alerted by the figure speaking, forcing her mind to concentrate.

"Hey, you! I don't know who you are but we got three minutes before they realise muscles-for brains ain't coming back. Get this door open!" Nick suddenly felt a slither of hope.

He didn't want to be stuck here any longer. As much as he adored roleplaying as the Overseer of Vault 114, he definitely preferred his own chair back at the office much more. River looked around for a moment then spotted a terminal. She walked towards it then noticed it was locked.

"Dammit..." She muttered under her breath.

She needed a password. Maybe that guard had it...

River walked over to the dead body. She took a deep breath before she began to search each pocket the guard had. Dogmeat looked up at River, tilting his head in confusion with a small whine. His mouth was slightly bloody from biting the guard’s leg.

River soon found a torn off piece of scrap paper with a word on it. That must've been it. She walked back to the terminal and tried the password. She let out a triumphant smile and watched the door open.

Nick walked towards her. River’s grip tightened on her pistol, finally seeing who the detective really was. She didn’t know exactly what but one thing was for certain.

He wasn’t human.

He was… A robot? This definitely seemed like information any of the people who mentioned Valentine should’ve told her. River observed the skin on his face (well what looked like skin) and saw that it seemed to peel away. This guy was in terrible shape. Could he have been one of those synths everyone back in Diamond City always talked about? He didn’t seem dangerous. Dogmeat tapped happily to which River shushed him. He seemed okay… For now.

"Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario." Nick chuckled, lighting a cigarette then placed it in between his lips. "Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?"

She shook off all trivial thoughts in her mind. There was only one thing that was important to her right now.

"My baby was kidnapped but I don't know who took him, or where they went." River got straight to the point. Her eyes were full of sadness and dismay.

"A missing kid, huh? Well you came to the right man. If not the right place" Nick then gestured the entire room. "I've been cooped up in here for weeks. Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn't kidnapped. She's Skinny Malone's new flame, and she's got a mean streak" He added in a slightly annoyed tone.

He shook his head, reminding himself that this wasn't the time to be talking about his other case. "Anyway, I'd be glad to help. But now ain't the time. Let's blow this joint. Then we'll talk."

River nodded before she began to walk, Dogmeat happily trotting by her side. "I'm River by the way. River McConnell." She then gestured to her faithful companion. “This is Dogmeat.”

Dogmeat barked in response. Nick smiled, getting down on one knee.

“Thought I recognised him. How you doing, boy?” Nick pet Dogmeat with a smile.

“Dogmeat’s been around…” River awkwardly smiled, thinking back to when she was at the Museum of Freedom.

“Yeah.” Nick stood up. “He’s helped me on a few cases. He only likes certain people.” He glanced at River with a smile. “Sorry… River, wasn’t it?” He received a nod.

Nick thought for a moment as he began to walk again, the gears in his head turning in confusion and contemplation. Why did that name sound somewhat... familiar? River… River, River, River… Nick let out a quick sigh and shook his head lightly. He'd figure it out later. Figure out the most important problems first then worry about the secondary problems later.

"The name's Nick Valentine, but I guess you already figured that out since you came looking for me." Nick threw his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

River listened to him talk while she observed his face. She could see the parts in his head move and rotate as he spoke, accompanied by a soft whir and the clashing of different pieces of metal as they powered his thoughts.

"Hold on" Nick held out his arm, preventing River from taking another step. "I hear someone coming."

A few men were in the room. Nick leaned against the wall then he whispered "So how do you want to play this?"

"Well I don't think we can talk ourselves out of this one. If they shoot at us, shoot back." River suggested, whispering back as she stood up against the doorframe. Nick nodded, agreeing with her plan and River cautiously stepped into the room.

The men caught sight of the blonde woman and the synth detective by her side and immediately opened fire on them, yelling. River quickly moved back into cover, telling Dogmeat to stay put. She didn’t want to put him in danger. One guy was okay for him but three might be too much.

Nick ran and dived behind an overturned dining table. One man ran straight for the table Nick was hiding behind. Seeing this, River stepped out of cover and aimed her gun as fast as she could, lining up the sight with the man’s head. She pulled the trigger. The man dropped down, dead and River gulped, getting behind cover. She began to sweat. She had killed before. She helped out a few settlements before going to Diamond City to deal with raiders before. But they were still humans… It was still against the law! Had society really crumbled that much in the past two hundred years?

Nick was grateful for River’s help and yelled a thanks as he got out of his own cover. He quickly shot one man in the shoulder and the other in the neck, causing a bloody display to spray itself across the metallic walls of the vault. Nick cursed under his breath, knowing that one was alive and he went back into cover. River took deep breaths in and out. She tried motivating herself.

This isn’t your time.

Things have changed.

It’s kill or be killed.

You have to find Shaun.

River yelled, running out of cover. This caught the injured attacker’s attention and he raised his own gun. River moved to the side as a bullet lazily flew past her. She was about five feet away from the man now and she aimed her gun, shooting him in the eye. He wasn't dead yet, however, as he launched himself at River, pinning her down. River yelled in alarm as blood began to pour onto her face. Nick quickly stood up from behind his cover, seeing the struggle. He quickly drew his gun.

And fired.

The lifeless corpse dropped onto River, she squealed as she pushed it off her, backing up. She whimpered at the sight of the gory display. She could feel the warm blood on her face.

Nick dusted off his trench coat. "Nice shooting. Too bad for whoever cleans up the floors."

River gagged before moving the head to the side, vomiting. Nick’s eyes widened as he ran over to her. He stood by, awkwardly, waiting for her to finish. What had shaken her up so much?

Eventually, River sat up and rubbed her mouth with her shirt sleeve. She looked up at Nick, forgetting he was there for a moment. She immediately looked down, embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked, concerned.

River didn't respond. Nick could tell she was very uncomfortable. "Here…"

River turned to Nick, seeing him dig into one of his trench coat pockets. He eventually pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to the distressed woman.

"Keep it."

River smiled sadly as she wiped the blood off her face as best as she could. "Thanks."

Nick nodded and helped her up. River called Dogmeat over and the canine ran to her as she put the bloody handkerchief in her own pocket. The three walked away after River grabbed her gun and continued forward. River tried to act more calm when she was faced with more of Skinny’s men. Nick mostly handled them but River helped occasionally so that she would make herself useful.

Eventually, they came face to face with the man himself. Skinny Malone. Nick wasn't lying. This girl Skinny was with; she definitely had a mean streak alright.

River watched them all argue and fight until the Skinny’s girlfriend -now known to River as Darla- pointed to her.

"What's this lady doing here, huh? Valentine must've brought her here to rub us all out!"

Nick looked over at River, expecting her to do something. River turned to Darla. She turned to Nick, nervous before turning back to Darla. What was she supposed to do? She didn't know anyone, she had no idea what to say!

River took a deep breath before she cleared her throat, putting on her best lawyer voice. "Darla, listen to me. You have a home to go back to. A family who loves you. You don't want to throw your life away with these thugs, do you?"

Darla raised her bat, about to yell but then paused. "My family don't love me."

Nick decided to step in. "It's true. Your father is worried sick. And your poor mother… She was in pieces in my office."

Darla's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Don't listen to 'em, Dar." Skinny protested.

"Shut it, Skinny." Darla spat. She turned back to River and Nick, lowering her bat slightly. "How much are they paying?"

"Two hundred caps." Nick explained.

"Two…" Darla trailed off. "I... I... You're right! What am I doing? I've gotten all mixed up!" Darla cried, backing up.

"Darla? Wh- where are you going?"

"Home, Skinny! Where I should've been all this time. This is goodbye for us." Darla threw her bat down. She gave one last look to her former lover before running away.

Skinny looked back to Nick and River, a look of betrayal present on his face. "Oh, come on, Nicky! You cost me my men, then you and your friend here cost me my girl?"

Nick smirked, shrugging off his old friend. "My friend here just did you a favour, Skinny. You always did have bad taste in women."

"Now that she's not around to feed that temper of yours, maybe you'll see sense and let us walk? You still owe me for two weeks in the hole."

"You smug, overconfident ass…" Skinny growled in frustration. He gave in. "Alright! You get to the count of ten! I still see your face after that, I'm gunning both of you down!" Skinny yelled then began counting down, aggression proud in his tone.

River began to run, Dogmeat and Nick next to her. "You had a plan if that didn't work right?" Se asked, stepping into the rest of the Commonwealth.

"You want the truth? No." Nick admitted, chuckling half-heartedly. He pointed to a doorway. "Through there!"

The trio entered the small room, where a ladder stood. Nick went first, climbing up. Once he reached the top, he made sure his footing was secure before removing the manhole cover, concealing the exit.

"Need any help?" River offered.

"I'm… good." Nick grunted as he finally pushed the manhole cover away. Rain immediately pounded down on Nick. He frown in annoyance as he climbed out. "Dogmeat's turn." He turned back to the room below, stretching out his arms.

River huffed as she looked down at Dogmeat, the canine happily panting as he stared back up at her. River bent down, barely managing to pick up Dogmeat. He was big. And most certainly heavy. She trudged over to the ladder, trying her best to hold Dogmeat up. Nick was quick to scoop him out of River's arms, pulling him up with him. Once he was up, River quickly climbed after them. She soon emerged above ground. Dogmeat lay down for a moment.

Nick sighed, rubbing his hands together. "Ah look at that commonwealth sky. Never thought anything so naturally ominous could end up looking inviting..."

River looked up, observing the sky. She had to admit for an apocalypse, it seemed more beautiful as it ever did.

"Thanks for getting me out. How did you know where to find me, anyway? Not many people know where I went..." Nick questioned. Maybe Vadim decided to blab to everyone in his bar. Vadim was a good guy but boy did he have a mouth on him.

River folded her arms, feeling a little chilly. “Your secretary, Ellie. She sent me."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "She did? I should give her a raise..." He cleared his throat. "Now, you mentioned something about your son. He was kidnapped?"

River nodded, still shivering.

Nick looked River up and down. "You’re going to freeze to death out here. How about you come to my office in Diamond City. Give me all the details. Besides, I think you've earned the chance to sit down and clear your head."

Thank God.

"Lead the way." River said, glad that she was one step closer to finding her baby.

River, Dogmeat and Nick approached the large entrance of the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth. On the way, a variety of guards muttered things along the lines of. ‘Nicky’s back!’ and ‘Hey, did that vault dweller save him?’ River looked away from them. She didn’t save him. She just… helped him escape. He did most of the work. Once they climbed the towering stairs, Nick let out a relaxed sigh. Home sweet home.

As the three entered the city, a guard spotted River. He called out to her.

"Hey!”

River turned, nervous. Nick shifted his eyes to look at River. He hoped he hadn't picked up a troublemaker. “Is there a problem, officer?”

The guard shook his head. “Nah. Welcome back, Nick.” He then looked at River. “You're that Vault Dweller. From the paper.” River nodded. “Read that interview you gave. That thing you said at the end? About having hope? Good on ya." He gave River a pat on the back before going back to his usual post.

River muttered out a confused 'thanks' before she walked down the steps with Nick leading the way to his office. That’s when another voice caught her attention as she walked past Publick Occurrences.

"Hey lady!"

River turned to the young girl waving a newspaper frantically. She was under the cover of the building, safe from the pouring rain.

"That interview you did with Piper is really selling! Here's your free copy." The girl handing out papers -Who was also Piper’s sister- practically shoved the newspaper that was in her hand in River’s face. She then jumped down from her block to grab a new one and gave Dogmeat a pet with a giggle, earning a happy bark from him. She went back onto her block and continued to advertise her sister’s paper.

"Oh! Um, thanks." River said, putting the paper in her bag. She would have to read it later.

Nick smiled. This woman was quite the celebrity.

As they continued walking, Nick looked down at River. “So you met Piper, huh?”

“Yeah.” River smiled. “She’s… ambitious.”

Nick let out a soft chuckle at River’s comment. There were many words that you could describe Piper with. Ambitious was definitely one of them. He smiled down at River. “I’m not surprised that she dragged you in for an interview. Vault dwellers are rare around these parts.”

“Are you friends with her?” River asked, curious.

In this city, it was rare to see someone who liked Piper and her stories. It was a little sad actually. Piper had spent so much time and effort into writing papers at the risk of her own life in some parts on researching subjects that could actually inform and help the people of Diamond City. But instead her work was just tossed to the side.

Nick thought for a moment before shrugging. “I’d say we are. I’ve known her ever since she came to Diamond City with her sister. You think she’s feisty now, you should’ve seen her a few years ago. Knees scuffed up and a determined look plastered on her face.”

River let out a short giggle. “I bet she got in trouble a lot.”

Nick smirked. “How do you think I got to know her? She was in my office from day one.”

That’s when they came up to the flickering sign of the Valentine Detective Agency. Nick held the door open for River as she walked into the agency, Dogmeat following her. He shook himself before laying on the ground to rest for a little while.

"Thank you." River smiled.

Nick walked in, taking his wet hat and coat off. "Ellie? You here?" He called out.

"Nick!?" Ellie exclaimed as she ran in from the other room. "Oh God, it's really you!" Tears of happiness and relief were stinging her eyes. She lunged at Nick, hugging him with laughter full of joy.

"Well it's hard to mistake this mug for anyone else." Nick smirked, hugging her back gently. When they parted from the hug, Nick then hung his coat on his chair and his hat on the desk to dry.

"You keep laughing at death, some day death's going to laugh back." Ellie stated, folding her arms, giving Nick a stern glare.

Nick turned to look at River. "Not as long as I got a few friends to back me up" He winked, causing River’s cheeks to flush out of embarrassment. She honestly didn’t do that much in her eyes. Nick was capable. He would’ve eventually escaped on his own. Nick sat down in his chair, lighting one of his cigarettes, placing the stick between his ragged lips.

Ellie dug in her torn and patched up pockets of her dress before pulling out a small bag. It made a small jingling sound as Ellie tried to hand it to River. "Here. I know there wasn't an amount on the table when you went out to find him but you deserve a reward."

River shook her head politely. "Thank you but I didn't do it for the money."

Ellie was a little surprised. Any other person would just take the money or even ask for more. But she didn’t. Ellie persisted anyway as she would feel terrible if she didn’t reward Nick’s hero. "But, you definitely deserve it. You've saved Nick, the agency and my job." She let out a small chuckle.

"Honestly I'm fine. You never know when you might need it." River smiled before she sneezed, covering her mouth. She sniffled with a groan.

"At least let me get you some spare clothes. You'll freeze to death in those." Ellie said, rushing back into her room before River could stop her. Ellie soon came back out. "Sorry, my clothes are still drying from being washed."

"She can borrow some of mine." Nick said from his chair, not looking up from a clipboard where he was currently writing down some notes for the Diamond City Police. He had recently closed a case involving a robbery and his paperwork was long past due. He couldn't exactly help being cooped up and held prisoner in a vault for a week.

"Are you sure?" River asked.

"Of course, I don't really wear other clothes anyway." Nick blew smoke from his cigarette.

"I'll get them." Ellie said. "You can get changed in my room."

"Thank you." River said to the both of them before following Ellie into her room.

Ellie walked back into the main office quickly. She went to her personal notes cabinet, digging into it for her notebook and one of her many pencils. When she finally found them, she turned to Nick to ask something but saw him looking deep in thought.

"What are you you thinking?" Ellie questioned with a smirk.

Nick was suddenly snapped out of thought. "Hm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking about my time in Vault 114. Thanks for sending her." He smiled gratefully.

"Well you know Security is useless." Ellie chuckled. "What's the case?"

"Missing kid." Nick stated.

He could already tell what Ellie was thinking by the way she quickly frowned. Nick turned back to his desk with a sigh. "We don't know if it was then."

The two soon turned their attention to the footsteps coming from Ellie's room. River soon entered, wearing the new clothes. The shirt was a bit itchy and the outfit was slightly big but other than that, they were pretty nice.

"You look pretty good. You know Nick could use a new partner..." Ellie's voice trailed off as she turned to Nick.

Nick chuckled. "Woah. One case at a time, Ellie. Our new friend needs our help, first." He finally looked up and nearly laughed at the size difference between River and his clothes. "All right let's get down to business. Take a seat, make yourself comfortable."

River nodded before sitting down in the chair opposite Nick. Ellie stood by him, ready to write down the details.

"When you're trying to find someone who's missing, the devil is always in the details. Tell me everything you can, no matter how... painful it might be." He knew it would be hard for her but he needed every bit of information he could get to catch the bastard. River nodded, understanding.

She talked about Shaun, how old he was and what he looked like. She talked about the kidnappers themselves and how they described her as 'The Backup'. Nick thought for a moment before he concluded.

"That confirms it. Whoever took your kid had an agenda. There are a lot of groups that take people. Raiders, super mutants, the gunners and of course..." Nick groaned, looking back to Ellie for a moment. "The Institute."

"So you think the institute is responsible?" River asked. She had heard about the Institute of course. Piper told her all about it before the interview she did with her. They did seem like the perfect candidate for kidnapping her baby.

"Those early model synths of theirs stripped towns down, killed everything in their way. The new models look like perfect replicas of humans though, used for infiltrating cities. Nobody even knows why they're doing it. Not even me and I'm a synth myself." Nick said, scratching his chin with his metallic hand and River couldn’t help but stare longer than she should’ve. "Well, a discarded prototype anyway."

"A prototype?" River raised an eyebrow.

"As far as I know.” Nick shrugged. “Never seen any other synth like myself. There's the older ones that are dumb as rocks and all metal, then there's the newer ones that are almost human. I'm somewhere in between." He shook his head. "Anyway, there's no time for speculation. Let's just focus on what you saw. What did these kidnappers look like?"

River tried to remember. Then she remembered the guy that called her the backup. How could she forget that face? "One of they came right up to me. Bald head, scar across his left eye."

"Wait..." Nick muttered to himself, thinking. "It couldn't be..." He turned back to River. "You didn't hear the name 'Kellogg' at all did you?"

"No. They never said their names" River said, looking down a little.

"It's way too big of a coincidence..." He looked up at Ellie. "Ellie, what notes do we have about the Kellogg case?"

Ellie hurried over to a filing cabinet, pulling out a file and read some of it. "The description matches. Has a reputation for dangerous mercenary work but nobody knows who his employer is."

"And he bought a house in town, right? And he had a kid with him, didn't he?" Nick asked.

"Yes, that's right. But the boy was around ten years old" Ellie said, making Nick sigh in defeat.

That... that couldn't be Shaun, right?

"You said he still lives here, he's in town?" River asked, hopeful.

"They both vanished a while back if I'm remembering right, but that house is still there." Nick stood up, grabbing his coat and hat which were at least a little bit dry by now. "Let's you and I take a walk over to Kellogg's last known address. See if we can snoop out where he went."

River nodded and stood up from the chair. Seeing her about to exit, Dogmeat’s ears perked up and he stretched before standing up, awaiting River’s next move.

Ellie looked worried. "Security isn't great in that part of town but you two should still be careful." She warned. She didn’t want Nick being at risk of harm again.

Nick smirked. "I always am." He then made his way outside, River close behind.

The rain had gone by now but the puddles still remained which River was careful to avoid. As she and Dogmeat followed Nick, he spoke.

"I didn't want Ellie to hear this, but I think you should know. Everything I dug up about Kellogg before his disappearance is bad news. He's more than just a mercenary. He's a professional. Quick, clean, thorough. Has no enemies, because they're all dead... except you." He shoved his hands in his pockets.

River gulped.

"But nine to one odds says he's our man.” Nick came to a long set of stairs. “Leading a small team to kidnap a baby, and leaving one of the parents alive for later? Not many mercs in the Commonwealth can pull that off." The three finally made it to the old house.

Nick approached the door and looked around before he tried to tinker with the lock. He knew that it would be against the law but... this had to be an exception.

He let out an angry sigh when it refused to unlock. He turned to River. "Wanna give it a try?"

"I've... never really picked a lock before..." River said.

“Oh… ok…” Nick then thought to himself, coming up with an idea. "Hey. Why don't you check the mayor's office? If you can convince him, I'm sure he'll give you the key. Take the elevator over there." He pointed to the elevator at the entrance.

River nodded. "Okay. I won't be long." Dogmeat barked, getting River’s attention. She frowned. “Sorry, Dogmeat, I don’t think they’ll let dogs in.” Dogmeat whined. “Wait here with Nick, okay?”

Dogmeat replied with a small bark and stayed near Nick as River walked away, waving. Nick leaned against the building and puffed smoke from his lips. He thought for a moment. There was something about River... something... familiar. It confused him. He was sure he had never seen her before but something was nagging him at the back of his head. He didn't like information being withheld from his eyes especially if it provided the answers to questions he needed answers to. After the case, he would ask her about it. He needed to know what it was about her…

“Do you know why she reminds me of someone, boy?” Nick asked the canine next to him, giving him a scratch behind the ears with his undamaged hand.

He soon saw the woman on his mind walk up to him. She held up a key and smiled. "Got it."

"Great. Let's head in." Nick gestured to the door.

River walked over to the door and unlocked it. She took a deep breath before walking in. River and Nick looked around the room. It was fairly simple, nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Dogmeat immediately started sniffing around.

"Let's take a look around. Kellogg must have left something behind." Nick stated before he walked away, beginning to search for any sort of clue that could help them.

River searched the floor above them but couldn't find anything useful.

"Place seem small to you? Figured a guy like Kellogg would think big." Nick muttered aloud. "Have you checked the desk?"

"No. I'll search it now."

River walked down the stairs and made her way over to the rusty, old desk. She checked each draw. Empty except for a couple of pencils. She then pulled the wooden chair away from the desk and crouched down, looking under the table. She saw a giant button. Not exactly subtle. She cautiously pressed it, ready for any sort of booby trap. Suddenly a wall opened on the other side of the house, revealing a completely new room.

"Well... that's one way to hide a room." Nick noted, a little shocked.

They stepped into the room. River looked around, observing shelves filling with various food, drink, guns and ammo. Nick turned to her.

"He stocked up this room... why?" He thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Go on and take anything you need. He won’t be using it."

River looked around the shelves. Stealing? She didn’t really want to. Even if this monster did...

Her stomach rumbled.

She did need some food...

River grabbed as much food and a variety of drinks off of the shelf as she could and quickly shoved them into her bag. She also grabbed some ammunition.

"Look at this." Nick said. River turned to him and looked at a table he was pointing to. "All of a mercs favorite things."

"Gwinnett Stout Beer… some type of bullets... and cigars." River picked up a box then read the brand. "'San Francisco Sunlights.'"

River thought for a moment before an idea came to her head. "Hey, you think maybe Dogmeat could track the scent?"

Dogmeat’s ears stood at full attention from the front door, hearing his name mentioned.

Nick smiled. "Say, that's not a bad idea. Some dogs in the Commonwealth can track a man for miles."

River grabbed a cigarette out of the box then proceed to make her way to the door when Nick stopped her with a hand placed on her shoulder.

"Hey. Before you head out... I know this is personal business. If you want to face Kellogg on your own, just say so."

River turned to him. She gave him a small, gentle smile. "I want you with me on this, Nick. Sounds like you want this guy too."

Nick smiled. He was glad River didn't go alone. Judging from her actions back in the vault, killing wasn’t really a thing she enjoyed doing. "All right. Let's get that bastard. This is your show from here on out, okay? You say jump, I'll say how high."

River nodded before the two made their way outside. Dogmeat tilted his head in confusion when River knelt down to his height. She held out one of the San Francisco Sunlights and let Dogmeat cautiously sniff it.

"Okay, Dogmeat. Get the scent boy." River smiled.

Dogmeat's head suddenly stood erect, looking in the direction of the exit to Diamond City.

River laughed, excited that she would finally find her baby. "Take me to him, boy.”

She looked out to the rest of Diamond City, her voice full of determination.

"Take me to Shaun."

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