#while trying to pure platinum the chapter?

[sionnach-uaine]

If the worst part of Bayo 3 is the writing, the second worst is the dash being tied to the same button as block for Viola. Like the weapon switch button for Bayo (the L button) does NOTHING for Viola.

The game that wants to TAP your blocks instead of holding also makes you catapult yourself straight into the nearest enemy if you TAP THE SAME BUTTON just twice. I cannot stress enough the amount of times I've been forced to take a hit because my finger twitched.

How did no one at Platinum notice this?

[shiorihyugawrites]

The Devil's Bride

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become. (Eren x OC)

Chapter Fifty Four

A/N: OSTs for this chapter are “The Warriors”, “Guilty Hero”, and “The Successor”.

Flashback: Before Zeke and Aurora were pulled into the Paths…

Eren could feel the rumble of his own titan heartbeat reverberating in his ears, an echo that blended with the endless din of battle. Shiganshina was falling apart around him, brick by shattered brick, but he forced the image of crumbling walls out of his mind. Right now, only one thought mattered: getting to Zeke. He saw the moment when the Beast Titan suddenly stalled, as though jerked by an invisible string. Even from a distance, Eren glimpsed Zeke’s body seize up in confusion. Captain Levi, perched on a broken tower and mid-lunge toward the titan’s broad ankle, froze momentarily too, evidently surprised by Zeke’s abrupt pause.

Eren refused to waste the chance. With a furious roar, the Attack Titan crashed forward, lumbering past battered piles of rubble. The ground shook beneath every step, and he batted aside two pure titans that lunged for his flanks. One managed to clamp its jaws around his crystallized forearm, but he wrenched it free, obliterating the creature’s skull with a single savage blow. Blood and steam erupted in a grim spray, yet Eren hardly blinked at the gore. He kept moving, his massive form forging a path through the chaos like a battleship through stormy seas.

All around him, the fight raged on. Mikasa slashed in midair, cables whistling as she darted from rooftop to rooftop, a flicker of black hair and gleaming blades. Jean and Connie wrestled with a Marleyan gun emplacement on a collapsed watchtower, trying to overtake the crewmembers before they could pepper the remaining Jaegerists with more gunfire. Sasha was perched on a broken rampart, eyes narrowed, firing carefully aimed shots at the Allied soldiers who parachuted too close. Pieck’s Cart Titan scuttled over debris, the Jaegerists strapped to her back unleashing sporadic Inferno Blades, though her body was close to its limit from repeated transformations. Reiner’s Armored Titan sprawled on its side not far away, injuries riddling his once-impenetrable plating, while Porco’s Jaw Titan snarled in equal desperation, half its face gone yet still swinging with lethal precision.

Eren barreled through the ring of pure titans converging around the Beast Titan. Shiganshina’s streets became a graveyard of twisted steel and broken stone. The smell of gunpowder, blood, and Titan steam weighed heavily in the air. He thought of Aurora’s beautiful face for half a heartbeat, her platinum blonde hair and ice-blue eyes, the way she had pleaded for him to survive. He clenched his crystalline fists, renewed determination boiling in his chest. If he failed now, everything—Aurora, their unborn child, Paradis itself—was doomed.

But of of the corner of his eye, he spotted a tall figure in the rubble: Commander Magath, kneeling behind a partially collapsed barricade. Even from a distance, Eren recognized the specialized anti-titan cannon, a fearsome weapon known to pierce even the thickest titan armor. Magath swung the weapon, zeroing in on the Beast Titan’s nape. Eren’s heart clenched. If Magath succeeded in blowing Zeke apart, there would be no chance of contact. No contact meant no Rumbling. No Rumbling meant the Allied Forces, with their endless armies, would eventually break Shiganshina. And if they broke Shiganshina, they would inevitably sweep across the island, unstoppable.

“Damn it,” Eren snarled in his mind, though his titan mouth let out a guttural roar. He hammered aside another pure titan, grappling it by the neck and crushing its nape, then sent the twitching corpse crashing into a squad of Allied infantry. His eyes flicked back to Magath, who lined up the shot. Eren pushed forward, titan feet cracking the pavement beneath him, but he knew he might be seconds too late. Magath had a clear line of sight. Zeke, momentarily paralyzed, would be helpless.

Then everything froze. One instant, Eren was in mid-stride, hand outstretched, a fraction away from launching into a final leap toward the Beast Titan. Captain Levi, mere feet from Zeke’s ankle, had both blades raised, ready to sever the tendon. Magath’s bullet, shaped to puncture titan napes, streaked through the air on a perfect trajectory. All movement ceased, as though the world had been paused by an unseen hand…

The bullet hung just feet from Zeke’s vulnerable neck, muzzle-flash still suspended around the cannon. Even the blood droplets and bits of debris were locked in place. The entire battlefield had become a lifeless tableau.

And in that same frozen moment, Aurora and Zeke stood face-to-face within the other realm. The world of the Paths. The swirling sand glimmered with an otherworldly light that made everything feel suspended in a timeless hush. Aurora’s expression was fierce despite the exhaustion lining her features, her labour pains now irrelevant in this intangible space. Zeke’s eyes blazed with pent-up wrath and confusion. They squared off, tension heavy between them.

“What do you get out of this?” Aurora asked, voice laced with contempt as she fixed her icy gaze on him. “All this talk of euthanizing your own people—do you really think that makes you some hero or savior?” She let out a mirthless laugh, a note of bitterness echoing in the empty air. “You’re nothing more than a monster.”

Zeke’s jaw tightened. “Shut your mouth! You have no idea what you’re talking about. None of you do.” His eyes narrowed, and the raw edge of hysteria bled into his tone. “There was only one person who ever understood me, the only one who showed me what had to be done: Mr. Ksaver.”

At that name, Aurora’s features twisted in confusion. “Who is that?”

Zeke’s entire body tensed, a flicker of pain hidden behind his glasses. “He was the only one who truly saw the cruelty this world inflicted on Eldians. My father, that damned Grisha, he wanted to use me just like he used everyone else. He never cared about me. But Mr. Ksaver, he taught me how to endure, how to see the bigger picture.”

“Bigger picture,” Aurora repeated with scorn, eyes glistening with disbelief. “And that picture is… what? Killing off every adult Eldian you can, leaving only the children to be manipulated into your delusional plan? You think that’s your great cause?”

A tremor of rage fluttered across Zeke’s face. “Those children deserve a life free of this curse. Not to mention the only chance this cursed race has is if we stop reproducing. I believed it then, and I believe it now. If enough adults die, and we raise the young ones with the right understanding—”

“What, that you’re their benevolent savior?!” Aurora cut in, voice shaking with contempt. “You want to stand in front of them with open arms, promising them salvation if they just accept your twisted logic? You think they’ll all greet you with applause, hailing you as the man who killed their families in the name of peace?”

Zeke flinched at her words, but he managed to hold her gaze. “You have no idea the weight I carry. Eldians have cursed the world for two thousand years, spreading warfare and tragedy. I’m ending it. My plan will end the fear of titans for good. Mr. Ksaver explained it all to me—this current generation is too stubborn, too consumed by old grudges. But children… children can learn a better way. They don’t have the same baggage. They can be taught to understand it’s the greatest mercy: to end Eldian births so no one ever suffers again.”

Aurora let out a shaky exhale, her head spinning with the monstrous scope of his plan. “You’re insane,” she hissed. “You talk about burdens, about curses, but all I see is a man desperate for approval he never got. You’re still a child inside, Zeke, clinging to some tragic father figure, hoping you’ll be validated by impressionable kids—kids who’ll supposedly look up at you and say, ‘Thanks for slaughtering our parents, we see now you were right all along.’ You have no clue how real people think or feel. You’re just… monstrous.”

His eyes flared, and his voice rose. “And what do you know? You married Eren, who’s ready to flatten the world with the Founder’s power. That’s just a more violent version of the same end! Don’t pretend your hands are clean. He’s a monster in the making—”

“You know nothing about Eren,” Aurora snapped, stepping closer. She could feel the sand shift beneath her feet, each grain radiating intangible power. “He might do terrible things, but I know him. He’s driven by desperation to protect those he loves, not out of some twisted longing for acceptance. And yes, I know he’s dangerous, but he isn’t playing God with children’s futures. You are. You act like a little boy too afraid to confront the man who hurt him, so you become a worse tyrant than he ever was.”

Zeke’s calm veneer shattered. “Don’t talk like you know me. Don’t you dare!” he roared, hands balling into fists. “I’ve fought for this since I was a child, forced to endure Grisha’s fanaticism, forced to pretend I was something I wasn’t. Mr. Ksaver showed me a path. He gave me hope that someday I could save everyone from the cycle, that I could end the suffering. You—”

“You just want someone to say you did good,” Aurora breathed, tears trembling on her lashes as anger warred with pity. “To pat you on the head and say, ‘You’re right, Zeke, you’re so brave, you saved the world by butchering your own people and raising the children to believe in your twisted dream.’ I’m sorry, but you’ll never get that. Not from me, not from them, not from anyone.”

Zeke clenched his jaw, furious at how precisely she saw through him. “Shut up,” he repeated, though it lacked the same edge. “Shut up.”

Then a flicker at the corner of Aurora’s vision made her glance aside. Ymir, the Founder, was watching them both, eyes dull but keenly fixed on the confrontation. Aurora swallowed, remembering the child’s timeless sorrow. All of Ymir’s two thousand years of anguish poured into that stare, silently judging them. Aurora had no idea if Ymir approved or disdained them; the Founder never spoke. But Aurora sensed that each word, each admission, carved a path in Ymir’s silent domain.

Zeke let out a shaky breath, forcing his composure back. “It doesn’t matter,” he said at last, quieter now, though still brimming with tension. “The plan is in motion. Even if you disagree, even if Eren tries to flatten the planet, I’ve set events in motion. I can’t stop—”

Suddenly, the swirling sands glowed faintly. The realm of the Paths rippled like a disturbed lake. Aurora tensed, looking around in alarm. The edges of their surroundings dissolved, shifting into half-real shapes. Ymir’s expression didn’t change, but her posture shifted, as though she were waiting for something else to occur.

Zeke’s body flickered, losing solidity, and he stumbled. “What—?” he gasped, confusion etched across his face. For a heartbeat, Aurora saw the Beast Titan’s form overlapping him, the suggestion of fur and simian muscle. He flickered in and out like a distorted phantom.

Across the battlefield in the real world, time abruptly restarted. Zeke’s body jolted in the Beast Titan’s nape, returning to reality in the precise moment Magath’s bullet exploded into the back of his neck. The impact ripped through titan flesh, sending a massive spray of blood and gore. Captain Levi, who had been poised to slash the Achilles tendon, recoiled a fraction of a second from the shockwave. The Beast Titan toppled sideways, a deafening roar splitting the air. Eren, in that same suspended instant, dove forward, titan hand stretching out. He ignored the hail of bullets, the pure titan jaws snapping at his ankles, everything. He had one objective: contact.

A gut-wrenching crack thundered as the Beast Titan’s nape tore open under the bullet’s force. Zeke’s limp body tumbled free, blood trailing in an arc behind him. He felt the world spin, his consciousness flickering. He was falling, almost in slow motion. The edges of his vision dimmed. He vaguely saw Levi’s shape blurring across the ground, saw Eren’s Attack Titan lunging. Another flash of the battle: Reiner half-collapsed, Armin’s Colossal Titan forging a wall of steam. Soldiers screaming, flames from the Inferno Blades licking across the rubble. Then weightlessness. Then darkness.

Until a massive, warm grip enveloped him. Eren’s titan hand, the fingers glistening with hardened crystal tips, caught Zeke’s broken body just before it crashed to the earth. In that split second, their flesh connected: Eren’s palm on Zeke’s battered body, bare skin meeting. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then reality broke apart once more.

Their surroundings shifted back into the Paths, Aurora was still there, standing stunned, face twisted with surprise and alarm. She saw Zeke flicker back into existence, and now Eren stood among them, tall and fierce, though in this realm he appeared as his human self. No titan forms, no swirling blood. Only the echo of that contact. Ymir, still silent, lingered a short distance away, her gaze flicking among the three of them with cool impassivity.

Zeke felt as though the world had been ripped out from under his feet. One moment, he was in the midst of a hellish battle back in Shiganshina, half his body wrecked from Commander Magath’s shot, Eren’s Titan hand closing around him. The next, he found himself standing in the endless twilight of the Paths once more. The pale, drifting sand swirled around him like ghosts, a silent reminder of every life the Titans had ever touched. His vision swam, but then he realized, with mounting dread, that he was not alone.

He saw Aurora first, her platinum-blonde hair a stark contrast against the dim, starless sky. She stood just a few paces away, the faint outline of her pregnant belly visible beneath simple her flowy garment. Their gazes collided with mutual shock. Zeke couldn’t fathom why he was here again and why she was even still here. Why hadn’t she been sent out of the Paths like he had?

Aurora’s ice-blue eyes flickered with the same shock, but also relief. Eren’s plan—making contact with Zeke—had finally come to pass. 

Then Eren appeared a short distance behind Aurora, as if he had materialized from the swirling sand itself. For a heartbeat, he looked disoriented, his eyes darting between Aurora and Zeke. He had known the instant he made physical contact with his half-brother, something would trigger. But seeing Aurora here sent a stab of fear through his chest. “Aurora,” he said, his voice thick with confusion. “How did you—why are you—?” He couldn’t even finish the question. He felt dread creeping up his spine. This was not just the real world. This was the realm of the Founder, a place where time and space warped according to the will of Ymir Fritz.

Aurora swallowed, fighting the urge to run to him and bury herself in his arms. She managed a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know why,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “Ymir brough me here. Maybe it’s because of the baby, or the chain of memories, or— I’m not sure. But Eren…”

She trailed off, looking at him helplessly, as though willing him to find the strength they both desperately needed.

That was when Zeke’s voice rang out, filled with raw panic. “Enough!” he barked, his tone fractured by anger and alarm. He glared at Aurora, then shifted his fiery stare to Eren. “I won’t let you do as you please, little brother. Nor will I let her sabotage everything.”

Eren’s eyes narrowed. “Zeke. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it’s over. I made contact with you, and I hold the Founder’s power now. So don’t even think—”

But Zeke cut him off by turning sharply toward the shadowy figure at the center of the Paths: Ymir Fritz. She was so quiet, but her mere presence commanded all of them.

Zeke seized the chance and roared, “Ymir! Carry out the euthanization plan now!” His voice cracked with desperation, the words coming out like a command he had spent his entire life preparing for. “End this endless cycle of hatred. Sterilize the Eldians! Make it so none of them can bear children ever again. Do it now!”

Aurora’s heart lurched. She knew the plan by now, but Zeke’s twisted dream threatened her baby, threatened every child who might be born in the future. She couldn’t allow it. Yet, she knew Ymir might still obey him. Royal blood was the ultimate key here. No matter how powerful Eren was with the Attack Titan and the Founding Titan, Zeke’s direct lineage with Dina Fritz gave him a voice Ymir could not ignore.

“Stop!” Aurora cried, stepping forward in a desperate move to intercept Ymir. “Please, don’t do this. You can’t condemn us all just for the sins of the past!” She felt tears well in her eyes, remembering how her mother and father had fled Marley, how Aurora herself had been born to a royal bloodline she never asked for, how her entire life had become a battleground of propaganda and fear.

Eren’s jaw tightened as he watched Aurora’s plea. He turned to Ymir, raising his voice. “Ymir, please listen—listen to Aurora if you won’t listen to me. You have the power to choose. You don’t have to follow Zeke’s orders!” He remembered Aurora telling him about her encounters with the Founder, how Ymir had shown glimmers of independence, how Ymir had once even guided Aurora to safety. He clung to that faint hope.

Zeke only bared his teeth, his face contorting in fury. “She does have to follow my orders, Eren. You don’t grasp the magnitude of the vow she’s under. It’s two thousand years of subjugation to royal blood. She has no free will. She’s a slave. MY slave!”

At Zeke’s bellowed command, Ymir began to move. It was slow, as though every step was carved from stone. Her blank eyes stared ahead, her posture stiff. Aurora, Eren, and Zeke all felt the invisible tremor in the Paths, as though it responded to the will of its silent master. The shimmering horizon rippled, suggesting Ymir was about to shape the power of the Titans according to Zeke’s euthanization plan. Sand rose in swirls at Ymir’s feet, and Aurora’s heart clenched. She could only imagine the horrors about to be unleashed: a future where no Eldian child would ever be born.

“No!” Eren shouted, lunging, but an instant later, thick, heavy chains materialized around his ankles and wrists, snapping him to the ground. A second set snaked from the sand to Aurora’s arms and legs, yanking her down with a vicious jerk. She let out a startled cry, her belly twisting in pain, and Eren’s fury redoubled. “Damn it! Let her go!”

Zeke’s lips pressed into a grim line of satisfaction. “I told you, Eren,” he said, a slight tremor betraying his fear and excitement. “ You won’t win. I am a royal blooded titan. You may hold the Founder, but I’m the one Ymir recognizes as her master.” His gaze flicked to Aurora. “I won’t let you or your pregnant wife ruin everything. I’m saving our people from an eternity of suffering, even if it means erasing our existence.”

“Erasing the existence of my child?” Aurora’s voice trembled. “Is that what you call salvation?” Anger flared in her chest, and she struggled against the chains, though each movement sent pain lancing through her abdomen. She could feel the baby shift, as though sensing her mother’s distress. “You’re a monster,” she whispered, tears burning her eyes. “My child hasn’t even taken its first breath. My child has done nothing wrong. You think you’re righteous? You’re delusional.”

Zeke scowled, his eyes narrowing on Aurora. “You know nothing,” he hissed. “I’ve suffered my entire life for being born Eldian. If the older generations had the decency to not exist, none of us would have to experience this hell. I’m giving these children a chance at peace. They’ll never know the cruelty of the Titan curse. They’ll thank me one day, just as I thanked Tom Ksaver.”

Eren strained against his chains, ignoring the searing pain in his arms where the metal bit into his flesh. The memory of Dina, Zeke’s mother, and how she had been forced to devour Eren’s own mother, Carla, flashed in his mind. It fueled his hatred for Zeke’s twisted logic. “Stop lying to yourself,” he growled, his voice raw. “You’re nothing but a coward who wants to drag everyone down with you so you can feel justified. If you truly wanted to save people, you wouldn’t be killing them. You wouldn’t be risking unborn children—my child.”

Aurora’s tears spilled over, a mixture of rage, fear, and heartbreak. “Zeke, if you go through with this, you’ll prove you’re no better than King Fritz. Forcing Ymir to obey, making her build the Titans to kill more Eldians, to prevent future life… you’re perpetuating the same cycle you claim you want to end. You’re a slave to your own hatred and pain.”

Zeke looked like he wanted to snap back, but at that moment, Ymir paused. She stood in front of the glowing tree, her head bowed. Eren, Aurora, and Zeke felt the tension coil around them like an executioner’s noose. If Ymir stepped inside that tree’s light, Zeke’s plan would become reality. Aurora’s baby, and countless unborn generations of Eldians, would be wiped from possibility.

“Move, Ymir!” Zeke shouted, his eyes wide and desperate. “Don’t listen to them! Complete the euthanization! You have to do it!”

Eren tried one last time to push himself free, hissing with frustration as the chains cut deeper. “Ymir,” he gasped, “please, you don’t have to be a slave. Neither to me, nor to Zeke, nor to King Fritz. You can choose. You can be free, the way Aurora said. You can stop listening to everyone— me included— and live for yourself.”

For a moment, Ymir’s eyes flickered with something other than emptiness. Her lips trembled, her posture drooped as though weighed by centuries of trauma. Aurora’s memory of that brief, gentle touch she’d once shared with Ymir burned in her mind. She remembered how Ymir flinched yet still lingered, as if a small part of her yearned for connection. And Aurora saw it again now: the wounded child in Ymir’s eyes, torn between submission and the faintest glimmer of rebellion.

Zeke saw it too. A cold sweat gathered on his brow. “Ymir, you have to obey me!” he insisted, his voice cracking with panic. “I have royal blood, you can’t just ignore me! I… I order you to do it now! Use your power, sterilize them all!”

The intangible air of the Paths trembled, and Ymir seemed to take a step forward, as if to comply. But then, as though pulled by an unseen force, her head turned slightly toward Aurora again. Aurora’s eyes met Ymir’s, and she exhaled a trembling breath. “Ymir,” she said softly, each word a plea. “You’ve been lonely for so long, haven’t you? You’ve lived in fear, forced to build Titans for men who never loved you. You’ve never had a choice. Let me— let us give you that choice.”

Zeke roared, “Shut up, Aurora!”

But Aurora didn’t stop. She pressed her palm over her swollen belly as she spoke, her face lined with tears. “You can live again,” she whispered. “You don’t have to spend eternity building Titans, forced by us or by him. If you help Eren stop the world from destroying us, if you help ensure our child can be born… you can be free. You can come with me… in the next life. Let me be your mother, so you can be born with a family that loves you.” Her words echoed in the silent air, as though the Paths itself was holding its breath.

Zeke hissed in disbelief, “You’re insane! She’s just a— she’s not even— That’s not how it works!”

Eren, though stunned by Aurora’s idea, recognized something in Ymir’s face. It was the first time he’d seen her show emotion, tears rolling silently down her cheeks, pale and cold in the moonlike glow of this empty dimension. He heard Aurora’s voice in his mind from their quiet moments together, the times she’d told him about how Ymir was lonely, how she might just need someone to see her as more than a tool.

Zeke struggled to hold onto his control, but the sight of Ymir trembling unnerved him deeply. “Ymir,” he tried again, his voice trembling with an emotion he refused to name. “Don’t let them fool you. They’re using you, just like King Fritz did. I’m the only one who truly wants to end the cycle of suffering for good. Are you so cruel you’d let children be born only to devour each other in this war? Ymir, think—”

But Ymir took one step away from him. She reached out with her left hand, grazing her fingertips along Aurora’s cheek, then trailing them down to Aurora’s belly. Aurora gasped softly, her eyes fluttering at the cool touch. A subtle, silent communion passed between them: the longing Ymir felt for freedom, the terrifying hope Aurora held for her unborn child. For the first time, a faint warmth pulsed in Ymir’s chest, a desire not for obedience, but for belonging.

Zeke bellowed, “Stop messing around, Ymir!” A flush of panic reddened his face. “I command you, by the power of the royal blood, to carry out the euthanization plan RIGHT NOW!”

The ground trembled. Ymir’s head jerked, as though compelled by Zeke’s order, and Eren felt the invisible chains tighten around him once again. He refused to yield. Summoning every ounce of determination, he strained, the links digging into his flesh, ripping his arms. Aurora, likewise, felt her arms being bound tighter, pain lancing across her abdomen. She bit her lip until she tasted blood.

“Please, Ymir,” Aurora whispered, her tears dripping onto the sand. “I can’t lose my baby. And you shouldn’t have to lose your life either. We can find a way out, together.”

Zeke, eyes wide with desperation, raised his arms again, pulling something from the swirling dust—a manifestation of his will. It resembled the chain of memories, the intangible constructs that forced Ymir to do his bidding. “Enough of this!” he hissed. “I won’t let you ruin my dream. I—”

Before he could finish, Ymir turned around fully, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. Her gaze flicked from Zeke to Eren, then back to Aurora. She lifted her hands and, with a barely perceptible movement, the chains on Eren and Aurora fell away. Eren collapsed forward, shock flooding his veins. Aurora’s breath caught in her throat as she felt her arms free at last. She tottered, trying to keep her balance with her enormous belly and the shock of being released.

Zeke staggered backward. “No,” he croaked, voice cracking. “You… you can’t just disobey me. I have the royal blood. You’re a slave to my will. I… I… order you to—”

But Ymir simply closed her eyes, letting tears track across her dusted skin. In that single moment, the weight of centuries bore down upon her. She remembered being hunted, devoured by duty, forced to spawn monstrous weapons for two millennia. She remembered King Fritz’s mocking face, the commands of every descendent of his blood. She remembered how Aurora had once tried to hold her hand, how Eren had recognized her suffering, how they saw her not as a mindless slave, but as an individual in need of something—love, choice, freedom. And Ymir recalled that gentle warmth, Aurora’s vow that she could live as their child in a new world if she wished it. The notion was strange, perhaps impossible, but it lit a spark inside her. A life beyond this emptiness.

Zeke roared in frustration. “No!” he snarled, sweat beading on his forehead. “Obey me, damn it, you have to obey me— you can’t just— you can’t—”

Eren and Aurora stared, transfixed, as Ymir turned from Zeke and faced them both. Eren felt unsteady, missing his thumbs, blood dripping from his mangled hands. But he summoned the strength to stand beside Aurora, letting her lean into his side. A quiet hush fell over them all, as if the Paths itself was holding its breath, waiting to see Ymir’s final decision.

Aurora’s voice wavered, “Ymir… I promise, we’ll keep our word. If you— if you help us put an end to this war, you can be born free. I’ll do everything I can to—”

Zeke tried to lunge forward, but it was too late. With a single step, Ymir closed the distance to Eren. Her small hand reached up, gently brushing against his forehead. Eren inhaled sharply, a white-hot jolt coursing through his mind. Energy crackled around them, like a silent thunderstorm. The power of the Founder rippled across the dimension, shimmering in gold and white fractals.

A sharp gasp tore from Eren’s throat as visions assailed him—memories of countless Eldians from across time, fragments of their hopes and fears. Aurora trembled, feeling the aftershocks. She couldn’t see the memories herself, but she sensed Eren’s entire body tense, and she placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

Zeke stood there, mouth agape, eyes wide with something akin to horror. “No,” he breathed, voice hollow. He felt the intangible chains coil around his own limbs, pulling him to his knees. “This— this can’t be happening…” The inevitability pressed in on him: Ymir had chosen Eren. Or had she chosen Aurora’s kindness? Either way, he was losing all control.

Eren’s green eyes glowed with raw power, reminiscent of the Founding Titan’s unstoppable might. He cast a glance at Aurora, seeing the relief and determination in her ice-blue gaze. The swirling sands around them roiled as though guided by Eren’s newly accessed power. Ymir’s face was expressionless but for the tears streaming down her cheeks, a silent testament to the heartbreak she had endured and the fragile hope Aurora had offered.

Desperate, Zeke tried one last time, “Ymir, no— I beg you, don’t do this to me. We can still— we can—” But the ghostly chains tightened around him, cutting off his words. He writhed, panting in fear.

Aurora watched, heart pounding, as Eren slowly lifted a trembling hand, raw with wounds. He pressed his palm to the side of Ymir’s face, a gesture of empathy. “You’re free now,” he whispered. “I swear it. You can choose. If you want revenge, if you want to flatten the world that tortured you for two thousand years, I’ll do it. If you want something else— anything— tell me.” His gaze shifted to Aurora, remembering her words about letting Ymir make her own choice, about offering her a chance to break the cycle. “We owe you that.”

Aurora managed a shaky smile, tears glistening. She gently rested her hand atop Ymir’s. “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” she murmured, voice soft. “We can do this together.”

Ymir’s tear-filled eyes drifted from Eren to Aurora, then down to Aurora’s belly. For an instant, the tension in her shoulders melted into an expression that almost looked like longing, something akin to a child gazing through a window at a family gathered around a warm fire. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words emerged—just a trembling breath that carried centuries of pain. Then she gave the slightest nod, tears continuing to track down her face.

A sudden rush of brilliance swept over the Path. Threads of radiant energy coiled up from Ymir’s feet, swirling around Eren and Aurora like an incandescent storm. Zeke let out a strangled cry, feeling his control slip away entirely. The intangible forces that once obeyed him were no longer his to command. He was chained, forcibly made to witness the Founder’s decision.

In that blinding torrent of light, Eren gasped as knowledge— unfiltered, raw potential— coursed through him. He felt the Founder’s might in his veins, surging with unstoppable force. He could sense every titan sleeping in the walls of Paradis, sense the possibility of unleashing them. Yet he also felt Ymir’s sorrow, her desperate longing for a family, for acceptance that was never given to her by King Fritz. Eren felt Aurora’s presence behind him, her fear and her vow to protect the child inside her, to do what was necessary for them to have a future. All of it merged into a single, harrowing choice.

Zeke, shackled in the golden glow, let out a guttural shout, “Eren, don’t you dare—”

But his voice fell to a whisper in the roar of cosmic power. Aurora, one hand protectively over her belly, the other lightly touching Ymir’s shoulder, leaned close to Eren. She whispered, “Whatever you do… I’ll be by your side. We’ve come too far to turn back.”

Eren turned his head slightly, meeting Aurora’s gaze. He read in her expression both terror and a fierce hope, a readiness to do the unimaginable so their child would not be born into bondage. He nodded slowly, tears slipping down his own cheeks. “We do this together,” he said quietly.

Ymir closed her eyes, one last tear slipping free, as though she had given them the final piece of her soul. Her hand upon Eren’s chest pulsed with power, the swirling lights coalescing into a single beam that seemed to fuse Eren’s will with that of the Founder. They all felt an impossible resonance— the weight of two thousand years of history pivoting on a single moment. Zeke strained, fighting with every ounce of his soul to deny it, but he was helpless to watch as Eren and Aurora stood in unison with Ymir’s blessing. 

Zeke was left caged, an irony that sent a wave of dread through him. He recognized that posture: the same captivity Ymir had known for centuries. Now it was his turn to watch helplessly, as Eren gripped the power he had sought. Magath’s bullet had sealed Zeke’s fate, forcing him into contact with Eren in that final instant. In the swirling maelstrom of light, he glimpsed Aurora stepping closer to Ymir again, reaching for her with trembling hands, as if to offer comfort. Ymir’s gaze flickered, uncertain, yet no longer the hollow stare of a prisoner. She leaned in, allowing Aurora’s arms to encircle her in a tender embrace.

Zeke’s breath caught at the sight. “No…” he whispered, feeling the entire point of his existence unravel. He thought of Ksaver, the day they discussed the euthanization plan as though it were absolute salvation. He remembered Dina, Grisha, all of it culminating in him believing he was chosen to end Eldia’s torment. Now, here he was, sidelined by the very force he tried to bend to his will. He couldn’t accept that Ymir had made a choice outside his commands. Yet the tears on Ymir’s cheeks told him everything: she had found something else. Something he never once offered her— a chance at life, at love, at being more than a Titan-forging slave.

Finally, Eren’s voice cut through the symphony of light and shadow, firm yet carrying a quiet empathy. “Zeke,” he said, turning to regard his brother, who knelt shackled in the dust. “I told you— your plan is worthless. Maybe I am a devil, maybe I’ll doom the rest of the world. But I won’t let you take away the future from our people, from my child. From Aurora.”

Zeke simply glared, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. “You’re no savior,” he spat, choking on the bitterness in his throat. “You’re just continuing the cycle in your own way. You think you’re free? You’re just a—”

“Enough,” Aurora said sharply, surprising even herself. She was done cowering, done letting Zeke’s twisted worldview overshadow everything. She rested a protective hand over her abdomen, then gazed down at him. “You never asked the children if they wanted your so-called salvation. You never asked me if I was okay with your plan to kill my unborn baby. You didn’t ask Ymir if she truly wanted to follow you. You just assumed you knew best. Maybe you believed it, or maybe you were just repeating the only pattern you knew. But it ends now.”

Zeke thrashed in the chains, cursing. “No, you can’t— you can’t do this, Eren! If you unleash the Rumbling, you’ll kill millions, maybe billions. You’ll be no better than—”

Eren’s voice emerged, quiet but resolute. “I never said I was better than anyone. I’m doing this to protect the people I care about. If the world truly wants to exterminate us, then yes, I’ll become the devil they fear. But you gave me no other choice. Neither did the world.” He paused, casting a sideways glance at Aurora. “But that doesn’t mean I’m forcing Ymir to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

Zeke let out a strained cry. He glared at Aurora with a mixture of rage and desperation. “This is your fault,” he spat, voice trembling. “If you’d never come into the picture, she would have obeyed me. You ruined everything.” A bitter laugh choked from his lips. “I hope you’re happy. You’ve doomed yourselves to the same cycle— another monstrous war. You’re no saviors.”

Aurora shook her head, sorrow welling in her eyes. “I never claimed to be a savior, Zeke,” she replied softly. “I just wanted to protect my child. I wanted Ymir to be free. If that makes me monstrous, so be it.”

Ymir turned her face upward, looking at the endless sky of the Paths. Then she reached forward, as though pulling something from the swirling sands— threads of Titan creation, but shaped by a new intention. The entire dimension thrummed with possibilities. Aurora’s breath caught, uncertain what Ymir was about to do. Eren braced himself, half-expecting the walls of Paradis to thunder to life under his command.

But the scene froze, like an image paused in time. Ymir’s decision was final: she gifted Eren the Founder’s power, by her own will, and refrained from completing Zeke’s euthanization. The rest would come down to Eren’s next words, next moves. She lingered there, gazing at Eren and Aurora, almost as if waiting for them to vanish back into reality to do what must be done. In that final moment, Aurora glimpsed the faint trace of a small smile on Ymir’s face, a ghost of an expression. A silent thank you, or perhaps a goodbye.

~

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[nanaminokanojo]

THAWING ICE QUEEN (bonus chapter #1)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters GENRE: college au | eventual smut | smau | smau + prose | everything in between | ons | fubus to lovers | aged-up characters | idk where this is going

WORD COUNT: 5.5k of pure filth

⚠️ TW/CW: strong/mature language | 🔞 | mentions of alcohol | vaginal sex | fingering | overstimulation | oral fem receiving | fingering

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<back to part 14 - bonus chapter

~*~

You’ve all but gone through half the bottle of the wine you have been drinking when you heard the sound of the shower from the adjoining bathroom stop. All the while, you sat by the nightstand, your senses heightened as you listened to every nuance of sounds around you. Somehow, you felt jittery, which you’ve chalked up to the anticipation of literally consummating the deal you’ve struck with the menace that was Gojo Satoru. It wasn’t as if you were doing it with him for the first time. Still, one way or another, this time felt different. 

But you soon forgot about your apprehension, replaced by amusement when you heard him listening to music, his choice in it in particular, and how he would try to sing along some of the lines. It was silly, and while you knew just what a shallow goofball he could be, the image seemed out of place somehow. 

Satoru was the campus king, and for all the right reasons, according to the supposed norms society ran on. One thing everyone knows and immediately thinks of when his name is mentioned is that he is rich. And it wasn’t as if he was the typical kind of rich with just money. His ancestry consisted of historically significant people dating back to the first century AD, and his family still held that high status. Talk about preserving their legacy. 

And as if that wasn’t enough, Satoru was painfully gorgeous and much too aware of it, aggravated by the fact that everyone else fawned over him and thought he was the most extraordinary person on the planet, thus further inflating his head and ego. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Those were the first words Satoru ever uttered to you when Suguru introduced him to you two years ago, his voice crisp in the harsh winter air. He had no sense of decorum regardless of his so-called pedigree, and he thought he could bend people to his will just by looking at them with those deceptive, blue eyes which were like treacherous vortices than tranquil seas under a perfectly clear sky.

You didn’t know much about him then, merely hearing about him through Sukuna. You did not exactly get what people saw in him apart from his face. Sure, he was blessed with looks that precisely fit the lyrics of that one Carpenters song, speaking about angels sprinkling moon dust in his hair of platinum, not gold, and starlight in his eyes of blue. He seemed to have everything underneath all that borderline idiotic façade and penchant for debauchery.

But regardless of the great things people had to say about him – one of them being the fact that he was extremely intelligent, which turned out to be true much to your dismay as it would be easier to hate on him if he was otherwise – somehow, he was just another person to you.

“Sure, I’ve seen him,” you remembered telling Suguru, whom you shared an advanced class with, when he asked if you knew Satoru.

“And?”

“And what?”

Suguru had merely blinked at you while Ieiri, who was also listening to your conversation, said, “Are you sure you’ve seen him?”

“Hard to miss with that head of white hair,” you stated, making the two of them exchange glances, the gesture injected with meaning as they high-fived. “You’re immune to him. That’s great!”

That seemed to have become the basis of your friendship with them, your seeming lack of susceptibility to their unusual friend. Among other things anyway, but that’s where it started. Still, their perception of you wasn’t entirely true. Satoru was very attractive, and his charms do work on you. You were just able to keep him at bay better than anyone else until that one drunken night a month ago when you finally caved. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe his lips just looked too kissable that night. You couldn’t be sure, but giving him the opportunity brought you to your current circumstances.

The door to the shower opened, pulling you out of your reverie, your head slowly turning in that direction. The view didn’t disappoint, and you shamelessly watched as Satoru padded barefoot into the bedroom clad in nothing but a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers. You let your eyes roam his solid form, taking in every sinew of his musculature, your tongue unconsciously darting across your lips as you lingered a little longer over his iliac furrows.

Satoru met your gaze from the reflection in the wall mirror after he was done toweling his hair, winking at you as he continued his after-shower rituals. “Like what you see, sweet cheeks?”

Taking your time to respond, you took a sip from your half-empty glass, leaning back to leisurely feast your eyes on him. “I never not like what I see when it’s you, Gojo.”

He looked surprised, but it soon turned into open amusement. “That’s quite the admission, Y/N.”

“That’s a given, don’t you think?”

“Not with you, sweetheart.” He glanced at you from over his shoulder. “I’m glad to know that, although you never failed to make me feel unwanted for as long as we’ve known each other.”

A scoff escaped your lips at his feigned offense. “What’s my opinion against that of the multitude of your adoring fans anyway?”

Satoru didn’t answer your question, his expression changing into something less playful as he tossed his towel to a nearby ottoman and turned to face you, sounding commanding as he said, “Come here.”

With a smirk swathed on your face, you strutted towards him, nursing your drink against your chest. When you were just a foot away from him, you tilted your head to the side, meeting his gaze squarely, making it very clear to him that he doesn’t necessarily have the upper hand, and your physical submission didn’t indicate anything remotely close to that. “Well?”

He took your glass away from you, gently pulled you closer, turned you towards the mirror, and stood behind you. His hands moved towards your front, fingers gingerly fiddling with the sash of your robe. Those blue eyes seemed to be luminous in the ambient lighting of his bedroom even through the mirror, and they never left your form even as he chastely kissed you on the temple.

“May I unwrap my treat now?” he softly spoke near your ear.

“Of course.”

Satoru didn’t waste any time, tugging at the sash before letting the robe slide off your shoulders, falling on the floor just behind your feet with the softest rustles and without any resistance.

“Damn…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning as he looked at you appreciatively through your reflection. “Happy birthday to me, I guess? Holy fucking shit, Y/N.”

“Indeed,” you agreed in jest but kept a straight face. “I was equally surprised.”

“It’s illegal for you to wear anything else, baby.” He chuckled, sounding breathless as he raked his eyes all over your figure, making your face grow a bit hot, as was evident in how your cheeks pinked, something you could blame the wine for if he noticed. “Second to you being naked anyway. But I made the right choice going ham with buying you lingerie. No doubt about that.”

You were about to give him a clever retort, but you noticed how his hands were just hovering over you, close enough for you to be aware of them but not really touching. “Are we just gonna admire the lingerie or what?” At your question, he visibly stiffened, meeting your gaze as you looked away from the mirror and directly at him instead. You reached up, placing a hand on the side of his face. “Touch me.”

Satoru’s lips crashed onto yours before you could even blink, the kiss starting intense and just incrementally becoming so as you pulled him close by the nape and let your head fall back on him. He held you tight by the hips like the last time he kissed you, pressing your back onto his body, your flesh pliant where his muscles were firm. As much as you hate to admit it, Satoru can kiss, and he does it so well. He was literally kissing you stupid, keeping all your attention to the taste and sensation of his probing tongue, skilled in his movements and pulling out the most delicious little notes out of you.

You’ve heard many things about Satoru as a bed partner, and you wondered how your experience differed so much from everyone else’s. You’ve always thought he was one of those men who didn’t give a damn about their partner as long as they got what they wanted, zero technique, just hard fucking. Those who have slept with him prior to you would always say he was good – something you chalked up to them not wanting to get on his bad side – but he wasn’t one to indulge anyone apart from himself.

However, he had been one of the best for you, taking his time to explore your body and getting himself acquainted to what made you feel good. He was gentle as if he was afraid he would break you, remembering how you had to prompt him to go harder, faster. You couldn’t help but agree with what he said regarding your sexual compatibility with one another, not that he had to know. That was the first time, and maybe it was just a courtesy he extended to you as someone he considers his friend, but you want to know just how he really is now that you’ve given him free rein.

You tilted your neck, sucking in a deep breath when he started leaving open-mouthed kisses on the spot just below your ear. His mouth was such a sensual part of him, the plush softness of his lips and the hungry way his tongue licked at your skin, causing you to shiver from the bottom of your spine. That, coupled with the way his fingers started creating a titillating trail from your waist to your midsection and up your chest, stirred you alive.

He started moving his mouth down to your shoulder, leaving a lingering kiss on the slope going down your arm. He opened his eyes and looked at you through the mirror, also gently making you face your reflection. “Look at you,” he whispered, nipping at the shell of your ear.

You did as you were told, taking in the person before you, flushed wherever he had touched you. The glazed look in your hazy eyes spoke volumes of just how he was making you feel if your heaving chest wasn’t enough of a testament of how much he was taking your breath away without doing that much yet.

“You’re so damn pretty for me.” Satoru kissed you on the cheek before pressing his against it as he props his chin on your shoulder, his eyes appearing like blue flames with how heated he was observing you through the mirror. “Sweetheart, I want you to watch what exactly I’m doing to you.”

His hands moved to cup your breasts over the crimson bra you were wearing, giving them a tentative squeeze and then a more deliberate one after. “They’re perfect,” he murmured absently before tugging the lacey material of the bra upwards and releasing your succulent mounds out of their confinement, replacing the garment with his large hands. He began to knead, rolling your nipples between his fingers, making your breath hitch in your throat.

Heat pooled in your nether region as he started kissing your neck again. You kept your eyes open despite wanting to close them every single time he would circle his index fingers over your hardening nubs, pressing and swirling, or when he would lick and bite down the side of your neck, all while watching you unravel.

“G-gojo –” you whined, abruptly cutting yourself short when he bit on the junction of your neck and shoulder a tad harder. And as he was doing that, he started moving one hand downwards, making the anticipation in your chest grow with the deliberate slowness of his fingers, which traced their way down your belly. He played with the elastic of your underwear, lightly dipping the tip of his fingers through it but only to tease you.

Suddenly, he brought both hands down to your hips, pulling your ass flush against the growing predicament between his legs. You felt the outline of his shaft nestling between your butt, warm and stiff through the fabric of his boxers. He moved slowly, rubbing his length against you. “See how you make me feel?”

“Should I be flattered?” You smirked at him through the mirror, but that was short-lived as he cupped your sex with one hand, his fingers deftly rubbing your clit over the flimsy lingerie. “Nnggh...”

“What a shame, sweetheart. You’ve soiled this pretty little thing. I haven’t even touched you here, and yet you’re this wet?” he cooed into your ear as ​he dry-humped you from the back and moved to insert his whole hand into your panties, tracing the length of your slit before continuing to stimulate your clit with more vigor this time.

“Ah!”

You couldn’t figure out whether it was the act itself or seeing it from the mirror that was making you sensitive and very reactive to Satoru’s ministrations.

“You like that?” He moved his other hand from your hips to the side of your underwear, also inserting it from there and seeking your quivering hole, immediately inserting two of his fingers.

“Fuck! Gojo...ah...”

He started pumping into your pussy with just the tips at first, going deeper every time he thrusts in until they were knuckles-deep. Your panties constricted his movements, but when you tried to push them down, he stopped you.

“No, sweetheart. I want to fuck you later while wearing this,” he said, his words punctuated by the wet squelching over his fingers in your pussy. “You’re squeezing my fingers so tight.”

He continued to probe even as your legs started to shake, looking for that sensitive spot he knew would drive you to the edge. And when he did, you let out such a wanton moan that had him grinding against you harder, his quiet pants audible to your ears alone.

“There you are.” He continuously rubbed the pads of his fingers against that same spot, making you cry out, “I-I’m close.” You panted, eyes focused on his hand moving under the lace.

He chuckled shakily. “Cum for me then.”

And as if with a push of a button, you did his bidding and came around his finger, but he didn’t stop, moving your legs further apart as he continued to finger-fuck you.

"Gojo, I just –​ ah, ah!" He thrust his fingers even faster, this time slightly pulling down your underwear so he could rub your clit. They easily slid in and out of you with your cum dripping from your pussy to his knuckles while your clit throbbed from his ministrations. Again, that familiar feeling of coming undone settled at the pit of your stomach, trickling down to where he was touching you.

“You’re gonna cum for me as many times as I can make you tonight,” he rasped, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re cumming.”

And just like that, he brought you to your second high, making a panting, moaning mess out of you. He had to hold you up since your knees buckled, but even as you were already unraveling, he still moved his fingers, albeit slowly.

“Gojo...p-please stop for a sec.”

“Satoru.”

You looked at him from behind you. “Huh?”

“Call me by my name, sweetheart.” He started tracing figure eights on your clit again, making you tremble and almost fall to your knees again. “Come on, say it.”

“S-sa–Satoru!” You came again before the feeling could even register in your head. “Fuck,” you breathed out, holding onto his arm to keep yourself upright. He helped you up, quiet laughter registering in your ears as he hoisted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style.

You were still shaking from the three orgasms he managed to pull out of you, but you smacked him on the chest, making him giggle all the more. “Ow?”

“I told you to hold on for a moment, you nut!”

He laid you on the bed, propping you up on the multitude of pillows set up against the headboard. “No can do, Y/N. You signed up for this. You’re mine tonight.” He kissed you on the forehead, poking your cheek despite the glare you threw his way. “As much as I want to just shove my cock inside you, I want you to feel so good you won’t think of anything else the whole week.”

You covered your face. “Oh my god, Gojo, shut up.”

He clucked his tongue. “I told you to call me Satoru. It’s weird when you call on my whole clan when I’m the only one here.”

At that, you finally let out a quiet laugh. 

“Specifics, right?”

“Now you’re speaking my language?”

He slotted himself between your legs, peppering your face with kisses. “Yes.” He pecked you on the nose. “I want you to scream my name and no one else’s. Now let’s try that.”

“Satoru,” you said in all but a whisper, and then a bit louder and sounding needier. “Satoru.”

As if you’ve bewitched him, his usually bright eyes turned dark, and he was stealing the air out of your lungs again by kissing you, his tongue sliding past your lips. This was what you meant when you said his kisses could be so all-consuming it muddles any coherent thought in your brain.

He then moved to your chest, his mouth latching onto your right nipple and sucking and licking. At the same time, he busied his hands roaming the topography of your body, momentarily making their way to your ass to squeeze possessively before moving downward.

“Change of plans,” he muttered, his voice followed by ripping sounds as he yanked at your panties.

“What the hell?”

He let go of your nipple with a lewd pop. “What? You’ve got more in your closet.”

You grew quiet when he mentioned your ownership of that part of his place. It’s still his closet with things he bought for you. It made sense if he wanted to destroy all of them. “It’s your closet, Satoru.”

“It’s all yours if you want it.” He tossed the ruined lace somewhere behind him before taking possession of your thighs and spreading them apart. “Looking absolutely mouth-watering.”

You rolled your eyes but bit your lip when he slumped down on the bed, face mere centimeters from your slick-laden cunt. “Don’t stare at it –”

Satoru pecked your clit before nudging it with the tip of his nose. “Mine,” he growled, running his tongue through the length of your opening. You bucked your hips, still sensitive from earlier. “I want you to sit on my face next time. But for now…”

Anchoring your legs on the bed with his arms to keep them open for him, Satoru licked another stripe over your cunt, assaulting your clit with licks in quick successions before putting his lips to work, sucking on your sensitive bundle of nerves while he pushed his tongue into you. A needy moan ripped out of your throat, a combination of incoherent syllables of his name and senseless babbling. You gripped onto the sheets and whatever you could get your hands on, unable to process all the sensations wreaking havoc in your system, making every cell in your body sing.

Your legs threatened to close as you thrashed on the bed, entirely under Satoru’s mercy, unable to figure out whether you were feeling too much or nothing at all as you melted underneath him, spasms assailing your whole body.

“T-too much,” you babbled as your fingers raked through his silvery locks. You didn’t know if you wanted to pull him closer or push him away, but all the same, you earned an approving hum, choking out a high-pitched scream from the way his voice thrummed against you, catapulting you to a whole new different kind of high.  

Satoru groaned, hearing your pleasured delectations when you climaxed, your juices spilling past his mouth, which he tasted and licked despite your overwhelmed state. His name spilled out of your lips like a broken mantra, each complete utterance of it a stroke to his growing pride at the fact that he was the one winding you up to your current state, that he was the one who was bringing you to heights you’ve never experienced with anyone else.

It was worth it, the wait. You were worth it. The way you looked – all messed up and sobbing, tears spangling your eyelashes, your skin tickled pink, lips parted in quiet sighs, and your chest rising and falling, your breath hitching all at the same time – was something he saw as a reward after all those times you turned him down. Good things happen to those who wait; this was beyond good, even better than what he had imagined.

He couldn’t really put a finger as to what it was about you that drew him in since the first time he Suguru introduced you to him. It was a challenge, the way you seemed to be impermeable to his charms that no matter what he did to catch your attention, you didn’t give him the time of day. You’d scoff at him, treat him as if he wasn’t of any consequence, laugh it off or threaten him when he thinks he had gotten a step closer. The best fruits sure hung at the highest branches of a tree, but he had a ladder and wasn’t hesitant to use it.

And the moment you gave him an opening, he knew he couldn’t bear the thought of you being with anyone else apart from him. His attraction for you which he thought was something that would stop the moment he had a taste of you, grew into covetousness instead. When he said you ruined him for anyone else, there wasn’t a better permutation of words that would describe what you did to him. He wanted to own you, make sure that no one else gets to you, monopolize you in every which way he could think of, and keep you all to himself.

Fuck consequences. He would take what he could. He didn’t like the feeling of being denied. What Gojo Satoru wants, he gets. That was the case for everyone else he had been with, but he knew he could never play by the same rules, not with you. You’re one of those rare things he knew he would never wholly own, but that didn’t mean he would let it go without a fight, nor did that imply that he wasn’t ever going to try. He wanted you, and though you will never ever level the playing ground with him, enjoying your advantage over him, his desperation for you, and the fact that he needed you more than you needed him, he still wanted any part of you that he could concretely say was his.

Your agreement with him was just a step towards that goal.

You were made for him; no one can convince him otherwise. He had never felt the way he did for anyone else, and he didn’t think he ever will again. Looking at you now, all fucked out and laid out for him to feast on, he couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up his throat. He meant it when he said he would make it worth your while. This night was about you. He intended it to be that way, but what he didn’t anticipate was the immense pleasure he felt while giving you what you wanted.

With his lips and chin shining with your arousal, he rose to his knees as if surveying his dominion, you being the conquered land and him the ruler of it all, beauty and ruin all wrapped up into one to create a masterpiece in his will and liking. He swiped at the edge of his mouth with his fingers before licking it off. His eyes caught yours, clear and sparkling with open lust, while yours reflected them in the haze of your blown-out pupils.

Satoru playfully crawled on top of you, randomly planting kisses on your body before he pressed his lips onto your pliant yet unresponsive ones, making you taste yourself. You slowly blinked up at him, a dazed smile drawing itself across your mouth as you tried to even out your breathing. He kissed your cheek, propping himself up on his elbow while his other hand brushed away stray strands of hair from your face.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” he whispered as he nuzzled your nose with his.

“Just give me a moment,” you responded, voice breathy.

“Okay.” He got off you, comically rolling onto the mattress to reach for the drawer, rummaging through stuff in there, rubbers, you surmised. “Want anything?”

You shook your head, snickering weakly as you covered your eyes with your arm. You didn’t know what was funnier: him being all long-limbed and pure muscle moving the way he did just then, or if it’s just the whole situation.

“What’s so amusing, sweetheart?” he asked as he moved closer to you, sitting up against the plush headboard beside you. You shook your head, but you were still unable to wipe the smile on your lips. “Okay…Think you can sit up?”

You rolled your eyes at him as you did just that, pausing when you noticed that he had forgone his boxers from earlier. Once again, you found yourself staring at him. It wasn’t a luxury you had the first time you had sex with him, given that it was at a party held at a frat house. You didn’t even know whose room you messed up that night, and you didn’t really stop and actually observe him that night, both of you caught up in a rush.

Everything about Gojo Satoru was pretty, that much you could say, and if it was a matter of being endowed, he wasn’t lacking in that either. You knew precisely just how his cock felt like inside of you, and you already knew you wouldn’t be disappointed. No. That had been the least of your worries, but it was somehow like finally putting a face to something responsible for a mysterious encounter.

Daring to be bold despite how he made you surrender earlier, you crawled towards him like a feline, flashing him a sultry look as you came closer. He smirked as you kneeled astride him, running your fingers through your hair to push it back before sitting your plush ass on his lap. You leveled your expression with his when you saw how his jaw went slack, his dick twitching against his abs even without being touched. You slid closer, rubbing your pussy on one of his muscular thighs. He gulped audibly, seeing as how your eyes had taken a different look from earlier, but he didn’t dislike it one bit.

“Close your mouth, sweet thing,” you said, referring to him with one of the nicknames he gave you. His teeth clacked as he did your bidding without even realizing it. You rewarded him with a peck on the cheek, tapping the other with your manicured fingers. “Good.”

You turned your attention to his throbbing cock, prolonging his agony as you ran one hand down his body before finally touching it. You felt his breath picking up pace when you traced one prominent vein that ended just by the pink tip, which was leaking with his own impending arousal. The tables seemed to have turned when you ran your thumb over his slit, smearing his precum. He was becoming harder, hotter in your hand, and you couldn’t help but feel excited as well, seeing your effect on him. 

You took the condom packet from him, tearing it open and tossing the wrapper aside. He watched with bated breath as you slid over his length, deliberately tightening your fingers around him, making him hiss. You interrupted his preoccupation with your hand by claiming his lips as you slid the condom the rest of the way, drawing out a salacious moan from him. 

“I like how you sound like this,” you murmured against his mouth, chuckling when he let out an exaggerated keen, distracting you enough not to notice when he unclasped your bra. You let the garment slide off of your arm while he pulled on it, getting rid of it like he did with its pair. You couldn’t care less as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder for support, your mouth remaining connected as he lifted you by the back of your thighs, aligning himself to your entrance.

You both gasped when the tip of his cock nudged through your folds, your breaths mingling in the sparse space between your lips. Ever so slowly, you sank down onto him, feeling yourself being stretched further open until he bottomed out. 

Overwhelmed by his size and how he made you feel, you placed your forehead against his shoulder, neither of you moving except for the seemingly in-sync rise and fall of your chests. He was in so deep that you felt so full, even breathing seems difficult to do.

“Fuck, Y/N, sweetheart, you feel so good.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Your senses were on overdrive that even the slightest movements of Satoru’s fingers against your skin made you squirm and lose your breath.

“So, so good...” he said softly, utterly out of it, but his words spurred you on. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you moved your hips, raising halfway through his length before taking the entirety of his shaft again. “Yes, baby, that’s it.”

You repeated the same thing over and over again, going closer towards his tip with each time until you found your rhythm. Starting off slow, you picked up your pace, bouncing on Satoru’s cock, your head slightly thrown back as you maneuvered the angles that best suited your desires.

“You’re s-so damn hot, sweet cheeks. Come on. Give me more,” he egged you on, hands finding their way to your breasts and squeezing possessively.

You were close again, feeling the continuous drag of his dick inside your walls, obscene moans coming from your mouth as you moved your hips to your liking. Seeing the same degree of desire overflowing from Satoru’s eyes made you clench tightly around him as the coil in the pit of your guts tightened. Your movements became sloppy as you burned out all your energy, all worth it hearing the way Satoru groaned and lost his mind because of you.

You rode him like no one’s business, feeling him becoming more engorged inside you. He started meeting you halfway with his own thrusts, seeing as how you’re growing more tired. 

“Ah...Satoru, right there,” you said when he shifted and thrust up into you a particular way, keeping that same bruising pace until you were a shaking mess, going limp in his arms as you reached your nth high.

But he wasn’t done with you just yet. Carrying you, he easily rolled the two of you on the sheets. He pulled out of you, propping you on your side, the sudden emptiness making you whimper. But that was short-lived as he pulled you close, your back against his chest. Satoru slid a hand between your thighs, propping your right leg over his. From behind you, he shoved his cock into you, making you scream.

The sound of skin slapping on skin as he fucked you hard and fast filled the room along with his own moans mingling with your pants as your mouth went slack.

“Y/N, I’m c-close. Cum with me, hmm? Give me one more,” he told you in frenzied tones.

Your brain was way too fried for you to respond to his words, merely sobbing when you felt him reaching down to where your clit was, abusing it at the same unforgiving pace at which he pumped his dick inside you.

Right when you came undone, he pulled out up to the tip before ramming back all the way in, staying there as he emptied his load into the condom, his semen coming out in hot spurts that had him seeing stars.

For a while, the pair of you lay there in silence with nothing but your heavy breaths filling up the room, blissfully spent as he held you in his arms.

When he was calm enough, he carefully pulled out of you, discarding the condom and coming back to find you dead to the world. He smiled to himself as he leaned down on your still form, kissing you on the cheek, his head filled with nothing but the thought of how amazing you were.

~*~

My sister be like: え、本当に1つのエロいシーンで5000語以上も？マジで？ And I'm like: わかんないな、なんかおかしくなってるんだよ。 It was Patricia.

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp @justpuddinglol

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20230724]

[celestiall0tus]

Court of Miracles - Chapter 5 - Something New, Something Bold

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            Juleka and Sass walked down a long hallway. She looked around at the walls of the portraits lined along the hall. The people depicted in them were a mix of young and old with one of them being Luka.

            “What are these?” Juleka asked.

            “All the current heirs. They figured having these leading into the courtroom would be beneficial, or something like that,” Sass answered.

            “They all don’t look like much.”

            “I’d agree but watch out for the black cat heir. Though, perhaps you should watch out for the ladybug one more.”

            “Why’s that?”

            “While there are others above the Paradise set, none are quite like that pair. Try not to get on their bad side.”

            Juleka snorted. “They’ll be lucky if that’s all I do.”

            Sass hummed. They walked in silence before they stopped before another large set of doors.

            “Ready?” Sass asked.

            “Let’s get this over with.”

            Juleka stepped into a large room with an assembly of people. She glanced over the small crowd that had gathered when her eyes fell on a table further up. It was tiered that rose up with a selection of individuals. Amongst them she eyed Luka and the blonde man from the news a few days ago. Her eyes darted between the two when she felt Sass’s hand on her shoulder.

            “Pay them no mind. They’re more set dressing for this meeting,” Sass whispered.

            “Oh. No problem then,” Juleka remarked.

            Juleka trotted forward and stood before the assembly of individuals. She looked over them once more before her attention was brought to a lanky man with black hair and bright green eyes.

            “You’re Juleka Couffaine, correct?”

            Juleka raised her brow and placed a hand on her hip. “Who wants to know?”

            The man shrank back but cleared his thought. “May I present myself. I am Marc Anciel, head of the Court of Miracles. Uh, we heard of the recent discovery of your powers as a shifter and have brought you to be presented before us.”

            “Right. Can we get to the part where I need to care?”

            Marc let out a squeak in an attempt to speak.

            Juleka tsked when light caught her eye. She turned away from the assembly to a pair of lights that circled around her. She watched as a red and purple orb stopped in front of her and morphed into a pair of small creatures with tiny bodies and large heads. The red one had three black spots on its head with purple eyes and the purple one looked like a butterfly.

            “My, what a spitfire. It’s about time we got more like you in this drab court,” the red bug said.

            “Agreed. It’s quite the refreshing change of pace,” the butterfly said.

            “Well, aren’t you interesting creatures. What’re your names?”

            “Oh, you’ll find out in time, young one. For now, there’s someone else you’ll need to meet,” the butterfly said.

            “Then where are they?”

            The creatures smiled. They reverted to orbs of light as more joined them. They converged above the council into a larger version of the creature with a pure white body, three sets of platinum horns, and a flowing, magnificent prismatic mane and tail. It opened all three sets of eyes and a seventh on its forehead. It peered down at her with its seven black eyes with thin white irises that faded to black.

            Juleka’s eyes widened and trotted forward. The creature opened its mouth to speak, but she cut it off.

            “You! Eldritch creature, come here.”

            The creature tilted its head as its mane and tail shifted between shades of gray to white. It flew down and hovered in front of Juleka. She grinned as she reached out and cupped its face. Its face scrunched in bewilderment as its mane and tail erupted in a color show of purples, blues, reds, and black. She caught glances between its flowy mane at the council behind him. She smirked at their shocked and scared expressions as they all exchanged worried glances.

            “Oh, oh my gosh. You change colors depending on your mood don’t you?”

            “I-.:

            Juleka pulled the creature in for a bear hug. She pressed her face against its and nuzzled it. She cooed over how adorable it was while she ignored the terrified buzzing of the room around her. It looked at her with wide eyes before it relaxed and nuzzled her back. She smiled and held it up.

            “What’s your name?” Juleka asked.

            “Velze. Pleasure to meet you, Juleka.”

            Juleka’s eyes lit up as she nuzzled Velze again. “Oh, you’re so cute, Velze. Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”

            Velze smiled. Its mane and tail shifted between every light shade of orange and yellow. Juleka grinned as she took it and held it in her arms like a large stuffed animal. It purred as it relaxed, its mane and tail shifting between different shades of light blues.

            “Say, Velze, you wanna ditch these guys?” Juleka asked.

            Gasps rippled through the area as it erupted in loud chatter.

            “B-b-b-but, you can’t! Velze-!” Marc started.

            “I’d love that. Let’s depart. I know the perfect place.”

            “Hell yeah. Just point me in the right direction.”

            The Court cried out as Juleka turned and ran out of the courtroom. She took a moment at the door, flipped them off, and ran off. She snickered and ran in the direction that Velze directed. She headed towards one of the large doors and slipped through. She gawked as she stepped out onto the balcony.

            Juleka breathed in the clean, refreshing air that carried along intoxicating foreign scents. Above her was a spectacular sky of pastel pink, purple, blue, and yellow. Far down below was a sprawling large village divided into several sections like a city. Beyond that was a massive forest with multicolored leaves and a misty aura surrounding it. Deep in the forest was a massive glass structure that poked out through the leafy canopy.

            “We go to the building in the forest. Step on the teleportation pad,” Velze instructed.

            Juleka looked to her left as a glowing pad appeared. She leapt onto it and was teleported into the greenhouse. She gasped at the colorful flora and fauna that filled the space. Her mind raced as she looked at the various alien plants as she recollected knowledge of them that she never had before.

            “This is incredible!” Juleka exclaimed.

            “Isn’t it? It’s where we keep the Paradise herbs. These are the ones that are imbued with true magic.”

            “True magic? So, could I say, brew them into potions and other remedies? Or even poisons?”

            “Absolutely. Typically, it falls on the Snake to oversee the greenhouse and manage the supplies of medicines. Your twin has done an applicable job but was lacking in his care of the plants. Our Dragon had to take over as he was busy being the therapist.”

            Juleka scoffed, then paused. “Wait, then what of me? After I turned into a snake creature, does this mean I’m part of your Court?”

            “No, not yet. I like you more than Luka, even the rest of the Court, but that is because you are different. However, that difference is dangerous when your heart is still wounded, and the wounds run very deep.”

            Juleka bristled. “It’s not my fault! I-.”

            “I know. You are paying for other people’s mistakes. You have been beaten down again and again. Hurt by those that were supposed to love and guide you. Hurt by those that have failed you. It’s these wounds that must heal.”

            “Yeah, well, easier said than done.”

            Velze chuckled. “It always is. However, now things will change. Your life will never be the same again and you have opportunities you hadn’t before. What you do with them is all up to you now. I both fear and look forward to what you do to this Court. You’re someone both my children and the elders have been looking for a long time.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Velze didn’t respond but smiled. Its body enveloped into light before it broke apart into countless orbs. Juleka watched them all fly away save for one. She watched the turquoise orb shift into Sass.

            “So, what now?” Juleka asked.

            “Now, we can hide away from the Court, at least until they decide to come for you. You’ll have sparked some interest amongst the heirs, so expect some visitors before long.”

            Juleka groaned. “Wonderful.”

            Sass chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry, I feel that sentiment. However, let’s take this time to familiarize yourself with the greenhouse. This will be yours now, thank goodness. Luka may not have had a black thumb, but it certainly wasn’t a green thumb.”

            Juleka snickered. “Do my ears deceive me? The golden child isn’t perfect at everything? Say it ain’t so.”

            “Oh, it’s so. Had to chase him out a few times before he eventually just stopped coming. Thankfully, the Dragon was able to pick up on the slack, until you. So, let’s see how well you fare, yes?”

            “Yeah! Let’s do this.”

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Pt 147- Moonlight and Memories

Summary: ALL THRANDUIL CHAPTER! Thranduil heads to Moonlight and gets more than he bargained for.

*Warnings* language, angst, sexual content, self pleasure

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Thranduil made his way in solidarity through the forest realm of Imladris with his twin swords and a bag of other necessities, mostly wine, with a single destination in sight...his special secret place he called Moonlight. The place he always came to when he visited Rivendell for nothing but pure leisure and meditation of sorts. No one alive knew of it except him...and of course you, but he blocked that all out of his mind as he made his way to the banks of the crystal blue healing waters it held.

It didn't matter the season which was winter, for it was a place of magic, just like spring all year round. The water was a perfect temperature in which Thranduil loved to swim in nothing but the pale skin on his bones and this was just what he needed to perfectly heal his side wound from Harker's arrow after his white hart projection.

The King planned to stay there all day and into the night to lay naked under the stars and soak in the Moonlight, hence the name he gave to his safe haven, for strangely, like the weather, the moon was bright and full all year round in that spot. He had named it after his mother's moonstone, for when he was a young elf, the moon reminded him of her runestone and it was full of magic just the same. A place where wishes came true....and one wish he had in that moment was to steer clear of Elrond's mind torture, for that's exactly what it was to him...and to indulge in more wine to try and wash away his old friend's words.

Thranduil unraveled a blanket from the bag and spread it about the lime green grass in the same spot he always placed it at. As he went to remove his robe, it suddenly struck him that it was also the spot you and he had made love. He scoffed and swiftly wadded up the blanket, moving it to another spot.

Once he was satisfied with it's placement, he began to disrobe and then sat down on his bare bottom. pouring his wine and soaking in the high noon sun.

All was peaceful with the sound of the rushing waterfall delving into the azure colored water and birds singing the songs of their people from high above in their tree mansions. If only Thranduil's mind were at peace....and his cock too, for he then realized it was speaking to him after his memory of making love to you.

He drank down a few glasses of his favorite vintage and decided it was time for the bath he had held out on since his arrival earlier that morning in Rivendell. Up the rocks he climbed to the top of the waterfall and stood on the edge in all of his beautiful glory, gazing down at the inviting blue lagoon. He decided he better dive in now before his cock became any harder or it was not going to be a pleasant entrance upon impact.

The way the sun shone over his skin and his long platinum strands flowing in the breeze, the Elvenking appeared to be that of a swan as he extended his arms out like they were wings. He then brought them forward and bent his knees and sprung gracefully into the air with his body in a perfectly arched form, gliding with ease like a bird into healing liquid below, becoming one with it.

It was a perfect union, the warm sparkling liquid caressing every inch of Thranduil's body while his moonlike eyes were wide and wandering about the underworld's ocean like view as he drifted through a rainbow assortment of fish. It all made him miss the place he called home, Mirkwood. His gardens and endless lilac orchards, the sky blue waters of the Forest River and the ocean...his loyal companion Moose, whom he slightly chuckled about, knowing he was giving his guard a hard time. But he also felt sad, for he knew that his beloved elk was also grieving him, and he would be the one he would apologize to, not you, he told himself as he scoffed at Elrond's foresight.

As he made his way back to the surface, he heard movement, a thrashing about. Turning to see what it was, his eyes sprung wide open to see you, fighting the water and gurgling out his name. It all flooded back to him so vividly, the day you fell into the black waters of the dark forest which only happened because of the first fight he and you had that caused you to flee his halls. A fight that stemmed over Morwen invading his mind during your first kiss, causing him to push you away.

It was the day he also first admitted his love for you to Legolas just before they both raced against time to find you, and when they did, you were being pulled under the evil water by Morwen.

In that moment, Thranduil remembered plunging into the water, not caring of the poison it would inflict upon him. He had carried your limp body to shore and laid you down, placing his hands on you and drawing your poison out into him with his magic as Legolas helplessly watched.

He then heard Elrond's words echo through the water..."Do you not wonder how you have come to despise the woman you once would die for?"

"NO!" Thranduil's shout bubbled out as he then realize how deep he had swam into the caverns below. He grabbed your arm and drug you along as he kicked and slayed through the water with his other arm to the blue beaming light above.

As Thranduil broke through the surface with a heavy gasp for air, he turned to find his arms were empty. His heart palpitated as he panicked and dove back under in a desperate search for you, for you had felt so real in his grasp. Thranduil floated motionless inside the cove as his hair fanned out all around him, his enlarged eyes darting about the limpid water with no trace of you in sight. He then realized you weren't real, that his mind, once again had deceived him.

The Elvenking rushed out of the water onto the sandy shore in a fury, pissed off that he had no control over what just happened to him and even more pissed off at the healing waters betrayal. But it wasn't a betrayal. The elven waters spoke of truth and did exactly what they were intended to do, heal.... and Thranduil knew the risks before he ever even first stepped foot in them as a young elf millenniums ago.

He certainly didn't expect that though, for he had never experienced such lucid visions. The only time he recalled enduring anything similar to that was when he was inebriated and you were miles away, in Rivendell, reading his journal that consisted solely of his memories of you and his most personal feelings that he remembered every word of.

Thranduil sat on the blanket, his hair slicked back and shimmering in the sunlight as he drank more wine, remembering that time and what had led up to it. He had arrived in Rivendell for Arwen and Aragorn's nuptials and had brought his journal with him in which he had planned to give to you in hopes that it would repair the damage Malsha had done in Lake Town with her lie, but then he had learned of you being with Haldir...all because of that lie. She had planned an attack on Rivendell that day in which she lost and Thranduil had went after her on his own at full force due to his anger and broken heart. Due to him not being in his right mind, she had almost killed him but you had found him and saved him by killing her first. Thranduil had then left you in Rivendell, for he could not get past what you had done, even with knowing it never would have happened if not for Malsha's trickery. After Thranduil had departed, Elrond had given you the King's journal, in which only you could open...and you did, and as you read it, the memories had came to life in visions before Thranduil's eyes.

Just before you had showed up at Thranduil's halls for Legolas's wedding, he had wandered out into the forest behind the guest hall and visions of you in your wedding dress appeared to him in flashes, so real, he swore you were right there, but every time he had tried to touch you, you would disappear. Until the one time he touched you and could feel you, but you didn't vanish that time and then you spoke his name, startling him into stumbling backwards and landing on his backside.

Thranduil allowed the involuntary smile that formed on his lips, recalling how foolish he felt for you to see him in such a way. You had knelt beside him and stroked his cheek with the back of your hand just like he would always do to you, and then you helped him to his feet. A kiss had almost been shared in his happiness of seeing you, but the wedding bells sounded from the hall, interrupting the intense moment. The memory had been so vivid, he could almost smell your cherry scented breath as he softly inhaled the similar scent from his sweet red wine.

He then recalled walking hand in hand with you to the hall and remaining that way as you stood at each other's sides during Legolas's and Tauriel's vows. He also recalled hearing your thoughts of wishing he would kiss you and the look in your eyes of realizing he had heard you when he peered down at you with a grin.

That same grin now appeared on Thranduil's lips once more as he drank down his wine. The memory continued onto the beach for the after party, your angelic singing echoed through his mind as he saw you sitting by the fire..."wild horses, couldn't drag me away...."

Thranduil closed his eyes as he saw his hand reach out to you. You took it and he led you away from the crowd to dance with you. He could feel your face resting on his chest just under his shoulder as he watched you both slowly turn about under the magical moonlight....and then you began to sing as you held him tight.

"Friday night and the lights are low. Looking out for a place to go. Where they play the right music. Getting in the swing. You come to look for a king...."

You had stopped and peered up into his eyes as yours glimmered with tears. Thranduil stroked the back of his hand down your cheek and then he gave you your wish, kissing you so tenderly.

Thranduil's eyes flung open as he lightly gasped and touched his lips, for he had felt the kiss, so soft and sweet. His heart was defeating the Elvenking's mind in that moment as his memory carried on, leading you from the party and down the beach, walking hand in hand where he had laid his robe out on the sand and then made mad passionate love to you under the stars.

A soft moan escaped his lips as he could literally feel the warmth of your walls as he fucked you hard and deep, and that's not all he could feel. His eyes opened and darted down to his throbbing cock as it stared straight up at him. He may have been able to control his mind when he wanted to, which in that moment, he chose not to, but when it came to his devious and defiant member, it had a mind of it's own.

It was an ache like no other, not of pain, but of the deepest yearning to feel you again and not just your body, but your soul....and your mind.

He knew Elrond was right once more as more words of his recited in his mind.

"It is because I know you that I point out what your soul speaks but your mind refuses to believe."

His mind was believing it as it, his body and soul craved yours but the brainwashed Elvenking wasn't about to allow it.

The Elvenking stood up in a huff and grunted as he massaged his raging cock, then headed back into the water to put it out of it's misery and end the nonsense. Since he was unable to control his mischievous manhood , he certainly wasn't going to allow you to control of it...or so he thought.

As he waded through the balmy waters, trying to will his full attention cock to stand down and hoping the healing liquid would put it at ease, he was blindsided by another memory as he neared the rock he made love to you against. All he could do was just stare down at it, seeing your perfect bare form laying against it.

And then his attention was pulled to the area behind it, where he had caught you hiding from him and Joliel, the deceitful and now deceased red haired elf of Loren that had followed him there one night, stupidly thinking she would have the King who had no memory of you whatsoever at the time, Of course he turned her away, and in a rage too, for he was extremely angry that she had came to his special place without an invitation, not to mention he wanted nothing to do with her like he had long before he ever met you....or like he had in Rivendell for a mere five seconds just to hurt you because of the cursing black magic he was under.

Thranduil recalled ordering you to come out once she left, for he knew you were there after he spied your dress in the tall grass. You had come out, trembling and covering yourself with your arms, slowly making your way to him and when you had gotten close enough, he had decided to toy with you. He told you to lower your arms and then touch him, so you hesitantly uncrossed your arms and slowly moved your hand up to his face. Thranduil slapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you and barked, "not there, here" as he glanced down at his aroused cock.

Thranduil's cock twitched, snapping him out of the memory and making him realize the water was not helping. Instead it was only intensifying his need for release. There was only one way to end his suffering and that was to give in and pleasure himself.

He turned back to the embankment and saw you again, smiling at him as you rubbed water over your breasts in a very seductive fashion, then you curled your forefinger and cutely motioned him to come to you. Thranduil could not contain his smile or bridle his lust as he immediately moved to you, but your vision vanished and so did his smile.

Thranduil placed his forearm on the rock, then rested his forehead upon his fisted hand as he closed his eyes and deeply sighed. He couldn't take the mind fucking anymore, so he wrapped his hand around his solid girth and began pumping his hips, slow but hard, leaving his grip loose enough to slide in and out, but tight enough to imagine being inside of you. His grunts were bursting out of his open mouth with each thrust as his forehead dug into his arm. Hard whispers of your name also snuck out of his mouth as he sped up, causing the water to slosh about him. His groans and moans became stronger, louder, as his core tightened and tingled, nearing his release. He stood straight up and arched his head back as he vigorously stroked himself into climax. A word he never spoke surged out of his mouth as his essence repeatably jetted onto the rock.

"Fuuuuuucckkkkk!"

Thranduil panted heavily in immense relief and his lips curled into an extremely grateful grin as he extracted the last of his warm fluid out of his now rosy colored cock.

He was drunk on happiness as he exited the water and completely befuddled that you had the power to make him speak such language. The Elvenking voiced his opinion in his mind, calling you an evil enchantress, but Thranduil blocked him out as he remembered the one and only other time he dropped the F-bomb.

It was part of yours and his conversation when you found him in the forest a bit tipsy just before Legolas's wedding as you both headed to the hall. You had been worried that Thranduil would be upset that you came, and more so that Tauriel had asked you to stand with her. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable because you knew how important the day was for him. Thranduil assured you that he was enamored with your arrival and had said "Of course it is fine. Besides, I have already fucked this day up."

What he meant by that was that he felt certain Legolas was going to be angry with him for his heavy drinking before the ceremony, in which he was. He then recalled apologizing for speaking in such a way and remembered your response, verbatim.

“Hey.” you said sweetly and touched his arm. “You’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to feel what you feel. You’re allowed to swear if you feel like it.” you chuckled and grinned at him. “Cuz fuck it.”

Thranduil had laughed quite hard, then lowered and shook his head with a grin as he whispered "Cuz fuck it."

You giggled and then you both continued walking.

Thranduil wrapped a cloth around his waist and sat down on the blanket to indulge in some more wine. He took a sip and then chuckled as he shook his head.

"Cuz fuck it." he muttered, and knocked the drink back.

He laid down and sprawled out under the radiant sun and slowly drifted off to sleep, finally feeling content for once. Even in his dreams, he could not escape you.

Thranduil saw himself at his son's wedding and heard every word he spoke as he stood before Legolas and Tauriel with you watching him in awe.

“Love is something that should never be taken for granted, never ignored, never judged, never mistreated or taken advantage of. Most importantly, never foolishly let go of. For love is a gift to be appreciated, watered like a flower. It should be unconditional, respected and unselfish. Two souls joining as one with a heart that eternally beats only for the other. Twin flames I like to call it. A love so rare as Legolas and Tauriel share is the love that I speak of. A love that I also know. What is joined here today, let no force separate, not even death. For love is eternal.”

And then he saw visons of you in the forest, singing and wearing a wedding dress, just like had seen prior to the matrimony...only this time, he saw an older Leeanduil asleep in your arms as you caressed her hair. You wore a glowing moonstone ring much like his, only smaller...a ring that you did not have. He had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Thranduil was awakened to the illuminating moon shining down upon him and his ring glowing back at it. The sound of a crow cawing above in the trees echoed through the air. He sat up, somewhat shocked he had slept that long, but it was understandable after all he had been through.

He pulled out some Lembas from the bag and broke off a chunk, then poured some more wine to wash it down with. As he sat and gazed up at the moon and the stars, he remembered the dream and wondered how he could see his daughter at a future age when he had never even seen her at all. How he so longed to be with her and hold her in his arms. He also wondered what the dream of you meant, if anything at all. Everything he was feeling, would he feel it when he left Moonlight?

"Caw. Caw!!!!" the crow sounded again, only louder.

Thranduil looked up as he recognized the bird's tone. It was your crow, the same one who had brought him his ring. He stood up to try and locate him, and then as soon as his pale blue eyes met those of the feathered flier, he flew from his perch on the tree branch and headed towards the King...and he was holding something white in his talons.

As he flew over Thranduil, he dropped the unknown item and it fluttered down to him. He reached up and caught it, realizing then that it was a letter and it smelled of you. As he turned it over, he saw his name written on it.

"Where did you find this?" Thranduil asked as the bird circled above, cawing away. He stretched his arm out in an offer for the crow to land and speak to him, for Thranduil was able to understand his thoughts just as he could any animal.

The black bird landed on Thranduil's hand and offered his usual bow to greet the King of Mirkwood.

The crow then tilted his head to look the King in the eyes so he could read his thoughts.

"You...took this from Josephine's room in Dorwinion? Does she know? Does she know I am alive?" Thranduil asked without even realizing he spoke your name for the first time, aside from his earlier episode in the water.

"Caw." once for yes, then a pause. "Caw Caw." twice for no.

"I am quite curious corch (crow), how is it that you managed to gain access to her room?"

Thranduil gazed into the bird's eye and it was revealed that the balcony doors had been left open on a nice day while you were not there and he knew where you kept it, under your pillow.

Thranduil gasped as he remembered his letter. "I take it you were unsuccessful in delivering my letter to her since she is not aware of me?"

The crow then told him what happened and that he did not know what happened to the letter.

"Contemptible cretins. They should all be stoned."

The crow cawed away as if he were laughing then informed Thranduil that the guards were, by Narcisse's orders.

"Is that so? Lord Narcisse has actually done something commendable. Shocking. Tell me corch mellon (crow friend), is Josephine doing well?"

"Caw. Caw." twice for no, then he relayed that you were very sad and that you cried a lot.

Thranduil felt a twitch, but this time, it was not in his lower region, but in his heart.

"I offer you my gratitude for conveying the letter and information. I ask that you do not speak of me to her."

Thranduil was well aware of his compromised state of mind and felt it best if you did not know about him. For the time being, he was thinking clearly and rationally, but he didn't know how long that would last.

A single caw for yes and a bow was given to the King. Thranduil reached in his bag and handed the rest of his lembas to the anxious bird, in which he swiftly took it into his beak and flew off into the night sky.

Thranduil sat back down and fondled the letter, feeling reluctant to open it, for he did not know how it was going to affect him. After a few minutes of staring at it, he opened it, revealing a lengthy letter with what appeared to be tear stains in various places of the ink.

"My Dearest King,

I miss you in ways I didn't know existed. You are a mental and physical ache, a longing woven deep into my dna and I don't know how to live like this. I feel like the wolf who howls at the moon, for I feel he is in love with it and cries for that love he will never touch. I haven't felt safe since I was pushed from the safety of your arms. One minute, all was right in the world and in an instant, I was trying to hold my own heart as it crumbled. As I sit and stare at this empty room, it takes everything in me not to cry from the hurt that washes over me. Where there was once words and immense love, all I have now is emptiness and sorrow. I often think about where it all went wrong because I loved...love you more than I have ever loved anyone, but as the song says, sometimes love is not enough. If it were, my love would bring you back. My mind is always drifting off to countless thoughts and memories of you as tears stream from my eyes. You are the love of a lifetime that slipped right through my fingers even as I clawed and fought to keep you alive. I wish I had answers and to know what you're thinking at this very moment...if you can even think anything at all now, but I will never know. Now I must live the rest of my life never understanding why you were taken from me when we were so close to a beautiful forever. Maybe I'll find you again someday in another life, because I have always known we were together in times before...but that solace does me little good as my heart slowly breaks with the pain of a thousand lifetimes. To hear your voice once more, to see your smile again, just to feel the emotions of our love wash over me as you call me your sweet girl, these are only some of the many things I dream of. I must be strong now and try to smile for our sweet daughter that we created out of the rarest and purest love, and try to look for the light in a new day. I miss you. I miss us. But now all I have are whispers of your voice in my heart and my love for you that will never fade. That will have to be enough. True love never dies and that will be my hope for all my tomorrows without you, until I see your beautiful face once again. I will love you until my last breath and then I will find you and I will love you more.

More than nin own cuil, ( more than my own life)

Your Queen,

Josephine."

Thranduil found his eyes stinging as they welled up with tears and he recalled the words of his own letter, realizing both were written around the same time. If you had just received his letter, he knew you would have came for him long ago and he never would have ended up the way he now was. If he could remain himself when he left Moonlight, he knew he would want to return to you but...he knew he could not, for more than one reason. Most importantly, for what he has done with Raven and secondly, he knew he could turn on you again in the blink of an eye, for even there in Moonlight, the Elvenking had fought him and he knew soon enough, he would rise again.....

@redeemer46

[thevolitionchronicles]

Volume One: Chapter One

Volume One: Chapter One

“Is that rain?” Calvin asks aloud curiously, just as the tapping of droplets on glass window panes and steel panels begins to mix with the sound of utensils scraping on plates. His fingertips grip his utensil with restrained eagerness, and his feathers are slightly raised. Those eating at neighboring tables remain indifferent to his question but sitting beside him, Melody twists in her chair to glance at the closest window. Small drops dot the dusty surface, dissolving particles of dirt and the outside city’s slight tinge of ever-present grime, and leaving streaks behind.

“It is!” Melody answers more excitedly, as she rises abruptly from her spot at the table to get a closer look.

“Yes, rain, we’ve all seen it,” Marcus says, reclining in his chair and taking another bite of his food while he watches the two lean their heads forward under the awning of the small cafe’s threshold. 

Standing outside in front of the restaurant as the cool drizzle begins to prickle her skin, Melody glances down from the small platform the compact eatery suspends itself on. The soles of her shoes rest steadily on a free-floating segment, one of numerous organized and chaotic buildings all a part of the Twenty-third level of Ison city. 

Below, are Twenty-two more layers of urban sprawl, full-size buildings, some residences and living complexes, some businesses. Many are stacked in the way of never-ending towers, while some are connected to each other by small bridges of wiring and scaffolding, and some are free-floating, independent constructions, held in place by anti-gravity technology alone. The Ison city’s buzz of citizen activity fills its spaces between endless walls and slabs of concrete from its ground level to its smattering of civilization scraping the upper atmosphere. 

Residents travel unconfined by gravity in the same manner as their surroundings, moving in all directions on hovering motorbikes, propelled boots, enclosed vehicles, and— depending on the individual’s species, wings. 

The spectacle of neon lights and wildly uneven units stacked and placed in any position the City could allow them to fit is not a new sight for Melody and Calvin, nor Marcus or their small, artificial companion Tobii. But at this moment, as she witnesses precipitation mist every flashing light and rushing vehicle, Melody takes a moment to admire her view. 

“We don’t have much longer, we have to go in a few minutes,” Calvin reminds her softly. 

“I know,” She replies, her shoulders slumping slightly as she takes one last look at the rain-soaked city, the sensory delight in front of her. 

“Time Go!” A strangely synthesized voice intrudes.

“Yes!” Calvin responds with a chuckle as he and Melody glance over their shoulders at Tobii, the small metallic orb of advanced technology and simulated consciousness. “It’s time to go, Tobii.”

“What would we do without him,” Melody muses as she and her friends reconvene together inside the cafe, and begin collecting their things to leave.

“Have less to laugh about,” Calvin answers with a lighthearted smile, as he pulls the hood of a thin white hoodie over his head to prepare for the damp air outside.

“Alright, Game faces on,” Marcus reminds them both, making eye contact with each of them in turn as he says it. “, and seriously, Cal, try to get some practice in today without Tobii.” Calvin rolls his eyes at this insistence but simultaneously smiles subtly and knowingly towards Marcus. Marcus, whose turquoise irises, vibrant tangerine skin, copper feathers, and broad figure built of pure muscle, manages to contrast greatly with his smaller-framed, softer-built little brother, even though both possess the same bright platinum blond satin locks. Beside them, Melody’s navy complexion is all the more stark and vibrant, along with her pale blue eyes and obsidian mane of ringlets that frame her heart-shaped face and cloak her toned shoulders, making her affiliation as a friend to both rather than a relative, clear at a glance. 

Shoes lined along the edges of the levitating false ground below them, the group prepares for their synchronized departure. The smell of fruit and flowers, with an undertone of something akin to a cleaning agent, becomes stronger as it makes contact with the shower of humidity. Ison smells just as enticing and manufactured as a cheap perfume sample in an old magazine, something that is a rare find among today’s products. As the group spread their wings and leap into the fog of moisture forming in the air a somber energy follows them.

 Marcus’s jaw is unconsciously clenching, and Melody feels each breath inside her linger with a certain tightness in her stomach before it releases. 

From a distance, emerging from the fog, the academy lies in waiting. The closer the academy appears, the softer the sounds of life and activity become until they are muffled and distant, and the accompanying smell is almost undetectable.

The building’s size grows from that of an ant to a mountain; a still, quiet beast of modular buildings, interconnected and adhered into a cohesive contemporary castle with none of the elegance, only the enormity and the gray color reminiscent of exhaust and industrialism. Here, no neon signs flicker and entice, no gleeful holograms dance, and no music emanates.

Quickening her pace to touch down first, Melody pauses, and carefully pushes her black curls out of her eyes, turning to face the Hunter Brothers as they trail behind. Each is folding their wings quickly to drop down onto the open rail-less balcony, a landing platform for the arrival of attendants. There is a quiet beep released from the door that permits them entrance. 

Calvin’s deep red eyes make contact with Melody’s once briefly before both of their faces shift to expressions of pure focus. The inside walls of the main lobby of the Ison Academy are both busy and yet organized. Both Ashins and Humans cooperate with a steady focused, professional pace, discussing holographic displays and projections on transparent glass, walking or flying with purpose in neat groups. Tobii has grown utterly silent, as the friends travel with a calculated, steady pace. Marcus breaks from the path of the rest to his own path towards a department of a separate role with its own expectations.

Entering the hallway leading to their wing, numerous others of a similar age merge into a larger group, traveling in the same direction.

 Melody notices a familiar figure, and though their face is turned away, the back of their head is still recognizable. Though his shoulders are broad, his height is fairly average both for an Ashin and Human, and his closely shaved high and tight haircut alludes to the rigid and disciplined mentality that Nathaniel is known for. 

The sight of him causes Calvin and Melody to instinctively straighten their posture in preparation, as the crowd funnels into a large atrium at the end of the young adult trainee wing.

A rectangular formation assembles hundreds of faces with steadfast attention, while Nathaniel remains a lone human man, an island. 

His face is lightly etched with the telltale signs of middle age, his eyes are indecipherable from deep brown and pure black, and his chin and upper lip are covered by a short whiskery beard. Both the hair on his head and face is a dark muddy brown mixed with gray.

Clearing his throat for a moment, Nathaniel raises and waves his hand towards his side, a gesture that activates a holographic projection featuring footage taken from a faraway location. The sensation of a hard swallow creeps into Melody’s throat in preparation.

“Teams Harmony, Vitality, and Brilliance performed a successful cooperative mission,” He states gruffly. “We’ve gained new territory in the east, approaching the Leta compound, our next destination for gathering crucial intelligence and advancement. However, our resources and forces are limited.” There’s a pregnant pause of silence, a hint of sourness lingering behind many clenched teeth, but none open to make a sound.

 In the superstitious quiet, a negligibly soft clicking sound escapes Tobii, now so noticeable as if to echo down a long empty hall. Predictably, Nathaniel continues with “, It would be in our best interest to increase our ranks. Today, I’m proud to announce our newest team assignments, soon to honor Zeya in combat. Team Endurance, Team Tenacity, Team Acuity, please step forward to receive your badges.”

The procession towards Nathaniel is both solemn and celebratory, hands clap in a well-mannered display of respect, and a few voices express their admiration and encouragement, albeit hushed and brief. 

Melody mentally notes the names and ages of the new infantry, knowing that they were all before this moment, her peers in training, students of the same educational placement of her own. 

 Cassandra Weld, age 20, a human girl with an interest in music, especially the kind that combined earth and Ashin culture to create a unique blended sound, now one of Team Tenacity. Derek Benton, age 19, an ashin boy who had been quiet, and reserved, but fond of hoverbike design when he did feel like talking, now one of Team Acuity. Cory Fielder, age 21, a human boy with a bad habit for vaporized stimulants and poor nights of sleep but an otherwise earnest and sheepish nature, now one of Team Endurance. Those are only some of the identities she can consciously pick from the group in the short moments that they pass near enough to her. 

Melody’s eyes dart to the advancing members, and the ache in her stomach, which had trapped her breath inside her lungs before, grows stronger as her gaze lingers on their faces, their expressions puzzling her. Hands clasping each other, gripping the downy around her outer wrists, ripping out the fine delicate feathers in an unconscious meticulous motion, she searches their eyes for the answers to questions she isn’t yet prepared to form even in her thoughts. She remembers Cassandra’s 20th birthday, celebrated just three weeks prior with a somewhat quiet get-together during a scheduled meal, over savory crepes and sweetened coffees.

As the sounds of their steady march towards Nathaniel continue, Calvin wonders if he’ll soon see their faces again, in the next publicized recording of the front lines, and if he will hear their names again when discussing battlefield statistics. Nathaniel pins a Team badge on each of the approaching young adults, who step aside and organize in neat lines facing directly towards the greater mass of their peers, their faces unreadable, solemn, and statuesque. 

“To commemorate their new careers, join us in our most important statement,” Nathaniel resolves, both ceremonious and emotionless. A Rigid, even chant in unison declares “We thrive together. Koza endon baida.” Each trainee and soldier gestures with their left hand placed along the centerline of their face, palm perpendicular to plains of the cheeks, and slowly moving downwards, a fluid movement as if to cut the face in half at its vertical centerline, the thumb as if it is the acutely sharpened edge of a knife, bisecting the person’s identity in half. The moment this demonstration is complete, and without further discussion, the newly formed teams exit the atrium. The rest of the trainees enter the first portion of their daily education and combat skill refinement.

The cadets begin a carefully planned routine by entering private changing stalls to put on their uniforms. As Calvin slips into his stall hurriedly, Tobii hovers outside, still all but entirely muted and stationary, as apparently emotionless as a weightless paperweight. Calvin quickly yanks his street clothes off, mussing his blond hair, and yanks on his uniform. Ison Academy training uniforms consist of grey and white vests and pants with neat, segmented rectangular portions reminiscent of the hard metal panels of an armored vehicle, combined with a light-weight, breathable athletic material that fits the body tightly, along with matching white and grey boots and fingerless gloves. When he exits the stall, Melody is waiting outside, her expression relaxed and her uniform suiting her despite its dull colors, though he wonders if her warmth and vibrant character don't show in everything she adorns regardless.

Comparatively, Calvin's uniform lays on his body awkwardly, wrapping his timid frame up like the embrace of an uncomfortable acquaintance.  Immediately following is a series of physical tasks to maintain the necessary degree of fitness for every individual.

 Beyond the lockers and changing stalls, lies a large open gym, featuring a large variety of equipment. From wall to wall, the space is packed with barbells, weight-lifting machines for various targeted muscles, bench presses, treadmills, rowing machines, ellipticals, and more, for the sole purpose of ensuring every cadet can maintaining peak physical fitness, agility, and strength. The room is otherwise quite mediocre in any aesthetic sense, with cold grey walls, one large window displaying the sky outside, held in a bulky industrial black frame, and black linoleum floors with scattered bits of dust. 

While others move to their equipment of choice without any pause, Melody preludes their daily rituals with several deep stretches, taking long breaths and concentrating to the best of her ability on making every sound in the room dissipate into an abyss of silence within her mind. At first, this task is utterly impossible, and her ears prick at every bit of light chatter from the rest, gathering nuggets of small talk, casual laughter, as well as the clunks and rattles of objects being moved and placed throughout the room. Despite the humorless energy that took precedence in the atrium moments before, the energy of the warm-up gym room is one of unsupervised socializing and as such, distracting for Melody’s mind to drown out. Even Tobii has resumed to make beeps and mechanical clicks as he did prior to entering the Academy, but as she sinks deeper into the recesses of her thoughts, the volume and proximity of all these reverberations dampen, little by little. 

Thereafter she is enveloped in leagues of darkness, inky suffocation that absorbs all signs of life from the clutter surrounding. Nevertheless, her mind is not quiet even at the present. Faces, eyes, and voices persist. The names of the progressing members repeat themselves intrusively. Is it exciting? Phantoms of the freshly commenced soldiers, soon to know what awaits her, what awaits Calvin. To be chosen and assigned, is it what they all are hoping for?  Walking reflections of an inevitable future, Time Travelers from her not-so-distant horizon, bearing equal portions of individuality and vivaciousness to herself. Novels she has only skimmed throughout her life, are now taken before her fingers can brush the final sentences of their resolutions. 

Her body moves mechanically from one position to the next, operating of its own accord as her ruminations increase their intensity. What will happen next? Unconsciously drawing deeper breaths to steady herself, Melody’s eyes flutter open as she rises to her feet and advances to one of the unused machines, neighboring Calvin’s treadmill. At a brisk jog, his inhalations are rapid, his face flushed and sweating already, yet he amuses her between huffs.

“Do you-“ huff. “ Think he knows” -huff. “That he can’t build muscle?” He jerks his head briefly to Tobii who is idly hovering in circles. The little robot’s lights are blinking with thought and on occasion Tobii stops and rotates his camera towards the others in the room, observing their activities before returning to his. A snort escapes Melody who immediately stops herself mid-rep, lowering her weights so she can recover her face from the impulsive fit of comedy. Calvin’s gasping mouth still manages to pull itself into a slight smile but he adds more thoughtfully with a hint of sensitivity.

“I think we’ll have to hold off on explaining that at his current development stage.” Her amusement dissipates and is followed by notions of sympathy for the troubled little machine that Calvin so diligently concerns himself, whirring away while often struggling with what she considered common sense. If not for the knowledge that Tobii is constituted only by metal and circuit boards, she would call him young, perhaps a child. Melody herself forgets that the ever-entertaining companion that Tobii happens to be, is after all a sequence of logical functions and software operations. After several minutes Calvin dismounts the treadmill, dabbing sweat from his forehead, and offers Melody his hand to help her up from her seated position at the machine, which she gladly accepts. 

“You hanging in there?” She comments with a soft chuckle, already observing his windedness and exhaustion. His ruby eyes meet hers as he pushes his blond locks back and smiles at her reassuringly. He is always so sincere, Melody admires, always so genuine if not sometimes a bit odd. His chest rises and falls heavily with the intensity of his strained breathing, and his gaze is lively and alert. 

“Tolerating it,” He lets out a heave of relief. She smirks knowingly in reply. “Never been a fan of… sweating,” the last word falls out clumsily, clearly improvised. Without further discussion the duo swap places, assuming each other’s activities confidently.

 Then methodically, Calvin and Melody traverse the room while Tobii trails behind them. Both mingle and exchange different exercises with the other Trainees, who chatter socially amongst each other. Though the activities are highly strenuous, Melody feels invigorated and revived from the elevation of her heartbeat and the adrenaline rapidly flooding her brain. Now with both palms against a foam mat on the floor, lifting and declining herself in repetitive pushups, she becomes suspicious of the blurry shapes she can only just identify in the corner of her gaze.

 It appears for a moment that perhaps someone is observing her, maybe curiously and momentarily, or possibly even intending to examine her appearance. Without being able to make out much else between motions, she can detect that this stranger is not Calvin, or someone else familiar for that matter. Being aware of unexpected attention doesn’t make Melody uneasy though she does feel a slight rush of self-consciousness, but along with it a sweet tinge of pride, as the thought of being ogled does make her feel on occasion, somewhat flattered. Rising to her feet, she steals a peek at the looming stranger, only to catch a brief glimpse of their face, as they hurried to turn their face away timidly. Still, she only smiles softly in their direction, and a brief wave of amusement passes through her as she pauses to run a hand through her now slightly messy and sweaty bangs to make them neat again. Then something occurs to Melody and she quickly pivots in search of Calvin.

“We’ve gotta move, Cal,” She urges him pointedly, already giving herself a quick onceover in preparation just as Tobii flits infront of Calvin and then begins to spin in place, flashing his lights in order to alert him. Calvin pauses his crunches on an adjacent foam mat in order to clutch Tobii and terminate his rapid rotations, chuckling as the orb-shaped android responds with a short artificial squeal as an expression of his simulated surprise.

“I know,” Is his only return, through a lighthearted grin first towards her, then in turn directed to Tobii. “I know.” Again. The majority of others in the room have also come to the collective understanding that this segment of the day is over and it is time to proceed with the next element, and so throughout the room, they cease their activities and begin funneling out. A voice calls over the rest “, Come on Anthony!” and the sound of the dregs now hurrying to join the rest can be easily recognized by the scuffing of their boots.

 While the academy’s trainee gym provides fairly basic, typical equipment that the Zeyorians and humans have shared for many years with few advancements and changes over sleeker designs, high-quality materials, and the introduction of more informative interfaces and digitalized calculations, the location that follows is lined wall to wall with a multitude of the most excellent and brilliantly innovative weaponry the Zeyorian-Human alliance can effectively design combining both their unique advancements and resources. Pistols, rifles, semi-automatic and fully automatic firearms, some that fire the classic material shells, some that fire pure blazing plasma. 

The long hallway displays a wide variety of tools of modern destruction, with brutally efficient engineering, that eerily glow and gleam in the otherwise dim lighting. The floor, walls, and ceiling are all coarse metal panels that make dull clunking sounds with every step of the cadets’ boots, and due to the slightly more narrow pathway, they condense closer together and proceed with more order. Above head dim cold lamps are spaced distantly from one another, capturing mostly the swirling dust in the atmosphere. Surveying every visible inch of the armory in all of its luminescent segments, textured detailings, and intricate gadgetry, Calvin’s previously drained face now alights with fascination. 

The impulse to lift the ample supply of devices from their rests and study them closely, deconstruct and reconstruct thoroughly to discover all of their implements and functional mechanics, is not only a loud thought present in Calvin’s mind but a siren’s song. Each weapon perhaps, may only yield minor education to his already surplus grasp of technology, but the abundance of different options might offer a fair amount of learning material, especially given the opportunity to compare them to each other. 

Alternatively, Melody recognizes the instruments of other soldier’s fearsome battles, and feels at once, the surging potency of their intended assaults, and the wariness of the resulting mortality each will inevitably produce. Decidedly, she hastens to locate her implement of choice, a single, silver, minimalistic, plasma-firing pistol. Though an armament of devastation, such as all the rest, its familiarity is in some way, comforting. Melody lets out a strange sigh of relief as her fingertips feel along its cold rectangular edges, while Calvin passes all available options, only assessing them visually. Filing out with steeled anticipation, the geared students preface themselves in silence, some even withholding the last breath drawn into their lungs. 

Their path leads to a row of individual simulated accuracy training stations, reminiscent of Earth's more traditional shooting ranges, enhanced with streamlined digital consoles and more contemporary means. Melody’s hand darts to a front pocket on the breast of her uniform, containing compact wireless earbuds that she holds in her palm before her as she stops in front of an unoccupied unit. 

Beside her, Calvin is one step ahead, his earbuds already equipped, now flexing his empty hands for a moment, loosening his individual joints. Tobii hovers mere inches from his fingers, especially still with engrossment before quietly releasing a small squeak imitating eagerness. His fingers dance for a moment longer, ensuring any momentary stiffness is entirely released and his dexterity is at its peak.

“You ready buddy?” He provokes Tobii, whose many lights begin to flash and flicker more rapidly. “, Acifelan!” This singular word command elicits an immediate transformation in Tobii, who abruptly expands into numerous levitating fragments. 

This momentary explosion exposes even more components often hidden inside his standard spherical form. More lights, finely detailed metal parts, intricate connections, and hardware elements unveil, like the bursting of a spectacular geode. With unnatural precision, every piece rearranges itself and then neatly links to another, a recomposition achieved solely through clever engineering and design. The result is metal gauntlets fitted around Calvin’s hands elegantly, the appearance of which is large and sturdy, powerful and bulky. 

His metal fingers articulating individually, Calvin’s posture straightens with renewed confidence. Along the knuckles of his gloves of steel, Tobii’s emotive row of lights are still visible, and flashing with activity, meanwhile, Melody deactivates the safety on her sidearm, cocks it and takes aim. Her form is neat, measured with equal distribution of effort toward both 

Her heart quickens in her chest, and her fingers tighten their grasp on the grip and locate the trigger. The steadiness of her grasp and cool concentration of her gaze allude to skillfulness and experience, but the coiling knots of tension in her abdomen imply another tale. Despite having two feet flush with the floor, a strange sensation takes hold of Melody. The room turns and tilts as if suspended boiyantly on the surface of a turbulent ocean. Teeth gritting together, she clenches clarity, swallows down reluctance and grants the trigger a firm press. The shock reverberation of the resulting plasma blast jolts up Melody’s taught arms and shoulders, but auditory feedback is barely perceptible as her ear inserts dampen it’s volume, only permitting a soft hollow thump not unlike a light tap to a huge and resonant canvas drum or the pounding of her own pulse. A bolt of cyan light launches and slices through the holographic target directly ahead of Melody’s line of sight, and the visage erupts in glistening illusionary particles and artificial sparks. Above the floating target, a short summary of information is generated, including numbers, and statistics, precisely expressing her recorded accuracy and effectiveness. The stiffness of her mandible relaxes fractionally at the reflected estimations. 94.6% Accurate. 82.7% Effective Form. 76.5% Fatal Injury. 

 To the unfamiliar observer, these numbers express very little, but to Melody, they reaffirm what she has witnessed over years of hard work, a gradual but consistent improvement in her marksmanship. She just as easily recalls when these same training simulations reflected numbers under fifty percent, and the sense of humility and disappointment that rendered her. Nevertheless, the resounding emotion that rises to the surface of her turbulent mind is not so much pride, but relief. Perhaps the difference between fifty percent and ninety-four percent will be significant to her someday, when the numbers will truly apply to situations that matter. 

Adjacently, Calvin raises one of his gauntlets and aligns his clenched knuckles with his own target, before closing the fist of his right hand with his thumb, initiating a blazing explosive orange blast from his right middle finger that subsequently obliterates it’s destination. Rather than grinning with confidence, his expression remains focused, cautious and studious as he observes the statistics presented. 75% Accurate. 68% Effective Form. 52% Fatal Injury. If these estimations are to upset him, Calvin’s face gives nothing away to indicate that. Not unlike a player invested in a challenging but uninteresting level of a game they’ve completed more than once, his eyes appear almost glazed over. The Neutrality of his blank stare reminds Melody of his priorities, and ambivalence to this particular element of training. 

“Not bad Cal,” She comments quietly. Despite his disinterest, he takes in a quick breath and then affords her a reassuring smile back.

“Getting better every day,” He agrees. Though the room is alight various weapons firing off, an energy throughout the space is meditative, with the majority of cadets so engrossed in the quality of their every shot that very little words are exchanged. With each attack delivered, the trainees carefully and intentionally make adjustments, continually placing effort on improvement. The caution and deliberation given to the activity is not unlike that of a serious test, with an impactful grade. Just as Melody tucks a loose lock of dark silken hair behind her ear, and Calvin prepares to fire one more blast, a beeping sound emanates off the walls of the shooting range simulation, acknowledging the end of this portion. 

The friends exchange a look of nervous excitement for the approaching undertaking and Tobii shatters again into finely segmented pieces that withdraw form Calvin’s hands and re-mold themselves to his original form. All of their peers partake in the unequipping of their armaments and procession towards the exit of their environment and entrance to the next. The volume of chatter rises again to that of a fervent buzz, as individuals discuss how they intend to navigate the following event. Concurrently Tobii silently drifts away from Calvin and dims all of his flickering lights at once until he appears completely deactivated and there he remains, still and inactive. Calvin watches Tobii’s hibernation for only a mere second or so before returning his focus. After meeting with their organizer and trainer, Nathaniel, and preparing their bodies and minds, the students are now armed to combine each of these finely tuned abilities into one adrenaline-filled experience. Awaiting on the other side of the automatic gateway boasts the greatest and most expansive realm within the academy walls. 

An octagonal tunnel spaciously measuring a grand four hundred feet in diameter and easily one thousand feet in height is crowned with an intricate ceiling framed by dense scaffolding with a large skylight in its center, constructed of reinforced glass. As their footsteps echo through the arena’s seemingly endless volume, at once one million lights activate responsively as if to invite them into its enormous now-illuminated cavern. With each individual that passes the threshold of its entrance, the arena displays holographic information to reflect the individual’s statistics and data. 

Calvin’s garnet irises dart about the space, and his hand anxiously reaches towards Melody’s for momentary comfort as he enters along with the crowd surrounding them. But with hesitance, his fingers only just graze the remaining feathers on her neighboring wrist, as he considers the possibility of further disorientating her. Yet, noticing the warmth of his brush, she glances to him once more and nods to him reassuringly. As the arena displays their information, a green light approximately palm-sized brightens on the center chest of their uniforms, an indicator of their status concerning the circumstance. 

The perpendicular walls connected to their open platform house glass screens that are lit with brief instructions and various selectable rectangles. Convening with one of these small, docked computers, Melody taps an item which then opens up a new menu of options and images on the panel, which she quickly scrolls through by stroking her finger along the screen before spotting an image of her exact plasma shooting handgun previously utilized in the shooting range. She selects it abruptly, and the machine makes a quiet whirring sound, before opening a compartment that offers the weapon before her. Yet this gun now being grasped hurriedly by her eager fingers, is not the same as the one she held moments before. Though the grip feels entirely as solid and heavy as the one before, visually the pistol appears different as its surface is accompanied by fine lines and seams that subtly flicker and glow. Beyond that, its nature is entirely different than the original it replicates. Likewise Calvin presently brandishes his own replications of his Tobii-formed Gauntlets, equally littered with elusive, strange contours of light.

Together, they turn to face the long expansion of open flight space, consisting of hundreds of feet above and below their present altitude. The other challengers have already begun soaring through the training arena, brandishing their own mock arsenal. As they  implement their attacks, their artificial armaments emit glowing blasts of mimicked plasma that, when reaching their targets, cause a flash of scattered particles and lights and a brief holographic display, accounting for the virtual defeats and victories.

“On three?” Calvin asks. Melody’s gaze meets his and her eyes are vibrant with ferocity. She can feel her body responding to the anticipation of conflict, her heart beating faster than it has all day, feathers ears drawn back and raised, listening to her surroundings carefully.

“One!” She agrees. She makes one step towards the open ledge of the platform and gazes at the mayhem above and below them. The soft sound of her feathers brushing against one another as she stretches her great white wings, only heightens the rising sensation of suspense that pulls her muscles as taught as rubber bands, one pull from snapping. With one foot forward, one foot back, she bends at the knees, lowering herself somewhat. 

“Two,”  Calvin’s Tobii-replica Gauntlets flicker and flash, indicating Tobii’s ability to remotely pilot this less fearsome copy of his own matter and still express all of his delightfully installed personality qualities through their synchronized visuals. His armored digits curl into fists of fervor and audacity and Calvin’s chest and shoulder heave with a strong inhale of his lungs.

“Three!” Her voice belts out shrilly as Melody races over the edge, hurling herself abruptly into the fray. For a moment she falls freely, the air rushing through her feathers and hair as the utter chaos of imitation explosions, plasma blasts and a barrage of bullets engulf her senses, her wings pulled tightly to her body to intentionally reduce air resistance and permit gravity to victoriously consume her at last; before twirling and thrashing harshly against its clutches, turning her back towards the bottom depths of the octagonal ravine and whipping her wings out at her sides, this movement alone lifting her immediately upwards. Onward she rises easily with only several hard flaps, as her eyes scan the almost indiscernible cacophony of brawling. 

Before Melody can gather her bearings or even formulate a plan, a blast races towards her and she instinctually slashes her wings down, launching herself fifteen feet higher. She gasps as she inhales, her lungs already beginning to burn and her eyes dilating from the immediate rush of panic. She searches frantically for her opponent, her eyes hunting for her attacker in the direction of the shot, before catching a glimpse of someone mounted on a hoverboard. He’s a human, slightly younger than her, with medium-length chestnut hair tucked behind his ears, a steely gaze emanating from his intimidating dark eyes and an assault rifle in his grasp.

The moment their eyes meet, he quickens his assault. Melody darts and weaves wildly while keeping her own device steady and then aggressively pulls the trigger the moment she recovers. The reactive force of the gun’s firing ripples through her tense muscles and delivers a shudder across her skin. Just as the assault nears it’s intended destination, her enemy zooms away and she bites her inner cheek in frustration. Decidedly, she persists firing  repeatedly, following his flailing evasions as he occasionally disapears behind other battling cadets. Subsequently, after several missed attacks, her adversary vanishes completely into the swarm. 

Swiftly dismissing her disappointment, Melody embarks on circling the diameter of the arena, traveling to higher and lower elevations to discover an easy foe. The space has already evolved into a wild disarray of beams soaring ceaselessly and academy members immersed in eliminating their peers. As she spots an abundance of distracted opportunities, Melody chances several more shots and to her delight, she receives bright flashes of light corresponding with effective defeats. The reverberating feedback from every shot only heightens her degree of invigoration and tenacity. 

Away and above from the heart of the octagonal chamber, two pupils dart about in the dim light of the skylight, the distant sound of their discharging armaments echoing off the neighboring walls. Curiously, Melody ascends nearer and lines her sights, centering her intentions on the one with greater proximity from herself, and makes a quick attempt at a clean blast to the cranium. But her target has already begun to pivot at urgent speed in order to dodge their present challenger. Knowing that she is still yet to be discovered by her prey, Melody springs to pursue her target and discharges three shots in rapid succession. Success! Her third shot lands and the cadet’s uniform flashes white as their plasma cannon bursts in the same pure blinding brilliance and abruptly disappears. Now disarmed and eliminated from the free-for-all tournament, the trainee ceases and retires to the entrance platform, but incidentally, their contender now recognizes Melody. Only a second can be used to react before the rapid shots resume and Melody catapults herself away in every direction from the onslaught. Yet her previous successes embolden her and she charges them head-on with resolve. Her attempts are now arrogantly made with little thought or caution and to her dismay, she not only misses her target, she alerts a third party. The tertiary, an ashin with a particular zeal in her expression and a highly modernized and specialized gun akin to a short-barrelled shotgun, hurtles towards Melody fearlessly. 

Suddenly, her throat is dry, her skin tingles and her feathers raise. Baring her teeth, Melody mirrors her audacity and whirls around, orbiting her in a flourishing movement and evading her weapon's large field of attack. Subsequently, she swoops back toward the attacker and savagely seizes her upper body from behind; with one hand firmly gripping her across the ribcage and along her opposite shoulder, and the other hand holding her silver gun against her temple. The other woman shouts out in surprise as Melody eliminates her just as her previous adversary blasts and fails retaliation. Mind racing, body aflame with vigor, she whips around to face them just as she releases her last score. The duo engage in a dance for advantage, darting intrepidly until someone initiates an offensive move. The opposer aims first and Melody abuses their hesitation to fire carelessly, indifferent to her success rate. Predictably, her third thoughtless strike hits. A laugh of pride and victory escapes her. Overhead a holographic leaderboard projected informs all participants of their ranking and points for the current battle and she permits herself a soft chuckle as she admires the numbers beside her name. Though she has never reached the highest honor, she prides herself in the moment of the glory of managing to achieve an above-average grade. Today must be lucky, she surmises. 

Then her heart skips a beat as it occurs to her that she has entirely lost sight of Calvin. Her vision parses through the masses of the many still-remaining contestants when she locates his lanky frame and dark cherry plumage far below. She snaps her wings inwards and plummets sharply, orienting herself into a nose-dive. 

As she approaches, she identifies the situation at hand. Another competitor pursues Calvin with fury as he flees out of reach and then he hurls a hard punch with his gauntlet resulting in his whole body following the weight of the brutal swing. Melody realizes her intentions to assist him just as an unexpected entity barrels into her. The power and velocity of his propulsion slam Melody backward, flattening her against the nearest wall and compressing her torso.

 Her throat croaks as the air forced out of her squashed lungs chafes her windpipe, and her wide eyes meet her antagonist. Dark eyes provoke and threaten her simultaneously, but her attention is held by the barrel of his rifle pointed squarely at her chest. Pure instinct fuels her to throw her wings forward in a flurry of feathers as she lobs a solid punch to his jaw, and her other hand firmly yanks the firearm away. The impact of her assault conjures an alarmed shout, and his arms flail forward and snatch her throat.

A ringing sound fills her head and the pounding in her chest seems to rattle her bones. Through her blurry vision, she kicks as hard as her legs will manage. The hand around her neck is as unmoveable as solid stone, but as her second kick flies forward, her heel digs itself into something with give, and suddenly his fingers release. Air fills her lungs, and the sound of a genuine groan of pain reaches her now-functioning ears. His shape comes into focus, doubled over and clutching his stomach where he floats on his hoverboard several feet away. Before he can retake aim, Melody surges forward, snatches his arm, and hurls him with all her might. He crashes into an unsuspecting peer who naturally counters. Observing the resulting skirmish, she assumes this chance to flee and resume her search for Calvin.

Swooping towards him, she discovers he’s gained the upper hand and he fires a burst of vibrant energy at his rival and obtains his victory. His garnet gaze flicks to her reacting expression.

“Yes!” She crows in joyous support, as they playfully flutter around each other in celebratory exuberance. “Boom! Go Cal!”

“That’s right!” He returns while smacking her raised palm. Their fingers intertwine and he raises their interlinked hands above her head as Melody twirls freely through the air, and then flairs out her wings gracefully. They release each other and then lightly tap knuckles.

“Dude! Have you seen my score yet?” She gesticulates as she gleefully shouts.

He glances skyward for a moment, realizing only now that he hasn’t taken the chance to check.“No! What, is it good?” 

“It’s pretty good, better than usual I think!” She gushes, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. “ But look at you! You’re killing, just you and Tobii!”

“Well,” he sighs, “I mean, I’ve scored a couple, but I’ve mostly been avoiding getting taken out”. Her eyebrows shoot up and Calvin immediately infers what she’s thinking. “You think we should…?”

“Oh for sure! One hundred percent!” She chuckles. They convene, remain close to one another, and gain elevation, beating their wings in unison with haste. 

Spiraling around each other, each half of the duo directs their focus outward toward the turbulent riotous combatants surrounding them on every side. Without any reluctance, they both discharge rapid blasts to the masses, moving quickly to avoid any refutations as they proceed as one, unimpedable. Melody departs and latches onto a proximal trainee, forcefully drawing them into the center point of the stadium to be sneakily eliminated by Calvin and Tobii from a deceptive distance. 

Next, they seamlessly exchange roles and Calvin lures the next opponent, and the pattern of disorienting enemies repeats itself. As soon as a new offender attempts to disarm Calvin, Melody reconvenes with him where he can be found in the center and grabs his hand. Synchronized and with intuition, the team whirls together with maddening velocity, a dizzying blur before they detach and are flung to opposite sides of the octagonal perimeter. The result is confused shots from their challenger in all directions, having lost sight of them individually. 

Even still, having distracted and abandoned their last aggressor, a beam bursts past Melody’s feathered ear, and she lunges away from its trajectory, withdrawing every part of her body to avoid contact. The pounding in her eardrums returns with a vengeance and the ambiance of all else quiets. Her wings gravitate her body into the petulant crowds as cover and Calvin follows. Her vision hunts for the assailant. Her feathers quiver. She sucks in a breath, as she pivots urgently. Where are you? A coarse swallow scrapes down her throat and nests itself into her chest. Between clueless passing parties, the combination of brown hair, pale human skin, and dark eyes, snags her attention.

“We have a tail,” Her murmur informs Calvin.

“Really?” He responds with a conversational and curious tone. Somehow the easiness in his voice steadies her anxiety for the moment. The thundering in her skull dissipates into quiet concentration, her clarity returning.

“Yeah, I’m not certain why, but, " her head tilts to one side, “He’s really stubborn, and he keeps bolting every time I think I’ve got him.” She gazes off in a certain direction, and Calvin’s eyes follow.

His gauntlets interrupt their conversation by emanating an excited high-pitched beeping sound. Raising his fists to examine the flickering lights representing Tobii’s emotional state, Calvin discovers flashing. “You wanna handle this one?” He asks curiously. All of Tobii’s lights illuminate in unison as affirmative, and Calvin clicks his tongue and shortly addresses Melody with a questioning glance. She nods assuredly back. “Alright, come back in one piece!”

A  metallic artificial sound akin to a giggle escapes Tobii, just as he dissembles and transforms once more, as brilliantly and fantastically as before. Now returned to his default shape and form, an orb of intricate metal and flickering facets, Tobii expediently shoots away, across the enormous chamber. Expertly dodging and looping around every encumbrance, the little robot races towards Melody’s repeat assailant, while Calvin observes appreciatively. 

“Look at him go!” he exclaims, pointing at his automated brainchild zipping effortlessly to its destination. His expression is an illustration of studious pride. Once Tobii nears his quarry, he promptly reconfigures his construction for the third time, now rupturing into several different elements simultaneously. The pursuer rotates on his vehicle to confront six individual explosive armaments, all neatly aimed at his vitals. He only has a brief second to flinch in horror before Tobii emits a joyous squeal of righteous glory and detonates all his devices at once. The surreal slaying is punctuated by a soft gasp of wonder that escapes Melody. 

“Boom!,” Calvin pantomimes the explosion by splaying his fingers, the vibrant combustion of light reflected in his dilated pupils.

“Oh, wow,” She admires. They exchange grins, mutually enthralled. “Lot of firepower for a guy that can’t form proper sentences!”

“Who needs ‘em?!” Calvin cackles back, his voice comical. A brief alarm travels through the arena and brings all active participants to a halt, alerting the end of the session. Melody’s gun, Calvin’s remote simulation of Tobii, and all other replica weapons cease existing at the same time, finalizing the experience. In a single moment, the disordered becomes ordered, as every cadet converges at the entrance platform and exits the arena. As the collective traverses back through the shooting range, Melody slows her steps ever so slightly, until her stride is adjacent to Calvin’s. His wispy platinum hair is draped across his eyes and the bridge of his nose, and his vision is directed at the pathway beneath them. His ear nearest to her twitches, acknowledging the sound of her footsteps, and his pale eyelashes flutter slightly. 

She considers striking up a hushed conversation, perhaps about what he and Marcus are going to have for dinner, or how he slept the night before, but she can’t bring herself to break the comfortable silence. Instead, she resigns herself to watching him as his thoughts appear to have journeyed elsewhere. Nearing the end of the shooting gallery and the threshold of the armory, a chirping sound beckons their attention. Their heads lift as one to see his unique spheric apparatus approaching, and Tobii whimsically circles Calvin in greeting.

“Tobes!” Calvin breathes out. Tobii pauses within arm’s reach, rotating himself at a 45 degree angle on his horizontal axis, as if bowing his head towards his designer. Calvin reaches forward and scratches the top of Tobii’s upper hemisphere with his fingernails, and receives a synthesized bit of laughter. “That was amazing back there!” Calvin encourages. “Maybe even overkill!” He adds.

“Kill Over?” Tobii’s generated voice askes, perplexed. Holding a finger to his lips, Calvin hushes him.

“We’ll talk about it later okay? But that was a lot of power for one target,” He explains in a cautiously lowered voice. “It was a lot of… a lot of bang okay, for just one guy,” He gestures with his hands to ensure the little droid understands, holding up his index finger to emphasize the word ‘one’. 

“Okay. Give Bang More Guy,” Tobii returns in confident broken sentence structure that is equal parts absurd and humorous.

“No no no!” Melody objects, waving her hand sternly, all the while struggling to withhold a chuckle. Then collectively, the trio resumes their restrained silence, while surpassing the gymnasium. The atrium known as the briefing room is, as before, a solemn space, dedicated entirely to fundamental announcements and discussions about the future paths of the young adults it occupies, and in the moment it is without any important details to be shared. The large class of cadets pass through as neatly as a channel of ghosts before something stirs. A dark grey laced boot crosses Melody’s path, and she freezes in place, disrupting the manufactured river of exhausted ashins and humans around them.

“Ms. Vine?” Nathaniel’s monotonous voice commands her attention. “Per your session today, I’d like a private conference with you.” Her hand instantly resumes picking at her tattered downy. He gestures towards the main hall and obediently she follows, as he leads them both to an alternate branch of the academy. The Main hall is just as active and buzzing with activity as it was before, with some individuals crossing in front of Melody and nearly causing her to stumble, and her mind is an unstable storm that distracts her stability of step. Cursing her own clumsiness, she trails behind Nathaniel to a corridor while the sounds of collaborative work and important discussions being thrown throughout the hall, fades behind them. 

The walls are adorned with flickering panels, some displaying different languages, many of which repeatedly change and warp to present new information, as if purporting data live from another location. Video footage informs her of various events occurring all throughout the planet in this very moment, and as she grazes over hundreds of different clips, her eyes complain of strain from their evident and unending flickering and flashing. Explosions, enormous flames, a spraying of bullets and blood, sear themselves into her retinas, and the momentary wish to retreat herself into a dark corner so as to not develop a headache quietly apprehends her cluttered brain. Nathaniel’s face continues to be uninterested, eyes glassy as if unseeing. At the end of the corridor, a simple steel door groans with wear as he accesses it, and behind it is a poorly lit claustrophobic space that houses two chairs and a dense metallic table that appears to contain a computer within its hefty base. Nathaniel pulls out a chair for Melody to sit, but decidedly remains standing, as the door automatically closes behind them. 

In the pause of measured silence, Melody rubs her eyes. A sigh escapes Nathaniel that can neither be easily inferred as out of frustration nor placidity, and the uncertainty of his state of mind only serves to worsen the suffocating nature of the room. Nathaniel lightly taps the surface of the glass-topped table and types information into the resulting prompt that reveals itself on the touch-responsive interface. He drums his fingers impatiently while the computer loads, presenting the same statistics previously created to report the day’s battle simulation scores. He clears his throat as he sifts through the many names and ID numbers visible, selects Melody’s, and further examines all available data. With rapid procession, he scours her accuracy ratings from the shooting gallery, captured recordings of her previous scuffles, and an expanded analysis of her average performance within all simulations documented throughout the last six months. He points towards a linear graph of her previous scores, where it peaks in the most recent dates, and his finger lands on its illustrated summit. Wordless, his eyes prompt her response, but Melody’s thoughts are a swirling storm of worry and confusion, and no discernible words manage to come out of it. 

“It’s time you joined our forces and left the academy.” He states nonchalantly, his face thoroughly written with impatience, as he navigates the console, flicking his wrist to realign the data as an upright holographic monitor for her to view. Immediately, the recognition of his intentions snaps into place, and her head is alight with the realization of what is to follow. “Your numbers pass the thresholds required. All that remains for you to complete is the graduating exam, and we can assemble your team.” Just as her throat manages to swallow, her heart abruptly drops into her stomach at the mention of a team. Melody can’t ever seem to picture herself as a member of a squad, in a suit of specially designed battle-ready armor, prepared to face the ultimate cost of war. 

Whispered inquiries and protests amplify themselves until they echo and rattle the inside of her mind, morphing into a raging prisoner that slams itself into the confines of her consciousness. His stony visage becomes a blur, the many flashing lights in the room and console bleeding together into her unfocused pupils, until all she can see is cloudy neon colors, throbbing and fading unsynchronised. “We believe you’d benefit from in-field experience, and we’ve received approval for the next steps. We can start you off with a reconnaissance mission in Odyssa and-” He continues, and his words melt into each other as they swim into her deaf ears. Her veins are full of ice water, and the surface of her skin has become dull and numb. 

Nathaniel has never planned this far forward. She has heard these urgings before, the call to the frontlines, the expectation of her to join in arms and apply what she’s been studying and practicing at the academy in its real counterpart, but until this moment, it has never been accompanied by a clear plan of any kind. In-field experience feels too dismissive of phrasing for what the mind conjures.  His fingernails clattering on the table’s glass demands her return to the present, and her eyelids flutter as she regains the ability to decipher the meaning of his speech.

“Input your acceptance here, and we can proceed with your exam tomorrow morning,” He prompts her towards a digital disclosure of the exam in question. Her eyes skim the clusters of clarifying language that make up a lengthy waiver, but all she can parse is the acceptance of her future, all while his piercing expression full of expectations, stabs through the projection and into her. Her hands remain at her sides, her fingers clenching into fists as she gathers any remaining bit of willpower against the demonstration before her. 

“No,” The sound of her own voice, both firm and yet pleading, surprises her. “I can’t do this. I’m not ready.” Though these are statements, her voice insinuates uncertainty within herself. There is no conclusive knowledge within her that her decision holds the authority to be as commanding as she desperately needs it to be in this moment.

“You pass all of the preliminary requirements, that is how we define readiness,” He rebuttals. Her taught muscles begin to tremble, but her balled hands do not release.

“I need more time! Give me more time!” She blurts out desperately, her voice growing hoarse and high despite her best efforts to retain an air of professionalism. Whether her superior is emotionally compelled or not, he shows no signs of being so. He squares his shoulders and exhales, his eyes narrowing. The shame and embarrassment of her outburst cause her to swiftly avert her gaze to her grey boots, as her hands embrace herself for comfort, and her lungs force themselves to slow to prevent an overflowing of tears. In a soft voice, between shuddering breaths, she mumbles “, Please.” Nothing. 

The quiet that surrounds her is weighted with violence as if the deprivation of an answer could clamp her arteries and veins shut and stop her heart from contracting. Her skin prickles, and a shiver rattles her spine, yet still, his only return is a prolonged judgmental silence that worsens its severity by the second. The sound of another disgruntled huff escaping his nostrils as he analyzes her distress with disapproval, prods her to further appeal. She licks her dry lips and attempts again to reason with him, softly professing “, It hasn’t happened yet… The…event.” The event. Elaborating in any further detail feels inappropriate to her, as if the phenomenon she is implying is so foreboding, so frightening, so unusual, she can’t even verbalize it. 

“We need to expand our forces, we cannot afford to dwindle. I do not have to remind you what is at stake.” His tone is one of pure apathy, bordering on disgust. “Cowardice is costly. We’ll resume this conversation before the week is over.” There is absolute finality in his words, as he enunciates them individually, clearly, and with a neatness that is almost rehearsed. Not sparing a moment longer to deliberate with Melody in her state of panic, Nathaniel exits the cramped space. 

Alone, her resolve is immediately decimated, her face crashing to the cold table, her arms cradling her head and gripping the roots of her hair, pulling at it as if the ache of her scalp will awake her from this nightmare. A sob escapes her as the glass pane of the table rapidly becomes wet with rushing tears, and her whole body shudders with every breath. She squeezes her eyes shut, but the images inside her mind are impossible to escape. Flashes of visceral bloody wounds, explosions that melt away flesh and bone, bodies that gather on the ground below, splatterings of their flesh and organs, with unrecognizable faces, are impossible to push away. Her sense of time has entirely dissolved, whether she rests her weeping, gasping face against the cool surface of the table for seconds or hours, Melody cannot be certain. She remains, fighting for every wretched, shallow breath, her damp despair infusing itself with the cold sweat of an immeasurable, ever-increasing knot of hysteria. When, at last, her pulse steadies, her lungs slow, and her thoughts become just clear enough to regain her sense of reality, moment to moment, she gathers herself. Slowly lifting herself to an upright standing position, she wipes at her puffy eyes, fixes her gaze to the door, and leaves the room.

The long corridor back is a hazy blur. Melody only regains a certain sensation of presence when she recognizes her face in a facility bathroom mirror. Blinking back at herself, her hair now knotted, the doing of her own frenzied hands pulling at its roots, she bleakly questions her identity. Her sense of self was solid in the arena, but now, her reflection is a body divorced from its spirit. A face, without a living soul, incurring no different emotions than the faces she had peered into, early this day, as they left the academy to become members of their assigned teams. The frigid water cannot fully ground her muddled brain, but it manages to partially soothe her irritated eyes and sore airways as it splashes into her face. She washes away the remnants of her weeping episode with shame, her only consolation being the small hope that Calvin and Marcus will perhaps not recognize the leftover symptoms of it. Her once destructive fingers now gingerly comb out tangles in her mane and smooth out abused downy to appear neat and undisturbed. Swallowing down the last of her hoarseness, she recovers a placid expression. 

Making her path back to the changing stalls is automatic, and she only registers another conscience line of thought when the sight of Calvin waving to her in his civilian clothes comes into view. A reassuring smile forces itself onto her face as she collects her own civilian wear and takes her turn in the stall. Tobii chirps beside Calvin, while he twiddles with one of the strings on his white hoodie. For the short time that she spends changing, he contemplates what conversation might have occurred that he hasn’t been privy to, and if he is only imagining that she appears off somehow.

 He glances at the lights overhead, debating if they had betrayed his eyes into perceiving her face as weary and disturbed, before evaluating if Nathaniel, being the callous person he’s known to be, has said something particularly abrasive to her. A small part of him feels unnerved by the possibility that he’s been left out of a significant conversation, and is still held in suspense at the moment, but just as this concern occurs to him, the stall door opens and he urgently exchanges his face for one of oblivious warmth. 

Fully composed in her pale azure cardigan, she addresses his expression with a gentle nod, as if to affirm everything is well, and Tobii greets her with a soft clinking sound and short flicker of his many lights. Instinctually, they resume departure alongside each other, along with the many attendees now traversing back to the main hall.

Calvin yawns softly and shoves his hands into his pockets while Melody grooms her hair again with her fingers. Between the sounds of many footsteps is an accompanying chatter of various students’ plans for the evening, and a few sighs of relief for today’s primary activities to come to a close, while some mention additional studies and plans for the coming weekend. Melody gives her best attempt to return her mind to the mundane, as the rhythm of their footsteps becomes a sort of calming white noise. 

“Have you gone to the forty-levels recently?” He initiates with a blend of laid-back casualness and excitement.

In her best efforts to keep frenzied notions of panic at bay, Melody decides to entertain his line of questioning with faux-curiosity “, No, why?” Peering at him from the corner of her eye while maintaining her forward posture, there’s a charming spark of mild fascination in the way he raises his eyebrows.

“There’s this new place where they sell a recently cultivated Ashin fruit! It’s called abbakin, and I’ve heard it tastes like nothing else on Earth. I’ve never had it, it sounds awesome!” He explains with a whimsical energy, as his light, wispy locks swaying as he pantomimes with enthusiasm, and the tips of his feathers perk with alertness. Between the sentences of his elaboration, another subject of intrigue conjures itself.

“I thought the agricultural revival project depleted in viable resources a few years ago?” She asks pointedly, and a sensation of her focus being gradually reeled into the present almost manages to dispel her self-conscious worries of masking her previous emotions.

“Apparently not!” His response is swift “ , Team Ambition just returned from a recon mission, and the place they visited had stores and restaurants selling abbakin everywhere. That’s how I found out about it!”

“Really? Already? Didn’t you say that Ison just opened its first business with abbakin?” She squints, as if studying the layout of the interior walls  more perceptively, will somehow clarify his conflicting information.

“Well, it’s new here, but over in Odyssia, it’s already really popular!” He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. His tone is pleasantly sheepish as he bashfully cranes his head to catch her reaction, but her lips are pressed into a flat line, and her gaze is fixed on something far away. With her shoulders unmoving, eyes unblinking, the stillness of her upper body is uncanny, but she isn’t aware of it. Odyssia. The city’s name reverberates so loudly in the eardrums of her imaginative space that her ears flutter back and press themselves to her cranium, as if the loudness is so real and permeating that it hurts. In an attempt to cut through the palpable apprehension, he adds “, They have all kinds of stuff there that Ison doesn’t, maybe we should go sometime?”

Her head rotates in his direction stiffly, as if her neck is, in actuality, the apparatus of a cheap animatronic. Her stare only settles on him for a brief moment before moving past him, to pierce the space behind her, as if searching for an unexpected intrusion. Even though it occurs at a stiff but not unfathomable pace, Melody’s movement and shift in perspective are received by her own cognition at a surreally slow rate, as if time itself has braked to a near stop. The room, instead, whirls around her, a blur of fresh startling paranoia.  

“Yeah,” She mutters to quell any alarm, but her fingers are contorting themselves into claws ready to fiercely grapple an incoming threat, and her feet have already paused their journey forward. Manually urging her body to resume walking, Melody still cannot eliminate the growing impression of unrest and a certain illusion of a universe standing still all around her. Ideas formulate themselves more rapidly than she can dash them away. Could there be a more disconcerting coincidence than the comorbidity of these two separate requests, one being much more of a demand? She cannot blink away the illusionary distortion of reality, that bends light and sound around her, as their many peers surpass them towards the academy’s many doors. The sound of laughter and another voice only vaguely reaches her before a firm hand seizes her by the shoulder, and then abruptly, something ignites. 

A flash of light fills every crevice of the space. In an instant, there is nothing but searing white, an unbearable blazing heat, and collective gasps and panicked shouting in every direction. The atmosphere crackles with a certain static, and carries the vague scent of smoke. Then, her hand pressed flat against the clothed chest of a still body, sprawled on the hard concrete floor, comes into view. Her disorientated vision discovers a face with familiar nectarine skin, straw-colored lashes along the edges of closed eyes, and russet feathered ears. The once bustling swarm of cadets and important figures independently attending to their affairs has now formed a frightened audience to bear witness to the unusual. Baffled by her own actions, Melody kneels over Marcus’s paralyzed frame as it lies completely parallel against the ground, limp. She blinks, absorbing everything, understanding nothing. The urge to jostle him in search of signs of his consciousness occurs to her, but no part of her body responds to it. Her skeleton is solid ice, imprisoning her her form, her self, her mind. The masses come closer, and Calvin’s voice penetrates the buzz of confusing noise.

“Melody… What happened?”

Her ivory ear twitches towards the sound of his voice, which is filled with a mixture of emotions, but most noticeably, melancholy. Only when she catches a glimpse of the terrified expressions of every other individual in the room, including her best friend beside her, does she recognize the sound of her rapid breathing. Though scrambling to the best of her ability to comprehend it all, there are no answers as to how a person nearly twice her size lies beneath her from a single touch of her palm. She lifts her hand away in disbelief, and as her fingers are lifted to the lights above, tiny arcs of glowing energy dance from their tips. The murmurs surrounding grow in volume and worry, and the sound of several footsteps alerts her to another set of entities joining the commotion.

“Wait!” A gruff voice orders at a discreet volume. “Don’t make direct contact with the subject.” Her shoulders slump with equal parts remorse and acceptance as uniformed enforcers encircle her. Their gear and armaments clink softly, where they rustle against starched and spotless attire. “Cadet Number O-seven-hundred and fifty-three, Ms. Vine, we require you to accompany us.” Calvin’s wide eyes follow her slow ascension to standing upright, and the subtle dip of her chin to gesture a meek nod. 

In a dimly lit room, stripped of tech with naked, dark plaster walls, an older, wiser visage resides across from Melody. An emotionless face with emerald skin, silver eyes, grey feathers, and neatly braided hair watches her with neither casualness or urgency. Instead, she studies indifferently the specimen before her, as if Melody happens to be a particularly lengthy equation to be solved, and nothing more or less. There is an intensity about her, but she shows no signs of expending any effort into expressing as much with her calm and measured mannerisms. Yet Melody can infer from her expression alone, the need to keep her gaze low and remain silent. Instead, her eyes fixate on her hands resting in her lap, which she rotates and manipulates, scouring for the meaning of what they’ve committed. In the low harsh light, every fine line that contours where her fingers articulate and even the etchings of her finger prints in her skin are visible, yet the remnants of those powerful particles of energy have vanished. As her eyes squeeze shut, the voice of her thoughts speaks to her with a tone of resignation and floods her with waves of defeat. 

“You know what this means.” The woman’s voice is deep and clear, and her words are well-enunciated.  It’s not  a question, or even a command, it’s a simple statement. As the images of all that Melody has endured within this day alone reappear behind her eyelids, she swallows numbly.

“Yes,” comes out an empty, lifeless utterance.

“You know what you have to do.” 

Tired eyelids pull away again as Melody chooses, this time, to regard Avatellius’s face. 

“Yes.”

[multi-fandom-simp]

Chapter 3: Overly-Aggressive small child ✏️

Pairings: Aegon x OC, Helaena x OC, Aemond x OC, Jacaerys x OC, Jacaerys x Cregan, Luke x Sara

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

(A/N: So, I have this as an xOC story due to the fact that the main characters' last names are Stark. However, I don't really have a set description for them, besides the fact that they have poliosis. Which is the reason the twins have areas of white in their hair. Other than that, the photos I use are mainly for style purposes. I do have their father as Rickon Stark, but their mother is never described, so that is completely up to the reader!)

Summary: Lillianna and Aemond continue to torment each other, but in class this time. That is until an old acquaintance shows up and ruins Lillianna's mood. Leading to questions that Aemond wants answers to and an angry Lillianna that Leon has to deal with.

TW: profanity, slight harassment

(Text between the images)

Lillianna Stark has never been one for morning classes, let alone a morning class with Aemond Targaryen. The tall, lanky, platinum haired asshole who frequently went out of his way to make Lillianna’s day a little harder than usual. Perhaps if the pair were still  freshmen in high school, they would be fine. However, times were different, and Aemond was now different. He was no longer the bubbly little kid who got excited to show her the new trick he taught to Vhagar or the shy boy who left encouraging notes in her locker. Now, he was just her old friend turned acquaintance who walked beside her with a disgruntled expression as his older brother clung to her arm. 

"Aeg, I need to go to class." Lillianna sighed, trying and failing to pry the hungover blonde off. Aegon's reply consisted of grumbles and grunts as he burrowed into her shoulder.

"Aegonnnnnn" She groaned.

"Finneee" Aegon finally caved, untangling himself and sulking off to the opposite classroom. Lillianna rolled her eyes and turned into her own room. She managed to find a seat in the back near the door. Much to her dismay, Aemond seemed to also be fond of seats in the back. 

"Absolutely not, go sit somewhere else." Lillianna huffed, practically glaring a hole into Aemond's head.

" If we're going to be in the same class, we might as well make the most of it."Aemond grinned. Not a nice, friendly grin, but one that the cheshire cat would've had before leading someone astray. Before Lillianna could even think to argue, a large hand squeezed her shoulder from behind.

"Hey snow, long time no see." Any sense of playful attitude that had been on her face before was now long gone. She didn't have to turn to know who the voice belonged to.

"Piss off, Hornwood." Lillianna spat, shrugging her shoulder away from the vermin known as Hallis Hornwood.

"Come on-"

"She said piss off, didn't she?" Aemond snapped. He had leaned back in his seat with an arm stretched over the back of Lilianna's chair. 

"You’ve got another Targaryen lap dog? Oh, Bolton will be so happy to hear about that, little snow." Hallis sneered. Lillianna had begun to lunge for him before she even thought of the consequences. Thankfully, Aemond's reflexes were up to par and able to pull her back from doing anything she might regret. 

"He's not worth it."Aemond's breath tickled the skin of Lillianna's ear while the warmth of his arm seeped through her shirt and onto the skin of her waist. 

"I don't care what he's worth. He's a piece of scum." Lillianna snapped, pushing away from him and sliding back into her seat as he did his own. Aemond had to admit, he usually liked to see Lillianna riled up, but not like this. Whatever implications Hallis held behind his words had got her so worked up she couldn't keep herself still. Whether it be bouncing her leg, or drumming her fingers, Lillianna was constantly fidgeting. Aemond wanted to do something, he really did, but he wasn't good at these types of things. 

[wiypt-writes]

Consciousness Of Guilt

Chapter 1

Summary: It’s a year since Ransom was murdered, and you’re settling well into your new life in Boulder. It hasn’t just provided you with a fresh start-it’s brought you a new sense and purpose, an appreciation for the things you took fore grated, and the friendship of a former ADA…

Warnings: Bad Language, allusions to past abuse (Non Con/Dub Con) but nothing explicitly described in this chapter.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: 5k

Consciousness Of Guilt Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/N- So, here it is! The sequel to Murder, He Wrote . This is the last time I’ll post this note, however, please be aware that the prequel is a Dark series. Whilst this is not, it will contain flashbacks and themes as we progress, however nothing will be as dark as MHW. Chapters will be clearly labelled with appropriate warnings. If anyone is uncomfortable with the themes of a certain chapter, I will be more than happy to post/provide abridged versions which will not deviate from the storyline.

Sunrise. You used to hate the coming of each day. It meant another monotonous day in your young adult life. A 'depends on the day' type of job at the paper in which you got your start, it meant earning little for the slave work you put into each piece or research. It meant another day you'd woken up in fear, not knowing what was coming next. Then, for a little while, sunrises were okay. They were a soft glow across the room, illuminating hard lines and soft curves, whispering words and lingering kisses. And then, they became fearful again, bringing the unpredictable nature of a life in which you were trapped.

But now, over the last few months, since taking up your new hobby, sunrise had become a beautiful thing. The feeling of peace and comfort washing over you like a warm rain, bringing the redeeming nature of a new day as vibrant watercolours paint the new-born sky. Whether you caught it from the East side of your condo; your master balcony and study or your garden, or even your hikes, you appreciated every, single sunrise as if you were seeing it for the first time ever, each and every day.

For this morning's sunrise, you were perched along Boulder Creek Path, a trail that runs from the foothills to across town, a typical recreational getaway for many locals and tourists. You looked out over the bridge as the creek flowed beneath your feet. You were lost in the serenity of it, the bubbling water lulling your mind into a deep mediation that washed peacefulness through your entire body.

A year ago today, your life changed and you were freed. Free of the nightmare that had plagued you, robbing you of nearly a year of your life. The months that followed weren't so easy, but once things settled and the fires were extinguished, you found peace.

You found you.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket brought you back from your reverie, pressing your thumb onto the screen to unlock it. You opened your messages tab and tapped the most recent incoming text.

A smile flicked on your face as you slipped your phone back in your pocket. It didn’t escape your knowledge how Andy didn’t need to even ask what coffee you wanted. But then again, this wasn’t the first time you’d had breakfast in the small, independent coffee place not far from your home and place of work. You knew when you arrived that a large caramel vanilla latte, with an extra shot would be waiting. But no food, your order varied depending on your mood.

Twenty minutes or so later, you parked your sting-grey Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT 4x4 back in your garage to your condo at the corner of 9th and Pine Street and set off on the short ten minute walk to your designated meeting place, centred near the town square, not far from your office which was a gorgeous old red-brick building on the corner of 16th and Walnut Street.

As you approached, you didn’t spot Andy’s black Audi TT in any of the spaces littered around but it didn’t bother you. Barber was reliable, if he said he was going to be there, he’d be there.

And sure enough, as you walked along the side of the cafe you, spotted him at your usual, preferred table by the large window, overlooking the street. He saw you approaching and smiled, giving a small wave.

The smell of roast coffee beans, baked treats and other delicious aromas hit your senses as you opened the door. You approached the table and Andy stood up to great you, smiling. A light grey tee sat exposed under a partially zipped up light weight blue leathered hoodie whilst dark and crisp denim covered his narrow hips and long legs, his go to well-worn black work boots on his feet. His hair was styled and soft looking, his beard always trimmed and neat. He gave you a strong, yet gentle hug, a juxtaposition he managed effortlessly before he turned and waited for you to sit first before he took up his previous seat, nodding to your waiting drink.

“Thank you.” You beamed at him, taking a quick sip. "Of course." He smiled as he took a drink of his own coffee, straight black, before he leaned back a little. His left arm rested over the back of the booth bench, the platinum of his wedding ring catching the early morning sun which streamed through the window. You momentarily glanced at your own hand, bare of the heavy rings which had been taken in the ‘mugging’. Mind you, you wouldn’t be wearing them even if you still had them. Your story was a lot different to his.

“So, where'd you go this morning?" his soft baritone drifted across the table and you glanced back at him. "Fiddled around down Boulder Creek Path." "You seem to be getting around better now." "Yeah, thank God for GPS. Did I tell you that last week I was looking for some store Amber vaguely told me where about it was and ending up like thirty minutes down the highway towards Denver." He laughed, his whole body smiling, radiating genuine amusement. "You have more faith in GPS than me, when I first moved here I got pulled over for going the wrong way down a one way street because it told me to.” You grinned as he shook his head. "And that annoying voice! I want to wring her damn neck." You gave a chuckle but before you could reply, the middle-aged woman, who owned the café, interrupted you both with her usual familiar greeting and the smile she reserved for Andy. “Hey Patti, how are ya?” He smiled back. “Same old, same old.” She winked back. “What can I get you kids today?” “Y/N?” Andy looked at you and you smiled. “Can I get an almond croissant and a granola pot, please? With the blueberry compote.” “Sure honey, and for you Mr Barber?”

“French toast please, all the trimmings.”

A fizzing filled your ears as you were suddenly back on a clinically clean, modern kitchen, nervously scouring a fridge and cupboards for something to make your captor breakfast with. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, counting backwards from five as you always did to keep the memory from swallowing you.

“Hey,” a gentle touch to your hand jolted you back and you looked at Andy who frowned. “You okay?” "Yeah, no, I mean yes, I'm okay. It just…it dawned me this morning that this was the best thing I could have done for myself. Like there's just a newfound peace that's settled with me, you know?" He just smiled as he squeezed your hand before slipping his away. “Yeah, I do.” No more was said about it, and Andy didn’t press. He never did. In the eight weeks or so that had passed since you’d met him that Friday evening in the bar, the pair of you had struck up a friendship that was based on a mutual understanding. You both carried a heavy burden of a traumatic past on your shoulders, but you had an unspoken rule. He had never mentioned Ransom. And you, in turn, never broached the subject of Laurie or Jacob. You understood you were both moving on with your life, both wanting to heal from the past and you wanted to spend the rest of your life never in fear again. Instead, a simple chatter always flowed between the two of you, and today was no exception. You barely stopped to thank Patti for dropping your order off at the table. Current work was never a topic of conversation, although office gossip featured on occasion, but mostly it was always about happenings around town, him asking about you, your parents and your old job, the two of you talking about your favourite places in Boston. You never missed certain facial and eye cues Andy gave off at the mention of certain things, but when you saw them, that sag in his smile or the far off look his eyes would give, you'd change the subject. You ate in comfortable companionship and after another coffee, Andy asked for the bill and then pulled out his card to pay. "Next one is on me, you paid for the last two and coffee all this week." You gave him a stern look as you headed towards the exit. “Well, if you wanted you could grab us a beer later.” He shrugged, pulling the door handle to open it, allowing you to step out before him. “I gotta nip into the office for a coupla hours but...” "Breakfast AND drinks?" You smiled as he fell into step beside you. The July day was starting to warm a little now, the slight chill of the early morning all but gone. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually like hanging out with me." “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I just find you slightly less irritating than everything and everyone else.” He teased and you laughed. “So... Happy hour?" "Yeah." You nodded “It's a date." Andy confirmed and you quirked your eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as he realised what he had said. “A date?” “Well, I don’t mean a date date but...” You felt the heat in your neck a little, so to save your embarrassment and his blushes, you smiled, "it's a date-not-date. Say Oskar’s, 6:30?" "Oskar’s." He confirmed. "I'll save you a tall, cold one." “You’re an angel, you know that?” "I wouldn't go that far. My halo is held up by horns” “Even Prometheus was an angel at some point, Y/N.” He replied as you reached the corner of the street where you would part. Him towards the office, you back home. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "I'll see you tonight." At that he gave you another quick hug, his hand rubbing your back over the top of your light jacket before you headed your separate ways.

You enjoyed the walk home. It gave you the perfect chance to just mellow out and walk off a bit of your breakfast. You tucked your hands into the pockets for your vest, your white thermal keeping your arms covered. You headed down Pearl Street, watching as the little shops and boutiques began to set up their patios and side walk spaces for their Saturday. You took in the clean fresh mountain air deep into your lungs and allowed a warm smile to cross your lips. 

From Pearl to 9th you went, hooking a right up 9th until you walked to the corner of Pine, and onto the porch of the nice and spacious condo you closed escrow on just weeks ago. 

That deep feeling of home greeted you as you stepped inside, wiping your boots on your door mat just before kicking them off and setting them by the back door you’d come through. The cream walls invited you in, the oak furniture and fixtures, a feature that reminded you of home, the decor you grew up with, a safe place. 

You'd bought the condo outright with the money you'd inherited from Ransom's untimely death and subsequent estate. You knew before you'd even stepped foot into the property initially, that it'd become yours. The week you closed escrow, you and your parents moved you into the three bedroom, three and a half bath condo, never looking back. 

The open floor plan and panoramic views had stolen your breath and it was then, the first night your parents had left you alone, too anxious to sleep alone, you had fallen in love with the sunrise, seeing it from your front garden patio, bundled up with tea and a wool blanket. All three rooms in the space had no adjoining walls and their own en-suites. The master bedroom, your room, was massive. An en-suite with walk in shower, soaking tub and Jack and Jill sinks. Two walk in closets that you knew you'd probably never fill completely, an Eastwardly view and balcony. The two spare rooms, were separated, one on the second floor down the hall from yours where it's balcony looked West, as it were above the garage and the third on the top and final floor with its own balcony. That was your office space, a spot for you to work and to breathe in the fresh air. 

Everything in that condo was yours, down to the logs you'd put in your fireplace and the silly little amenities you'd given yourself from knickknacks to the colour of your dishes. There was one space however you left untouched. And only your parents had been inside to pack away your unused things as storage space. That room was your basement. You didn't need to go down there, you figured if you needed something from there, you'd go buy it anyway. All that was truly stored down there anyway were things from your childhood your mother insisted on you bringing along.

As if her ears were burning, your phone buzzed from your back pocket, revealing your mother calling. 

"Hey, Mom." You answered. 

"Hi, honey. I was just calling to see how you were doing. Check in on you." You could hear the worry in her voice and you couldn't help but smile. 

"I'm really good, Mom. It’s been good here." "You still hiking every day?" She sounded hopeful now.  "Lately it's just been on the weekends. I've been really busy at work, which isn't exactly a bad thing either." You had made your way to your room, looking for some lounge pants to change into while you continued your conversation.  "Well, busy is a blessing. Do you have anything planned for today or...."  "Uh, well I just had breakfast with a friend from work who I'm also meeting for drinks later." You smirked at the thought.  There was a joyful sigh that poured into your ear from the ear piece, "Oh, this friend wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious Andy you’ve name dropped the last few calls would it?"  You hesitated, "y..ye...yeah." Then you heard the tell-tale sound of your mother's chuckle. “We’re just friends.” "I'm not saying anything." You could picture her with her hands held up in defence. "You sound happy." “I am. I feel okay, more than okay even. I’m good.” "Alright. Well, don’t waste your day. Enjoy it. Your dad and I will talk soon." “Yeah, listen Mom, why don’t you come over for a few days in a couple of weeks? You’ve not been since the week you came to help me move in. It would be nice to show you round now I’ve got my bearings.” "We would love that. I'll have your father look at booking some time." “Okay just let me know. Tell Daddy I said hi.” "I will, sweetie. Love you, bye.” "I love you too, Mom, bye." The seventeenth of July, a date that you hope one day will come to mean nothing and be like any other day. But for now, it was a sting that reminded you of all that had happened. Not unlike Halloween, a day in which you'll forever hold in a fearful anxious place in your soul. It served as a reminder of the moment your life had taken a very dark turn, a darkness that you were still, in a lot of ways, finding your way through. Ransom. His name still tasted sour on your tongue. But left a sadness over your heart like a sheer curtain. You had truly hoped he wasn't going to revert back to the beast that held you captive. But you were wrong, and post the revelation of the real reason he had taken you, he’d been far more brutal and cruel than he had with you before, something you’d thought was impossible. And he’d broken you for a second time, or so you’d let him think. Desperate to escape his clutches, you’d done the only thing you could- you’d killed him. Whilst you may not have held the knife, you’d arranged it all. And, even though it had been an absolute last resort, you’d be lying if you said there hadn’t been a satisfaction to watching him bleed out and choke on his own blood. The realisation that had clouded his arrogantly handsome features as he came to understand it was your doing would be forever etched into your brain. That said, it made you feel a little bit queasy when you thought about how taking someone’s life could make you feel a sick sense of pleasure. The nightmares had plagued you for months after. The torture which sleep brought you only ceased around the time things were settled within the system between you and his parents. With a deep sigh and the need for distraction, you set about some spot cleaning in between loads of laundry and by early afternoon you had settled in on your couch with a beer and your latest box set binge. Not two episodes in and your phone pinged next to you.

With a smirk, you snapped a photo of your beer bottle in your hand and a few moments later his response came through.

The angel made you laugh, a direct reference to his teasing before. But before you could reply, you got another text with simply saying “fuck it” along with a picture of a tumblr of whiskey on his desk. With a snort you replied

With a smile you tossed your phone down onto the seat beside you, and resumed your watching.

***** Andy was kidding when he playfully said he'd be there by 6:45, fully intending on their agreed upon 6:30. But, he was late. He'd been so involved with his brief that he'd lost track, and for the first time since meeting her, was late for a meet up with Y/N. She was fully understanding as he'd text her apologizing for the time as he'd rushed out of the office and quickly headed for Pearl Street. He'd gotten very lucky with close parking and literally stepped inside Oskar's Taproom promptly at 6:45. He found Y/N sitting at the bar, her hair down, a nicely fitted black tee and skinny denim jeans, her foot tapping against her bar stool in waiting. Next to her was an empty stool and a full, cold looking tall pilsner on the bar, saving his space.

"Hey," he said as he leaned into her, a gentle hand on her back, getting her attention.

Y/N startled a bit but realized it was Andy and grinned, "'bout time! I was going to get started on yours without you." She nodded to the cold beer.  “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, “I just got caught up.” "Well, you haven't stood me up yet, so I trusted you'd show." “And I did tell you 6:45 before. You know, on account of you being a cheeky little shit.” She rolled her eyes at him, "whatever." She smirked. He slid onto the stool next to her and took a long pull of his beer, damned it tasted good. He gave an appreciative sigh and turned to her. “So, do anything much this afternoon?” "I did absolutely nothing, well nothing of importance. Talked to my mom, did laundry, you know nothing exciting." “To be honest, sounds like a pretty good afternoon.” He chuckled. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than laying in front of the TV with no where you have to be.” "Cheers to that," she raised her glass to him. He clinked his with hers and returned the smile she had. The blues band that was set to play happy hour was starting to tune up and it gave Andy an idea. "What do you say we find a spot in the patio, little less noise." “Sounds good.” She nodded. Andy flagged the bartender down for another round to take with them. But before Y/N could pick up her glass, Andy took it for her and gestured with her head for her to go on in front. She looked a little surprised at his act of basic good manners, and not for the first time. He'd often seen her look at him in a similar way when he held doors open for her or helped her with her jacket. It made him wonder what kind of asshole Drysdale had been. But, then again, he got the impression it hadn’t been a particularly happy relationship to start. Not that it was any of his business, nor was he one to talk. The last seven months he’d been married to Laurie had been as strained as they'd ever got. They found a spot at a two top near the corner of the patio at the gate that separated it from the sidewalk. Andy waited for Y/N to sit before he set their glasses on the high top table and took his own seat. "So...much better," he leaned in across the table. "Love this place, but it's not always the best for conversation." “Yeah but it has a good atmosphere.” She smiled. “I like it. Not the type of place that-“ she stopped dead and took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter.” He half smiled, "you know, I've been meaning to tell you, it's okay to talk to me about anything you want. No pressure, no strings. Just a friendly ear." She smiled. “I know, thanks. And the same goes for you too.” For the first time, an interesting silence came between them. They each sipped their drinks in an almost a mirrored like fashion and chuckled when through. "I think that's the first time we've ever not had something to say." Y/N shrugged. He nodded, and then she took a deep breath. “I was just gonna say its not the type of place Ransom would ever have taken me. He’d have thought it beneath him.” "I think that's the first time you've ever mentioned his name." He pointed out. "Yeah, I try not to. It's uh," he watched her as she struggled to start her story, playing nervously with the earring in her ear. "Complicated." He leaned on the table, his forearms crossed and supporting his weight. He wanted her to know she had his full attention. “Well, from what I know about him, which granted is only what I saw on the news or heard around Boston, he certainly enjoyed the finer things in life.” "That's one way of looking at." She chuckled dryly. "It wasn't an easy marriage, despite how short lived." "Well, I was with Laurie since law school and we still had our ups and downs. I don't think marriage is easy in general." Andy admitted. "I was with Ransom less than nine months before we got married. It, uh, lasted three weeks."

Andy paused, “okay, so granted Laurie and I were a whirlwind what with her falling pregnant so fast but... I’ll give you that one.” “A whirlwind?” She asked and Andy nodded. “Yeah, we hadn’t even been together a year when she got pregnant with Jake. Not gonna lie, I shit myself but...” he sighed, swallowing. “Well, he was worth it.” "I'm sure he was." She nodded. Andy cleared his throat. “He was a good kid, despite what he, well what he was accused of.” “I can’t even begin to imagine how that felt, for any of you.” She said gently. “Fucking shit.” He said bluntly. She blinked and then the pair of them laughed quietly. "I'm sorry, Andy. And I mean that in all sincerity." He sighed and gave a soft little smile. “Thanks. You know, for the most part it’s just happy memories. But then sometimes it’s hard...” he trailed off shaking his head, “but of course you’ll know that.” “Suppose so.” She shrugged. “I doubt our marriage was anything near as loving as yours. I, uh...well, Ransom was mentally abusive, very controlling. Getting married wasn't exactly what I'd wanted but, I felt trapped in a way." She paused as he listened intently. "I guess it's harder to explain than I thought." She bit her lip and then shook her head. “Then the asshole went and got himself killed.” "I hate that you had to witness that." She shrugged and her finger swiped at the condensation on the outside of her half empty beer glass. “It was a year ago today.” “Jesus fucking Christ.” Andy shook his head in shock as he took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” “I’m not.” She sighed. “And I know that probably sounds awful but... I don’t mourn him, I can’t. Not after everything. I’m just glad to be away and out of it. Fuck, that makes me sound like a really cold hearted bitch.” She scrunched her nose and chuckled a bit. Andy cocked his head to one side, studying her face which was, despite what she said, laced with sadness and he took a deep breath. There was more to her story than she was telling him, he could see that, but he had his own secrets too. And he found himself realising he didn’t care. Moving away post the accident that claimed Jake and later Laurie’s life had been a way for him to leave all that shit behind. And she was trying to do the same. “Okay, let’s make a deal.” He leaned forward. “No reverse gear. We look forward and not back, at least not at the hard stuff.” It took a moment for her to process it, and Andy watched her expression behind her eyes as he did so. Then she smiled, "deal." Andy smiled as she reached for her beer. He watched her pretty face as she drained her glass, setting it down in the table before she leaned towards him. “Have you eaten? Because I’ve suddenly got a hankering for something greasy and very bad for me.” “Sounds like someone I used to work with.” Andy shot before he could stop himself and Y/N threw her head back in a loud laugh. “Lawyers for you.” “Hey, not all of us are jerks.” He pouted and she shrugged. “Jury’s out.” She winked. At that Andy raised his brows, downed the rest of his pint and then stood up. “Something dirty and greasy that isn’t an attorney coming up, I’ll grab us a menu.” They each ordered a greasy, filthy cheeseburger with all the fixings and two smaller beers a piece to go with it. They moved their conversation away from their pasts and talked music as the band played some songs they were familiar with. Y/N finding the perfect moment to joke with Andy again about his age versus hers, despite it being maybe seven or eight years. Neither seemed to mind.  Again, when the bill came, Andy slapped his card down before Y/N even had a chance to grab her wallet, which caused him to laugh loudly at her pout. “You’ll just have to get it next time.” “Oh," she smirked, "so that’s your game? You paid, so I owe you a next time?” He shrugged. “Would that be such a bad thing?” She bit her lip and grinned with a shake of her head. “No, not really.” “Good, I’ll hold you to that. And, as a lawyer I feel obliged to tell you that’s a legally recognised verbal contract.” “Uh, I’m sure there’s a rule that a social agreement made between friends is done so without an intention of being enforceable.” Y/N shot back and Andy felt his mouth curl up on a little surprised smirk. “Therefore no intent, no legal comeback. Your move, Counselor.” He laughed and shook his head. “Nope, I got nothing.” “In that case, I call recess.” She grinned. “Oh faahk off with the legal puns!” Andy snorted and once more she laughed as they stood up, their night at an end. He walked behind Y/N with a gentle hand on her back as she weaved through the tables on the patio, eventually ending up on the sidewalk out front.

"Thanks, for breakfast, dinner, drinks," Y/N shook her head, feigning annoyance. Andy smirked, "thanks for meeting me. You're not walking home are you?" "I can, it's not far." She replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Absolutely not, I'll take you," he nodded his head in the direction in which his car was. He gave a small wink when she accepted his offer. He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his Audi TT. You quickly realized that this was the first time you'd been in his car and the very first time he would see your doorstep. However, the thought of both those things didn't bother you one bit. In fact, you found yourself more comfortable than you'd expected.

All in all the drive was no more than five minutes, and if he hadn’t been going that way already, you’d have felt like a complete fraud, but he assured you it was on his way.

You helped yourself out but Andy waited for you around the front hood and walked you to your doorstep, lit by the lantern porch light your Home Owners Association contract insisted be up. "So, this is me," you sighed. Andy had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and he rocked a little on his heels as he waited for you to open your front door. When you'd opened it, he scratched behind his neck and said, "so I'll see you Monday?" "Yeah," you agreed. He turned to go but you called out to him, "Hey, Andy?" He quickly turned back to you, his one foot on your stoop, the other the next step down, "yeah?" In a sudden moment of courage, you stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. His smooth cheek and the slightly rough yet softer than anticipated scratch of those dark whiskers, intermittent speckled with auburn, felt amazing against your lips. And fuck, did he smell amazing. Which you knew already from the tight and friendly hugs he'd seemed to start giving you. The first hit of his aftershave was always the same, dominated by a white-out of bergamot and pepper, a bright flash of sweet, dewy citrus that is both crisp and clean, underpinned by a freshness that was both light and gentle and completely different to the heavy sandalwood based fragrance you’d grown so used to. It was brief, but when you pulled back, you gave a content huff, “Huh.” “What?” He was clearly puzzled. “Your beard. It’s kinda soft.” “What? What the hell did you expect?” He laughed. “I dunno, maybe a toilet brush type bristle.” “You kiss a lot of toilet brushes Y/N?” “Try not to.” She winked. “Thanks again, Andy. I enjoyed today.” He chuckled and shook his head as he watched you turn back to your door and finally stepped inside your home. Before you closed the door, you turned back, noticing he was watching you go in. "Bye."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

**** Chapter 2

[mutifandomlover]

30 DAYS WRITING CHALLENGE.

Day 21:Write something angsty.

From:@creativepromptsforwriting.

Title:Till death do us part.

Emanuel kissed Alex on the cheek before heading to bed. It was late at night and they had been up for a long time.

"Goodnight."

Emanuel went to his side of the dorm and got into bed. He slowly drifted off to sleep. When his eyes opened up, Emanuel noticed that he was in a different place.

"Where am I?"

The room was large and luxurious. Silks draped from the ceiling to the walls. The walls themselves were decorated with gold. The bed he was in was covered with a blue blanket with gold lining. The pillow was the same way. There were blue transparent curtains hanging from the bed rails.

"I'm home?"

Emanuel sat up and pulled the blanket off him. He pushed the curtains away and stood up.

"How did I get here?"

"Emanuel..."

"What?"

"Emanuel..."

There was voice calling to him by the door. He went towards it and pressed his ear against the door.

"Emanuel, come with me."

"Who are you?"

"There's something that I need to show you, young prince."

Emanuel stepped outside of his bedroom and was met with a stranger where purple and gold robes. Emanuel couldn't see his face, but he could see his pure white eyes.

"What do you want to show me?"

"You'll see, just follow me to the throne room."

"Uh alright."

Emanuel followed the stranger to the throne room. The stranger pulled Emanuel towards the throne and had him sit down.

"Alright, why did you bring me here?"

"What's so important to tell me that you sent to my home while I was sleeping?"

"You see, young prince, the story will change very soon."

"What do you mean?"

"A very important chapter is about to come into play."

"A brave hero from another world will come and save this realm from a disaster."

"And what does this have to do with me?"

"You'll be the one to bring them here and help them."

"Who is it?"

"A hero they call Platinum."

"Alex?!"

Emanuel got off the throne and grabbed the man by the shoulders.

"What's going to happen?"

"Will he be okay?!"

"Answer me!"

"That's enough, young man!"

The man grabbed Emanuel by his arm and yelled at him.

"What gave you the right to demand answers from your uncle you entitled brat?!"

He stopped and sighed before letting him go and pointed to the center of the room.

"Your father and I have both seen how this story will end."

Emanuel watched the scene unfold before him. A figure commands Emanuel to give the world rings to him. There's a flame on Alex's chest, and it looks like it's dying out.

"Hey, aren't you going to do something about this?"

"I'm sorry, mortal, but you've run out of uses for me."

"My son, I'm sorry for what you're about to witness, but he must die for the rebirth of our land."

"What?!"

Emanuel suddenly realized that the man was his father.

"The life of the collector of the rings shall be offered up in sacrifice as the key for that control."

"I offer up your life Platinum."

"No!"

Emanuel could only watch as the flame on Alex's chest grew and engulfed Alex, killing him instantly.

"No, that can't be what happens!"

"You can't change the story, child, it will run its course."

"No, it won't."

"I'm gonna find a way to change."

"Try as you like child, but it won't change anything."

Emanuel's uncle disappeared, and Emanuel woke up in a cold sweat. He was back in his dorm room. He got up and went to Alex's side of the room. He placed his hand on his shoulder and whispered to himself.

"I will find a way to save you, even if it costs me my life."

[misterewrites]

Intro to Caitlyn 101 (Mirror’s Edge)

Summary:  Caitlyn is a thief looking for the next big score. Used to taking wristwatches and wallets from rich folk, she's aiming to take down bigger game as she discovers the hidden magical world within her hometown. Her first mark is an unassuming shopkeeper and his collect of ancient relics. All set with a plan, Caitlyn makes her move. Though plans rarely go off without a hitch.

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are all well and staying safe. So the next chapter of my little side project is here! Honestly wasn't planning on getting back to this so soon but I was having fun worldbuilding and character creating and here we are. You can blame my friend @hains-mae for enabling me.

Right so the next thing I write will probably be the part two to this then the next chapter of the Underground. Umm that's really it for me so have a great week, be safe, wear your mask, take care of yourself and your loved ones. Please feel free to reblog, share, leave kudos or leave comments with things you liked or feedback if you read it on a03. I promised I'd try to promote myself more and it feels weird haha.

E is out, have a great one everyone! and here’s the link to the doobly do 

---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76014323

There was an arrogance that seemed deeply etched into every aspect of the magical world. She stood among valuable, ancient relics from throughout human history: Vases from Greece lined the shelf above her. A row of Roman gladius blades in various states of decay with only a flimsy glass case between them and Caitlyn’s pocket. Tarnished Victorian era slivered lockets left about like loose change.

Millions dollars worth of the past and she, a stranger, was left unattended with it all.

Technically she wasn’t supposed to be in here with the locked door and close sign but the fact in the 5 minutes it took her to pick the lock and scout the first floor without a single soul attempting to stop her really was a testimony to the haughtiness of the ‘shopkeeper’.

It had been only few months since she saw past the false reality that was superimposed onto hers and she was still readjusting: Magic was real. Elves, dwarves, little halfing folk? Real. People shooting bolts of lightning and flames while riding storm clouds? Real. The guy who kept awkwardly hitting on her every time she tried to get a hotdog from the cart at the corner? Just a regular creep BUT could’ve been magical.

Even their currency was a show of their excessive wealth: Sliver, gold, platinum coins Actual platinum traded away like it was nothing! People starving and helpless on the streets and these bastards just walked with some of the rarest metal on the planet in their pockets like chump change.

Anger bubbled within her stomach along with self righteousness and a bit of her breakfast but she took a deep calming breath, closing her bluish gray eyes. ‘Calm down Cait’ she scolded herself ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve seen excessive wealth squandered and wasted. You’re here for a job so do it and never come back.’

She glanced around the waiting room she found herself in. It was off to the side of the shopping front andthere were very few things of interest in the tiny room: Some old, tattered chairs that had seen better days. A very, very tacky abstract painting hung over a bricked up fireplace. There was a scattering of magazines older than her with loose stables and free roaming pages everywhere.

A place of show and very little use.

“Hello my angel.”

Caitlyn seized up. She had been so caught up in her rage she hadn’t been paying attention to anyone coming down the stairs. Three stories with a handful of people about and nary a sound could heard. Must be some sort of magic.

She shook herself out of her stupor, slowly exhaling to calm her nerves. She forced her lips to curve into the cutest, lost smile she could muster. She opened her purple jacket a bit further so the guy could get a clearer view of her tight white tank top and running shorts.

“Helpless. Remember you’re helpless.” She whispered to herself before whirling about, her long black hair with dyed purple coloring flowed behind her gracefully as if she was an actress in those stupid hair product commercials.

“Oh!” she spoke with mock surprise, scrunching her face cutely as possible “I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m lost and the door was open and sorry!”

She leaned forward, sheepishly scratching the back of her neck as she gave whoever it was a better view of her outfit.

Hook, line and sinker.

“No problem sweetie. No need to lie to me.”

Hook, line and sunk apparently.

She blinked, unsure if she heard what she thought she heard. She glanced up to find a strangely dressed man with the goofiest grin.

He was cute in a ‘I dress as an obscure, indie character for cosplay’kind of way: His messy, unkempt black hair sat under a black fedora. He wore a long black trench coat that had seen better days. At least he preferred more colors than black on black. His collared shirt was a nice baby blue with an equally nice light brown vest. Black dress pants because men’s fashion is incredibly boring and shiny loafers to completed the look. Whatever the look was.

She expected him to be taking a good look at her attire.

What she found was him staring at her.

His warm dark brown eyes were soft, gentle and he refused to break his gaze from her bluish grays even though there were more tempting sights on offer.

She was on the back foot. No wandering glances, no self pleasured smiles. Not even a creepy chuckle. Just a strangely dressed, inch shorter guy looking like he just found the love of his life in this moment.

“I…” she cleared her throat “Umm….did you hear me?”

He gave a quick nod “Yeah. You broke in and you were trying to cover your tracks.”

It wasn’t that he guessed correctly what was she up to that threw her off. It was how casually he said it. More discussing the weather than committing a felony.

She raised an eyebrow, not sure how to proceed from whatever this was. There were always some people who caught on about her intentions fairly quickly but no one had ever been so….indifferent about it.

“I don’t work here.” the man offered, slowly closing the distance between them but leaving the doorframe wide open “I really don’t care that you’re here to rob the place.”

This has to be a trap. This had to be. No one was ever this….laidback. Were the other goons on the side waiting to jump her when she bolted? Was she on camera and he was letting her go knowing full well he had all the evidence he needed to track her down?

Or maybe he really didn’t care. He seemed more interested in talking than stopping her and there was this strange presence about him. A calm she’d never felt before even when her parents were alive. It was odd and foreign to her but she felt safe. Protected.

She shook her head, slowly inching closer to the doorway. The man made no attempt stop her. He just stood there, smiling, hands in his pocket.

The rational part of her brain said to run. This whole thing was botched and it was better to cut her losses than find out first hand what magical creatures could do to her. The less rational side of her head told her to wait, to talk this guy. Lying was obviously pointless but she had a feeling he would answer any questions she’d had and she had plenty.

“So…” she rose a suspicious eyebrow “Not gonna stop me?”

He shook his head “I wish you’d stay but I understand if you don’t want to be found in Andor’s shop. He’s one of those new elves. Less honor more power.”

She blinked. He said elves right? Just threw it out there like it was an everyday matter of fact and not a deeply held secret of her hometown.

“Elves aren’t real.’ Caitlyn said matter of fact.

“We both know better than that.” The man gave a bright smile.

“What do you want?”

The words spilled out of her mouth despite her best attempts but this guy was throwing her off so badly she forgot how to function.

“Talk to you of course.”

The worst kind of people were the sincere ones. They were sappy and gooey. They just so happy it was sickening. They had to be up to something. They had to some scheme or scam or something they were waiting to drop on you. No one was that happy, that purely honest. They were the liars who were so good they convinced themselves they were good people. No one was good and everyone had a dark corner in their soul they hid from the world.

Caitlyn knew she had plenty in whatever was left of her ratty soul.

“And if we talk? Will you let me go?”

The man nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Caitlyn licked her lips anxiously “Promise?”

Promise? What was she 12? No one kept their promises. Not even her.

He placed his hand over his heart “Cross my heart.”

“Let’s talk,”

He jerked his head towards the door “Outside. Don’t want you to ruin your heist.”

-----

Today was not going how she was expecting. She was thought she was going to break into an elf ran front, scout the area and come back in the middle of the night. She hadn’t been expecting to have coffee and bread with a random stranger on the street.

Well she had coffee, mystery man opted for hot chocolate.

They stood in a strangely comfortable silence a block from Andor’s. The man offered to pay for whatever she wanted and she took him up on it. Couple of baked goods, a sandwich for lunch, some water and of course her cup of wake up juice. If he was mad at her for her splurging at his expense, he hid it well. He just took his coco and some fancy elvish bread. Looked good but Caitlyn wasn’t up for trying other beings food. She didn’t know how it would sit with her stomach.

The elf who ran the cart, a few months ago human to her, waved goodbye to the pair as he counted the human cash the man gave him.

The trench coat cosplay stood patiently, sipping his drink and waited for her to break the silence.

She refused to break the silence first. Not wanting to sound too eager. Eagerness was a weakness and this guy was already throwing her off her rhythm.

“I’m Finnrick by the way.”

She turned to him, unsure if he was messing with her or not.

He gave her the same goofy smile “Finnrick Drift, private investigator.”

“Ah huh.” She nodded slowly “So you’re a magical P.I.? Like elves cheating on their wives, dwarves dodging their taxes P.I.?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders “Ironically elves like dodging on their taxes more than dwarves.”

“Right.”

“You’re new to the whole other side of Newton Haven huh?”

She glanced at her coffee “Lived here my whole life. Really makes me wonder if I lost my mind.”

“Don’t worry, we’re all mad here Alice.”

Why was she talking to him? Why was she being honest? This was weirder and getting weirder every passing second.

Finnrick changed subject “So, robbing Andor? Any particular loot you are after?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes “Trying to fish something out of me Finny?”

“Guilty as charged” He beamed with pure happiness “Don’t want you wasting your time on shiny trinkets he cares nothing about.”

Caitlyn remained silent. She wasn’t used to such transparency. Normally this would be the point where the guy would lie or pretend to not have heard or awkwardly switch the subject but Finnrick answered openly and honestly. So far.

“So” Caitlyn straightened up, pulling her jacket wide open “What do you think? Great outfit right?”

Finnrick turned to her with a grin, his cheeks turning a pinkish hue as his eyes locked onto hers “Your body is absolutely lovely but your eyes even more so.”

Caitlyn could feel the flush coming. She coughed loudly, focusing on her drink as she willed the embarrassment away.

Finnrick chuckled lightly but returned to his drink. The silence returned, still comfortable as before.

This is was bad whatever this was. She needed to regain some level of control and stop acting like a teenage girl on her first garbage fire of a date.

“So” she cleared her throat “Mister P.I. what would you recommend taking if not all those millions of dollars of historical items he leaves about?”

Finnrick crushed the foam cup effortlessly as he gestured to the third floor of the shop “His office has a pretty simple safe. He keeps loads of paperwork. His various contracts, accounts, treasure hoards”

Caitlyn scoffed in disbelief even though her eyes shone with excitement “Treasure hoards? Elves? I thought dragons were the hoarders. Weren’t elves supposed to be above all that lovely corruption?”

“No one is above corruption.’ Finnrick answered “Elves are just like everyone else.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms and leaned back with a cocky swagger “And why, pray tell, would I care about boring paperwork?”

“Because it really hurt him in the pride.”

Damn Finnrick was good. Not only she was eager to learn more, she could already feel the smug satisfaction of bringing a powerful prick down a peg fill her cause.

Finnrick seemed to notice this because he went on “Andor is a young elf. 100 years give or take.”

“A hundred years is young?”

“When you live a thousand years every other race is a child to you. Andor’s old man is a swell guy. He’s one of those good elves you see in Tolkien.”

“Tolkien?” Caitlyn furrowed her brow “He wrote the books that those Lord of the Rings films are based on right?”

“Yeah actually.”

“Oh and the Hob…”

“We don’t talk about that.” Finnrick quickly added “But see the problem is Andor’s old man doesn’t know his son has become the small time crime lord. Thinks he’s running an antique business selling off old junk that was gathering dust in the family’s attic.”

Something clicked into place for Caitlyn “Wait. Junk from the attic? You mean all those relics on the shop floor?! THAT’S OLD JUNK!?”

Finnrick gave a casual shrug “Elves are weird. Andor don’t know shit about selling, all his money comes from his illegal business practices. That’s how he keeps the shop afloat.”

“I see” Caitlyn spoke, her bluish grays sparkling with mischievous intent “If those records disappeared, his shop sinks and he has to run back home to daddy.”

“And out of the city” Finnrick finished with a smile “And those records are pretty valuable to loads of people. Easier to fence and less messy to explain than a long lost Greek vase showing up in someone’s private collection. You’d get good prices for those hoard locations alone. Better than trying to carry tons of stolen and lost treasure back to your house.”

Caitlyn eyed Finnrick carefully “And you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart? Trying to do your ‘civic’ duty to our fair city?”

“Among other things” Finnrick admitted “But mostly for the greater good.”

“Pfft, greater good? Yeah sure buddy. Like you know what’s the greater good.”

“Will you do it?”

Caitlyn paused, allowing all this information sink in. It was much better than she had planned and while she wasn’t sure of Finnrick’s angle, he seemed honest enough. Of course everyone seems honest enough the first time you meet them.

“Let’s say I do” she spoke, placing her hands on her hips to play the part “What’s in it for you?”

“A favor” He replied simply.

She rose a curious eyebrow “A favor? It’s not date with me, is it?”

“No, I plan to earn that one myself.” Finnrick answered cheerfully.

Caitlyn coughed “Fine, good. Not a date. Least you’re not a creep. But a favor is pretty vague.”

“It’ll be simple I promise.”

Caitlyn narrowed her gaze suspiciously “You promise?”

Finnrick put his hand over his heart again “Cross my heart.”

Caitlyn took a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

Caitlyn offered her hand towards the trench coat cosplayer “You got yourself a deal.”

He gently took her hand in his own and gave it a firm shake. She was surprised when, as he pulled back, she felt a strange metallic item left behind.

She looked at the crystal butterfly hair clip he placed in her hand: It was a beautiful with sliver hues and multi-colored shards of glass across its wings.

“What’s this?”

“A gift.”

Caitlyn felt uneasy with the ornament in her palm: It felt cold and distant like it was feeling her out and wasn’t liking what it found.

“It’s attuning to you.” Finnrick explained “It’s syncing up to your whole aura.”

“Aura?” Caitlyn shot him a glare of disbelief “This isn’t one of those new age hippie things is it?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s a magical item. Yours specifically. Everything alive has a deep and very convoluted to explain connection to this plane. The hairclip is trying to match yours so you and only you can use it.”

“It feels wrong.”

“Because it doesn’t know you yet. It will.”

Caitlyn felt unease about whatever this was. Part of her wanted to toss it as far as she could. The worst part was she felt the item probing at her, changing temperatures as if trying find a comfortable setting for both of them. Burning one moment and too cold the next. This was magic and it made her felt like she knew nothing.

But part of her felt it slowly and subtly trying to match her, focusing on her and on her place in the universe. It felt more natural each passing moment and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious what mister detective over here was letting her borrow.

Caitlyn blew a strand of hair out of her face “How long does this usually take?”

“An hour.” Finnrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone “Oh shoot I have a meeting to get to.”

He turned to leave and suddenly Caitlyn felt alone. Awkward just standing in the street without someone to talk to.

“Wait!” She reached for him but quickly pulled back when he faced her “….any advice?”

Finnrick scratched his chin for a moment “Red tiles. Avoid them or they’ll blast you off the roof.”

“G-gotcha.” Caitlyn didn’t want to know what blast off the roof was code for “A-and the hairclip? What’s it do?”

Finnrick gave a cheeky grin and Caitlyn could feel her face flush “I guess you’ll have to find out angel. Bye for now. May we meet again soon.”

And like that, he was off. Strolling down the straight with a bounce in his step and humming a tune.

Caitlyn glanced at the ornate hairclip in her hand.

Turns out there was a lot more to this magical world than she thought.

[kj-1130]

Chapter 4

Just Like Magic

Main Masterlist

     Calypso sat on the bucket that she had officially proclaimed as her seat. 

     “Come on up! Come on up, folks! And see the amazing C Master perform her newest trick,” her assistant yelled. 

     In actuality, it was one of the little girls, Ivy, from the home she visited. The little seven year old practically worshipped the ground the teen walked on. Calypso figured that the adorableness and pure innocence that came with the young child would be great in aiding her ‘sells’ and it especially helped that little Ivy just lost her two front teeth and had a slight lisp when she talked. 

     Or maybe it was the mystery/unusualness of the situation. There were two kids sitting in front of the park just about everyday, even when they should’ve been in school. One always had a black hoodie--regardless of the temperature--and a mask that covered the bottom of their face while the younger hadn’t even hit their growth spurt yet. And all without an adult. 

     Either way, Calypso didn’t give a fuck. She just needed a certain distance between her and another person and quick hands. And she sure as hell had some quick hands. 

     As the crowd continued to grow (although it seemed some just wanted to humor the kids), the teen stood and made herself known.

     “For this trick, I’ll be needing a volunteer. Anyone?”

     Immediately, the four or five children that seemed to be within the sea of people raised their hands, all yelling variations of ‘Me! Pick me!’

     While Calypso thought the kids were absolutely darling and the look of awe on their faces after she pulled the trick off would’ve been quite endearing, they weren’t the ones she wanted. Because they didn’t have anything of value to her. Sure, she could’ve stolen the candy that was in their pockets for shits and giggles but she wasn’t that cruel. 

     So her eyes continued to scan across the crowd, specifically looking at wrists and hands, necks, hell even ears. But eventually, her eyes had been caught and her determination had risen about one thousand levels. And she thanked whatever lords were above as her eyes squinted when she smirked and made eye contact with her ‘volunteer’.

     “You, in the teal skirt.” 

     The woman seemed surprised as she glanced at the others surrounded around her and reluctantly made her way towards the teenager. The woman seemed quite short, but luckily for Calypso she had worn heels making the two practically eye to eye. 

     Once she made it to the front, the noise coming from the group had significantly lowered as they noticed the magician pull out a deck of cards. Shuffling them a little, the teen raised her gaze and made eye contact with her participant. 

     “What’s your name?”

     “Susan,” the woman replied albeit a little hesitant. 

     “Okay, Susan, here’s how this is gonna work. I’m gonna show you my deck, you’re gonna pick a card. Then I’ll try to see if I can guess your card.”

     Taking a pause she reaches behind the woman’s left ear and pulls out a card presenting it to the audience. 7 of spades. 

     “Just like that.”

     Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she raises an eyebrow at the woman in front of her.

     “Got it?”

     With no further words, Calypso takes her hands and spreads the cards between them. The teen closes her eyes and turns her head to the side to ensure the audience that she isn’t cheating. She can faintly hear Ivy whispering to the audience trying to keep them interested. 

     “Better keep watching, folks. You don’t wanna miss this at all.”

     Finally, she’s alerted by a tap on her hand that Susan had completed her task and opened her eyes. 

     “Alright. Look at your card. Remember it. Put it back in the stack.”

     The woman did as told and watched as the child in front of her went into her zone, shuffling the cards once again. Abruptly, the teen stopped and looked up. 

     “It’s not in here.”

     Susan frowned and tilted her head, “I’m pretty sure I placed it back properly.”

     It took everything in Calypso not to roll her eyes at the woman and her tone. 

     “Well, it’s not here and--oh wait!”

     She reached behind the adult’s right ear and pulled the card out. 

     “There it is! How did it even get back there?

     The audience erupted into quiet cheers as the two kids regrouped and bowed. A few tips were placed in the raggedy satchel that sat next to the teen’s bucket. 

     As the people dispersed, the older of the two ran up to her bag and checked the amount they received. 

     “Hey, we actually got more tips than trash today! 25 bucks.”

     Ivy looked up from where she was packing her backpack up with a frown, “No more of those condom things?”

     The coily-headed teen snorted and shook her head. 

     “Nah, there’s still...one in here.”

     “It’s better than six,” the seven-year-old muttered. 

     With a smile etched onto her face, Calypso pulled her mask off and made her way to her ‘sister’. 

     “Why did you pick her and not one of the kids?”

     As the teen walked out of her self-proclaimed alley, a woman ran into her. 

     “Ugh, watch where you’re going you little demon!”

     Agitated, Calypso looked the woman up and down. 

     “Ugly ass skirt,” she muttered before walking away.

     “No reason,” the elder replied.

     They began their trek back to the house with the honks and yells filling the silence between the two. 

     Ivy and Calypso had always been close; not saying the latter wasn’t close with any of the other kids. The teen was there when the girl had first arrived at the home, looking scared and lost. Hell, she didn’t blame her at all. 

     For some strange reason, the then toddler had latched herself to her. Calypso thinks that she sees some of her in the young girl. But she couldn’t be sure; her mind wasn’t all that reliable. 

     As they neared the place of their residence, the elder wrapped her arm around Ivy’s shoulder. 

     “Thanks for doing this with me today, Vee.”

     The younger girl rolled her eyes and slipped from the teen’s embrace. 

     “Yeah, yeah. Just make sure I get my cut,” she said as she ran up the ramp and into the door.

     “Little asshole.”

-

     It was later in the evening when Calypso was out and about again. The pocket inside of her satchel had been recently filled with at least 300 bucks from the earrings she had just pawned (Harold owed her a favor). 

     She decided that the weather was nice enough to take a small stroll through the park and took out her mask and flipped her hood up--well as far as she could considering there was a puff sitting on top of her head. 

     As her eyes danced across the park, someone--a woman with sunglasses came into her view. A very familiar woman at that. 

     She pretended that she wasn’t suspicious and went on with her walk as if she knew nothing. But in her peripheral, she continued to inconspicuously observe this person who was now in the front of her mind. Calypso turned her head in their direction and she saw her head drop. 

     Her eyes wandered across the park as her heart rate increased. She just had to show up today. Would she ever get off of my back?

     The teen then sped up her pace, hands gripping the strap of her satchel. Why today of all days? 

     She was sick of all this glancing over her shoulder. She was sick of all the paranoia. This woman just wouldn’t quit. 

     Her sick smile and her claws she called nails always made the young girl’s skin crawl. 

     Calypso allowed herself one more look over the shoulder before climbing up the tree that she hoped would give her the anonymity she needed. 

     The woman took step after step, heels clacking against the cement. Who the hell wears heels to the park?

     Each click spiked fear through Calypso’s body. It was if there was a jolt of electricity that would flow through her with each of her movements. 

     With shaky hands, the teen lifted an old camera out of her bag and snapped a picture. She watched as the woman made her way out of the park, letting out a breath of relief, the tension following behind. 

     Today of all days. 

-

     Debbie raised an eyebrow at Lou when a knock reverberated throughout the room. The platinum blonde shrugged in reply to the silent question as the brunette made her way to the entrance of the loft. 

     The woman looked through the peephole and furrowed her eyebrows before opening the door. Outside was a teen, practically shivering (Debbie didn’t know if it was from the cold or from nerves) with pleading eyes. 

     “You gotta help me. Please.”

[dracosaurusrex]

A New Kind of Warmth.

Part 5 to Notebook!

Summary: In which love and appreciation blooms within the small moments.

Pairing: Draco x Gryffindor!reader

A/N: I’m sorry for my lateness! I didn’t want to rush this chapter at the risk of compromising the development of the feelings between the two. That, and the fact that I haven’t been on a date in a looooooonnggg time, so I’m a wee bit out of my element LOL. I hope you enjoy! Once again, feedback is very much appreciated :)

A breeze had snuck into the shop as Draco exited. It was chilling. As it brushed your skin, you snapped back into reality, trying to comprehend what just happened. Looking around to see if anyone witnessed the scene, your confused e/c met with amused ones belonging to the owner, Scrivenshaft.

“You’re flushed, child.” He said with a chuckle. You felt your face. It was very well heated, surely enough. Your fingers passed feathered across your ears. Even they were warm.

“You mean to tell me that actually just happened?” The older man released a louder laugh.

“Ah...young love. It’s quite the sight to see, innit?” 

“Oh please! M-Me and Draco Malfoy? You’ve got to be joking!” He only shook his head. 

“Tsk tsk, whatever you say! Don’t tell me I didn’t say so. Are you going to make your purchases? Someone’s waiting for you outside.” The store owner’s teasing only made your face hotter as you approached the front counter. Your heart was beating at what seemed to be an alarming rate as the thoughts of spending time with a certain blonde occupied your mind.

“A little piece of advice from old Scrivey--be comfortable with yourself instead of thinking of what he’ll think. Men are suckers for gals like that.” He said as he began to calculate the prices. 

“But sir, that boy is a Malfoy! I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with his...background.” You fumbled with your fingers as the words stumbled out of your mouth. You were a pureblood, yes, but your family didn’t have much as far as wealth was concerned. You would’ve never imagined yourself with the boy throughout your studies at Hogwarts. Because of this, the image of him and the vastness of richness was more than enough to induce your insecurities to overtake you. 

“I am very well aware! It would take a lot from a boy of his calibre to show interest to anyone, don’t you think? You’d think with a family as luxurious as his own, he’d be a little more picky! That’ll be 12 galleons.” Scrivenshaft had a confident air in his voice. You handed him the amount as your esteem continued to lower itself.

“But that is precisely why you should be comfortable with yourself, child. If a boy like Draco Malfoy can see something special in you that he’d want to spend time with you, that says something more about you than what you think his preferences might be.” You were taken aback with the oddly comforting words from the shop owner, who you just met mere minutes ago.

“Don’t bring my hopes up, sir. I can only ask for that.” It was your turn to release a laugh, albeit an unsure one. 

“Wanna make a bet?” You lifted an eyebrow up to him.

“You can’t bet on my love lif-” He cut you off.

“If I’m incorrect and this ends up being a horrid date despite you being yourself, then I owe you two quills of your choice.” You were a sucker for stationary, you couldn’t deny that, but that would mean the date would have to go wrong, and deep inside you were hoping that the time would be well spent.

“You’re betting on disappointment, sir.”

“Nonsense! Free handouts lucks me out of the galleons! I certainly hope it goes well!” You rolled your eyes and laughed as you picked up your bag of items.

“You should get going. I think he’s growing impatient.” He nodded to the window located at the storefront. When you turned, you were met with Draco’s curious eyes, eliciting a laugh from you. You saw a hint of pink spread over his cheeks as he regained his posture while a feeling of warmth had done so over your chest. You turned back to the shop owner to bid him farewell.

“Thank you, sir!” He nodded in response as you made your way outside. Your heart was still racing as your hands tightened its grip on the bag. It was only a few more moments.

Upon pulling the door open, a cold breeze and a bright ray of light filled your immediate senses. The chills of autumn nipped at your nose. After adjusting your vision, you turned your gaze in search of platinum hair. Once you saw him, your breath hitched and you started approaching him nervously. His back was turned to you, reading a shop sign of some sorts. You delicately reached out to tug on a small portion of his jacket. As he turned around, his eyes widened at the sight of you.

“H-hey!” You tried to say as normally as you could have. You felt yourself wallow in the awkwardness, thinking about how embarrassed you looked in his eyes. To the contrary though, Draco’s heart was pounding just as much as yours was. 

“Hi! I didn’t expect to see you in Hogsmeade.” He straightened his posture as he held eye contact with you.

“I didn’t expect to see you either! What brings you here?” There was something about his silvery eyes that made it difficult for you to pull away. You both were practically entranced as nervousness loomed in the air.

“I-I was with my friends. They wanted to have a round of butterbeer.” This wasn’t how Draco normally acted around you, and this wasn’t how you normally acted around him either. Perhaps it was the sudden glances in potions, or the notebook that he gave. Perhaps it was even the way you had said his name numerous times, and the way it made him feel. Perhaps it was all of that that made nervousness rack your insides. Whatever it was, both of you were too flustered to think of what to do.

Feeling that the silence continued to drag on, Draco added, “How about you?”

You broke your gaze, remembering how you lost your friends because of the length of time you spent in Honeydukes thinking about the boy who was standing in front of you.

“I came with Mione and Ginny, but I ended up losing them after Honeydukes, so I went to Srivenshaft’s to run some errands.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the fact you got separated because of peppermint toads, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“Do you enjoy candy?” He asked as the two of you unknowingly started to walk around, aimless of a destination.

“I do. Although, sometimes I get bored of the taste.” You said, your nervousness slipping away for a bit. “Do you?” You looked up to the blonde.

“I’m the same as you, but not so much. I’d say that some candies are way refreshing than others though. I tend to prefer them.” 

“What’s your favorite, if you don’t mind me asking?” You ask, genuinely interested. 

He stopped and looked at you with glee in his eyes, “Rather curious aren’t you?” You felt another blush come up.

“I-I was ju-” Afraid that you seemed too excited, you tried to defend yourself. However, you were cut off by his response.

“It’s not something I admit often, but I’m a fan of minty things. Not really anything in particular. Just as long as there’s-”

“Mint?” You finish his sentence.

“Precisely.” You both laugh, as comfort starts creeping in. It was then that you suddenly recalled the candy you purchased a couple hours before.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think you’re in for a treat.” You reached into your bag for the peppermint toads, and whipped one of the blue packages out with a bright smile on your face. 

“Would you happen to fancy a peppermint toad?” You wiggled your eyebrows with hopes that he would respond positively. To your delight, Draco eyes brightened.

“Ah! A girl with taste! Don’t mind if I do, thank you.” The both of you stopped in your steps, taking a seat on the closest bench. Your hands were still slightly shaky as you opened the bag of candies. Draco on the other hand couldn’t stop the smile that stuck on his face. He was appalled with the fact that you didn’t object to his offer to hang out, and the fact that he could relish all of your beauty for himself made his heart flutter for the millionth time that day. 

The way the light peered over Hogsmeade created an aura that Draco couldn’t quite explain. It was much similar to the way the sun would shine after the rain--a new brightness, a pure sparkle. It was quite...romantic, even though he wasn’t so familiar with the feeling. He stared at you with fondness as you fumbled with the bag of sweets, taking note of the way your eyes seemed to form crescents as you reached out to offer him some with a smile. Your hair, once again, blew across your face, leaving strands to hang over slightly into the box. To this, Draco smiled. He tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear before reaching into the box. He would flutter his gaze from you to the bag, and back to you again. He felt so welcome in your presence.

You watched as a satisfied reaction covered his face.

“They taste more refreshing now since it’s starting to get cold. Even more so because of the girl who gave it to me.” He glanced at you with a side eye. It was pretty chilly outside, but you only paid attention to the heat that rose to your cheeks. You shook your head, giggling at what you assumed was his attempt to flirt.

“Are you flirting with me, Draco Malfoy?” Your eyes met his, and locked into contact. He scooted closer to you.

“Perhaps. Do you like it?” 

“You’re unbelievable.” You rolled your eyes and bit your lip before breaking out another smile. You glanced at the bag of peppermint toads, allowing the moment to settle. 

“I suppose I welcome it.” You say, looking up at him, grinning. You felt different. The smiles you gave to Draco were different than those you gave your friends. You just couldn’t stop, especially when he’s sitting in close proximity to you with a smile that seemed to radiate the same energy as yours. His eyes were also much warmer and inviting--something that you only saw in the small moments you shared. 

As the intensity of the moment continued to increase, you reached into the bag and grabbed another handful of toads. You plopped two in your mouth before extending your arm to offer some to the boy next to you. He eyed it carefully before a smirk had formed. 

“Feed me.” He said, cooly. Your eyes widened, your heart quickened, the feeling was exhilarating, and the only thing you wanted to do was ride along with it.

“What the-” He dropped his jaw slightly, which ended up emphasizing the shape of his lips, pulling you into another trance.

‘Dear Merlin, Y/N! Get your head out of the gutter!’ You shouted internally. You cleared your throat.

“You’re not a child, Draco.” A jokingly stern voice painted your tone.

“Just this once?” He pouted.

“Do I look like a servant to you?” You said sarcastically with a raised eyebrow at him. He had a coy expression on his face, to which you only chuckled. Before he could respond, you took his hand and held it firmly above your lap with his palm facing up. Immediately, you took notice of small details of his hand. How small yours was in comparison to his--the length of your fingers reached only ¾ of his own. The way his skin felt warm on yours. How unexpectedly soft they were. The way his fingers looked similar to that of a sculpture. How these hands wrote every single word on the notebook he lent you. How it would be nice to feel your fingers intertwined with his. Your eyes were transfixed on his palms, forgetting why you grabbed it in the first place.

“Y/N.” His voice broke your trance. You turned your face towards him, your grip remaining.

“May I?” He eyed his palm. Thinking that he was weirded out, you stammered the first couple of words that appeared in your brain.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Before you could tilt the bag to dispense the candy, he broke out laughing, making you stop.

“You got me all wrong, Y/N. I meant, may I hold your hand?” Your heart stopped for a second, then made leaps, jumps, and even soared. As the heat fled to your cheeks for the umpteenth time today, you looked down smiling.

With quiet words, you whisper your response loud enough so that only he could hear. “You may.”

There was glee and innocence in your tone. Draco took control of his hand, and gingerly slipped his fingers into yours. The warmth you felt from his skin earlier had now wrapped around your own digits like a glove. Except now, instead of keeping them extended, you clasped them against his knuckles, taking in the comfort that came along with his presence. You sighed in pleasure.

“I might be getting ahead of myself, but this feels right.” You admit quietly while looking at the sight before you.

“I’m in favor with that statement.” He says as he squeezes your hand with more pressure.

The both of you bask within the afternoon autumn sunlight in silence. Crisp breezes compliment the air as it travels through the cozy town. Rays shoot past the pointed roofs and scatter over the streets and shop windows, contrasting sharply with the darkness of the shade. The bustling footsteps of the crowds fill your ears, but it is the sense of touch that completely overtakes the moment. A touch that is filled with respect, with purity, with affection, with gentleness, and with warmth. The mere act of sitting and holding hands is one to relish for a long time. It is then that the feeling of gratefulness touches your heart as you recall Scrivenshaft’s words. You were beginning to grow more comfortable with Draco Malfoy.

A/N: Autumn and winter are my favorite seasons. There’s just something about it’s coziness that automatically reminds of romance haha. I want to thank you all for the support you’ve given me with this fic. I initially had meant for it to be a oneshot, but seeing it grow as a series helps me exercise my mind and find new ways to elicit *feels* haha. On a serious note, I appreciate you all and I hope you all have a wonderful day!

Here’s Part 4!

Taglist: @m-winchester-67 @bbeauttyybbx @un-limit-edd @poetontheblock @tttyrus @stretchyice  @vaeonshi @bittersweetthoughts--ofinsanity @saptediavoli @kookie-vuitton @thatguppienamedbae

[eddysocs]

Pit Of Vipers — Chapter One (Start Of Seventh Year)

Summary: The train ride to Hogwarts for her seventh year brings Lissette back to her frenemy Draco as she prepares for the year ahead.

Word Count: 1,098

Warnings: Mild swearing, snarky banter

When Lissette Serpens received her letter to attend Hogwarts at age eleven, no one in her family was surprised. The Serpens Family had attended Hogwarts since its founding, and in that span of time, their bloodline remained pure as many other families had for centuries. Lissette was a natural witch and showed much promise in the art of magic, even at a very young age.

She also had a thirst for knowledge, which imbued her parents with a bit of fear that the Serpens family tradition of being sorted into Slytherin would come to an end, and their darling daughter may be sorted into Ravenclaw. But alas, their fears were allayed when the sorting hat did not even hesitate for a moment before declaring Lissette a Slytherin. And how right it had been.

Lissette's lust for knowledge came to her only as a side effect of being so driven to be named top student of her year, a feat she had managed to accomplish six years in a row. Now, entering her seventh year, her goal remained unchanged. She would be declared top student of her graduating class, or she would damn well die trying.

Boarding the train at platform 9¾, Lissette's uniform was pressed perfectly, and she’d even added a charm her mother had taught her to make it appear as if it sparkled. All eyes went to her as she passed. First years gaped at her like she were some sort of goddess while jealous seventh year Ravenclaws glowered as she passed them while wearing her self satisfied smirk at knowing that she was putting their whole house to shame.

This year was going to be her crowning achievement at Hogwarts, setting her seventh consecutive year as top student and graduating with honors. She would be renowned in Hogwarts history. Lissette found her place for the train ride next to Draco Malfoy, one of the few of her fellow students she held in any sort of regard. They could have been family if you looked at both of them side by side. Most notably, the platinum blonde hair and light blue eyes they shared. In their younger days, when they spent more time together, they often were mistaken for siblings, twins even, considering they were born in the same year.

Now, the childhood friendship they once shared had morphed into something resembling a lukewarm reception of one another at worst, and a contentious friendship at best. They didn’t share secrets, or talk about dating. They simply exchanged pleasantries, banter and made occasional small talk with a silent acknowledgment of the people they used to be.

In an ideal situation, or at least to the ideals of the Malfoys and Lissette’s father, Lorenzo, the two would one day marry and continue the pure blood line of Malfoys with another high standing pure blood family such as the Serpens. It would be the perfect arrangement, and had times not changed so, it would be an arrangement indeed, but Lissette's mother, Seraphina, wanted more for her daughter than to be tied to a man chosen for her, as she had been. So any such arrangement with the Malfoys was a nonstarter. Yet the families remained friendly over the years, and Lissette felt just as at home with Lucius and Narcissa as she did with her own parents.

As other students talked excitedly about new classes and professors, Lissette already had gone off into her own little world. She pulled out the book that she’d be using for her independent study in potions, an extremely rare and nearly unheard of opportunity her father had arranged for her when she expressed an interest. "Nose in a book already, Serpens," Draco lightheartedly teased.

"Wouldn’t kill you to try it yourself," Lissette quipped with a smirk, not taking her eyes off the page. Draco chuckled and went back to looking out the window. It wasn’t long before he looked back at her, watching as she turned page after page. If Lissette had an inkling that his eyes were on her, she showed no sign of it.

"You going to come to the first quidditch match this year," he asked after several quiet minutes had passed between them.

"You sound like you’re actually interested if I’m attending or not," Lissette retorted as she lowered her book, purposely not answering the question he’d asked.

"Maybe I am. So what’s your answer?"

"If I find the time," she replied noncommittally.

"Oh, yes. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your studies with a bit of fun now, would we," Draco cracked.

"You just want someone who isn’t Crabbe or Goyle to inflate your ego for once. Don’t lie to me. I know you, Malfoy." With that, Draco huffed and turned his attention back out the window, pettily refusing to speak to Lissette again until they’d arrived at Hogwarts.

Draco followed Lissette off of the train, and walked beside her as they headed up the road. They mostly walked in silence, with Lissette mentioning something here and there that Draco would acknowledge with not much more than a nod or grunt. When they reached the entrance to Hogwarts, he finally decided to speak to her again. "I do sincerely hope you’ll come to the match," he said.

"Yeah, alright. Talk me into it, why don’t you. I’ll be there. Just the first one though. I’m not promising the rest."

"Thanks. Oh and I saw what you were reading on the train. Have fun being Snape's bitch. Ought to be a real laugh."

Lissette made a face at him and Draco went off cackling. She’d never thought Snape was that bad, as long as you didn’t act a fool in his class, which she never had. He was stoic, stern and hard to read, but she’d never had issue with him. And she liked potions. It offered her a creative outlet in her rather rigorous academic life. She wasn’t about to let Draco make her regret her choice in taking an independent study in the subject.

Lissette had let Draco get far enough ahead of her to avoid any more taunts from him. She did like him, really, but he had a habit of making himself a nuisance to her when he wanted to. She would turn up to the match though. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t really want her to be there. But that was some time off yet, and not her primary thought. This was her last year. She had a legacy to leave. Steeling herself for the year ahead, Lissette walked through the door of Hogwarts.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

-> Chapter Two

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @foxesandmagic, @carmens-garden, @fawera, @themaradaniels, @that-demigirl, @iloveocs, @bossyladies, @b1rvt4, @getawaycardotmp3

Lissette Serpens: @dancingwith-sunflowers, @zalera8310, @psychchesters, @bowiesdaughter, @ofbadcharacters, @luucypevensie, @madebyleftovermuses, @freshmoneyalmondathlete, @adrianas-ocs-and-such, @dollvi3e, @intelligence-strength-heart-soul

[mihidecet]

Sbi&Co d&d AU: Fundy & Niki

AKA: Tibi's MCYT WritingTober, day 23!

SURPRISE!! As for @spout1nk and @awebo 's lovely requests, here is the chapter where we get to meet Fundy and Niki!!

This is also, once again, a fill for @the-only-gamer-gost 's list of prompts!! I got myself another free day aahahah

I do hope you'll like it! And as always, make sure you check out @whatimevendoinhere 's stunning drawings!!! They made art of Fundy and it is so good yall.

It starts like this: the whole gang is looking for a new job to tackle, with Techno, Tommy and Tubbo looking at the town's mission board and Wilbur and Phil needling the town's guard for more high profile tasks.

Half an hour later, a bored and disappointed trio meet up with a radiant Wilbur and an impressed Phil.

They have a job and the pay is five times higher than normal.

Apparently some dumbass has been running around the county, scamming nobles with fake artifacts and cursed precious objects. The nobles are mad, they want their coins back and the scammer in jail - or possibly worse -, and they are willing to pay an embarrassingly high amount of coin for it to be done quickly and quietly. Quietly being the highest requirement.

And that is how the SleepyBois start tracking this infamous scammer down.

First, they find all of the victims.

That alone takes them a while, because nobles are tricky to navigate and scorned nobles are even worse - and somehow these scammed nobles all seem to be not that good people, if the way they treat the adventurers trying to help them is any indication.

Still, one may assume that spending a lot of platinum coins on things that turn out to be fake and haunted might make you a bit … confrontational.

Also, they're going to make a lot of coins out of this job, so it's not like they're going to say anything.

Then, they buy a new, spotless map of the region with about a quarter of their collective coins - “Philza Greenwood we should have accepted the one from the kind old lady.” “You know that was cursed, we’re not doing this again.” - and start writing down every location hit.

It’s not that hard, once they put Tubbo to work, to find a handful of possible towns their target is going to hit.

It's honestly impressive how quickly he's able to narrow their options down, sending Techno and Wilbur out for recon missions to specific locations, guiding the whole team in a weirdly familiar way; straightforward and decisive like Techno, gentle and responsible like Phil, switching between the two attitudes as easy as he breathes.

Wilbur's only seen him like this when he works on his creations before, and it's amazing how quickly he gets over the initial sheepishness and steps into his role.

Everything is good and wonderful and he fits perfectly into the team, and this is just another proof of it.

The only bad thing about the whole situation is how bloody smug Tommy is, since it had been his idea to let Tubbo handle the planning - the kid can gloat, Wilbur's got to give him that, even if he is right in doing that.

Ever since the two childhood best friends had reunited, Tommy has been … more. Not in a bad way - no matter how much Techno jokingly groans about it -, but it's evident how much there was something weighing on the kid's mind before this.

But right now it's not really the best time to think about this.

A couple of nights ago, Tubbo had narrowed the list of possible new noble families that were going to be hit down to a single name. An old timey, very strict and reclusive family, now mainly composed of two grandparents and an impressive array of disowned young adventurers, and workers of all types. Reasons for disowning were many and varied and all a bit ridiculous.

Apparently having a bad temper and even worse record of mistreating everyone around you was the common denominator for all the people being targeted, alongside having an extremely absurd amount of coin.

Phil knows, he's seen it in Wilbur's eyes the moment Tubbo told everyone his deductions, that the tiefling would be more than happy with just letting the scammer go with a slap on the wrist. Everyone is slowly leaning towards that, Phil himself is too, but he's not really going to mention that yet, especially as they're all gearing up to stalk the scammer back to their hideout.

Especially since they can't really let this chance go: the fact that Tubbo was able to narrow their options down to a single family means that if this isn't it, they'll have to start from scratch.

When they leave the tavern, packed light and ready for the expected stealth, it's a couple of hours before dawn.

Everyone is thankfully able to see in the dark - even Tubbo, who is a human like Tommy, since he used his knowledge of glass-making and arcane enchantments to forge himself some night vision goggles - and they move quickly in the shadows, their silhouettes hidden even more due to one of Phil's spells.

This is also the first time Tubbo's bees aren't making any sound - apparently their buzzing is purely aesthetic.

Reaching the family's manor is not hard nor it takes longer than expected, which is quite unusual considering their experiences. Once they reach their destination, they hide near the entrance then Techno vanishes - probably gone inside the main gates to see if their target has already arrived.

About fifteen excruciating minutes later, Techno reappears, one hand already on Tommy's mouth to prevent him from yelping in surprise and reveal their position. The fact that he is perfectly correct in his assumption doesn't prevent him from receiving a swift kick to the shin.

"He's inside. Seems human, dressed like a scammer would be dressed. Or a very extravagant seller. Showing off a floating statue." Techno relies the information as he rubs the now sore spot on his leg, side eyeing a very offended Tommy while Tubbo is red faced almost to the point of tears as he desperately tries not to burst out laughing.

"Good job." Phil confirms, trying very hard to stay focused on the task - this all is extremely useful information, both in case of a possible fight breaking out and because in all the time they've been searching for the scammer, they've had nothing but mixed information from their targets.

One time it's a sweet looking cleric, another time they're a buff half orc, then it's a tiefling with a missing horn- every time something new, but the only constants have been the extravagant clothing choices and them being a magic user.

Wilbur punches the air with gusto, conveying silently what everyone is more or less feeling, and then they resign themselves to some uncertain amount of time of patiently and quietly waiting.

Phil has a spell to hide them again ready for whenever they hear somebody getting close.

Techno takes the time to meditate.

Wilbur is tapping a finger against his leg with his eyes closed, so he's probably writing a song in his mind.

Tubbo is taking notes on his notebook, planning another upgrade for his crossbow.

Tommy is about to vibrate out of his skin.

Everything according to plan.

Then, finally, Phil hears footsteps approaching the gates.

He casts his spell, shadows elongating from the trees they are hiding in, wrapping around them, covering them, fake greenery taking form in front of them- and everyone is instantly on edge.

"Are you sure you don't want a totem? They're good luck! They'll protect you against evil spirits - those old crooks must be beacons for them!" A quick paced voice reached their ears, and Techno's dagger is already out.

A much quieter voice answers - only Phil manages to catch the irritated negative answer, but everyone hears the gates being slammed shut.

There's more footsteps, then their target enters most of their views.

The man - probably? - takes some steps, back straight and shoulders moving with a light chuckle - when his eyes stray towards them.

He blinks once, twice, then his eyes switch colour.

He stops in his tracks.

Raises a hand and gives a quick wave.

"Uhm … cya!" And then he disappears, vanishing into thin air.

Techno curses loudly next to Tommy.

"Wilbur-"

The tiefling stands up and his eyes turn pure black as he raises a hand towards the place where he disappeared, muttering a quick song under his breath before calling out:

"Tubbo!"

A bolt from the kid's crossbow flies in the direction Wilbur's pointing at a split second later.

It flies, but doesn't strike true, barely grazing the scammer's jacket as the man moves out of its way. Right into Techno's thrown dagger which hits him right in the side.

There's a loud, weirdly pitched "shit!" coming from the empty air in the space in front of them, then nothing but the sound of someone fleeing as silently as they can.

Instead of following suit, like one would expect, the rest of the group turns towards Techno, who's holding his dagger - now back into his hand - and mouthing a prayer against the stained blade.

There's a light humm coming from nowhere and everywhere that echoes in Techno's mind for a moment, then he opens his eyes.

"So, do you have him?" Tommy asks, feeling the urge to pursue their target itching under his skin.

"Yup, I've got him. Nice job with the crossbow, Tubbo." Techno answers, shooting a small smile to his short companion, who shakes his weapon proudly.

"It's quite easy to shoot in order to make people move a certain direction, you know, once you know what to do!"

Tracking down the scammer is quite easy now that Techno has cast his tracking spell on him.

They wait for a moment, reconvene, make sure they have everything they need and then they start moving.

They don't have to walk much, as Techno lets them know that their target has stopped moving and they're getting closer extremely quickly.

In the end, it's a small, cute looking wooden house that they reach. It seems small and well kept, with clean windows and bright flowers on the outside. It's a bit hidden amongst a thicker part of the forest, but it gets enough light to be comfortably illuminated.

Wilbur figures the scammer ran and hid here, in hope of either having them lose his tracks or to maybe use a civilian as human shield.

Phil gestures towards the house, to which Techno answers with a decisive nod, so the elf approaches the door and knocks.

"Hello?" A feminine, accented voice answers from behind the door.

"Hi, I'm very sorry to disturb you, we're a group of adventurers looking for a runaway criminal, have you perhaps seen anyone suspicious running around?" There's a beat of silence, then a long, drawn out humm.

"I'm very sorry but I don't think I can help you with that? I was busy baking inside, I haven't seen anyone." The voice answers back, seemingly sheepish and apologetic.

Wilbur takes a step forward, shooting a glance towards a suspicious looking Techno.

"Our apologies, but would you mind letting us rest inside your abode for a little while? We've been out all night looking for clues, and we will pay you for your kindness."

After a slightly longer than expected pause, the sound of keys jingling reachea the team's ears.

"Oh, yes, of course. It's a bit small here, but- We can make it fit."

Phil knows enough Celestial to recognise the accent in the woman's voice; seeing her almost aethereal being open the door cements in Phil's mind the fact that yes, the person in front of him is of Celstial descent - that, and the dusting of silver and golden freckles across her face.

"Oh my, there- there's a lot of you."

Phil gives a sheepish smile, an apology ready on his lips - she is hiding their target, for some reason, but that doesn't mean he's going to be rude about it - but Tommy is already striding towards the entrance.

"We'll be good and squeeze together, promise!" He exclaims, quickly hitting Wilbur in the side with his elbow as he passes him.

The tiefling shoots him a murderous glare, which instantly disappears and turns into a kind smile the instant he realises that the aasimar woman is looking at him questioningly.

"Are you all part of the same group?" She asks as they shuffle in. The house is slightly bigger than expected, with everything looking both very clean and very lived in - books left open on a table, a chair that hasn't been set back, a blanket thrown on an armchair instead of being folded properly. It's homely.

There are a couple of colourful looking birds flying around the place, and they instantly flock to Phil the moment he enters the kitchen - following the woman's instructions. To be fair, there are plenty animals hanging out in the whole house: he's sure he heard a squirrel running in the corridor, and there were a couple of tortoises in the living room.

And then, on the window sill next to the kitchen table there is a fox, sleeping curled up under the sun. Techno, on edge from the tracking and the oncoming social interactions, really envies the tranquil animal.

"Is there anything you need? Something to drink, maybe? I was making some bread, so-" the woman starts, taking out a still smoking loaf. Everyone but Phil is instantly glowing: how often are you offered freshly baked bread? And mostly for free? That really is something special, that must be surely cherished.

And yet, Phil is not looking at the woman - who is still yet to introduce herself - but at the fox. Still sleeping peacefully, after they'd opened a single eye at the sound of strangers entering the room.

"That is very kind of you, miss …?" Wilbur asks, eyes constantly switching between the offered food and the stranger's face.

"Oh, you can call me Niki."

Phil moves closer to the fox with a small smile, one bird still perched on his shoulder, and extends a hand slowly, hoping not to startle the animal.

The fox blinks slowly at the fingers floating right in front of their eyes, then huffs and moves their head so that Phil can start giving them little scratches, tail swishing lazily - all this, while the rest of the team does a round of introductions.

"Niki, your fox is adorable." Phil comments after a moment, while the others are eagerly helping out Niki in finding a knife to cut slices of bread with and honey, which apparently she makes herself.

"Ah yeah, thank you. His name is Fungi." She answers with a small smile, making Phil chuckle. The fox's tail keeps swishing from side to side, probably to convey his appreciation of the continuous pets he's receiving, but one of his front legs seems to not be making any movement. A quick, focused, look confirms his suspicions.

"Oh dear, he seems hurt. Let me heal him for you." Phil comments, worry colouring his tone, as he focuses his intent into the palm of his hand, lightly resting on the injured limb.

As his magic knits back muscle and tissue and blod cells, Phil watches intently as the stab wound shrinks and then disappears. Then, he picks the fox up, cradling him in his arms as Niki gets closer, a look of deep worry on her face - one of the first true emotions she's shown since they got there, Phil notices, which only serves to confirm his suspicions.

"Oh, thank you so much, I'm so very glad, he just keeps getting into messes!"

There's a moment of pause, then Phil starts scratching the fox's chin - his tail starts wagging noticeably quicker.

"Did you know foxes are known for their cunning, but they're actually pretty dumb?" Phil starts, prompting everyone to turn towards him in shock and deep confusion.

Phil merely chuckles.

"You agree, right, little guy? I can see it in your eyes, there's nothing going on in that little brain of yours, right?" He teases, cooing at the little animal before- in a mix of slightly disturbing deformations and a blink-and-you-miss-it transformation - the fox in his arms suddenly enlarges, his limbs elongating and face rounding out.

Now, this would have probably come as a big surprise to akl but instead it looks quite funny because the moment the small fox becomes a human sized man with for ears, all the instantly added weight crashes into Phil and sends them crashing down to the ground.

But since they've all gotten used to a skinchanger moving from their human form to their animal one, one way or another, all that remains is the hilarouns scene of a laughing out loud Phil sprawled on the ground with their red faced, extremely irritated target kneeling on top of him.

"Fuck you, man! That was so mean!"

For a moment everyone is just staring at each other, trying to understand what has happened, until when Techno speaks up.

"Well I guess we found our scammer."

[missserpentia-fae]

Take Care of Them

Warning: Hmm..? If you’re touchy on religion, I’d advise you to not continue reading. (I wrote this for fun)

If any of the characters are OC, tell me so I can try and adjust it.

Takes place after Lesson 18 but before Lesson 19

Pairings: Obey me boys x MC/Reader

Summary: God talking to MC in a dream or such about the brothers

Part 1-7

Chapter 8

The human jerked awake and looked around their room, their eyes landing on the envelope on their bedside table. Oddly enough, there seemed to be something else peeking out from underneath the envelope. They reached for whatever was hiding underneath the envelope and took notice that it was some kind of portrait.

Tears prickled at the corner of their eyes as they stared at the portrait. It was a picture of the six brothers when they were angels. The human let out a wet sob, their vision blurring as they stared at Mammon tackling someone that looked vaguely like Lucifer. Lucifer looked annoyed but they could see the tenderness in his green eyes as he stared at his younger brother. Asmo and Levi were sitting back to back. Levi had his eyes closed and his head was tilted back against Asmo’s shoulder, his purple hair was slicked back with a couple strands falling against his forehead. Asmo was staring off at Beel and Belphie with a large grin on his ethereal face. Beel was sitting on the ground while his younger twin brother was laying on his side beside him, one of his eyes open as he stared fondly at a woman MC did not recognize.

The woman had golden-brown skin and seemed to radiate happiness. She had long wavy white hair similar to Mammon’s that had hints of orange hiding in the white. Her hair framed her head like a halo and her purple eyes were glinting with delight. She wore a beautiful long tunic with no sleeves and a pair of leggings, as well as a pair of light brown lace-up shoes. Her medium sized dove-like slim white wings hung low on her back. The woman was turned towards Lucifer and Mammon, laughing heartily at the two.

This must be the eighth sibling, my ancestor, Lilith. MC mused as they went back to observing the brothers.

Out of the seven brothers, Lucifer looked the most different. Instead of having his black hair which faded into grey, his hair was platinum blond which was lighter than Satan’s yellow hair and his eyes were green instead of its now red color. Belphie’s hair also was different having interchanged while he was still an angel, the roots were white which bled into black.

The human turned the picture over and saw purple script write itself on the back of the portrait.

Pure soul,

I hope you enjoy this picture. It was one of my precious possessions but I wish to give it to you. I have a feeling that you might appreciate it more than I ever could. Cherish and keep it safe.

Camael, Symbol of Charity

MC hugged the picture to their chest, tears pouring out their eyes and down their cheeks as they choked on their sobs. They lifted the picture to their lips and pressed a light kiss against the image. They hid the picture in their drawer and took the envelope in their hands. They wiped their tears away with the back of their hand as they broke the seal of the envelope.

A smile replaced the frown on their lips as they read stories about Mammon, all about his mischievous ways and his interactions with his siblings especially Lucifer. They were surprised to read that Mammon was respected and loved by his siblings when he was still in the Celestial Realm and he seemed to be so generous towards everyone, almost always putting others before himself. They noticed that Mammon and Lucifer seemed to get along despite Lucifer acting like he didn’t like Mammon. Their smile slowly disappeared as the stories took a turn for the worst the closer it got to the Celestial War. Tears built up in the corner of their eyes when they read Mammon’s determination and contentment to stay by his older brother’s side despite not knowing what would happen to them after the war.

They watched as He wrote a small message for them once again at the end of the letter.

My child,

Stay on guard. Again, continue finding ways to unlock your angelic heritage and practice using my virtue’s powers. I see that Camael gave you a gift. If you wish, I can tell you about Lilith as well so you know more about your ancestor. I can tell you’re hurting for my fallen sons and while I cannot do anything anymore for them, I hope that I can provide you some comfort by telling you about them an in extension, Lilith.

God

Tears escaped once again before they put the envelope away with the rest of the other letters. They got ready, trying their best to hide the evidence of their breakdown before they left their room. They headed in the direction of the dining room, their head hung low as they entered the room. The chatter amongst the brothers seemed to die down, almost like they knew in an instant that something was wrong with their human, as MC sat down in their seat, slowly piling whatever food was leftover that Beel didn’t manage to get onto their own plate.

“Normie?” Levi called out but it seemed that the human didn’t hear him. The brothers shared worried glances with each other before Belphie leaned over and nudged them. “Oh, sorry. Were you guys talking to me?” They were startled, looking up from their food to see the demons staring at them with concern.

“You okay?” They turned to look at Beel who had his mouth stuffed full. “You…You seem down.” He swallowed before he spoke.

“Darling, have you been crying? Your eyes are swollen.” Asmo questioned, grabbing hold of their chin to turn their head to look at them. MC stared into the fifth brother's alluring peach eyes, tears swimming in the corner of their eyes.

They burst into tears which caused the brothers to panic. Just seeing the brothers worrying over them made them think about how unfair everything was. They didn’t deserve to be exiled from the Celestial Realm especially since it was all for their younger sister, a sister that they couldn’t save and lost because of the war. Just thinking about it made them angry.

They were pulled away from their angry thoughts when they felt a thumb brushing away their tears. They looked up to see a blurry vision of yellow in front of them before Satan’s calming voice cut through their daze, “Why are you angry? I can feel the rage building up in you.”

“I…I…” MC hiccupped, their voice getting stuck in their throat before they threw their arms over Satan’s shoulders. They buried their face into his chest as they screamed their anger and sadness away, their screams muffled by the blond’s uniformed chest but it didn’t stop the brothers’ heart from breaking when they heard the pain in the human’s cries. Satan ran his fingers through their hair, rubbing their head slightly and whispered, “Draw in that anger. Don’t let it control you.”

“I-I’m so s-sorry.” The human sobbed, shaking their head when the brothers tried to get them to explain the reason for their sudden outburst.

They felt a calming pulse coming from their hand and they shifted their blurry gaze to their hand. They saw the two rings on their left hand beating, sending comforting waves towards them. It was like Uriel and Raphael knew they were distressed and was trying their best to comfort them since they couldn’t be there with them. They slowly started to calm down, their anger and sadness dissipating as they shakily took a deep breath in.

They backed away from Satan, their eyes lowered as they whispered with a crackily tone, “I’m sorry guys.”

“What happened darling?” Asmo cooed, standing in front of them as he held their hand. They shook their head, removing their hand from the demon's grip and whispered, “It’s nothing. Just a bad dream.”

They stayed silent for most of the day, not acknowledging the concerned looks that the brothers were shooting them. At the end of the school day, they caught up to Lucifer who was, surprisingly, by himself and asked softly, almost nervously, “Lucifer, is it okay if I go visit Simeon at Purgatory Hall? There’s something that has been bothering me and I wish to talk to him about it.”

Lucifer looked like he didn’t want to allow it but took notice of the pleading look in his human’s eyes. He sighed before nodding, “Okay. Make sure you’re back at the house before curfew.”

“Thank you Lucifer.” MC looked around to see if there were any students loitering around, seeing that they were none around. They threw their arms around Lucifer’s waist, their head resting against his chest. “I’ll be back soon. Thank you so much. Tell the others where I am and don’t let Mammon come get me unless it’s past curfew.”

The human detached themself from the eldest brother before Lucifer could process the sudden hug and ran off, waving at the second strongest demon in the Devildom.

Lucifer shook his head staring after MC with enamor in his gaze before they turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

Part 9

[kamedani]

FFXIV Yoshi P. Dengeki Interview

On February 6th, Dengeki and a number of Japanese media outlets had an interview event with Yoshi P following the Showcase. Here is the interview Yoshi P had with Dengeki Online as translated by me. The original interview can be found at https://dengekionline.com/articles/66986/

Section 1: Two Concepts for Healers and a New Melee DPS!

Dengeki: Sage was just announced as the new healer job in Final Fantasy XIV. Additionally, you announced that healers will be split into two concepts – pure healers (White Mages and Astrologians) and shield healers (Scholars and Sages). This is where we have our first questions for you. How are you planning on distinguishing pure healers and shield healers moving forward?

Yoshi P: From a balance standpoint, no matter if you play a pure healer or shield healer, we are making it so there won’t be a massive difference in power. Instead, the idea is we want players to have vastly difference experiences in gameplay.

 For example, in the case of Scholar and Sage, the way in which they apply shields will be different. The scholar play style is being able to attack, put up shields, and heal with the help of their fairy. In the case of the sage, their weapon, the noulith, isn’t a pet so the sage’s play style is going to be different. Our concept is that we want the Warriors of Light to experience that difference.

 Dengeki: So since there are going to be shield healers and pure healers, you are going to be splitting healers into two roles?

 Yoshi P: No, there is still going to be just one role for healers. So, of course, no matter what healer you play you can clear content. On the other hand, for difficult content, we feel it is good to have healers be separatable. If it gets confusing to not have a more clear distinction between pure and shield healers, we can revisit it.

 Dengeki: On the same topic, will there be any kind of change to fight balance by making pure healers and shield healers?

 Yoshi P: Up until Patch 5.3 we heard from a lot of players that healers had a fair amount of downtime on their hands. So, from Patch 5.4, we’ve planned for the more difficult content to put out a lot more damage more often. For speed clears we are planning for it to be harder to do with just pure healers or just shield healers.

We plan on continuing to make content with this idea in mind so content will be easier to clear if you bring one pure healer and one shield healer. Also, as I said at the Announcement Showcase, we are going to be changing the algorithm behind the matching systems like Raid Finder as best we can so it will put both healer types in a group.

Dengeki: So, for example, will the limit gauge build up differently if you have double pure healers?

Yoshi P: If we change specifics of how the limit gauge builds, it will have effects on other encounters where limit gauge building is a part of the fight so we have no plans for this kind of change.

Dengeki: With the idea of healers having more specialized roles, are there plans or do something similar to tanks having main tanks and off tanks?

 Yoshi P: Right now we don’t have any plans to make healer sub categories. While, for example, there is a sentiment that paladins are more suited for off tanking, the truth is they can fulfill both roles so we want to do something like this with healers.

 Dengeki: The four tanks are distinct from one another.

 Yoshi P: That’s right. While fulfilling the same role, each job has a different play experience. In the case of DPS jobs, they feel different based on their difficulty to control and different attack abilities.

 Dengeki: Speaking of the new jobs, you said the other new job in addition to sage will be a melee DPS. There are already four melee DPS in the game now. Compared to other jobs types, melee DPS is the most. Please tell us how you came to adding another melee DPS to the game and how will it be balanced with the existing melee DPS.

 Yoshida: When it comes to the amount of jobs types, say for example, in Patch 7.0 we add another tank, that would bring us up to five tanks. Increases in job types is something unavoidable as the game continues.

Furthermore, compared to other roles, a lot of people want to play DPS. Our thinking is adding a new DPS job is a must for an expansion disc so we went with melee DPS this time. At the current moment, dragoon is the only job that uses maiming gear so the new melee job will use it as well.

 Dengeki: On the topic of melee DPS, recent difficult content seems to be going in a direction that makes things more difficult for melee DPS. What are your thoughts about this?

 Yoshi P: We are aware of this on the development side. This is a dilemma shared by many long running MMOs. If you add a lot of mechanics to an encounter, that encounter becomes more difficult for classes that require movement and positionals.

 We are currently looking at each job’s skills and making adjustments accordingly. And we are, of course, making sure to balance it so ranged DPS won’t always have the easier time.

 Dengeki: Continuing our discussion of battle content, you said that you will be removing belts from the game. Will you be adding the stats lost from belts to other gear to compensate?

 Yoshi P: Belts and accessories tend to have lower stats on them so removing belts won’t have a very large effect. Still, we are working on moving stats so you won’t feel any change to your game experience. You don’t need to worry about it. You may, however, feel like something is a bit different after the numbers crunch we are going to do.

Speaking of belts, after what I said at the showcase about materia affixed to belts, I got a message from the development team saying that they are going to take care of the materia too. So, from Patch 6.0, you can go to a calamity salvager and collect any recoverable materia that was in your belts. Players won’t have to do any preparation in advance.

 Dengeki: After belts become no longer equippable, will we still be able to turn them in for seals or desynthesize them?

 Yoshi P: That will be unchanged. The only change there will be is we will add a description like “Once thought to protect adventurers’ waists” to the item description. (laughs)

 Section 2: Endwalker’s Main Color is Platinum!

 Dengeki: Next we’d like to talk to you about the logo for the new expansion. All previous expansions’ logos have been pretty clear in what they were trying to convey. This time, however, the logo feels more mysterious with elements like that thing that looks like a monolith on the left side of the logo. Please tell us about the concept for this logo and the ideas that went into it.

 Yoshi P: I can’t go into too many specifics on the logo so instead let me speak about the concept Mr. Amano made for us based on conversations I had with him. I spoke with him about everything we had done throughout the course of this Hydaelyn and Zodiark story and the theme of finding hope in despair.

 I first spoke with him in the real world meta sense of launching A Realm Reborn out of the despair of 1.0’s release. I also spoke with him in the in game main scenario story sense of finding hope in the despair of the end times and what is to come. I think the nuiance came through in this logo.

 Dengeki: So you are saying, the meaning of the logo will become more clear after having played the game.

 Yoshi P: I think you will have moments of thinking “OH! So THAT is what that means.” after having played. The only other thing I can say at this point is about the planet in the background. Is it the moon? Is it the planet Hydaelyn? You will find some of these answers as you play the story for 5.5.

 Dengeki: The title screens of each expansion until now has had one main color as its theme. What is the color for this expansion?

 Yoshi P: The color as I explained to the development team is platinum. The difference is a very small nuiance but the color is not white. I told them the concept of the red moon and explained that the theme color was neither the darkness of night nor the white of the morning. I told them the color is the golden color that illuminates someone’s face in that brief moment when the light first hits them.

 I could see on the faces of the development team that I was asking them to do the impossible again. Nevertheless, the logo is neither gold nor yellow. It sits on that fine line between both. It represents the final glimmer of light between the new dawn of A Realm Reborn and the darkness of night of Shadowbringers.

 Shadowbringers opened in a world without night. For this expansion we want to make something similar to surprise players. We are using the platinum theme as the base for some color adjustments for this expansion. So, if you remember all of this, you may be surprised when you see it in the story. (laughs)

 Dengeki: In the teaser trailer the Warrior of Light is now a paladin as his main job. Why is that?

 Yoshi P: To tell the truth, I agonized over what to make his main job. As everyone already knows I am a contrarian and I like to turn the story upside down and look at things from that different perspective to surprise the players.

 In Shadowbringers, for example, we started development with me coming up with the initial concept that players were probably getting sick of being called “Warriors of Light,” and “heroes” and instead would do away with the light and regain the darkness as Warriors of Darkness.

 This time, when we decided to write the final chapter of the Hydaelyn and Zodiark story, as is the case in all classic Final Fantasy games, I thought about the idea of hope. I thought about the desire I and many people have to carry hope as well as the desire to abandon hope. When I thought about who would be standing on the front line and shouldering all of that, I thought of a paladin.

 With that image rolling around in my head, I made the decision. Endwalker is going to be a title similar in scale to and on par with the ending story of any title in the Final Fantasy series.

 Dengeki: We may be getting a bit ahead of ourselves here but are we safe in assuming paladin will get some cool new skill to go along with all this? (laughs)

 Yoshi P: Since paladin already has Passage of Arms it is going to be hard to come up with a skill that surpasses it. Even still, every job is getting new skills players have been wanting. They’re going to be flashy and cool so as to make you like your job even more. We will do our best to meet your expectations.

 Dengeki: Let’s talk about new game experiences next. So far there have been new things added to the game like flying and swimming. Will there be something else like that?

 Yoshi P: Endwalker is made to give players the feeling of experiencing the thrilling last chapter in the Hydaelyn and Zodiark storyline on the scale to rival any other RPG. We are focused on giving players the ability to have this experience as their characters in the game world. To that end we don’t feel some new movement mechanic is necessary. We are creating an adventure that will take you through the air and under the sea.

 That’s one reason. The second reason is well… forgive me! I am out of ideas! (laughs) In this game we’re going to the moon and the development team first asked me if we should add in zero gravity. But that would be no different than swimming. You would jump once and just not land on the ground! (laughs)

 This game already has all the different modes of movement you would find in an MMO so if we forced something else in, it would be tedious. Still, if you have an interesting idea, please let me know and I’ll consider it. (laughs)

 Dengeki: Continuing with that idea, what kind of experiences can we look forward to on the moon?

 Yoshi P: For starters there are questions like what is the moon, what is going on on the other side and beneath the surface? (laughs) To be honest, I’ve been into astronomy for the past year or so and I saw two theories on the formation of Earth’s moon.

 So in response to some of these open-ended questions, this expansion will be about writing a story about the moon specific to our world. The moon in our story is a combination of concepts from the development team, the moon in the real world, and some things we made up. I hope you pay attention to it.

 Oh yeah, to any concerned Warriors of Light that may be out there worrying if there is an atmosphere on the moon, please relax. (laughs) That is explained in the story as well so please look forward to it.

 Dengeki: The music is a part of the experience that can’t be forgotten and it seems like Soken pulled out all the stops for the theme this time. What did you ask of him when making the soundtrack to this game?

 Yoshi P: I asked him to consider that even though this is the climax of the story, every single song cannot be a moving epic masterpiece. I asked him to make songs to match what was going on in the story at the time.

 To both Soken and myself, the main theme of Shadowbringers was quite invocative. The theme of the Crystal Tower is woven into it to give it that Final Fantasy feeling. But even if you take it out, it can stand as an unconventional Final Fantasy title by itself.

 Many of our players really liked that song so it gave us a lot of confidence. Taking a step forward from this point, I told him to make something that expresses the grand finale to the first adventure of our 14th Final Fantasy. Soken kept telling me what a busy schedule he has but he’s been working really hard and I hope everyone looks forward to the music in this game.

 Section 3: New Content and More Challenging Existing Content

 Dengeki: Now we’d like to ask you about the current game. Patch 5.0 introduced the Trust System and players have been enjoying using it. At the latest Live Letter you told us that in addition to Estinien joining the Trust System, new features are going to be added. Please tell us some specific things waiting for us.

 Yoshi P: After we launched the Trust System, many players started asking us to expand it to 8-man duties and past content. We, of course, want to make the Trust System work with all of our content for our players to enjoy.

 However, the Trust System requires specific programming for each dungeon so each character acts in a way you would expect them to. This costs a lot to do. So, we are currently exploring ways to make it work across more content.

 Right now I cannot give many more specifics about the Trust System such as when more will be coming. Please be assured we are working to find a way to expand it. All of the 6,0 dungeons, for example, will be playable with the Trust System. So, at the very least, there won’t be any issues with those dungeons so you can go into them with the Scions. Players who like to solo content can be assured of that.

 Dengeki: We are also interested in being able to do things at a relaxed place on the deserted islands. Will players actually be able to mount up and sell things to each other? Isn’t there a chance this content will ultimately benefit players who play the most?

 Yoshi P: We are making the deserted island content to be relaxed living content players can enjoy at their own pace without competing with others. I can’t say competition amongst players will never happen but there will be plenty of opportunity to enjoy playing by yourself with reduced interaction with others.

 We want to make it an area where you create and grow your own things and use them to collect rewards. Players can do things at their own pace without having to worry about other players affecting their progress. We are making something for players who even want to do farming without worrying about difficulty.

 You can think of it as a somewhere to spend time in a place you love with your favorite minions or even enjoy raising animals you brought to the island with you.

 Dengeki: Please tell us as much as you can about the new smaller scale PvP mode.

 Yoshi P: We are making content with new rules and maps as all new content. In our current PvP system, healers shoulder a lot of the burden. Wins and losses heavily rely on the healers so because of this huge responsibility, healers are in short supply and matching is quite difficult.

 The new PvP content is going to be less strict where any job can participate. We are making a role free system where each job will have some means of healing itself.

 Dengeki: So it is something more like The Feast than Frontlines?

 Yoshi P: If I had to choose, it is more like The Feast but in this mode you don’t just get points by defeating opposing players. We are adding more ways to get points like capture the flag to make more casual maps and a more casual playstyle. We are also making ranked and free modes that players can use to collect PvP rewards.

 Also, like I said at the Showcase, we are working on a system where the rewards will include things players are going to want other than just gear. I will have more information about this at the next PLL.

 Dengeki: There have been many posts on the official forums from PvPers who want PvP to be balanced separately for both large group PvP and smaller group PvP. Can they expect to see that in this upcoming content?

 Yoshi P: We are planning on implementing job balance adjustments along side small scale PvP. We are also currently discussing if we are going to keep The Feast as well but we haven’t reached a decision. But there is a high chance The Feast will get shut down.

 This is because we want to focus on fixing any issues with this new content based on player feedback. If we have The Feast running at the same time, it will split our resources so we would like to avoid that.

 Dengeki: In the middle of the latest Live Letter the topic of Hildibrand came up. When can we expect to see him next?

 Yoshi P: We actually saw him briefly in The Heroes’ Gauntlet in Shadowbringers so he must have somehow wound up there after we saw him last him in Stormblood. (laughs) The Hildibrand story had become kinda tedious so we took a break with it in Shadowbringers.

 We don’t plan on ending it, however. Hildibrand is a beloved character in our world and many people want to see his tale continue. Our development team has also recharged their batteries so we are going to provide players with something. Please look forward to his return.

 Dengeki: With the new expansion there is going to be a graphical upgrade to the game. Is there also going to be a change in the minimum PC requirements?

 Yoshi P: No, we are working hard on the PS5 version to make it look as good as possible but since this is going to be the final chapter in the Hydaelyn and Zodiark storyline, we decided not to make any major changes.

 I want to update the graphics engine at some point since the amount of data used has gotten quite great over these ten years. Also, we want to rebuild the data access system to support 4K graphical textures.

 Players have also told us they want their mounts to feel more alive but for that to work we will need to do a graphical overhaul. We are, of course, doing this little by little.

 Please remember that we work on schedules planned years at a time. We were able to fix some of our data center issues on this schedule over a long period of time fitting in work where we could. So, when it comes to updated graphics, it is something we want to do but don’t have much free time. It is quite a challenge to do as well so please be patient.