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talkfastromance4 · 1 year ago

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I have had more thoughts about Sugar and Jake and I was wondering… what would Sugar do/feel like if Jake was deployed? In my mind she sleeps in his bed every night because she misses him, and that’s how he finds her when he comes home. What are your thoughts?

I love this so much I wrote a oneshot for it! Title is inspired by Leon Bridges “coming home”

Wanna hold you close—Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

An Arrangement Masterlist

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word count: 3.1k

warnings: pure fluff and more than likely navy inaccuracies but this is ficland and anything goes

Feedback, asks, comments/reblogs mean the world to me!

Enjoy!

It’s been a good day. You were able to get off work early and so did Jake so he came and picked you up then took you to the coffeeshop you both love. Once you got home, it was a little after three and you changed into comfy clothes then settled on the couch to watch a movie. You quickly fell asleep, head in Jake’s lap and his fingers in your hair.

When you woke up just as the credits were rolling, Jake suggested going to The Lark, the restaurant he invited you to when the arrangement was first brought up. The two of you changed again, you put on a pretty pink dress and Jake wore an olive green ensemble that really brought out his eyes.

It was a wonderful way to end the day but once dessert arrived, Jake’s brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong? Is your dessert not good?” you ask peering over at his plate. He had ordered a lemon meringue bar drizzled with raspberry and blueberry sauce. Upon your inspection, he hadn’t even taken a bite.

“No,” he shakes his head, twirling his fork in his fingers. “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” you feel a weight in your stomach. The spoonful of creme brulee is shaking slightly in the spoon. “Tell me.”

You start thinking he wants to end things, that you aren’t really what he wants and that this whole thing is a big mistake. His eyes are still downcast, a frown on his face as he stares at the prongs of his fork rotate over the red and blue drizzle.

“I got called for a mission,” he says slowly.

“Oh…” you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Well, it’s only a few days right?” you pop the sweet custard into your mouth.

“No, Sugar,” he sighs, setting his fork on his plate. His green eyes finally meet yours, they’re still sad. “It’s longer.”

“How much longer?”

“Forty-five days.”

The weight in your stomach plummets. The longest he’s ever been gone is a week, and you were fine then because you weren’t living with him yet and you were so busy with work and Betty. But now, now that you’ve gotten closer and comfortable and more familiar with each other…now his job really sets in.

You knew he would be deployed eventually, while he’s a Top Gun instructor, he’s still an active duty pilot. Your throat turns dry and your mind starts to race of any and all possibilities. As if knowing what your mind is doing, Jake’s hand covers yours that’s holding the spoon and works your fingers open. The spoon clatters to the table.

You were gripping the spoon so tight your nails were digging into your palm and Jake peeled your fingers apart so he could trace over the four crescent shapes indented into your palm.

“Sugar, look at me,” he says softly but you can’t find the will to do so.

“Can we go?”

***

You remain silent in your thoughts on the drive home, Jake’s hand placed in its usual spot on your knee, his thumb stroking circles on your thigh. Once you’re home, you’re the first to get out and Jake follows you all the way to the wine room that’s just off the kitchen. His hands are in his pockets watching you go to the corner that holds your favorite wine.

In the kitchen, you’re struggling with the wine opener but Jake takes it easily from you and opens the wine for you. You lift it up and walk towards the back door, Jake following after he grabs two glasses. You flicked the string of lights on and fell onto the couch, taking a deep drink of the wine.

“Okay, no glasses,” Jake sighs and sits next to you, watching you. “Okay that’s enough for now, y/n.”

Some wine dribbles down your chin, but Jake is quick to swipe it away with his thumb.

“Are you mad?” Jake asks, suddenly feeling helpless. He’s never seen you act this way before.

“No,” you tumble your fingers with his so you’re holding his hand. You trace the circumference of his Navy ring. “When do you leave?”

“Two days.”

Your head snaps up.

“So soon?”

“That’s the Navy, Sugar,” he nods, scooting closer to you on the couch. He cups your cheek.

“What are you…what do you have to do?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why is it so long?”

“Can’t tell you that either,” he smiles sadly and you sigh.

“Is it dangerous?”

“That’s always a possibility,” he licks his lips as he nods.

“You’ll come home, right?”

“Trust me, leaving you is the hardest thing ever. I’m already counting down the days and I haven’t even left yet.”

Those words make your eyes sting and you quickly press into him, Jake’s arm wrapping around your back. You have to remind yourself that he’s not leaving you for someone else. He’s leaving for his job and it has nothing to do with you.

For the next two days, you ask him all the questions you have and he answers as best he can. He reminds you that you can use the credit card he gave you for anything you need and that payments are already set up for Betty. Texting and calling won’t be easy but emails will work best and he promises he’ll respond when he can.

Jake has no problem saying yes to you except when you ask if you can be there when he leaves and he says no.

“You don’t want me there?”

“If you’re there, Sugar, I won’t get on the damned plane,” he pulls you into his chest. He kisses the top of your head. “I’d be kicked out for insubordination of not listening to my Commander.”

You’re giggling then but you know he’s telling the truth. You lift your head so your chin is resting on his chest as you gaze up at him.

“I wouldn’t let you go either,” you admit and he bends down to give you a sweet kiss.

***

The first day you felt his vacancy immediately, even though you woke up as he came into your room to say goodbye. He was in his service khakis and had a large duffel bag over his shoulder. He whispered your name softly then whispered sweet words and reminders before kissing you so sweetly you had no clue how he was able to pull away.

“I’ll be coming home to you, Sugar, I promise,” he whispered.

You held onto his hand as long as you could, watching him back out of your room. He told you to get some more sleep, blew you a kiss, stared at you for ten more seconds before leaving. It wasn’t until you heard the front door shut that you started to cry.

You researched about Navy Fighter Pilots but only found articles or blogs from retired members that recounted the good ole’ days of their time in the service. They were great reads but not what you needed. You found a blog of wives, girlfriends, and other partners but theirs were mainly about how their children missed the one who was gone and what stores had the best deals.

By day nine you kept glancing at his open doorway in his room. You’ve only been in there once, when he gave you the tour of the house. You were aching to go in there but wanted to respect his privacy.

You emailed him each day but still had no response back. Some of the articles said no news is good news but you were feeling the opposite. If something happened to him you wouldn’t know because you’re not family. You contemplated reaching out to his sisters, Annie and Nora but you haven’t met them so you thought that’d be weird.

By day twelve you’re getting antsy from not hearing from Jake and you’re tossing and turning in your bed as wind howls against your windows. You haven’t been sleeping all that well since Jake left and you grab your phone to use the flashlight and you head towards his room.

You flick on his lights just as lightning flashes beneath the blinds of his windows. His bed is clean and pristine and you see a piece of paper on the nightstand nearest the door. You recognize Jake’s handwriting immediately and begin to read:

In case you get cold and want a fire, the remote for the fireplace is on the coffee table by the couch. Feel free to use it as much as you’d like. See you soon, Sugar. Thinking of your smile as I fly through the skies. X Jake

That makes you smile and you shuffle over to the couch finding the remote exactly where the note indicated. It’s easy enough to figure out. When the fire ignites, you turn it to the medium setting, warmth emitting from it immediately. You grab the large knitted blanket from the couch and plop down, the cushions are comfy as a bed. You watch the flames flicker and dance and then you’re fast asleep.

By day twenty-two you’ve been sleeping on Jake’s couch every night and that’s when you finally get an e-mail from him. He apologizes for taking so long. The internet is pretty spotty on the carrier and it’s hot as hell, he says he’s never not sweating. He said he’s bunking with Rooster and it reminds him of their first years during flight school, Rooster always talks to him at night.

He doesn’t mind so much now because Rooster asks questions about you and Jake is all too willing to talk about you. He ends the e-mail by reminding you the forty-five days are halfway up and he can’t wait to come home and see you. He also includes a photo of him and the squad on the carrier. It’s a little blurry but he’s in his real flight suit with his aviators on, his hair blowing in the wind.

You printed it out and placed it against the stack of aviation books on the coffee table so it was the first thing you’d see.

Day thirty-seven had you rethinking your sleeping arrangement. During a very real dream, you rolled onto the floor and smacked your head on the coffee table. You saw several stars before you sat up and decided to move to the bed. You’re not sure which side he slept on so you chose the left side. His cologne and aftershave washed over you, his pillow plush and smelling more like him as you laid down.

You made sure to put Jake’s picture against the lamp so you could see him.

It was the best sleep you’ve had since he left so you decided to sleep there until he got home. You’d make sure to wash the sheets so he’d be none the wiser. Sometimes, to help you fall asleep, you’d play The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face and you’d dream of him.

Reynolds assured you that Jake is very good at what he does and that he will come home without a hair out of place. You appreciated his assurance but you missed talking with Jake and eating with him in the kitchen or finding him in the pool when you’d come home from work.

Day forty-five came and went and you were a worried mess.

What could that mean? Was he hurt? Did they get stuck in bad weather? Do Navy Pilots get layovers?

All the thinking and worrying gave you a migraine so you called in sick and slept with the fire on. The sheets were cool on your neck and head, the bump from the coffee table pulsated in pain every time you moved.

***

As soon as the debriefing was done at the hangar, Jake bolted out of there so fast to his truck. His windshield wipers were on the highest setting as he raced home to you. He was irritated he had to stay for an extra three days because that was an extra three days away from you.

Because he was still on duty, he couldn’t call or text or e-mail you until they were back at the main hangar. He’d thought of you everyday and kept a photo of you tucked away in his pocket and cockpit when he was flying. He took it while you were out for brunch and you found a small patch of flowers. You knelt down to pick them and Jake took his phone out so he could capture the moment.

He called your name and when you looked up, he snapped a photo. Embarrassed, you held up your hand laughing as he tried to get a clear shot of your face. It was his favorite photo. He gazed at it when he woke up, tuning out Rooster’s monotone snores.

When he was flying and things got dicey in the sky, he’d look at your smiling face and find it within him to persevere and give the enemy pilots hell. You filled him with adrenaline and a purpose so when three extra days went by he was antsy.

He wanted to call you and let you know that he’s on his way home–on his way to you–but the numbers on his truck’s screen reminded him it was too late. You’re probably sleeping and he didn’t want to wake you in a panic, even though he was sure you’ve been panicking the last seventy-two hours.

When he finally pulled into the garage and ran inside without his duffel bag. He took the stairs two at a time then noticed your door was open. Usually you sleep with it closed so that concerns him. He was even more concerned when he didn’t find you in your bed.

Panicking, he ran downstairs but didn’t find you in the living room so he ran back upstairs. His door was opened wider than he usually keeps it so he went to investigate. Seeing you curled up in his sheets and comforter hit him with such want and a deep rooted care for you that he had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

The fire was on and old re-runs of Friends was on his tv. He approaches you quietly, kneeling on his side of the bed (you were hugging his pillow tightly) when he notices the picture he sent you leaning against the lamp. That filled him with more glee.

“Sugar,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers on your forehead and into your hair. “Hey…Sugar.”

You groan and shift, mumbling his name.

“Sugar, I’m home,” he says a little louder, fingers still in your hair.

“Am I dreamin’?” you mumble again into his pillow.

“No, baby, I’m right here. Open your eyes,” he chuckles and your eyes flash open.

“Jake!” you launch yourself at him and he has to brace himself so he doesn’t fall back on his knees. You breathe in his hair, his shampoo is different but you smell his aftershave, a little bit of sweat and his cologne and you feel comforted.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Sugar,” he kisses your shoulder. “Had a little difficulty getting home.”

“I was so worried, I didn’t know if I should contact someone or who I would even–”

“I made sure you’d be notified, but you don’t have to worry about that now. I’m home.”

“You’re home,” you repeat weakly. You fall back into his bed, pulling Jake with you. He hovers over you, one arm squashed beneath your back and the other caressing your face.

“And you’re in my bed,” he smiles.

“I–I couldn’t sleep. I found your note and I was sleeping on your couch with the fire on but then I fell and hit my head on the table so I tried your bed and it smells like you and is so comfy but you’re home now so I’ll leave–”

He silences you with a kiss that turns from sweet to passionate in seconds. You move further back to the center of the bed, yanking Jake with you. You hear his shoes fall to the floor, lips still connected as he lays over you.

“Don’t want you to leave,” he mumbles on your lips. “Stay here with me.”

“Okay,” you whisper tugging his comforter over him. His body heat fills your space quickly, the weight of him on top of you feels so nice. He gives you another deep kiss, the arm moving from beneath your back to your waist.

“Is this my Navy shirt?” he asks staring down at the shirt you’re wearing.

“Um..yeah. I saw it folded on your bathroom sink when I used the bathroom one night and I like when you wear it so I…borrowed it. Is that okay?”

“Seeing you in my bed and in my shirt…it’s more than okay, Sugar,” he grins. “Better than I’d dreamed it would be. How long have you been sleeping in here?”

“Since you e-mailed me the first time…” you admit sheepishly. You’re tracing your finger over the chain of his dog tags that spilled out of his shirt when he clambered onto his bed. “If that’s weird–”

He’s kissing you again, this time rolling over so you’re laying on his chest. His hands are gripping your waist as you adjust yourself over him, his fingers tickling you in the process and you’re giggling.

“What?” he asks, adjusting his head on his pillow.

“You’re interrupting me a lot,” you laugh.

“I’d apologize but I wouldn’t mean it. I missed you so much, Sugar. Finding you in my bed and my shirt is the best homecoming I’ve ever had.”

You bite your lip, his sweet words heat up your cheeks. Being in this position gives you the opportunity to touch his face, he has a bit of a beard on his cheeks. A little sunburn on his nose and forehead.

“Do you want to watch a movie or have a midnight snack?”

“No, just wanna hold you close.”

You’re half draped over him, his arm holding you against him and your hands joined on his stomach. You’re playing with each other’s fingers, staring at each other in the dim glow of his fireplace. When your eyes start to get heavy you blink them open quickly to stay awake.

“Go to sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises with a kiss to your head.

“Welcome home, Jake,” you whisper then close your eyes.

You’re safe and warm tucked against him, the sound of his heart lulling you to sleep, his thumb rubbing your hand and the soft hum of him singing your song sends you off into dreamland.

#an arrangement #an arrangement series #jake and sugar #jake x sugar #jake seresin fluff #hangman fluff #jake x reader #hangman x reader #jake fluff #top gun writing #top gun maverick #jake seresin oneshot #hangman oneshot #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic

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grapejuicestyless · 1 year ago

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Kalopsia

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: You convinced yourself you were in love but, was it for the wrong brother?

Kalopsia. A Greek noun that by definition means, The delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are.

A word that I had not known existed moments ago, but became aware of now. And how funny it was that in all the languages there were I managed to find the word to perfectly describe what was happening.

Love causes Kalopsia. More than we as people could ever realize. The way our hearts race and our cheeks blush. We put on our rose colored glasses that hide the red flags for the people we love.

That’s what makes this so funny. Because that’s what seemed to happen for Jeremiah.

I was so infatuated with the golden retriever with the boyish grin, icy blue eyes and tanned skin that I forgot that appearances are exactly what they are meant to be. Only appearances.

To me, he hung the sun and the moon in a rotation, spreading the stars along the sky just for me. I let myself become blinded by his perfections to see his side glances and his sly smirks that lingered on his cheeks.

I chose not to believe it when I’d heard he’d fallen for the shorter brunette with the long eyelashes and pink lips. Continuing the fantasy I had constructed in my head, the continuance of the paradise Jere had sold to me almost a year ago.

But how can you remain so ignorant to something right in front of your eyes? How can you lift your head and smile like he’s still the only boy in the world when your world is in the pool making out with his best friend?

I should’ve seen it. Their longing touches and side glances. Her hands cupped around his ear as flirty whispers were exchanged.

I wanted to rip Belly apart. I wanted her to feel the pain I was feeling, ripping her apart piece by piece emotionally. I wanted to keep them apart. Yet, I knew it wasn’t her fault. She was in love with the same man as I, and we both knew the affects he could cast down on us. I couldn’t help but almost feel a sense of pity towards Belly.

We were childhood friends, just like she was the fishers. My mother had a home down the street but Susannah kept a bed warm for me as I stayed there every night. We were so similar. The only thing separating us was our blood, our physical features and our age. She was a year younger while I stood at the same age as Conrad. Maybe that’s what made her believe she would be different. That Jere would love her more than he ever could to me.

Yet I could see it. We were so similar I could see that in time, she would endure the same fate as Jeremiah would once again get bored and run off behind her back. Too much of a child to have the guts to end things before starting something else. But then again, what we had was dead from the start. We just chose not to believe it.

I made no sound when leaving the scene. Exiting just as I came, quiet as a mouse, heart heavy and shoulders slumped. The world kept spinning without him, and that’s what seemed to be the scariest part.

Catching my two friends together didn’t leave me in the unspeakable despair I had imagined it would. Instead I was left feeling very ambivalent. Torn between my feelings. One one hand, I was hurt by the boy I had adored so much. My heart cracking thinking about all of my firsts I’d given him. My first kiss, my first dance, my first love. It was a hurt that touched the surface level, cutting my skin and making me bleed. Yet, on the other hand I felt more numb. Almost relieved in a way. While Jeremiah would always carry the title of my first love, it felt almost wrong to call him that. We loved each other, sure. But after the newness of it died, it seemed that so did his end of it. Could he really be my first love if everything we did was one sided?

And how stupid I felt for wearing those glasses and letting the Kalopsia happen all because I’d told myself it was love. I’d never known love. I’d never had it. How could I have been so blind and allowed myself to believe that it was meant to be that way? It was like a huge bullet was coming my way, and somehow in his own selfishness and his large ego, he acted as the shield to protect me from that ultimate heart break.

I grabbed my tote bag, slinging it over my shoulder, holding my surf board firmly under my other arm. I hadn’t planned to go to the beach today. I had only put on my swimsuit to go swimming with Jere in the pool. But I knew I wouldn’t feel up to returning to that pool in minutes knowing what had happened, and the beach had always been a sanctuary that wrapped my anxiety in a blanket of peace.

The sand filled the crevasses between my toes and stuck to the backs of my calves as I ran. It kicked up behind and left little divots behind in my wake. I dropped my bag somewhere behind me, next to a towel I recognized faintly and continued my path. My feet didn’t stop moving until my board was underneath me and my stomach was pressed against it. Even then I let my legs kick harshly.

It was then I remembered why I hadn’t gone to the beach today. The waves had been horrible all weekend and the weather was sucky. The birds were quiet and the wind was gentle. There was no chance of letting out my frustrations on the water. But floating was always an option.

“Hey! Y/n/n!” The voice was loud, gruffly and deep. It held a playful tone, lacking any heaviness. Refreshing, almost.

I knew the voice as Conrad’s. The older, more serious brother of the two. His hair was blonder, and straighter. His eyes a darker blue, yet they held more emotion and depth in them than Jeremiah’s ever did. His skin was less tan but still glowed a warm color. Everything about him screamed summer. He was my best friend before Jere and I got together.

It wasn’t like we fell out, we continued to hangout just as much as before. Only, Jeremiah always felt the need to join in on our movie nights and our bonfire carpools even when it was clear that it was our tradition to do so. The one thing we had was our surf trips. We never told anyone when we’d go on them, so the waves became our hangout. Maybe it was fate that we’d both gone out here tonight, but it was probably just a coincidence.

I nodded my head, acknowledging him while shifting on my board carefully. I laid on my back, staring at the stars. The stars I once believed Jere had painted across the sky just for me, but now knew it was just me being a fool.

“I didn’t expect to see you out here tonight. I though you were going swimming with Jere?” His smile was genuine, his teeth showing and slightly parted. He sounded almost out of breath.

“I didn’t expect to be out here tonight either.” I smiled back, only half of what he gave me. My tone was shaky, lower than usual. I felt my board bounce slightly, shifting enough to have my posture stiffened and my body sitting up. I let my legs straddle the board.

Looking over I saw an apologetic Conrad, cheeks reddened, I realized he had just bumped into me. Now, we mirrored each other. Both straddling the boards, facing each other.

“Did he fall asleep on you again? I told him to stop staying up so late with Steven but he never listens.” We laughed, my eyes closing for a moment. I let us fall into a silence, pulling in more air to speak.

“No, I uhm. I caught him kissing Belly in the pool.” There was no laughter this time. My hung head lifted to meet his gaze. His eyes were wide. Mixing with sadness and anger. As well as what I thought to be a sort of relief?

“What the fuck?” His brows were drawn together, hands clenched so hard his nails were digging into his palms. I placed my hand delicately over his, peeling his nails away from his soft skin.

"Conrad, hey. No, it's fine. Honestly, I should've seen it coming. Jere lost interest in whatever we had a long time ago." My confession felt like a weight coming off of my chest, Conrad’s face contorting into more confusion and sadness.

“I don’t give a fuck about him, Y/n.” His eyes met mine. His hand was now clenching over mine, holding it in the more firm grip I’d ever experienced. Like I’d disappear if he didn’t hold on.

“I care about you. You loved him, Y/n/n. He might have treated you like shit in the end, but we all saw the way you looked at him. Like he was the only person in the room. In the world.” I shrugged, looking out into the sea.

“We were both sick, we just wouldn’t admit it. What we had died a long time ago, Con. I was just too afraid to accept it. I think I was more afraid of losing one of my best friends than losing him romantically.” We looked at each other, letting out a deep sigh.

“I think I realized that on the way here. I always thought that the day we ended I would be inconsolable. That the world would end and I would be left in little tiny pieces. But, when it finally came, guess what? The world kept spinning and my heart kept beating. I didn’t feel like I lost a piece of myself. It was almost like, I gained something back.” I caught myself rambling, Conrad’s eyes boring into mine. Teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

“Sorry, fuck. I know he’s your brother.” He shrugged.

“Us being related doesn’t give him the excuse to be an asshole. Jeremiah has always been the flirty one. That’s just how it is. He goes around, finding anyone he can, making them feel special and then dumping them for the next.” My lips were drawn back in a tight line, a swift nod of my head as I avoided his eyes.

“I was surprised, honestly, over how long you lasted. What was it, almost a year now?”

“Yeah.” He tucked my hair behind my ears to see me better.

“For a moment I thought I lost you to him.” The ignorance and oblivion on my face was comedic, at his confession.

“I remember when he told me you’d kissed for the first time, I was so angry. I always thought you deserved better. Then, he stayed with you. He stayed loyal and I couldn’t help but believe he had found his person. And in doing that, he had taken mine away.” The realization had dawned on me in that moment, lips parting and eyes widened, Conrad met my face with a shy smile.

“You don’t mean…” I whispered, almost like if I said it too loud it wouldn’t be true.

“I’ve loved you since we were kids, Y/n. How could I not? You’re funny, competitive, compassionate. You’re everything I love. That’s what makes me love you.” And suddenly everything made sense. The days we spent on the boardwalk, talking for hours. Spending away all of our money we saved over the winter for these moments. I remember him blowing through thirty dollars to win me a stuffed animal after I’d seen the one he won for Belly. I always thought it was because he knew I felt left out, but now it made a little more sense. He had always gone out of his way to make me feel good. To spend time with me, to make me laugh. All of our shoulder brushes and long hugs clicked in my head, I’m sure he saw it.

“Shit, Conrad, why didn’t you tell me?” I let myself drift closer to him, concern and sincerity laced in my voice.

“You seemed so in love with Jeremiah, you said yes to him before I could even ask.”

“Damn it. Conrad, I only said yes to him because I thought you didn’t like me.” I shut my mouth quick, my hand flying over my mouth as a small laugh left Conrad a moment later, seeing my accidental confession. I let a laugh out too, his happiness contagious.

“Back up, back up. You’re in love with Jeremiah.” I shook my head. His mouth opened in disbelief, a smile pulling on his cheeks.

“I loved Jeremiah in a way that was different than a best friend, but it was nothing compared to what I felt for you.” I stuck my finger into his chest, pushing back a little.

“I always thought you were too good for me and, at the time I had harbored a small crush for Jere and when he asked me out, it felt like fate. Like maybe I was meant to be with him because he wanted me all along and you never did but, I guess I had it backwards.” We shared a glance, his eyes falling to my lips, mine following his stare to look at his mouth as well.

My eyes flickered back up to his, a silent understanding passing between us, the air grew heavier.

It was like gravity was pulling us towards each other, our fingers interlacing with each other, our noses close to touching. I felt his breath on mine, his words choppy and lingering with nervousness as he whispered, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure about something in my life.”

Our noses bumped and a chuckle was exchanged. We moved slowly into it, not rushing what had been building for years now, letting it peak finally as his lips met mine in the most soothing kiss Id ever experienced.

With Jeremiah, it was sloppy, rushed and needy. Always so sexual and demanding. It was hot, but never the most fulfilling. However, him being my one and only, again I had fallen for the trap that kissing was just meant to be like that. Needy and rushed.

With Conrad, it was slow and sinful. His lips massaging mine smoothly as my hands found the back of his neck. I let his fingers curl into my hair, tangling themselves as we pushed each other closer together. It was a blur, almost. I felt my mind growing foggy at how badly I wanted to be closer to him, over how much I enjoyed this. My mouth opening and his tongue providing more closeness than before. It was hot, and wet all around. The water dancing over our legs. How inconvenient for us that the moment happened in the water. A place that restricted our movements. Yet, the same restrictions let us start this change in relationship off slow. Not rushing into anything too quickly.

Soft sighs of contentment and pleasure echoed between us, satisfied with what was happening. It was only the splashing of the current coming back in that pulled us apart, our forehead stuck together and eyes fluttered shut still. We breathed each others air while the minutes passed, and the peace settled in.

By then I had forgotten all about Jeremiah. He didn’t matter to me anymore. I knew he didn’t hang the stars for me, and I realized that I truly wasn’t in love with him. And in his infidelity, I found what I wanted all along.

His brother.

#conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher #conrad x reader #tsitp conrad #team conrad #y/nxconradfisher

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evilwickedme · 1 year ago

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This wasn't asked for because nobody in their right mind would ask for this but this is a fic rec list of fics I cannot stop rereading

Just started yet another reread of Inimitable Verse by deniigiq and I fully plan on rereading their into the multiverse series which occasionally crosses over also - this is a Spider-Man/team red focused series, think comics canon infused early mcu-spidey since only homecoming had come out for a non substantial amount of time they were working on the series and the daredevil stuff is explicitly tv show AND comics. Also the multiverse series is how I got into Murderdock and therefore how I got into Spider Gwen

Unpretty's Sorrowful And Immaculate Hearts series which is just a loosely interconnected series of DC fics. My personal favorites are Empty Graves, in which Martha Kent keeps killing time travelers trying to kill baby! Clark; any of their clois fics but especially Third Wheel; and Anti-Social, which is a social media fic mostly about Tim and Bruce that made me cry laughing. Catch Bruce trying to get Walmart's employees to unionize. Also shout out to unpretty's only fic with Jason in it, it looks awesome but is tragically incomplete

This particular Reverse Robin AU which put in the work to reverse every single younger generation and is chef's kiss I LOVE this version of Tim he's wild

Both of Shoalsea's fics are in constant rotation for me I talk about Into The Brighter Night all the time in the tags of reblogs and stuff it truly lives in my head rent free. Anyway Tim gets kidnapped by aliens and the batfam have to watch as yj98 saves him and it's angsty and funny and such a good take on what could have been if the new 52 hadn't happened. And Compassion Builds No House is about Tim and Pru from Red Robin. Ugh they're both so good

Speaking of Clois (I did you've just forgotten this by now) brilliant (like a confession) by kathkin (penny-anna on the hellsite) is so fucking good I'm. Okay. Anyway it'll be listed as inspiration if/when I finally post my two person love triangle fic for them

I'm too anxious to catch up on this before it's done but jumble sale chic is hands down the best spideydevil fic series despite and because of the omegaverse

Make A Little Birdhouse In Your Soul is my favorite take on Jason, period, and has a lot of fantastic Damian stuff going on too. It's updating every few weeks still! Sometimes more often! I love you bacondoughnut it's me JustGail the person who will not stop commenting on your fic you're stuck with me forever

I lied above Rumspringa Murderdock is what got me into Murderdock but that series is second place. I found this one while scrolling through the tv show's mattfoggy tag, thinking I was safe

Speaking of Murderdock mattfoggy, The Lawyer All the Wickedness was written early on in spider-gwen's history and so diverges from canon really early in ways that I think are super interesting and creative

Oh also straight on 'til morning by merils (Tumblr url mamawasatesttube) does SUCH a great job unpacking Kon's trauma and building up healthy relationships around him including a budding timkon romance and yeah it makes me sad and happy at the same time

We're getting into poisonivory territory so just trust if you like the pairing and poisonivory is writing it you'll like it. Ok rapidfire

Like A Handprint On My Heart mattfoggy soulmate au with a twist

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? Damijon future fic/au. Jon came back from the future when both of them were 19. Demisexual!Damian at its best. Damian's terrified of being abandoned by Jon again and it made my heart hurt

I feel like I've already recommended every JayRoy fic by poisonivory and genuinely I do reread them all, sometimes in order of publication if I'm in a particular mood. Maybe the one I've read most though is I've Got the Feeling You're the Right Thing After All which is about Roy and Jason starting a fwb thing while Roy still harbors old feelings for Dick. Can't see anything going wrong here lmao

Mmm this post is long enough so I'll leave it at just superhero fic for now but I do in fact have the ability to do a whole post just for the Witcher or Leverage so I might do that. Anyway thanks for following me on yet another burst of insanity it will happen again

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mychoombatheroomba · 4 months ago

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The Crucible (Part 1)

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 49

The final test begins, and while Leon and the others are away, questions begin to pull at you.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Um. Breakfast?” You thought the answer was fairly obvious, given you were only a few feet from the mess hall doors. Still, Doc took the time to stop you and ask the question.

The old man just shook his head. “No you’re not. I’m down an assistant today, need your help organizing. Just got a new shipment of supplies.”

You wouldn’t be mad at that, actually. Anything to take your mind off the fact that you weren’t testing with the others . . . and you wouldn’t be mad that you likely wouldn’t have to eat the cardboard they passed off as food, either. Still . . . “Don’t think Reed will be okay with that,” you grumbled.

“Well, Reed can kiss my ass.” Doc’s response was curt and made you smile, glad to know that yet another person on base shared your sentiment about the CIA agent. “Krauser already okayed it. Can’t pull you out of any drills proper, but I am gonna enlist you at mealtimes and in your off-hours. Need all the help I can get. My other assistants and I are gonna be rotating to shadow your squad up in the hills, in case something goes wrong.”

“Like what?” you asked, because you couldn’t help but be curious about what it was you were missing out on. You couldn’t help but worry, just a bit.

Doc just gave you a look. “Krauser makes good tests, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility that someone gets hurt in one of them.”

That just pinched your brows together. “They’re not doing anything that crazy up there though, are they?” Your turn to ask an obvious question and get an obvious answer.

“It’s Krauser.”

“Fair point.”

Doc chuckled, but his expression turned more reassuring soon after. “They’ll be tired by the end of it all, but no. Nothing too crazy.”

Somehow, you didn’t quite believe him.

⧫⧫⧫

Rifles rose slowly in the silence, the act of breathing itself coming to a halt.

No noise.

Not if they could help it. And as they were, on a gravel path and surrounded by woods on either side, standing still was the only way they really could manage that.

Another shrill screech from up ahead, overpowering the sounds of birds waking up, and Leon felt an old dread shoot through his heart, and he worried that the beating of it was so loud that it could be heard by whatever was out there.

Eyes up, gun up. Not that it would matter, really. It was loaded with blanks. That was what made Leon think it wasn’t actually a Licker waiting for them in those trees. Krauser and Hellman wouldn’t throw them against a BOW without arming them first, surely.

Right?

“What are you all waiting around for?” A familiar voice interrupted Leon’s thought process, and he felt himself relax as he looked to his side. Krauser stepped through the trees, wearing his usual warning-smile. “You’ve got places to be, soldiers. Only problem is . . .” another screech, and the Major’s crooked grin widened, “. . . you make a sound, you’re as good as dead.”

The first test, then.

“Move forward without drawing attention to yourselves,” Hellman said in simpler terms as he appeared at Krauser’s side. “Manage that, then your next challenge will be waiting for you.”

Leon looked to his side, his gaze finding Valeria’s at once, a silent question shared between the two of them; how do you move ten people without making a sound? The answer was obvious enough; slowly. Still, it would be easier said than done, and likely not enough. They would move when the woods made noise to cover them, and if that was not enough . . . he had an idea in mind. So, Leon switched his rifle to one hand, and then bent down with as little noise as he could manage. He took a larger stone from the path, and nodded to Valeria as she did the same. Once they both were upright again, they gave a simultaneous signal with the hand, the group began advancing forward, heel to toe, trying to make as little noise as possible on the gravel path.

They made it several feet amidst the shrieking and shrill cries echoing through the woods . . . but, of course, it wasn’t long before a footstep made noise, a rock slipping out from beneath a boot and skittering across the path.

As soon as it happened, Leon held up a signal for them to halt, and just as Krauser opened his mouth to no doubt shout a reprimand, Leon hefted the stone in his hand. There was some noise as he threw it, but not nearly as much as when the rock impacted with a tree far off the path. It struck the bark hard, the sound scaring birds into flight.

With the distraction, the group moved forward again on Leon’s command, stopping when the forest went quiet around them once more. With no words from Krauser suggesting otherwise, it seemed the plan worked. All that remained was to repeat it. So they moved, a group of ten moving carefully through the trees. It was as they moved, under the cover of well-timed distractions, that Leon almost broke the quiet with a huff of breath. An exasperated sigh as he looked through the trees and at last glimpsed what horror had been making the shrieking calls in the woods. Or, rather, lack of horror. After all, there were many things to be afraid of, but loudspeakers strapped to the trees were not on the list, as far as Leon was concerned.

Leave it to Krauser to be good for a scare.

So, as Valeria threw a stone of her own, creating another distraction, Leon glanced over at the man shadowing them, the one who, not so long ago, Leon had borne little but contempt for.

The Major, many times in the past, had only looked annoyed or judgmental of Leon’s efforts.

Now, Krauser just nodded his approval.

A good start, then, but he knew . . .

⧫⧫⧫

“It’s not over yet,” your voice cut out across the training yard, but you weren’t sure the recruit you were speaking to believed you. After all, it was hard to believe that you could win a fight after your weapon had been taken from you. You also knew that fighting well in that moment was all the more important. “Keep your guard up,” you instructed.

The recruit did as you ordered, looking from you to his opponent . . . to the agent watching from a distance.

The agent who was otherwise occupied with his own set of recruits. Two who circled each other, following Reed’s instruction. The man never looked your way - not if he could help it. You couldn’t help but watch them too, because Reed never seemed to object when they went for blows to the face. He never seemed keen to discipline hits that, in basic training, would have gotten you a reprimand at best.

Krauser had always believed in learning through the bruises you received, but still . . .

The movement of the two recruits you were training snapped your attention back to them. “Come on, you know better,” you sighed, “bend your knees.”

They obeyed, and blunted steel streaked through the air, traded blow for blow.

“Keep your blade in front of you.”

You wondered if Leon was fighting up at the test.

“Switch hands more.”

Was he doing well?

“Smaller-”

“Fuck!”

You looked just in time to see the recruit land, his feet finishing the arc through the air and the rest of him crashing into the dirt. Then came the cry of pain, the wide eyes of someone realizing something painful had just happened. The same young soldier who had helped you up after Reed kicked your ass not too long ago - Grayson. His opponent let go of the arm he’d used as leverage in an instant, realizing something had gone wrong. When the one on the ground tried to stand but yelped when he put weight on his arm, you felt something in you stir awake.

When Reed made no move to stop or help, you were at the recruit’s side in a matter of moments. You ignored the apologies of his opponent, kneeling in the dust at Grayson's side.

“Can you move your arm?” you asked, but with the way it remained at the young man’s side, you doubted it.

“No-”

“Then get yourself to the infirmary,” Reed commanded, his tone indifferent as ever.

The tension of being left behind during the test had already put you in a bad mood, and here was the man responsible. One who had now just overseen the injury of another soldier. So, you didn’t reign in the gnashing remark that came from snarling lips. “You make a habit of getting your soldiers crippled?” you spat up as you helped Grayson to his feet.

Reed’s shoulders rose and fell, almost imperceptibly. “I make a habit of making sure they’re capable fighters.”

“Then don’t fucking let them break their bones before they even get to the front lines!”

“Your Major has expressed that you be prepared-”

“Prepared for our own comrades to knock us out of the fight?”

“Prepared to show no mercy,” Reed hissed, stepping forward, more tense than you had ever seen him. “Take you, for example. If that Umbrella soldier had gone for your throat instead of your side, then you would be dead, and they would have one less enemy. But here you are.” His nostrils flared, and you swore you felt a thrum of pressure in your healed ribs as you stared him down, Grayson’s good arm still slung over your shoulder. “These men cannot afford to make the same mistake and let their enemies get back up.”

Fury coiled in you, and if you hadn’t been holding on to the injured soldier at your side you might have struck. You might have gone for Reed’s throat then and there . . . but instead you just fixed him in a scathing glare. “But we aren’t the enemy,” you snarled, then turned on your heel, beginning to help Grayson towards the infirmary.

The agent didn’t stop you, or even speak another word to you. He just issued his next order-

⧫⧫⧫

“Keep moving!”

That was the best command Leon could give, one that was easier said than done. An obstacle course was something they’d done dozens of times now, even if this new one in the woods was set up differently than what they were used to. Even the cases of ammunition they now carried, they’d had to handle before.

The hands reaching up for them, though . . . that was an added challenge.

Krauser and Hellman wouldn’t release true bioweapons on them, but they would find ways to imitate the grasping hands and hungry teeth of the zombies of Raccoon City. The solution to that had been simple; anyone could become a bioweapon, and so the squad had been split, and Valeria’s half now walked just below Leon, their hands reaching up.

The goal?

For Leon’s men, it was to get through the course with at least one of the ammunition cases. For Valeria’s, it was to stop that from happening. And they certainly had the easier job of the two groups.

Leon felt sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as he moved, taking the ammo case from Williams. There had been no reprieve since they started this morning, no real chance at a break. Now, the sun was beginning the second half of its arc in the sky and hunger and exhaustion were beginning to press in on him.

Still, he had to press on. That was the only choice now, because it would be the only choice in the field. He knew that better than anyone.

They were almost there. Almost to the end, if Valeria and her men had been doing everything they could to stop them from getting there. They’d been instructed to remain on the ground, to more accurately simulate the zombies that Leon’s report had spoken of in Raccoon City . . . but Valeria had never been one to play by the rules. So, Leon was hardly surprised when, even with how she and Dina felt about each other, Valeria shook her head and took a running jump, one of her men boosting her.

Leon was sure she’d go for him. That she’d try to jump Leon to try and pull him down through the bars. He should have known better. He should have known that Valeria was more cunning than that.

So, when Dina called out his name, nearly falling from the bars, Leon knew it was a ploy. He knew it was a distraction, in the back of his mind . . . but he moved anyway.

The case nearly slipped from his grip as he lunged, his body caught awkwardly across the bars in a way he knew would leave bruises behind. Still, he caught Dina’s wrist just before the tall woman was yanked off the bars, holding on to her with one hand, and the case in the other . . .

And fighting off the memories playing in his mind all the while.

“Oh, fuck!” Williams cried, kicking her legs as Valeria tried to pull her down, and Leon grit his teeth. It was a test - a simulation. Still, he could think only of the last time he’d been in a position like this. When he hadn’t been strong enough, and the woman he’d been trying to save had slipped through his fingers . . .

So, he strained with all his might, willing his arm to bend. Forcing himself to fight.

“The longer they hold you, the more likely you’ll get bit!” Krauser shouted a reminder, but Leon didn’t pay much attention.

His muscles had ached for days upon days, when Krauser started training him. He’d thought, at times, that he wouldn’t survive. That the feats the Major wanted him to carry out would never be possible.

Now, he felt only awe at the strength he had as Dina freed herself from Valeria’s hold, and Leon lifted the woman with only one arm.

Williams swore as she met Leon halfway, beginning to pull herself up . . . just in time for one of Valeria’s men to jump too, grasping the ammo case with both hands. In his distracted state, Leon’s eyes flashed as he realized he’d been played, and he and his half of the squad lost that portion of the test within a few feet of the end of it.

“Fuck,” he hissed, helping Williams the rest of the way up all the same.

Hellman watched from a distance, shaking his head. “You prioritized your team over the objective,” he accused. “Admirable, but it will cost your team a resupply.” That meant less ammo for whatever was to come . . . but honestly? Leon didn’t care. Not if his friend was safe, even if this was just a simulation of a dire situation.

Krauser’s own thoughts on the matter were hidden behind a stern expression and an order to switch out, but Hellman’s disapproval was clear. Williams and Leon both seemed to share the same sentiment regarding that.

“What a fucking-”

⧫⧫⧫

“- asshole.”

As far as you were concerned, the word was a bit gentle when it came to describing Reed. Grayson could have called him infinitely worse, and you wouldn’t have blamed him, especially now that he was taking up the same position you’d been stuck in for weeks.

When you’d dropped him off at the infirmary earlier, you’d been told by Doc to return to drills for the day. Now, though, dinner had come around and you’d returned to help as instructed. When you found out that Grayson had been sentenced to the sick bay because his arm had popped out of socket, you had felt a familiar rage in you.

Well, in truth, it had just been more gasoline to the fire that had been burning all day.

Even if Reed hadn’t dealt the blow this time, another soldier was out of commission on his watch. And more than that . . .

“If that Umbrella soldier had gone for your throat instead of your side . . .” those words replayed in your mind over and over and over again. How could they not? How could you not fixate on that wounding remark?

Especially when something about it just didn’t sit right with you . . .

“Asshole is putting it mildly,” Doc agreed, as he sifted through his supplies. Getting ready to switch out with his assistants in the mountains had him rushing to be ready - he hadn’t been expecting the injury he had to deal with today to be here rather than up with Krauser’s group.

“You’re going to tell the Major, right?” you asked, because, frankly, you thought Krauser might kill Reed for this. You’d like to see that, you decided.

“You bet your ass I will,” Doc nodded, shaking his head in a display of his frustration. “Bastard is gonna have the whole base crippled at this rate . . .”

Yes, he would.

Even Hellman had shown remorse about your injury, and about having to cut soldiers from the ranks, if Leon was to be believed. Reed, though, never seemed to care. To Reed, you were all disposable . . .

But then, if he knew that Umbrella was responsible for your injury all those months ago . . .

When had he read your file?

Had it been after he was assigned here? Or after? Because if it was before . . . if Reed had known about your injury and still decided to strike you in the ribs anyway during the interrogation . . .

“Hey,” Doc pulled you from your thoughts, stepping closer. “I know I’m breaking my own rule here, but the kid’s gonna be stuck in the same boat you were.” He gave a sympathetic glance towards the bed where Grayson sat, and then looked back to you. “And sharing is caring and all that bullshit.”

You knew what he meant, and you had to admit that some part of you felt better when you handed Grayson a slice of pizza - one of several that Doc had stocked you and his assistants with for the next few days. The recruit’s face lit up at the sight of food that wasn’t what they served in the mess hall, and the two of you ate in the quiet of the infirmary . . . and had some small amount of fun giving Reed scathing glares when he dropped off the opened mail the base received that day - one letter for Grayson that the agent had read and ensured was safe.

Still, as much as offering Grayson company distracted you from the test you were missing out on . . . you couldn’t help the other questions that began to gnaw at you as Reed left.

Questions like-

⧫⧫⧫

How the hell were they going to get through this?

The goal was simple, really; get through the course, avoiding as many “casualties” as possible, and retrieve an ammunition case from inside the structure at the end. Eliminate the “targets” between them and their objective. And just like the entire rest of the day, from dawn to dusk and now continuing after dark, the problem was the course in front of them.

There were flashes in the night sky, resounding booms and cracks of gunfire. Screams.

None of it was real. That was what Leon had to remind himself. Like with the sounds of Lickers they’d played in the morning, none of this was real. Even so, that didn’t make it easier as he crawled on his belly, moving through mud and under razor wire with his nearly empty rifle in his hands.

His squad was close, and that helped. It would have been better if you were there at his side, telling him to keep going . . . but he could practically hear your voice in his ear, even now.

Tripwires were disabled, spats of mock-gunfire evaded, and Leon pushed his men on. “Come on,” he insisted, “we get to sleep a whole four hours after this,” he grinned, cracking the mud that had caked on his face.

“Oh, what a relief!” Alejandro huffed at his side, but Leon could see the man’s smile when he looked over at him.

It was those smiles that helped Leon to push forward, even as he heard Hellman’s voice call out a consequence for ducking into cover too late. “Garza's hit! You’re bleeding soldier!”

Leon grimaced, because he knew what would come next. They’d been briefed on what to do if one of them was designated a casualty. The goal was to simulate evacuating the wounded from a battlefield, and Krauser and Hellman both had been adamant that whoever was pretending to be wounded play the part. Alejandro might have felt a bit ridiculous when he started screaming, but for Leon, the sound was plenty convincing.

What was it that you told him your Captain used to say? If you can’t run, you crawl. If you can’t do that, you find someone to carry you.

Leon gritted his teeth and finished the last segment of the course with Alejandro laying across his back, the added weight of another man pressing him further into the mud, making every inch all the more of a struggle. Still, he pressed on, right up until he and the others were up against the side of the building they needed to breach. The loss of the ammo case earlier had cost them a resupply, so after a quick ammo check, Leon ordered Williams to remain with Alejandro while he and Alenko went in to handle the targets.

Gunfire still echoed through the night as he and Alenko stepped up to the door, looking first to each other and then reaching out.

⧫⧫⧫

There was a little click as the lock opened and you felt your heart lurch.

This was stupid. This was so fucking stupid . . . but you’d been doing a lot of stupid things lately, hadn’t you? It wasn’t too late, you could just re-lock the door and go back to setting up triplines in the dark. You could . . . but you wouldn't. You’d come this far, and you had questions that needed answers.

You tried to take some relief in the irony of the situation. Reed and Hellman had taught you how to pick locks, and now that skill was being brought to bear against them. It was stupid, but it didn’t stop you from slinging your bag of springs and wires over your shoulder and reaching for the newly unlocked door.

It didn’t stop you because the entire day - hell, since you met them through the bars of a jail cell - you had felt something wrong about the CIA agents sent to oversee training. Perhaps it was just paranoia. Perhaps it was the fact that Reed had broken your bones. Either way, you found yourself moving into a dark office that night; one you absolutely should not have been in.

Reed’s office held few answers. You found no personal effects, really, just the pile of mail that the agent had sorted through before delivering it to the rest of the base, an small and empty box that he’d no doubt confiscated.

You picked the secondary lock on his desk with nervous hands, eyes glancing around all the while, and for a few moments, you skimmed through the reports you found inside in the light pouring in from the streetlights outside.

𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: (𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎)

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖: █.█.

𝙼𝚢 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 ███████ ██████, 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙸’𝚖 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 ███████ 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝.

The same report Krauser had given you - you’d almost memorized it, you’d read it so many times. You didn’t have such a luxury now - every second you spent in here was another second you were at risk of being court martialed. Still, you had to know. You had to know what they knew.

You didn’t have much time to sift through it all and read each report. You could only skim, hoping that something would stick out as different . . .

And your eyes widened in the dark when you found that something.

████-████████ ███████ ███ █████████████ ████: 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙳𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎

𝙸𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 ███████ ████, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚂 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 ████████ ██████████████ ███████. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 ██████████ ███████ ████. 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 ████ 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

Your eyes narrowed at that. Even with the blacked out text, even with the information all but hidden, it didn’t take much for you to put it together. Umbrella, bioweapons . . . they’d chosen teachers who’d had experience with both.

Krauser had pulled you from the snow in Finland. He’d seen the corpses of the bioweapons there . . .

How were Reed and Hellman involved?

⧫⧫⧫

The rifle knocked back into Leon’s shoulders, his eyes set in a hard at the targets in front of him. There were only blanks in the gun - in all their guns - but the simulated fire was real enough. He and Alenko had cleared the first two rooms of the mock-safe house, and now they were on the last one. He took up the ammunition case that was their objective, and they were home-free. The final hurdle, then the first night course would be done.

He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Never was.

His rifle clicked empty, Alenko’s had run dry in the previous room.

That, of course, was when he appeared.

Leon turned just in time to see a shape in the doorway, all muscle and brutal strength. Alenko was knocked to the side with a kick, crashing into the wall. There was a knife in the Major’s hands, because of course there was. There always seemed to be. Leon knew what came next.

Part of him wanted to stay. To fight. To test his blade against Krauser’s once more.

But winning wasn’t the goal; escaping - surviving - was.

They just had to get past Krauser, first.

So, Leon looked to Alenko, seeing his comrade slinging his rifle over his shoulder quickly and drawing the practice blade strapped to his belt instead. Just as the Major moved forward, intent to take the ammo case from Leon and make the test an automatic failure. So, Leon threw himself back, avoiding a swing with Krauser’s knife, then slipping to the side to try and avoid the second . . . only for Krauser’s hand to close around his wrist, the one whose hand held the ammo case. Leon and Krauser both struck at the same time, Leon stepping in to aim a knee at the Major’s stomach, just as Krauser brought his knife down on Leon’s arm. Blunted metal still hurt as it dug into his skin, bruising him, nearly making him drop the case . . . but then Alenko was there, knocking into the Major’s side.

Leon took the opportunity, wrenching the case away, just as Krauser turned to deal with his new attacker.

He could have run, he supposed. He had the objective in hand, he had a way to go around his attacker. A way out. But it would mean leaving his friend behind, and that wouldn’t work for him.

So, as Alenko occupied the Major’s attention for that split second, Leon wrenched his wrist free and turned. The ammo case swung through the air, and Leon hoped the Major didn’t mind a bit of pain, because that same case was crashing into the man’s arm a moment later. The older man growled in pain, and it was enough for Leon to push past, handing the case off to Alenko.

They nearly made it out before Leon felt a hand grasp at his pack, pulling him backwards.

"Should have run, rookie."

His eyes shot wide, nearly falling off his feet as Krauser yanked him back . . . but Leon’s now free hand was already closing around the handle of his own knife. He blocked with his rifle just in time as Krauser’s blade came up and around, aiming for his throat. Leon used the rifle’s mag to hook Krauser’s arm down and away, then turned as best he could.

Krauser ducked under the stab of Leon’s knife but couldn’t avoid the push kick to his chest. The Major’s grip slipped as he was knocked down, and with that, Leon dashed out. He knew better than anyone that, sometimes, you didn’t need to defeat an opponent. You just needed to-

⧫⧫⧫

Get out.

You were gone from the offices in a flash, the reports returned to the desk you’d broken into, the locks back in place. Like you’d never been there. You hoped that's how it looked, at least.

Your boots scraped against the dirt of the base, your mind a storm. You stepped between buildings, but as you moved from the offices towards the mess hall, the tripwires you set up were done so slowly. Your mind was not focused on the intricacies of setting up traps. No, it was elsewhere.

Reed and Hellman.

They’d had experience with bioweapons . . . or at least knew they existed before this.

How?

What had they done? What had they seen? How had they-

You didn’t have much time to question it before the sound of footsteps made you freeze in your tracks - too close to you. “Sergeant,” a cool, usually indifferent voice called out, and anxiety had to be wrestled down as you turned and found a man striding towards you.

The very man whose office you’d just broken into.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #jack krauser #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #between the bones #gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x you #no y/n

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reimeichan · 5 months ago

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As I start nearing 30 years old, and also as I become more integrated, I've started exploring who "I" am, as a person, and as a single identity. I know that not too long ago I made a post talking about these aspects of who I am, as a person, post-fusion. But I've also been finding more and more bits and pieces of myself and working through my trauma since then, and as new information crops up, I'm starting to once again re-examine who I am.

Mainly, I've been exploring my gender and sexuality. My sexuality especially has always been very clear to me since I was 14. I'm asexual. Nothing had really changed that for well over a decade. And not for lack of trying, too; I explored my feelings on sexuality and sex for a long time and it was something I would regularly rotate around in my head. Am I truly ace? I enjoy reading hentai and watching porn and reading smut, does that mean I'm sexually attracted to people? I'm hypersexual, how does that factor in to my ace-ness? Am I maybe aro as well? Am I demi-ace? Is my asexuality a result of my trauma? Does that make my asexuality more or less valid in that way? I explored every aspect of my asexual identity as thoroughly as I could, and each time I emerged on the other side even more certain that "asexual" was the best and closest label to describe my sexuality.

But, now... as I work through these different parts of me and understand the bits of me I had dissociated away, I'm starting to become more connected to... having sexual attraction to others. It's not that I was wrong about being ace for all these years; I think it's important to honor and acknowledge that part of my history. But I also think that to continue to call myself "asexual" is doing a disservice to myself. I do find people "hot". I do think about and fantasize about people's bodies. It's no longer about just the act of sex or kink itself turning me on (as it had been when I was ace), I'm very much attracted to people's bodies. And in that way I think it's more accurate to tell others that I am bisexual. And... that's quite a change, for me. To start acknowledging that I have sexual feelings towards others, and am sexually attracted to them, is so new to me, when in the past this wasn't something I ever felt like I had experienced.

And similarly, my gender. The thing that I could never figure out, but with each passing day I find further clarity. I think I know how to explain my gender now. I was a girl. For much of my childhood, I was absolutely a girl. But as I hit my preteen years and my teenage years, that started to shift. I saw myself less as a girl, and more as something.... in-between and outside of that. Nonbinary. Agender. Androgynous. I don't know what term works best, but I know what it was for me. And again, in early adulthood, that shifted yet again. I was genderfluid, a girly guy, a femboy. But I'm not going to be a young adult for much longer, and I find myself looking into the future. In my middle age, who I am? Who do I see myself becoming? And, beyond that, who will I be when I'm even older, at retirement age or even as an elderly 80, 90 year old?

And as I think about this future version of me, I realize that I am no longer a genderfluid girly femboy. I'm... a guy. I'm a middle aged Asian man. I don't know if "transmasc" or "trans man" really is the best way to describe that, but it's the closest word I have for what I see and what I feel. But really, just calling myself a guy is enough I think. I'm going to be a middle aged guy sooner than later, and I want to take some steps for this future version of me so that he can feel more comfortable in his skin.

I'm still a femboy right now. I like this version of me and I plan to stick with it as long as it feels right. But I also know this isn't who I'm going to be forever, and that's okay.

It's so weird, exploring all of these feelings at my age, especially when I thought I had it all figured out. But life isn't so clear cut, and you're never too old to figure out who you are. And it's okay for things to change as you get older, too. Either way, I'm excited for whoever I end up becoming, and I'm proud of who I am right now.

#did #dissociative identity disorder #actually did #actuallydid #didrecovery #asexual #bisexual #transgender #gender identity #sexuality #queer #lgbtqia+#by reimei #by purple #by gray #by green

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theactualsunshinechild · 1 year ago

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I have this incredibly specific WrioChi scenario rotating around in my head that I have to throw out there before it drives me insane. Imagine the following:

Childe seeing Wriothesley walking out of his office, calling out to him, and leaping right off the second floor of the administrative zone at him, and Wriothesley panicking and dropping everything in his arms to catch him and then reprimanding him to "Stop DOING that, you brat!!!" And Childe is just like "but it's fun and you always catch me!"

"I should let you drop," Wriothesley grumbles, though his hold doesn't loosen. If anything, Childe feels his grip tighten slightly as the redhead pretends to contemplate the possibility.

"Mmmm..." he hums thoughtfully, "well, I guess I'll have to hope I land on my feet!" The shrug that follows gets the Duke's brows to twitch lightly on his otherwise stone cold expression.

"You'll break your legs from that height." His grip tightens again. Childe grins. He knows this of course. Vision users have tougher bodies, so he'd have to land wrong, but breaking a bone was a very real possibility. However, he'd heal it off relatively quickly, especially compared to the havoc his Foul Legacy wreaks upon his body, and it was a risk he was willing to take. Not only did Childe have plenty of trust in his own body's capabilities and expertise in executing dangerous drops and cushioning rolls safely, but:

"You will never let that happen." Childe's confident reply echoes in the nonexistent space between them, reverberating through Wriothesley's bones.

"I just told you, I will let you fall," Wriothesley scowls down at him. His grip is a little painful, but his voiced threat is rendered ineffective against Childe, who smiles, softer this time, the sharp teasing corners tempered by the concern that was pacing a visible hole through the frost of the other's gaze.

"You told me you should, Your Grace, but your eyes say you won't." For a second those same eyes widen at his words, and Childe knows he hit the nail on the head. He grins in delight as Wriothesley averts his gaze silently, confirming it further.

For a man who was once meant to keep him captive and kept so many secrets, the Warden was a terribly easy man to trust in.

Childe was never a fan of... relying on others. It wasn't really in his playbook, couldn't be, with the kind of profession he was in, the coworkers he worked with. Physically, letting any part of his plans fall on anyone else's shoulders always came with a threat of failure and fatality. Emotionally, the idea of letting people close to him, like his family, in on his worries was even more devastating. Frankly, letting anyone else into his heart and head was always going to be out of the question. Or so he thought.

The Traveler, was one such newcomer into Childe's limited circle. And when they both found themselves in Fontaine once again for one reason or another, the Traveler, ever the networking expert, introduced him to Wriothesley over a cup of the Duke's fine tea. Introduced was, admittedly, a strong word for a situation in which Wriothesley already had his name, family's names, occupation, and detailed criminal record on file. It was a jarring experience to say the least, to have a complete stranger ask after the well-being of his siblings, but at the end of the day, he could finally put a face to the grand title he had heard so many times during his stint in the prison. Even with the amount of reverence people spoke of their Duke with, Childe had been unprepared for the kind of person he really was in the flesh.

Shrewd and cautious, stomping out problems quickly and efficiently. Polite and charismatic, yet tangibly dangerous and unafraid to resort to brutality when his hand was forced. Wriothesley was nothing if not reliable; he protected his values and people with a steadfast viciousness that Childe recognized intimately -- an indomitable, resolute determination that matched his own.

It seemed like there was nothing thrown his way that Wriothesley couldn't handle, and Childe couldn't help but want to test the limits. Posing himself as the world's most difficult problem to solve was an endeavor that came quite naturally to the Harbinger, but perhaps it was Childe's limits that had truly been tested.

Wriothesley had stepped up to the challenge before him and, while neither had expected to tumble into bed together in the process, it had not been unwelcome. Under the Duke's attentive gaze and steady hands Childe found himself being taken apart piece by piece and reconstructed into a version of himself that felt lighter somehow. It was months later that Childe lay awake with the realization that the lightness came with the missing pieces, the shards of his long-fragmented heart that Wriothesley gently pried out from his scars and bones and swallowed down diligently to keep them safe inside himself. And yet, Childe had never felt more whole.

He had come to trust Wriothesley to a degree he could have never even imagined. It was... less frightening than it should have been to have someone hold his heart this way. To have someone he felt so completely safe with. Childe knew that on a physical level he was the overall stronger fighter from their spars, but this did not take away from the serene sense of security Wriothesley's presence gave him. To put it simply, Wriothesley was someone he found himself comfortable with. He was someone who did not judge him at face value, but rather worked to understand his behaviors on a level Childe could never recall anyone bothering to do. Even now, it felt as though the other had already figured out Childe's motivations on a deeper level than Childe himself.

The Duke looks at him again, this time his eyes alight with a streak of mischief that makes Childe's pulse skip a beat in anticipation.

"...Tell you what, if you stop throwing yourself off the mezzanines, I'll reward you."

"A reward from the Duke himself? Must be quite generous!~" Childe fishes coyly for any further information with a lash lidded look and his fingers playing with Wriothesley's tie. The wolfish grin the Duke gives him in response sends a spark flickering down his spine. Wriothesley sets him down, one hand settling familiarly on his hip as the other comes up to tilt his chin up to hold his gaze.

"You'll have to find out, won't you? Although you can rest assured I am a firm believer in paying people what they are owed." Wriothesley's eyes glitter with promise, keeping Childe's breath hostage in the back of his throat. No precise details, huh? Well, Childe is a curious man by nature, so this suits him just fine; the intrigue adds to the fun of it all.

"I'll take you up on that then, Your Grace. I'll make sure to be a good boy for the duration of this visit, and we'll see if your reward is satisfactory enough for me to behave next time, " he teases lightly, and Wriothesley huffs a sharp chuckle of amusement through his nose, giving Childe's hip an affectionate squeeze of agreement before letting go to go pick up what he had dropped earlier to catch him.

Childe missed his touch already.

#genshin impact #wriothesley #childe #tartaglia #wriochi #Wriothesley x Childe #oops that was like half of a fanfic #oh well #i just need it out of my brain #i would have preferred to draw a comic but i don't have the time #so take this for now #a bit more Childe centric than intended #but that's fine

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imperator-titus · 3 months ago

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Ghost from the Past [Part 11]

Sorry for the long wait! (Is it long? Well, I've certainly updated quicker...) I had to focus on the end of my grad classes (and now have more... woo...) I also had to start really thinking about the next steps for the story.

I thought this bit was gonna have smut. Probably the next part will have a lot of spice.

A lot of my struggles came from modifying Gale's canon monogamous outlook without totally disregarding it and Astarion's character growth after the Yurgir fight. Clearly it has to be a little different since Eletha already confronted him about what he wants from her. Astarion in this part gets kind of a "+1 Emotional Intelligence."

I'm really enjoying this story, and I hope some of you are too! Please feel free to hit me up about it! I've been really enjoying some comments over on Ao3. Much love!

(Prev)[Part 10] (Next)[Part 12] [Master Post]

[For those unsure, yes, this is a made-up line the OP did, and honestly, it was perfect! Gale, you are about to be the star of the show.]

In the morning, Eletha was ready to go before anyone got up. She’d even started breakfast.

“You’re up bright and early,” Wyll remarked, one of the first to greet her.

“Early, at least,” Karlach said with a little laugh, indicating the permanent darkness that surrounded them.

“I already have a plan of action for the next few days. We’ve wasted enough time waiting around for me to put my head on straight.” Eletha relinquished control of the cookware to Gale, who practically snatched the fork out of her hand.

“Are you sure you’re… okay?” Shadowheart asked hesitantly.

“Oh. No. No, I wouldn’t say I’m okay.” Seeing the looks they all gave her, Eletha chuckled. “I was never okay. Just… distracted. I can’t do anything about the whole… But I can do something about the problems that face us now.”

“Well said,” Gale said before turning back to their breakfast.

“Besides, I always feel better with a bloody blade in my hand.”

“I could not agree more.” Lae’zel’s eyes blazed with passion.

Before they headed out, Astarion approached Eletha.

“I know you said that I should stay behind with Gale and I normally wouldn't mind languishing around camp while you trudge waist-deep through curses and undead sludge, but-”

Astarion stopped mid-speech as Eletha stopped digging through her bag and started rotating around, hand outstretched to the sky. Seemingly, she wasn't listening.

“Relapsing into madness again so quickly?”

“It's a sun glass. Can't be combusting in the middle of a fight,” she explained, tilting the piece of glass until she caught a glimmer of light. As she tucked it into her hip pouch she asked, “What did you want to tell me?”

“I wanted to come along. That's all. Wyll said it was fine if I took his place,” Astarion answered, throwing his words away as if it was no big deal.

“Okay.”

Astarion pouted a little. “You're not going to ask?”

“No.” Eletha stopped what she was doing and looked at him from the corner of her eye. He huffed and started walking away. She rolled her eyes and called after him, exasperated, “Why do you want to come so bad?”

“To look after you, of course,” he answered, practically sparkling.

“Oh. You want praise.” He smacked her hand away when she tried to pat his cheek. She smiled. “Thank you. It's sweet of you to care.”

“I don't care and I'm not sweet. I have a personal interest in keeping you alive and not insane.”

“I get it. You're a magnificent bastard. So sorry, for implying you would be so weak as to look out for someone because you care.”

“That's right. I suppose all that brain damage hasn't made you stupid yet. Now that that’s settled.” Astarion turned and hesitated.

He ever so slightly wiggled his ass in her direction.

Eletha smirked. “Right. Best head out.”

As she passed him, she brought back her hand and smacked his backside so hard that he yelped and jumped a little.

“What is wrong with you, woman?!” he screeched, holding a hand to his stinging cheek.

“A lot.”

----

“This seem important to y’all?” Eletha asked, holding up the lute she just pulled off this weird doctor character.

“Are we gonna talk about how, in the past 4 hours, you've convinced someone to explode and another to let himself be brutally stabbed to death?” Karlach asked hesitantly, watching the mad nurses go back to their routines as if nothing happened.

“I dunno, I liked how that other one was full of gold,” Astarion remarked with a satisfied little smile.

“Why would he have a lute?” Eletha asked herself, ignoring Karlach’s question, looking over the instrument. She found some initialing carved into the neck. “That Art Cullagh guy seemed like the musical sort.”

“Well, he was insane. And he did seem to enjoy it…” Shadowheart said, regarding the gore with disgust.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Eletha said as she started to walk towards the back of the decrepit hospital.

“Because of the whole…” Karlach hesitantly made circles over her abdomen with a sympathetic pained face. Eletha’s eyebrows lowered in confusion.

“What? No. No, that probably happened in, like, the dirt, right? A pile of leaves?”

“You don't know?” Karlach asked, confused herself.

“Kinda blocked that bit out, yeah.” Eletha went through the doctor’s things, searching for anything interesting. Or valuable.

“I don't envy you. I've heard it ruins your vagina,” Shadowheart remarked flippantly as she cleaned her nails.

“That can't be true,” Karlach breathed in disbelief, her voice stressed.

“Oh, yeah, you can tear your arsehole like paper,” Eletha answered, tearing a piece of paper she found for effect.

“No! Don't tell me that!” Karlach cried in distress, closing her eyes and putting her hands over her ears.

“Is that why you're so shy? Worried it’ll be a disappointment for anyone but an ogre?” Astarion teased, indicating Eletha’s crotch with a cunty little wave of a finger. Eletha chuckled, smacking his hand like he was a child in need of a lesson.

“Not sure if I'm flattered or disgusted that you're thinking about my vagina.” Astarion’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk.

“I'm not the only one. Should I break the news to Gale that it's more like the Underdark than a cozy little cave?”

“Yeah, I got some glowing mushrooms in there and everything. Brightens the place up,” Eletha told him cheerily, mimicking decorating a home.

“Do you think a wizard can localize an enlarge spell?” Astarion asked after a comic hum.

“Aww, it's okay, I'm sure Gale’s more into technique than equipment.” Eletha patted his shoulder mockingly, a look of false sympathy in her eyes. Astarion laughed a little bark of a laugh.

“He'd be good for you. He could lend you a magic hand from the other side of his tower, no men involved,” he retorted cattily.

“He does know how to make a good steak.”

“Oh darling, you wound me.” Astarion dramatically swooned and Eletha had to stop him from tripping over himself.

“That's what you’ll be saying when he's done with you.”

“Gods you two are weird,” Karlach breathed,shaking her head as she watched them.

Eletha let Karlach and Shadowheart take the lead as they walked through the crypt and the Sharran temple beyond.

“You look like you want to say something,” Eletha remarked, not turning her head to regard Astarion trailing beside her.

“Well…”

“You look nervous about it too.” She squints, eyeing him suspiciously. “Don't tell me you're actually thinking about my holes right now.”

“Maybe,” he retorted haughtily, bobbing his head in a mocking manner. After a defeated huff, he went on, “I feel like I should apologize. I never considered the possibility that I ruined you for all other men physically, not just emotionally.”

Eletha rolled her eyes so hard they threatened to get stuck that way. “Corellon save me.”

Astarion clicked his tongue, annoyed at her reaction. “Would it make you feel better if I said I have selfish reasons too? I've been thinking about that night after the goblin camp for quite a while.”

Eletha smirked and snorted, giving him a suggestive lift of her eyebrows. “Parched, are you?”

“Practically dying.”

“Gale not living up to his divine endorsement?”

“He is a good kisser…” Astarion clicked his tongue at her again. “Don't change the subject.”

Eletha wondered how she got in this conversation and how she was going to get out.

“No one has exactly complained, but that's not exactly a long list of possibilities and they probably had enough sense to not say anything.” She shrugged. “It used to just be uncomfortable, but as you know, I have quite the pain tolerance now.”

He emitted a soft “aww” and gave her sad eyes. She didn’t totally believe them, especially when his tone was a little too humorous. “You poor thing.”

“Oh, look, a distraction!” she called out, pointing at a displacer beast skulking about.

Astarion sighed as he slipped his bow off his shoulder. “You’re no fun…”

----

“Did it go well?” Gale asked expectantly, following Eletha as she made for her tent.

“Bunch of cursed weirdos defeated, a clue to finding Thaniel, and a devil’s deal completed? Yes, a useful day,” she answered, laying down her weapons and stripping down to the clothes under her armor.

“That is good to hear, but I was referring to, well, you.” He followed as she went towards where they'd set up a more “private” spot to bathe. It was nothing more than a bucket of cold water but it was better than nothing.

“You don't have to worry about me, Gale.”

“Perhaps, but I do.” He blushed and turned away as she started undressing, just like that night she showed them her curse. “If you desire, I can discuss this with you another time.”

“I’m not bothered. Are you bothered?”

“I… assumed you would be a bit more reserved, given… certain details.” Gale cleared his throat. “Anyway. You’ve been through a lot lately. I felt it prudent to check in.”

“Do I seem okay?”

“You seem like you’re burying your feelings. I should know, I’ve been doing that for a long time,” he said with a little self-deprecating chuckle.

Eletha touched his cheek and smiled softly. “You’re sweet, Bhin.”

“I was hoping for valiant or at least charming-” He stopped with a stammer as she got on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. Her body brushed against his and a small gasp escaped his lips in surprise. “I… ahem… I will leave you to your ablutions.”

She watched him retreat with a coy little smirk on face before continuing with her “bath.” After washing the blood and dust out of her hair and off her face, she called out, “I know you’re there.”

“And you let me watch anyway?” Astarion asked as he stepped out of his hiding place.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Mm, yes, but not that little display with Gale.”

“Jealous?”

“A little. Your approach is much more subtle than mine, and I think it might be more effective.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The way your soft touch caught him off-guard. His heart leapt, thinking your lips would meet in a kiss. Your naked body just so happens to brush against him? I’m sure he’s in his tent thinking about it right now. He’s asking himself, how can I convince her to see me as more than just a fool, worthy of more than just her sweet sympathies?”

As he spoke, Astarion divested himself of his own armor and the clothes underneath it. It wasn’t the first time they’d washed the blood and road off in each other’s company. It was almost… comforting, that they could just be naked with no sexual context.

However, knowing Astarion, he’d probably encourage it.

“You’ve got quite the imagination.”

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” he suggested with a smirk, taking the sponge out of her hand. She merely gave him a quizzical squint. He regarded the object as if it was very interesting. “You know, you make fun of me, for not having plans. But I had a plan, once.

“You were right. I did want to make you desire me, protect me. Our previous relationship made that complicated, obviously. So I prodded the others, as a backup. Lae’zel and Shadowheart were too guarded, too difficult. Wyll, the gallant monster hunter, spent a long time debating if I was worthy of living. Karlach, well, we couldn’t touch her. And she’s so… sweet, when she’s not terrifying. She likes you enough that she’d take your lead.

“That left me with Gale. Handsome, powerful, doomed Gale. A tough nut to crack, until you get under the social awkwardness, emotional miscues, and over-inflated self-importance.”

“Well, you have a lot of experience with that,” Eletha remarked, unmoving as Astarion very carefully rinsed the sponge and wet it again with fresh water.

“The secret, as you have probably guessed, is how utterly desperate he is to be touched.”

Astarion squeezed out the water from the sponge, watching as it dripped onto Eletha’s shoulder and ran down her chest, sometimes catching on a scar and running in another direction.

A gasp escaped from her throat.

“He hid behind that orb, but really, he was so desperate that it made him sick.

“I feel awful. He was supposed to be a sacrificial pawn and I feel awful. Those books… How he quivers under my touch…”

Astarion began wiping away blood and sweat from her neck and shoulders. Eletha wasn’t quite sure why she allowed him to. It felt… nice.

“Today you went after that orthon like he wasn’t three times your size, like it didn’t matter how hard he hit you. You did it for me, just like I hoped, but feared you wouldn’t.”

His hand traveled down her chest, cleaning the shallow valley between her breasts. “Did you have a plan for this conversation or…?”

He stopped following his hand with his eyes and gazed deeply into hers.

“When was the last time someone took care of you, my love?”

Eletha flushed and as she looked away, she took hold of his wrist and pushed it towards him. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“What's ridiculous about it? Gale wants us both. I want you both. And you want us. Why not a cheeky little three-sided thing?”

“You presume a lot.”

“My sweet, don't play so aloof. I've read your diaries.” With his other hand, he trailed his middle finger along one collarbone and then down her sternum. “You deny this part of yourself because you feel it's undeserved. Haven't you suffered enough?”

Eletha hesitantly let go of his wrist.

“Let me take care of you. Show you how much I appreciate you?” he purred, his hand taking hold of her waist, his lips approaching hers, their hips nearly touching.

Sensing the proximity of the body that once so perfectly interlocked with hers, the long-forgotten part of her body awoke with a heat that was searing in comparison to the chill surrounding them.

Eletha began to tremble.

For a moment, Astarion’s eyes appeared golden as they gazed deeply into hers.

“Please?”

Eletha opened her mouth to speak, but another voice was heard.

“Could you two move this somewhere else? I need to wash my hair,” Shadowheart complained, huffing and undoubtedly crossing her arms over her chest.

“Aww, Fringe, Lethi was going to finally get some…” Karlach complained quietly, although she could still be heard in the near-silence.

Eletha snatched the sponge out of Astarion’s hand and made a mad dash attempt at scrubbing the most important parts of her clean. When he stood there staring at her, she started cleaning him too, starting with his face so he couldn't argue. “Just a minute!”

Astarion glared at Shadowheart as he sauntered out behind a flustered Eletha. Karlach appeared apologetic.

From his position at the campfire, Gale appeared to be watching Eletha go into her tent, a worried look on his face. Then he saw Astarion, practically glowing in his underwear under what little light there was, and his expression changed to a glower.

“It's not what you think,” Astarion said as he passed him.

“Sure…” Gale grumbled, turning his attention back to the food he spent all day preparing.

----

Night fell, sort of, and Astarion stood in front of Gale’s tent.

“Can I speak with you?” he asked, trying to avoid any sarcasm and only using a little sass.

“I suppose,” Gale answered after a moment of silent consideration.

He was clearly upset, pouting as he flicked through a tome.

Astarion put his hands on his hips. “Look. We didn't do anything.”

“So you say.”

“Don't be like that. You were considering it too.”

“That is prepos-”

“You're not fooling me.” Astarion snatched the book away. Holding it more gingerly, he said deliberately, “I’m… sorry.”

“What are you doing right now?” Gale asked suspiciously.

“When I didn't know if Eletha was going to gut me or not, I… had a plan. You would fall in love with me and I would, well… have a powerful wizard in my corner. All I had to do was not fall for you. And I failed.”

Gale shook his head. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Because you’re blind.” Astarion sighed, the flow of his speech interrupted. “I see you with her. You can’t be jealous. Of course, it’s still not clear to me if you’re mad that I am flirting or that she is being flirted with. But what does it matter? We all like each other.”

“I thought this was an apology, not a call to a ménage à trois.”

“It is! Or, it's supposed to be. You know I'm not good at this.” Astarion offered the book back, only to move it out of reach at the last second. “Live a little, Gale. Expand your mind.”

Gale sighed wearily. “You've given me a lot to think about.”

Astarion’s lips curled in a self-satisfied little smile. “Hopefully something fun?”

Gale snatched his book back. Astarion huffed, although playfully, and left.

After a while, Gale left his tent and softly made his way towards Eletha’s.

“Are you awake?” he whispered, not wishing to disturb her.

“Come in,” she answered, making space for him in the small tent.

He could tell that she’d been drinking, but not as much as before, so that was good, right? Still, he felt the need to give her an out from the conversation. “We can discuss this some other time, if that would be more suitable.”

“I have the feeling you’re going to ask me something that will be easier to answer in my current state.” Eletha gestured for him to go on. “This is casual intoxication, not running away from my feelings intoxication.”

Gale would have to take her word for it. “Did anything happen between you? Today, I mean.”

“Are you asking because you’re concerned for me, or for personal interests?” She took a sip of her drink.

“Can it not be both?” Eletha hummed. He had a fair point.

“He was coming onto me. Genuinely, this time, which was surprising.”

Gale swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Were you going to accept?”

“I didn’t really have the time to fully consider it.” Eletha offered him her drink and, after a moment’s hesitation, he took it. “I was going to tell him off. Then he said something that made me reconsider.”

“He can be quite convincing,” Gale agreed sourly before taking a sip of her drink. It was just wine, not that hard stuff that seemed to magically appear in her hands.

“Well, he was right, which, if Astarion is right, you’ve kinda fucked up, yeah?” She grinned at him and he laughed, because she was right.

“He was right. I’ve been running away from happiness ever since he left. Felt I didn’t deserve it. When I’d try again, I’d just get hurt, and I’d punish myself more. Sometimes it was just the wrong person, it doesn’t work. But sometimes… maybe it could have worked? If I didn’t get this knot in my stomach that says I’m worthless?

“I’ve tried being friends. I can do friendship. And I feel bad, that maybe I’m getting your hopes up, and not because I like teasing you, but because I hate myself. I’m punishing myself, by getting attached and ruining everything.

“So I considered it. I wanted to say no, because it would hurt you, because I didn’t deserve it. But… I wanted to say yes, so it would hurt you and you’d hate me and that was its own punishment. And just a little bit… I was happy with him, once upon a time. Maybe I could be happy again.”

Gale listened intently. Eletha had a habit of rambling, but she chose her words and tone carefully. With practice, he could untangle them to find the naked truth underneath. This time, it was… familiar.

“Do you think you could be happy again?” he asked her sincerely, meeting her two-toned gaze with his big brown eyes, so open and sad.

“After all we’ve been through?” She laughed a little and his heart sank. Then she smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then I wish you the best of luck.”

Gale held out her wine bottle, intending it as a symbol of releasing her from the burden of worrying about his feelings. Eletha took the bottle, but with her other hand, took hold of his.

“You deserve to be happy too.” Her words were so sweet. She was being so sincere and he just… had a hard time believing it was true. “If you want him, just tell him. And if he has to choose… I’m sure he’ll choose you.”

“I am not as sure as you. He loves you. You have-” Gale cut himself off before he could say something that might make her spiral again. Eletha appeared to understand what he was going to say, but she still seemed pleasant and level-headed. “Why would he choose me?”

“Because I’m old and boring. You’re young and exciting.” A mischievous smirk tugged at her lips. “And I’ll make him. He owes me for the rest of my life.”

Gale shook his head. “There is a wrinkle in your plan. You’d be alone.”

“My sweetling, I’ve been alone a long time. You have your whole life ahead of you” Gale opened his mouth to protest and the sharp dark gaze that instantly flashed in her eyes made him shut it again without her losing a beat “and my beloved Astarion is getting to start over. I can be alone a little longer. If you two are happy, then I will be happy.

“Besides. It’s not like we have done anything even close to what you two were doing. We haven’t even shared a kiss.”

Gale stared at their clasped hands. He thought about what Astarion said earlier.

“Would you like to?” he asked, squeezing her hand reflexively in his nervousness.

“I think that… I am just drunk enough to say yes, but not so drunk that I’ll be cursing myself in the morning.”

Eletha got to her knees and leaned forward, holding his face gently as she kept their other hands together.

Gale let out a breath of excitement.

Their eyes closed and their lips touched.

The first kiss was hesitant, testing the unknown topography, finding the way to fit just right. A pleasurable heat rose to the surface of Eletha’s skin as she deepened the next kiss.

Gale’s heart fluttered while his stomach did flips. This felt so different from his interludes with Astarion.

Those felt like a natural progression of a lanceboard game. They would have some heartfelt conversation that turned into an exchange of witty barbs and the only places to go from there were fighting or “fighting.”

That didn’t mean either was unpleasurable.

Actually. It was too pleasurable.

Eletha leaned back to catch her breath and make sure he was alright.

Luckily, this meant that she only got vomit on her chest and lap, not her face.

She was stunned as Gale pleaded for her forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, I don’t- I don’t understand-”

This time he managed to turn his head.

Rubbing his back soothingly, Eletha chuckled. “It’s okay. I know the feeling.”

If anyone noticed, they were kind enough to not talk about it the next morning. Eletha managed to clean herself up enough to help Gale back to his tent. There, she sat for a while, making sure he would recover.

“Words cannot express how foolish I feel,” Gale said weakly as she placed a cold damp towel on his forehead.

“It’s not the first time a wizard’s puked on me,” she answered, soothingly stroking his hair a few times before sitting back. It probably wouldn’t help to touch him too much right now.

“You must have a lot of interesting stories…”

“I promise to leave this one out of the ballad they’ll inevitably write about us.”

“It was enjoyable. Until the last bit.”

“I enjoyed it too,” Eletha said sweetly, a small smile on her lips.

A few minutes passed in silence. She was about to get up, assuming he’d fallen asleep, when Gale asked, “What was the first time?”

“So I was at this party in Suzail…”

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mxtantrights · 1 year ago

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Famous dc!au (dick's version)

TRACK NINE: ENDLESSLY

Dick Grayson is anything but great. Sure, he gets to see you again. Sure he gets to do what he loves, make music and music videos. But he knows that it’s different this time. He can’t ask you out after this. There is no way. It would come off as gross and creepy.

He adjusts the earbud in his leg ear and grips the bouquet of flowers in his hand a little tighter. He’s quite literally taking a page from Jason’s book. If he couldn’t ask you out then he could sure just be your friend.

Friend.

He would love that word when it came to anyone else. Except you.

Cheesy love songs have been on rotation for him since he heard you accepted the offer, which was about two weeks ago. He just can’t get it out of his head. He missed his opportunity, his once in a lifetime. He can feel it in his chest right above his gut.

He walks up to the craft services on set first. He wants to get you a morning drink with your flowers so the flowers aren’t the only thing in his hand. Just flowers would probably send the wrong message. But flowers with a morning drink says ‘thanks for being here’.

When Dick picks up your drink, and his, he walks over to your trailer.

This video would be different. It had a bigger budget this time because of how well the first video performed. But Dick didn’t want anything too exciting.

As he gets to your door he can hear you speaking to someone. It almost sounds…romantic? Dick hesitates in knocking on your door. Almost being the operative word because he’s wondering if you had hit it off with someone already and his brain needs an answer to that question so his fist raps on the door.

It doesn’t take long for you to answer the door. And of course you answer looking like an absolute miracle. You’re not even dressed in the costume, you’re in sweats and a purple t shirt. And you look amazing.

“Uh, hi—these are for you.” Dick says.

You smile and take the flowers and the drink, “That’s really sweet. Do you wanna come in?”

Dick thinks it over for a quick second. No he does not want to see who it is you have in your trailer. He actually wants to speed run to his trailer and cry a little bit. But he can’t be rude. He can’t, not with you.

“I don’t wanna intrude.” he replies

“You’re not, come on.” you smile.

Then you’re opening the door wider. Dick enters through the door his heart a little heavy, palms really sweat but he hides them in his pocket. Upon entering Dick is looking for someone but what he finds is unexpected and way better.

A small puppy on the floor playing with a chew toy.

Dick cocks his head to the side with a smile, “And who is this pretty little thing?”

You walk over and pick up the dog , scooping it into your arms. Then you walk back over to Dick. His hand imminently comes to scratch the top of her head.

“This is…well I haven’t named her yet.”

“She’s very adorable, where’d she come from?”

“Oh a guy was in front of my building and he had her in a box.”

Dick is silent for a moment. He looks up at you with a certain look. Yes you lived in a fairly decent neighborhood but that doesn’t mean a random man with a box wasn’t suspicious. You caught the look he gave you and started laughing.

“Look I know it was mostly not my brightest moment, but I’m glad I did it. Or I wouldn’t have met her.” you say and smile down at the puppy.

Dick chuckles, “No ideas for a name at all?”

“Nah. Why? Do you have something?” you ask.

Dick gives the pup one look over and the name hits him. It’s rolling of his tongue before he can even think to stop himself.

“Haley, like the comet.” He says.

You smile and look down at the pup, “She does look like Haley.”

Dick smiles but deep inside he’s going crazy. Why did he just do that? Why did he just open up a can of worms? What is he gonna do now, tell you to not go with the name? No way, you’re gonna think he’s weird. He manages to give you the excuse that someone else on set needed to talk to him and then he’s running out of your trailer. He hates the look on your face that reads confused at his sudden need to disappear.

You watch Dick practically flee your trailer. It hits you then and there that he really didn’t see you in any romantic way. And that familiar ache in your chest is there. You’ll do the job and then you’ll pack up and try your hand at a normal job somewhere not in this state.

“You did what?!” Jason screams on the other end of the phone

“I accidentally named a dog after a love song set to release in a week.”

“I mean, okay, well does it actually sound like a love song or is it up to interpretation?”

“No this is a fully fledged, Shakespeare would be proud, I’m totally gonna regret this love song.”

“Welp.” “Welp? That’s what you have to say to me? That’s all?”

“I mean, isn’t this what you wanted?” “What?” “You wanted to confess your feelings. And maybe the logical part of you was holding you back and your intuition was working over time to get the job done.”

“Please help me. Please.”

“I think you might’ve helped your self dickie. I’m gonna let you go though.”

“No—wait don’t—“ dick fumbles.

Then the line disconnects. As if Jason couldn’t hear Dick on the other end begging for his help. One of the PA’s on set alert him that filming is set to start soon and he’s needed on set.

Today’s shoot looked more modern. The wardrobe and the furniture looked like things Bruce would pick up for the mansion. Dick can’t really remember what the video concept is at this very moment. And he probably won’t remember it when he has to stand close to you for the dancing scene. At least that wasn’t today, that would be later and after a couple of proposed classes with you and a choreographer.

#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc x you #dc fic #dick grayson x reader #dick Grayson x you #dick Grayson imagine #dick Grayson fic #dc #dick Grayson #famous dc! au (dick's version)

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versegm · 1 year ago

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There are few things in this world that can genuinely surprise Morgan. It comes with living for so long, she supposes; when you’ve seen so many things, it’s hard not to feel a deja vue about everything. Even her own death, while unfortunate, had not been surprising. Morgan had always known that passing away peacefully was not an option for her.

Still, it seems that she has not grown fully immune to bafflement. “Come again?”

Sir Kyrielight swallows hard. She’s beet-red, wringing her hands nervously. Still, she does not break eye contact. “I said I love you.”

The sentence does not make any more sense the second time around. Morgan rotates it in her brain, tears it apart. I. This one is easy; it refers to Mash, the speaker. Love. An action and an emotion all at once- the thing Mash is presumably doing, or feeling. You. Morgan is the only one in the room. It can only refer to her.

I love you. Three words that do not fit together. One of them has to be wrong, surely. Misheard or misunderstood. If Mash loves someone, it certainly cannot be Morgan- cannot be this wretched witch willing to burn the world down for her goals. If Morgan is loved, it certainly cannot be by Mash- this knight of virtue and courage who stands by the human order. And if Mash and Morgan have anything between the two of them, it certainly cannot be love. Hate, perhaps. Comfort, if one is generous. But love? Love. Love. L, o, v, e. Barely even a word. Just four letters stacked together. A simple sound with no meaning.

“As a… friend?” While still odd, this would make more sense than what Morgan initially interpreted. Yes, this must be what Sir Kyrielight had meant; that she held fondness for Morgan, and wanted to make it known.

Except, no. The knight shakes her head. “No. Romantically.”

And now Morgan is back to square one. “... Sir Kyrielight, are you certain you are not mistaken? Emotions can be hard to tell apart. You could not be blamed for mixing them up.”

She meant for her words to be comforting, but Sir Kyrielight’s gaze turns into a glare. While Morgan is not unaccustomed to the knight’s anger, she doesn’t recall ever seeing it directed towards her.

“ Queen of Winter, ” Morgan always takes care to use proper titles when addressing others. It’s only polite. Yet, somehow, having Mash refer to her by her title feels… uncomfortable. “You can reject me. You can ignore me. You can pretend I never said anything. But I will not allow you to deny my feelings.”

She walks up to Morgan. Sir Kyrielight is a full head shorter than her; but right now, back straight, fury in her eyes, that does not make her any less imposing. “I love you. Deal with it however you want, but that, that’s a fact.”

*****

“You told her what?! ”

Slowly, Morgan sets down her teacup. “It seemed like a logical conclusion at the time.”

“You and your logic.” Habetrot rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Morgan, listen to me. Love is an emotion. By definition, it is not rational. If Mash loves you, it’s not for something as simple as the sum of your parts. It’s because you’re you.”

Nonsense. Emotions may not be rational, but they’re still somewhat grounded in reality. What could there possibly be in Morgan that could inspire love? “I know not what to do with her love.”

“You don’t have to do anything with it.”Habetrot sighs. “It’s easy. If you love her back, tell her so, and the two of you can become merry brides together. If you don’t, tell her so, and she will nurse her broken heart on her own. You only really got two options here.”

Fair enough. “How do I know if I love her, then?”

Slowly, very slowly, Habetrot blinks.

“... Love,” she articulates carefully, as if talking to a child, “is an emotion. It’s something close to joy. When a bride gets close to her chosen groom, she gets so happy there are stars in her eyes. It’s a fire inside the soul, fluttering like birds inside one’s belly.”

… That seems a bit dramatic. Can emotions truly be so intense? Morgan has her doubts.

“So. Do you love her?”

Morgan thinks. She thinks hard. “... She makes me very happy.” She doesn’t know if this is love- but if nothing else, that part, she’s sure of.

Habetrot pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, this isn’t working. Let’s try something else.”

*****

“- and she sent me to you.”

Sir Barghest pauses, midway through stirring her stew. “To… explain love to you?”

Morgan nods. “Indeed. You are the most knowledgeable on that subject.”

“Your faith in me flatters me, your majesty.” The knight turns back to her stew. “Love is… a want. A hunger, of sorts. When you love someone, you want to be with them. The want can be more specific- wanting to kiss them, or make love to them- but generally speaking you just… want them.”

She reaches out to grab some spices. She does not look at Morgan. “It can be a terrible thing. Sometimes you want someone so badly you want to devour them. Sometimes love reduces you to something lower than an animal.”

She sprinkles some ginger in the broth. “But sometimes… love is what prompts you to become a better person. You want to be worthy of the person you love. You want to be good enough for them. And that part is wonderful, I believe.”

Hm. An interesting perspective. “Is it worth it? To love someone when you know you can very well be their doom?”

“Yes.” Sir Barghest does not hesitate even a second. “It is worth it. It has to be worth it. What would be, otherwise?”

If Sir Gawain of Many Lovers is saying it- then there must be some wisdom in that statement, even if Morgan doubts it.

Sir Barghest pauses once more, for a couple seconds. Then she turns to look at Morgan. “Your majesty,” she asks carefully, “what do you want?”

What does she want? She wants to spend more time with Sir Kyrielight, that much is undeniable. If she thinks more about it- she would be amenable to physical affection, even. Sir Kyrielight had hugged her a couple times, it had left her skin tingly all over for hours. Morgan can’t imagine what a kiss would do to her.

But… for all the things Morgan can and will do, she does not believe she is capable of change. She’d tried, she really did- tried to be a savior, tried to be the kind one, tried to be the helpful one. She couldn’t. Her role is that of a witch, and nothing, no one- not herself, not Totrot, not (Ma-) (Fairy knight Ga-) (her frien-) Uther could change that. Morgan’s desires weigh little in the matter. Sir Kyrielight can not make Morgan better than she is. Remains the question of whether Morgan is capable of becoming worse.

*****

“So, Mash is in love with you, and you’re in love with her, but you’re worried about dragging her down?”

Morgan quirks up an eyebrow. “I did not say that. I am unsure as to whether I love her or not.”

Her spouse makes a strange face. Whatever emotion this is meant to convey, she cannot figure it out. “... Anyways. I don’t really see why you worry so much. Mash wouldn’t have confessed to you if she didn’t think she could handle you.”

“Sir Kyrielight is a virtuous person. She would offer a second chance to anyone claiming to want one. It is possible she has not yet realized that I am not a person who can be saved.”

Fujimaru frowns. “You think her naive.”

“I did not say that.”

“Kind of the vibe you’re giving off here though.”

“ I did not say that. ” Ah, now is a feeling Morgan recognizes- she’s irritated. “I, more than anyone else,know the things Sir Kyrielight has endured. I am well aware that she’s witnessed humane horrors the likes of which can never be put into words. I am merely worried that she might not realize these awful things can apply to me as well.”

Her spouse doesn’t reply immediately. For a few seconds, they only stare, before folding their hands under their chin. “What is love to you?”

Morgan has no idea. Her love for Britain overpowered everything else. She does not know what it means to love a person- if that’s something she has ever experienced in the first place. “I am told it’s a feeling, or a desire.”

Fujimaru makes a noncommittal noise. “That is true. However, I would like to offer you another point of view: love is an action.”

That is a widely different definition indeed. “Elaborate.”

“ Love is a verb, first and foremost. It’s the act of looking at someone. I don’t mean with your eyes. I mean truly looking at someone. Seeing them for everything they are- the good and the bad, the flaws and the virtues, the beautiful bits and the ugly ones. It’s the act of acknowledging someone’s whole self, including the parts that are inconvenient to you, and refusing to flinch.”

“You believe love to be the act of unconditional acceptance?”

“Essentially.” Huh. How very in character of them. “When Mash says she loves you, I don’t think she believes you to be pristine clean. I think she believes you worthy of staining her hands.”

“This seems mildly worrying.”

“And who are you to dictate her choices? You’re not her queen.” That statement hurts more than Morgan thought it would, though she would be incapable to spell out why it does. “She made her choice. She chose you. You can’t deny her that. All you can do is make your own choice: do you want to take her hand?”

“There is little risk in doing so.” If Morgan is everything that is evil in this world, then Sir Kyrielight is easily all that is good in this world. If such a thing as a savior can truly exist, then this is what Sir Kyrielight is.

“You think so? She makes mistakes too, you know. She’s quite soft-hearted. She hates fighting. That makes some decisions very difficult for her. Can you accept that? And if you do: can you accept that you will see her getting hurt over this, and you will not be able to help her?”

“Obviously.” The words tumble out of Morgan’s mouth by themselves. “None of these are flaws. Why wouldn’t I be willing to smear her blood on my hands?”

Her spouse smiles. “And you say you’re unsure if you love her back.”

… Ah.

“Apologies.” Morgan gets up suddenly, straightening her dress. “It seems like I need to have a conversation with Sir Kyrielight, and it cannot wait.”

The last thing she hears as she crosses the doorstep is “sweep her off her feet!”

*****

Morgan finds Sir Kyrielight inside her room. Rather predictably, in fact- and it’s a wonder that it took Morgan so long to realize that most people do not have her schedule memorized.

“Sir Kyrielight.” She says, standing in the doorway. “Mash. We need to talk.”

She startles when Morgan uses her first name. How cute. Still, Morgan cannot let herself be distracted now. She walks through the room to sit next to Mash. “I have done a lot of thinking.”

“Ah.” Sir Ky- Mash casts her gaze down. “Come to reject me, then?”

Morgan allows herself a huff of irritation. “Do not put words inside my mouth. When I am done, you may take back your confession, you may chase me out of your room, but I will not allow you to misinterpret my words.”

She extends a hand to set it on top of Mash’s. The knight jolts, but does not take her hand away. Hopefully, this is a good sign.

“I am somewhat… disconnected, from my emotions.” She brings Mash’s hand to her chest. “My heart is that of a witch. It curses panhuman history. It is cold as the winters of my long-gone Britain.”

Her free hand reaches out to cup Mash’s face. “But it’s yours, shall you accept it.”

There is a single second of silence following her statement, Mash staring at her with wide eyes- and then the knight suddenly collides with her chest, wrapping both arms around her. “Of course I’ll take it. I’ll take everything you are willing to give me.”

Warmth spreads under Morgan’s skin. Softly, she returns the embrace. “It is most unwise of you… but most welcome, nonetheless.”

“I don’t care. I’ve been wise for too long. This is me being selfish. I want you, all of you. I don’t care if it’s rotten in here. I want you down to the marrow.”

With that phrasing, it almost sounds like cannibalism. Is this what Sir Barghest meant? When she said love could turn one into an animal? (Did her lovers feel as flattered as Morgan is? To know that there is someone out there who would rather cram her inside their ribcage than letting her go?)

“There is much I am willing to give.” With no Britain left to protect, no duty to uphold- Morgan now belongs to the stranger that is herself. She can afford to give things away. “But for now… perhaps your hand in mine?”

Mash tilts her head up, staring straight at Morgan. She’s crying, Morgan realizes. She’s smiling too, though. “Yes… yes, that would be nice.”

#my writing #fate #mashmorgan

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ghostofskywalker · 2 years ago

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Can I request for Fox or Rex with a Jedi reader who goes on what’s supposed to be a cut and dry mission but they loose contact and return later than planned and how Fox or Rex react?- Curious Curios

@curious-curios you always come up with such amazing ideas, this was an absolute joy to write! i went with fox because i simply love him so much, and i hope you enjoy it!

words: 2,127

summary: This mission was supposed to easy, four rotations at the max, so Fox starts to worry when you don't return on schedule and your comms are completely unavailable. He's absolutely beside himself, and the rest of Guard gets him to finally come to terms with how he feels.

clone troopers masterlist

How to Tell When You Have Feelings For Your Jedi General

“You still in there vod?” Fox made a noncommittal noise at his brother’s question, and picked his head up from where he was staring at the comm device on his desk as Thorn stepped in the office.

“What do you want?”

“Okay, I’m guessing there hasn’t been any word from the general yet, given that you’re still acting like that.”

Fox just sighed, he should have known this would be the topic of conversation. “I already told Hound to drop the subject, not everything in my life right now is about her.”

But of course, Thorn didn’t seem too convinced. “Really? So the fact that she should have been back three hours ago has nothing to do with your sour mood? Given your very obvious feelings for her I find that hard to believe.”

“I do not have feelings for the General, and she can handle herself just fine on her own.”

“What battalion is she helping out again?”

Another sigh left Fox’s mouth. “The 501st, why?”

“Oh, maybe you do have a point being worried there.”

“Thorn!”

Despite his brother’s chastising tone, Thorn didn’t seem too bothered about what he had just implied. “Relax, you worry too much. We both know that the front lines can get hairy, and it’s only a few hours right now. If something was seriously wrong, we would have probably received a comm from the Jedi temple by now.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Fox said. “I know I’m not supposed to be this worried or hung up over it.”

“No, you should let yourself feel these things, it’s good for you,” Thorn said. “And maybe then when the General does return from her gallant mission with the 501st, you can tell her how you feel and stop making the rest of us watch you pine from afar.”

“I was on board with the first half of your statement,” Fox rebuked. “But you fell off with the last part.”

“Oh come on, you seriously think we don’t see how you look at her? I know you starting wearing your helmets to meetings more often now because you can’t hide the stupid look you get on your face when she’s around. What’s the big problem you have with admitting this to yourself?”

Fox’s ears started to burn with that comment, Thorn was right but he was not about to admit it. “I don’t admit anything like that to myself because it’s simply not true,” he responded, trying to keep his voice even. “My relationship with the general is a strong one, and we work exceptionally well together, but I do not have feelings for her in the way you’re implying, and nor would she be able to return them if I did.”

Thorn nearly burst out laughing. “If you still believe the Jedi have forsaken all attachments at this point, you’re crazy,” he said. “Just ask the 501st, because according to Jesse their general is married to a Senator, even though they won’t tell me which one it is.”

“Again Thorn, you’re missing the point.”

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll let it go for now.”

“Thank you.”

“But if there’s any chance that you’re lying to my face right now, you should really consider what I have to say. Take a chance and tell the general how you feel about her when she comes back, I think you’ll find that your feelings aren’t actually unrequited.”

Thorn had disappeared from the room before Fox could respond, leaving the commander to worry and fret over the weight of his thoughts. Thorn had it all right when he said that Fox had feelings for you, but that was something that he would never admit to.

You had been assigned to the Coruscant Guard a few months after the start of the war, having previously served with a small company that was later integrated into the 212th. Along with your duties to the Guard and the Senate, you occasionally helped out your fellow Jedi on campaigns and missions, which is where you were at this point. This shouldn’t have been something that caused any worry. You had assisted the 501st many times before and everything had been fine, so what was the big deal now?

But never once had you been completely unreachable, and that was what worried him.

He had stood at the gunship docking area in Coruscant for over an hour today, waiting for the transport that would bring you back to him, but instead, all he got was worry and anxiety. He tried to comm you, but the line was completely static. Desperately, he reached out his batchmate, Captain Rex, but he received no response. Eventually he had to return to headquarters, and he tried not to let anyone else realize what was causing his mood to sink in this way as he walked into his office and closed the door behind him.

The truth was that he had wanted to tell you how he felt before you left, but like most things in his life, nothing ever went to plan.

“General, do you have a moment?” He had spent all morning psyching himself up for this, and he was finally going to get the weight of his feelings off his chest, no matter what the consequences were.

“I do,” you said, looking up from your datapad. “But I’m afraid I don’t know how much I’ll be able to help with whatever the issue is, because I’m leaving to assist the 501st with a campaign in about half an hour.”

That sentence should not have been surprising to Fox, it was something you had done before. But this time, ice cold worry found its way into his stomach, and he tried to maintain his composure as the feeling of dread grew. “It’s nothing too important,” he said, instantly changing his mind and chickening out of what he wanted to confess. “We can worry about it when you get back.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, eyes searching his face with a tinge of worry on your face. “I have some time before I need to meet Rex, I can-”

“General, I promise you it’s not the end of the galaxy,” Fox said, cutting you off. He was completely lying at this point, but there was no going back now. “I can handle it myself until you get back.”

He wasn’t sure if your agreement was because you actually believed him or because you were worried about your upcoming rendezvous with the 501st, but he wanted to think it was the former rather than the latter. And so he waved you off with the rest of the Guard’s command squad and watched the gunship that was shuttling you away disappear, trying to keep his face from betraying his thoughts the entire time.

***

He didn’t return to the barracks that night, despite the crushing fatigue he felt in every part of his body. There was a stack of files on his desk that became something of a pillow, and he rested his head on them as he tried to think about anything other than the fact that he still hadn’t heard from you yet, and there was no word on the status of the 501st’s objective.

The rest of the Guard knew enough to leave him alone once the chronometer showed that you were over five hours later than you had told them you would be, and they could tell that Fox was losing his mind over it. Thire had stopped by with some food and a bottle of water after he refused to go to the mess hall for dinner, but other than the soft reassurances that you were okay and would be back on Coruscant soon, no one said another word to him about the way he was acting. Thorn’s previous words kept echoing in Fox’s head, and there was nothing he could do to get rid of them.

Ask the 501st, their general has a wife.

Take a chance and tell the general how you feel about her when she comes back, I think you’ll find that your feelings aren’t actually unrequited.

After trying to ignore it for so long, he knew what he had to do. When you returned to Coruscant, he would confess his love to you, no matter what happened. He just hoped that you were doing okay out there, because he didn’t know how much more waiting he could take.

It wouldn’t be another day until a comm came in from one of the 501st’s ARC troopers on behalf of you and Captain Rex, apologizing for the delay but reporting that everyone was fine, they had unfortunately just suffered a crash landing which delayed the mission’s objective by a few days. Fox had fallen asleep when the message came through, the weight of his fatigue finally winning after a valiant fight, and it was Thorn that intercepted the communication. The ETA for the 501st’s gunship wasn’t for another three hours, so he decided to let his brother sleep a little more before he gave the news.

Fox was annoyed at his fellow commander for not waking him up and he did forget his helmet on his desk in the haste to see you, but he still made it to the docking area in time to watch a gunship touch down and you step out of it, troopers in 501st blue on either side of you. When you took notice of him standing there your expression changed, and a smile crossed your exhaustion ridden face. Immediately, you made your way over to him. There were a few giggles and jokes from the other troopers in the hangar as you did this, but Fox didn’t care enough to listen to what they were saying.

“I’m so sorry we took so long,” you said. “We crash-landed on some Mid-Rim planet’s dense forest and Echo’s comm was the only one that was even half functional, but then we couldn’t get any kind of signal until-”

Fox gently tried to get your attention a few times, but it was only when he grabbed your hand and said your name did you actually stop and look at him. “You don’t have to explain yourself,” he said. “You’re the one in charge here.”

“Still, I told you that this would take four rotations, and it took much longer than that. You said you had something to tell me, I was worried-”

Fox squeezed your hand, and you stopped mid sentence. There was no one else in the hangar right now, so he didn’t have to worry about what this might look like to any bystanders. “What I have to say can wait until you get some food and rest,” he said.

“As long as you get that food and sleep too,” you said. Fox sighed, you had always been able to read him too well. “Come on, you know I don’t like seeing the people I love not taking care of themselves.”

It took him a moment to register your words, and hope swelled in his chest when he did. “Do you mean that?” he asked quietly.

“Of course I do,” you responded. “And it kills me to see you like this, I can tell you haven’t slept much.”

“But you’re a Jedi,” Fox said, still a little dumbfounded. This was definitely not how he saw this conversation going.

“The Jedi Code, while admirable and logical in many ways, was never able to accurately understand how people worked,” you said softly. “It was always inevitable that some people will fall in love and become attached to one another, and I suppose I am one of them.”

You looked at him with such kindness in your eyes, and he couldn’t help the way he leaned in and kissed you. You kissed back immediately, lips melding to his in a way that implied you were nothing but perfect for one another. Any member of the Guard could walk into this hangar, as could any other trooper who had business to attend in one of the parked gunships, but Fox couldn’t bring himself to care.

When you finally broke apart, you squeezed his hand and turned towards the direction of the door. “Come on,” you said. “I want to take a nap, and you’re going to take one with me.”

Fox just nodded as he followed you, still thinking about how nice it felt to kiss you. It was the nicest way that anyone has ever told him to go to sleep (usually that was just Stone or Thire throwing a pillow at his head), and he knew that he would do anything in the galaxy if it meant he could lay in bed with you cuddled up next to him.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#commander fox #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #commander fox x female reader #fox x reader #fox x you #clone wars fanfiction #clone trooper x reader #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 7 months ago

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Hello, its me again, the ‘’long ask anon’’ i should totally stop being na anon, i’m too chatty to only show up once in a while, but being the kind of insane anon that shows up from time to time just to ramble is my true calling.

First off i’d like to thank you for being so sweet, i’m glad you enjoyed my feedback to this degree and took time to answer my questions, i really enjoy knowing your thought process in the creation of this fic and what it might become in the future. Anyway, onto your answer.

I totally agree with you on the importance of wintertime for the group, i think its really a shame how they didn’t show us any of it, though its understandable why they didn’t show us its like, come on, winter is prime apocalypse time, even normal winter is tough as we see in the comics. But here’s the thing, Rick in the comics doesn’t really grapple with Lori’s pregnancy at all like we see Daryl do in this fic, and i think its brilliant, sure everyone else is getting it rough too but reader and Daryl are in a constant state of worry, which makes the joyful moments that much more intimate and special and its portrayed perfectly, i get the sense that in the beginning Daryl deals very well with the negative stuff, but really doesn’t know how to behave during the good times (Like Birdie’s first kick etc.) and yea, that’s the essence of Daryl, a great caretaker, kind of self sabotages tho. Poor guy.

And omg i had no idea babies were capable of that sort of stuff, like recognizing who is who even in the womb?! Kind of amazing, i can barely recognize people through phone calls nowadays lol, and the fact you based it on your own little thumper? Ugh i could die from the cuteness.

And Merle, oh well, i know he hasn’t done anything in the story and i have the sense that he will ( leave birdie alone!!!) but wherever he is i hope he’s getting his ass beat right this instant, excited for him to show up tho! He better not start messing up Daryl’s head!!! Or he’ll suffer the consequences!!! I know our reader would not let it slide. :).

And about Lori, i’m still obsessed with the Lori Reader duo, recently rewatched season 2 which has, so many Lori scenes, So many, and it only makes me like her even more in the BT universe, and you really hit the nail on the head with your interpretation of her, she truly is mainly motivated by fear but strongly adheres to her sense of right and wrong. I also love her offering Daryl advice, the fact that most of the interactions between these two in the show are hostile never sat right with me and i’m glad that she is a trustworthy figure to Daryl, enough for him to take her advice to make our reader feel better. It really is sad that the burden she carries is not the baby (ITS RICK!) and that she tries to seek in others what she can’t have is tragic, but very noble in my opinion.

Carol is our perfect angel, best cheerleader ever, she’s Always there for backup even while she is working through her pain, i imagine her pregnancy wasn’t easy on her (cause Ed) and she wouldn’t want to see any other woman struggle with it, the fact that even in the show she tries to learn from Hershel about medicine to help Lori, and sticks next to her Always, and when Hershel is out of comission starts training her C-section technique thinking of Lori, Carol has Always deserved the world honestly. And she is such a great friend in the fic as well, one thing about her is that she really has the reader’s back no matter what, so sweet.

About chapter 30

After Reading it over and over for like an hour i can say, I’M OBSESSED. Daryl??? So cute??? Omg the fluff had me rotating in my room like a rotisserie chicken , You’ve done it again, It really shows that at this time Daryl is aprehensive, but still so in love with Birdie from moment one, that the first thing he does after making sure everything is ok is to make himself presentable for his daughter,OMGGGG, that he doesn’t really want her to see all of him yet and has to trust that his little Bird will accept him as he is (and she Always will!!) is just peak fluff to me, but also sad that it makes me think that he’s Always been afraid of his father, so much so that he believed it would be the first thing she would feel towards him too. I’m enjoying the hell out of the scenes of them both just hanging out and being cute with her and seeing as Daryl gains more confidence as the chapter progresses, when he realizes Birdie loves him as well, when they both hold onto each other, maybe i’m wrong but in my interpretation that’s when Daryl gained the confidence he needed to think of a name for her (who knows, maybe i’m dead wrong, but that’s how i interpreted his silence) And Carol too, being emotional over Birdie makes me wanna scream, what a bittersweet moment it must have been for her, i just know she’ll be the best aunt ever.

This chapter has really entered a new territory of Daryl’s development in my eyes, now that he is so passionate about birdie, he’s already trying to show service for her and reader in a way, i just know that serving his Family and making sure they are happy will be so good for him in the long term, he’s got it all to be happy now. And i’m eating it up.

Anyway, a Thousand words again who would’ve though, no objective analysis this time, just rambling non-stop, being an overly-chatty anon is my true calling fr.

The fact that some random person out there in the world can write more than a Thousand words about your work must make any author proud tho, so i sincerely hope its the same for you, from what i’ve read through it seems you’ve been having a few Hard days, so i hope to make it even a little better with my feedback and appreciation, better days will come for all of us even if the world is an ugly place right now, we still have beautiful things to look foward to and to keep working towards.

About the fanart i cited in the last text, it does indeed exist. Now it does .

https://imgur.com/a/t9VdHC4

Since my last ask i’ve challenged myself to have it more or less ready by the time the next chapter was here, and though its not anything impressive i took a little of my day to work on it every day, i hope you enjoy knowing that ( and since copying and pasting a link from any anon is not safe, i recomment pasting it to VirusTotal if you feel the need, and i don't really know if the anon mode just gets rid of them completely, if yes let me know and i'll find another way to get it to you after i get over my embarrassment)

Bye bye <3

Okay! As you saw, I got a little distracted from doing this. Also, if my post affected you negatively in any way, I'd like to apologize to you too. It was in poor taste regardless of my intentions. I am so sorry. I really wish we could have seen more about their survival. What we saw, they were always on foot and barely had food. Well, we will get to that soon. Daryl is scared shitless but there's just that bond that was formed while reader was pregnant. That's his baby girl. And he's already wrapped around that tiny finger. I absolutely cannot WAIT to bring Merle into the mix. It might be a little different as far as timeline but it will be at the prison. So we have a ways to go. But it will be interesting. Oh, the plans I have!

Lori will play a more pivotal role in the next couple of chapters. Daryl is going hunting. Reader is alone with Birdie. "HELP!" I feel like Lori would have gotten along with Daryl if she didn't have so much on her plate and could really see him. Yeah, he could be an asshole but he was hiding behind his walls, deflecting. She just had way too much going on, no time to offer that chance. Well, goddamnit, I'm giving her that chance. I want to delve into the problems with her and Rick a little more too, with reader involved. Daryl is going to be a helicopter parent, absolutely no doubt. I think he will be more in tune with her feelings and how to handle them because he didn't have that growing up. He'll know the cues of anger or sadness. And she's his daughter. -squeal- I can't wait to write more of daddy Daryl and little Birdie.

I'm not sure if you noticed but at first, it was always reader suggesting the names and he stayed quiet other than to say nah. But every time he had Birdie, she had her little bird blanket. However, he's going to give an explanation of her name in the next chapter. He was too damn sleepy in this one, lol. Carol is my warrior queen! Forever and always! There will be a bond there that is unlike any other. Not just because of losing Sophia but because Carol has found best friends in Daryl (well, it's a work in progress, lol ) and reader. So Birdie is a product of two of the most important people in her life. She will absolutely fight tooth and nail, savagely to protect her.

I need to be careful or I'm going to spoil so much! But I love getting the chance to talk about it like this! Just to explore the thought process and where it's headed without too much detail, I hope.

OKAY. THAT ART. OMFG. I screeched, even half asleep! When I woke up properly, I was just in awe. It is SO beautiful and I would love to add it to the series Masterlist and share if you are comfortable with that. I mean I realize the link is right up there but I want it to be seen every single time someone goes to see the chapters. I cannot say thank you enough for that. It is GORGEOUS. Perfect. And captures them so well. My three favorite things are reader with the vest and that belly, Daryl holding onto her leg, and Caryl hovering in the background! But I also LOVE that you included the truck! Everything about it is just perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect! My heart was just so full. Thank you so much. 🩵🩵🩵🩵

#favorite anon🩵#answered ask #anon #anon review #blood ties #murda writes #daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction

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threeletterslife · 1 year ago

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32 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up in yet another unfamiliar place. This time, however, these strangers seem to recognize you. With your previous judgments and aspirations thrown out the window, you're now forced to face where your loyalties really lie. Who will you betray? And which General will you choose to stand by his side?

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, violence

⨰ wordcount: 8.4k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖

Dear Instructor Shin,

After much deliberation, I have made my choice. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to tell you this in person. I had to leave quickly; they only gave me a week’s notice, so attached to the back of this paper is also my resignation letter as your teaching assistant. I enjoyed every moment of working with you, Instructor Shin, and I’m sorry that I didn’t choose to stay. I will forever remember your kindness and words of wisdom, and I do hope that someday I will visit—if you will have me.

Thank you for supporting me at Botswana Agate; you taught me that my skills are enough and my judgment can be sound. I really do think I’m in the right place.

I promise the next time I see you, I will have made a change. Please take care. I will miss you.

Sincerely,

Y/N

It had been a week since you sent your letter to Instructor Shin—hopefully, she received it. By now, you would have expected some sort of reply, but perhaps she was busy. She must be scrambling to find a replacement teaching assistant or working to obliterate the position altogether. Or she could also be purposefully ignoring you.

You couldn’t remember what you exactly wrote to her, but you began picking everything apart in your head anyway. Was your letter too short? Should you have apologized more? Apologized less? Should you have given her your letter of resignation in person? Was it rude of you to leave her behind, just like that? Should you have discussed it with her if you had any other option? But then again, did you really have a better choice? These questions and concerns circled your head for days; they tormented you, caused you to lose sleep, too. But if there was one thing about being a soldier-in-training, a cadet in the Darlaean Army, it was that there was barely time to overthink.

The training was indeed rigorous. Wake-up was at 5 a.m., and you exercised until 8 a.m., which was when breakfast was served. But breakfast had also been served at 8 a.m. in Botswana, so that much wasn’t a huge shift in schedule from your scholarly life. From 9 to 12 was what was called combat, which was essentially learning how to attack a wooden dummy. You struggled with this portion of the day the most; serving punches and kicks to an object that never wronged you in the slightest felt odd and unintuitive. Yet you did your best to keep up—in the end, the dummy was inanimate, and attacking it soon fit into your routine. At 12, they served lunch. Then, from 1 to 5 p.m., were showcases. If you weren’t performing, you were to watch, but it was never tedious in the slightest—you were able to gather a considerable amount of knowledge just from observing your comrades. You went through about 5 to 6 showcases per day yourself, rotating stations to perform your best skills to new sets of army officials. At first, it was nerve-wracking, and in truth, it still was. The officials sat with their tiny notepads, writing down every detail of your showcase; no one really knew what these notes were for, but if they were writing them, it seemed important enough to take every showcase seriously. 5 was dinner, which was always delicious—possibly because by then, you were always starving. Then from 6 to 9 p.m. was alchemy training, which was your favorite part of the day, and the portion of your training you looked forward to since you woke up in the mornings. After 9 was leisure time, but most recruits spent that time winding down in their barracks, for home for most of them was too far away to commute to the training grounds every day, especially not after their rigorous schedule.

It turned out that you’d severely underestimated the amount of physical exertion that training for the Darlaean army would take, but it didn’t take too long to get used to. Though on the first day, you collapsed while running your fifteenth lap around the gargantuan green field and had to be taken to the infirmary. It was humiliating (but you were also glad to have missed the entirety of combat training, for it was obvious you would’ve made a fool of yourself then too). You thought you would become the laughingstock of your training cohort—there were around twenty others—but word had traveled fast of your showcase back in Botswana—and now you had admirers, which was a foreign concept to you.

In Botswana, you were competition. Here, the other cadets practically lined up to aid you when you fell behind on your laps or struggled with your combat skills. “Here, Y/N, try rotating your shoulder a bit when you land that punch!” “Try to keep your back straight when you run! Don’t arch it; we don’t want you getting hurt!” “You might want to pin your trinket to your uniform. It’s going to fall out of your hair while you’re training!” Through others’ kindness, you were able to glean the proper techniques to become significantly stronger than before. You also began to repay their compassion by mentoring them in alchemy after all training hours were over.

You were the only Botswana student from your cohort, which meant most likely, you were the only cadet out of all of them to have gotten proper alchemy training. And as far as you were concerned, no other recruit was being paid to be there. While the others were struggling with color-shifting, you were attempting to master masking. The difference in skill was especially apparent during showcases, so you tried your best not to show off too much in case your comrades would change their minds and deem you a competition. But it wasn’t ingrained in the culture to work against each other in the Darlaean army. Not like it had been in the scholar world.

Sometimes in the place of showcases, there would be lectures and seminars, where you would catch a glimpse of Lieutenant General Son giving one of his charismatic speeches. You (and the rest of your comrades) saluted him whenever he entered the vicinity as you promised you would, but he never made any indication of recognizing you. After a while, you assumed he’d forgotten about you—he most likely dealt with thousands of soldiers every day, so how would he remember someone like you?

On the second week of the program, on one of the off days, the cohort was allowed a field trip to one of the infirmary wings for soldiers. The sight inside was gruesome. You had to hold back your vomit most of the time, unable to look too long at the mangled bodies and wailing soldiers. And the stench, the damn stench was so putrid that it took all of your self-control to refrain from gagging.

“Are they trying to scare us to work harder?” you asked the girl next to you, Hajin, after the visit concluded. She was taller than you, with a round face and full cheeks, her usual big eyes narrowed from what she had just witnessed. The ruby earring—her trinket—on her helix glinted as she tucked her wavy, shoulder-length hair behind her ears. Hajin was quite the popular recruit; from the moment the program began, others crowded around her for a chance to talk or at least be in her presence. She was kind and bubbly, so her popularity seemed well-justified. But despite the many others that begged to keep her company, Hajin liked to follow you around. She was always there, ready to help you with your combat skills, ready to sit next to you in the dining hall, ready to run alongside you during morning warm-up laps. She was also one of your most loyal students when it came to your casual, after-hours alchemy tutoring sessions.

When you looked over at Hajin, who usually had a wide grin on her face, she was seething. “It’s the Solarians,” she said through gritted teeth. She whirled around at you, her arms outstretched as she practically shouted, “They’re murderers! The whole lot of them! Did you see the damage they’ve done in the infirmary?” She reached forward and suddenly grasped your hands. “We’ve got to punish them, Y/N! We’ve got to get our vengeance!”

So perhaps the infirmary trip had to do with anti-Solarian propaganda, which you had completely missed as you had conditioned to be indifferent about them in the 11th city. You still didn’t exactly hate the Solarians, though now you were aware of what they were capable of doing. For a split second, you wondered if the Darlaeans were also capable of this kind of damage, and whether the average Solarian despised Darlaeans. It felt strange to wonder if you were despised by people who you did not know.

You didn’t really know how to react to Hajin’s outburst, but disagreeing didn’t seem like the right move, so you just nodded. Hajin didn’t seem to mind the lack of your reaction. Instead, she plopped down underneath a large tree and beckoned you to sit right next to her.

She let out a loud sigh as she leaned back on the tree trunk and stared up at the green foliage, which had created a nice shade from the sweltering summer sun. “We’ll defeat those helluvians one day,” she said, resolutely. Then, she sat right up, turning to you. “We can’t keep letting them get away with killing our people, Y/N! Not after what happened to my poor mother! Oh, I miss her, Y/N. Isn’t it sad? She died on the battlefield when I was only four. I can’t remember much, but she had my trinket made for me. See?” Hajin pointed to the ruby earring on her helix.

It suddenly made sense why she so despised the Solarians. Of course she would; they killed her mother! While you had lived a relatively sheltered life from the war, Hajin was most definitely not from the 11th city and therefore lived through the terrors of losing a family member to violence. “I’m sorry,” you said. You couldn’t imagine losing one of your mothers to the war. It was terrifying to even think of. If you had, maybe you’d hate the Solarians as much as everybody else seemed to. “Your trinket is very pretty,” you complimented. Instinctively, you touched your own trinket, which was a sparkly silver today, pinned flat to the chest of your uniform, where you planned to keep it for safekeeping.

“Thanks!” Hajin smiled. “I carry it around everywhere. Kinda have to as a soldier. I mean, a cadet. But I swear on Guseul’s heart, Y/N, I’ll avenge my mother’s death one day. As soon as I’m allowed on that battlefield, I’ll avenge every Darlaean’s—!” She was interrupted by her own stomach, which growled loudly as if she hadn’t eaten today at all.

You stared at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, unsure how to react.

Hajin stared back, and the two of you stared and stared until Hajin began laughing. There was something pretty funny about the situation, and soon, you were laughing right along with her. After a few seconds of uninterrupted laughter, Hajin reached over and grasped your hands again, and in between laughs, she managed to say, “Let’s—” wheeze “—go!”

“Wh—” wheeze “—ere?” you asked, holding onto your stomach.

“Home!” Hajin snorted. “To—” wheeze “—get—” wheeze “—a—” snort “—snack!”

You were ready to make the trek to the 8th city and farther out, since most of your comrades in your cohort lived there, but to your utmost surprise, Hajin led you away from the training grounds, which essentially was the castle’s backyard, and into the castle itself.

“You live here?” you asked, eyes wide.

She grinned, skipping down the grand corridor with its towering ceilings and violet mosaic glass windows. “Home sweet home! What do you want to eat? I can ring up my lady-in-waiting! Cakes? Tarts? Deviled eggs?”

You, instead, froze in your spot and stared up at the crown princess herself. What were you to do in the presence of royalty? This surely wasn’t something that Botswana Agate taught you. Were you to salute them? But that seemed reserved for army officials. Unless the royal family was so heavily intertwined with the army that to honor them, you used the same salute! So you immediately straightened your posture, pressing two fingers up to your forehead, where your diamond had been when you were born, and shouted, “Your Highness!” for good measure.

Hajin began bursting out laughing. “Don’t ‘Your Highness’ me, Y/N!” she cried, slapping her knee. “Don’t salute me! I’m just Hajin!”

You slowly lowered your arm, feeling a little embarrassed that you’d blown up at the fact that Hajin had revealed she was Darlae’s only heir to the throne. Had your other comrades known she was the princess? Was that why she was always at the center of any crowd? Did she choose you because you didn’t know? “I-I’m sorry,” you said, unsure what to do with yourself now.

Hajin just giggled. “Don’t be! Come on, let’s go get some deviled eggs. Oh, I love deviled eggs. Did you know my lady-in-waiting makes them just for me? She sprinkles extra paprika on top because she knows I love the flavor. She’s the best!” She gasped. “Come on! You should meet her! I’ll introduce the two of you! This is going to be so fun!”

From that point onwards, friendship was simply inevitable. Hajin stuck to your side like glue, though you weren’t sure what about you was so interesting to her. You trained together, learned together, grew together. She was ever so supportive of your showcases, always cheering you on in the background. You tried to do the same for her, but Hajin solely practiced light magic, and your cheering would sometimes create fluctuations in her emotions, which wouldn’t reflect too nicely on her performance. Still, around Hajin, it felt as if you’d known her for years. Something simply clicked. You’ve only ever been in friendships before where you were the one who learned everything from the other; it was nice to have a change. With Hajin, things were different: you would teach her alchemy and she would teach you about the world outside of scholars.

Several circas into your training, as most of your cohort gained ample experience in combat and alchemy, some officials deemed it necessary to begin scoring your showcases. Now it began to make more sense why there were notes taken of your performances. You continued to receive near-perfect scores—never perfect scores though, which gave you enough motivation to want to improve.

A few circas later, your rather small cohort of 20 adolescents merged with a few other cohorts, creating a larger squadron. The program was becoming more serious—even more intense than before. They extended the training hours for alchemy, and now there were rumors of being cut—if you didn’t voluntarily drop out before. Recruits were doing that now—dropping out—as they realized that they were unable to keep up with the standards of alchemy the army seemed to be upholding. They also began ranking the recruits on a wooden board that they placed at the very entrance of the vast training grounds. It was supposedly a reminder of where you stood in the squadron, and though it was never explicitly stated, if you were near the bottom, it was probably best for you to drop out.

In your squadron, there were recruits from cohorts who had started training several circas before your cohort had. But there were also recruits from cohorts who started training a circa or two after your cohort; they were deemed ready by officials to merge into a larger, less proctored group and were generally highly skilled in alchemy, though none of them had the academic discipline of a Botswana student.

With the introduction of rankings, recruits began keeping to themselves. It reminded you a lot of Botswana and the rankings that the instructors used to tack onto the white marble board every week. Perhaps ranking people made them compete against each other. Still, you did your best to help; you and Hajin never stopped your nightly alchemy tutoring sessions.

You remembered the first time you checked the wooden ranking board, only to be in shock that your name was at the very top, next to that shining silver number 1. Kwang Y/N, it said right there. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Hajin couldn’t either. It was like she was boasting for you, telling her friends—who were also your friends—and her lady-in-waiting and even her father, who was the damn king of Darlae: “My best friend ranks first in our training program! Out of 100!”

The first time you met the king, you were shaking in your shoes. You didn’t know what to expect. He was, in fact, the ruler of the nation you were expected to protect in the future, and you were only a 14-year-old girl who had somehow befriended his kind, generous daughter—his only child. But the king—he insisted you called him Hoseok, not King Jung, and definitely not Your Majesty—welcomed you with open arms. He made a joke about his daughter’s alchemy skills improving more in the span of several circas than they ever had before, and he owed that to you.

Hoseok seemed to somehow know about your parents being preoccupied with their work (even more so now that they were royal divinists) and often invited you to stay over at the castle and have dinner with the royal family, which only consisted of him and Hajin. Hajin’s room soon became like your own. Everything inside her chambers looked like it had been dropped into a vast vat of violet dye; she loved Darlae, and she made sure that she represented her nation well. Next to the wide windows that faced the training grounds, was her large bed, which was adorned with plush lilac-hued pillows and a smooth, duck feather comforter. There was a grand fireplace next to a large bookshelf filled with books, but Hajin said she never touched either of them. Instead, when the two of you were in her room, you spent most of your time staring out the windows, enjoying people-watching and the warm sunlight that would stream in during the summer afternoons. From high up in the castle, you could see the fruitful orchard that surrounded the training grounds; during the summer, the trees were always heavy with ripe fruit, and the cadets would often snack on their hand-picked harvests throughout the day. You always spotted a couple of apricot pickers when you stared out the window, and you constantly wondered whether others from the castle watched you when you were picking the fruit off the trees.

Sometimes, Hoseok would knock on Hajin’s door and call the two of you to dinner. Then, the three of you would stroll down the decorated hallways and into the lush dining hall, where a piping hot meal would be waiting. Conversations during mealtime were usually about training, which Hajin had no problem talking about because she loved every bit of it. You were a little more reserved, always terrified you would say the wrong thing in front of the King of Darlae. But Hoseok was kind and you rarely saw him as the scary, serious king that you assumed he would be.

But there was also one time when you and Hajin caught Hoseok sitting on his bejeweled throne, talking to Lieutenant General Son. It was interesting since you thought the king of the nation would be in heavy correspondence with the General and not his right-hand man. You couldn’t see the Lieutenant General’s face—only his back—but from Hoseok’s expression, you could tell the conversation was grave. You never saw Hoseok look so solemn before; he was rubbing his chin with his hand, barely even blinking as he spoke with the man in front of him. You and Hajin watched behind a cracked open door, attempting to eavesdrop. It was the quietest you’ve ever seen Hajin be, but neither of you gleaned anything from the short espionage session.

“What could they have been talking about?” you asked.

“I dunno,” Hajin said, shrugging. She fell back on her bed, immediately being swallowed up by the purple covers. “But it’s usually Dad with General Hwang. I wonder why it was only the Lieutenant General today. Doesn’t he terrify you, that Lieutenant General Son? Even his stare gives me goosebumps! I’ve never even talked to him, but I sort of don’t want to.” She shuddered, then jumped up to look at you with wide eyes. “Oh, but I would have to talk to him eventually! When we graduate from our training program and become real soldiers, we’ll have to follow his orders! Or, at least, his orders that he gets from General Hwang.”

But the mystery behind the Lieutenant General and Hoseok’s conversation was short-lived. A few days later, it was announced that the General of the Darlaean Army was deceased—killed during battle. The body had been unretrievable, completely burned to ash. There was a three-day mourning ceremony, and soon after, Lieutenant General Son became the new General of the Darlaean Army. He never appointed anyone to be his Lieutenant General.

“Who knows how long it’s been since former General Hwang actually died?!” Hajin said, but she didn’t sound mad at all. Or sad for that matter. But you didn’t feel too mournful either, which felt incredibly wrong, but you didn’t know anything about the former General, nor did you know what he looked like.

“Do they usually hide away deaths like this?” you asked.

“Only the important ones,” Hajin said. “I think they do it so they have a plan before people begin to panic. See, Dad talked to General Son so they could be on the same page about his promotion. And also so General Son could practice the eulogy he gave during the funeral. I saw some people cry! Makes sense, though. Former General Hwang was a pretty good General, I hear. It’s a pity he’s gone…”

“It’s really sad,” you said, though you didn’t necessarily feel that way, which made you feel guilty all over again. “Do you think they also talked about the fact that General Son wouldn’t be appointing a Lieutenant?”

“Possibly.” Hajin shrugged. “Dad’s always talking about how General Son could single-handedly save our nation. I guess he’s just so good that he doesn’t need a second-in-command.”

“He does have this very… commandeering aura,” you admitted.

Hajin nodded. “Very.” Then, she grabbed your hands in hers, her lips stretched into a wide grin. “Wanna go eat some deviled eggs?”

You shook your head. “Hoseok said we need to stop snacking before dinner. Remember last time you couldn’t eat a single thing because you were too full from the eggs?” You laughed. “I don’t want to disappoint any of your royal chefs.”

“I can’t believe you’re listening to my dad!”

You smiled. “Well, he is the king.”

Hajin rolled her eyes. “King sming. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!”

But Hajin always listened to you, in the end. You were more than a year older after all, and from all the tutoring you gave her in alchemy, she came to respect you as a sisterly mentor. This was something that Hoseok caught onto very quickly.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N. For being friends with my daughter,” Hoseok said. He stood from his throne, descending his steps until he was at level ground with you. “And I thank you again for meeting with me at such a late notice.”

“O-Oh, it’s nothing,” you said, fiddling with the trinket on your uniform. The Darlaean King long ago forbade you to salute in his presence, just as his daughter had, but it felt strange to be so casual around a man who donned a heavy silver crown on his head, adorned with his birthstone, an amethyst. “Hajin’s a great friend. I’m really lucky to have her.”

Hoseok smiled, rubbing his chin with his hand. “I’m glad you seem to be doing well. We don’t get many recruits from Botswana Agate, but when we do, they’re very promising. General Son has told me a lot about you—” he said “—from your first showcase to your performance in the training program for adolescents. I’ve gotten reports that you’ve been mentoring my daughter in alchemy?”

“Y-Yes,” you admitted. “Every night after alchemy practice.”

“She’s gotten better,” Hoseok said. “I’ve said this before, but Y/N, I’ll say it again: she’s gotten much, much better in the last few circas than she ever has in the several years she’s learned alchemy. To my daughter, alchemy isn’t very natural; she was born in Circa Ruby, so she was always an innate healer, just as I am an innate divinist. And she’s always had a penchant for light magic, which is much harder to learn and teach.” He blinked, then made eye contact with you, his brown eyes softening when he saw your nervous expression. “I’m rendered impressed, Y/N. It is thanks to you that she is ranked fourth amongst the other cadets. I reckon that you practice dark magic? There is stability in your hexes, and I must say that even General Son has come to me rather astonished.” He smiled again. “I know. It’s hard to believe a man like General Son can have more than one emotion, isn’t it?”

You didn’t know whether he really expected you to reply, so you laughed nervously.

Hoseok nodded understandingly. “I’m sure you’re confused as to why I called you over here without your best friend. I only wanted a simple heart-to-heart. Hajin is very adventurous as you may know, so I trust you to continue to keep her grounded as you’ve been doing. She’s always wanted an older sister, and you’re exactly what she needs.”

You smiled. Hajin’s adventure-prone personality was why you liked her so much. There was never a dull day when Hajin was around; in a way, she taught you how to have fun. She knew exactly what to climb on the castle grounds to witness the most beautiful sunsets. She knew secret shortcuts to get through each city’s gates as rapidly as possible to, in her words, “maximize exploring potential.” She knew the best prices for anything you could think of in the 8th city’s mini-markets and even the far away 3rd city’s bustling marketplace. During off days, she took you everywhere around the nation—you were very adamant about avoiding a certain tea shop in the 8th city—and neither of you ever grew tired. Perhaps it was due to the rigorous stamina training—or because both of you were so young.

Yet, there were also times when Hajin liked to have a little too much fun. You often had to stop her from going on spontaneous night shopping sprees in the 8th city because she surely wouldn’t make it back home in time to get an adequate amount of sleep before training the next day. Much less frequently, you had to foil her plans to visit the Blackwoods, which was a rather mysterious and dangerous forest in Darlae’s very own backyard. There were rumors of well-intentioned Darlaeans disappearing there, and you didn’t want to put the king’s only child in jeopardy. Once, you even had to suggest that she reconsidered inviting all ninety-something cadets for a deviled egg feast that would leave her poor lady-in-waiting only one hour to prepare enough food.

Hajin was spunky and adventuresome. She often spoke and acted before thinking, but it was said that these types of people on the battlefield were the most successful; who needs second thoughts when the enemy is a few milliseconds away from hurting you? You, on the other hand, had the bad habit of overthinking, which Hajin liked to tease you about all the time. It was a nice balance the two of you had when you were together—the push and pull of spontaneity and vigilance. It had only been a few circas since you’d met Hajin, but it felt as if you’d known her for years—as if she really was your younger sister! You told Hoseok so.

He smiled warmly at your words, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “Then you can consider yourself as part of our family, my dear.”

Almost a little too quickly, a year flew by. You had yet to receive a letter back from Instructor Shin, so you assumed she didn’t approve of your choice and chose to ignore you. Which was fine. Sort of. It was difficult to think that she would cut off contact because of your decision to join the army—after everything she told you—but it also wasn’t too surprising. You tried to swallow the disappointment and move on with your life.

Then there were your parents. They were doing so well that they possibly forgot that they had a child. Their lives as newly appointed divinist scholars must be exciting; they were so busy that you rarely saw them. But you spent most of your time doing what you liked on the castle grounds, anyway. So strangely, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would when they simply became nonexistent in your life. Maybe you and your parents were never meant to be close. Besides, heroes moved on. After one successful save, they went looking for the next thing to fix. So that’s what you decided to do.

On your 15th birthday, Hoseok and Hajin threw you an extravagant birthday dinner—something you’ve never had in your life, for you’ve never celebrated a birthday before. After the meal, Hajin took you back to her room, where she pulled out a small, pearlescent white box with a purple velvet ribbon decorating it.

“Open it!” she said, excitedly. “Open it, open it!”

The two of you sat on her bed, the starlight streaming into the bedroom as you opened the gift. You gasped, hands flying to cover your mouth.

There, right in front of you, was your birthstone, your diamond, a beautiful pendant to a dainty necklace. You hadn’t suspected a thing when Hoseok had offered to polish and clean your and Hajin’s birthstones earlier in the day! Your quivering hands reached out to pick up the necklace.

“Hajin…” you whispered, turning to your best friend. There were nearly tears in your eyes. “It’s so pretty…”

“Aw, don’t cry!” Hajin said, leaning forward to envelop you in a hug. “Everyone in my family has accessory trinkets! My father’s is his crown. My mother’s was a bracelet. Mine’s an earring. And now yours is a necklace. Isn’t it beautiful? Dad thought a ring would be a better fit, but I argued against it. You like to fidget with your trinket, so I thought you’d lose it if it were a ring.” She giggled. “Your quill trinket was getting a little battered, and there were just times during training when I thought it would completely fly off! A necklace is much, much safer. You won’t have to worry about the Solarians burning it off during battle. Plus, every talented cadet needs a special trinket.” She patted your back and pulled away. “Come on, let’s see you with it on! Oh, it’s going to look so gorgeous on you!”

Hajin had you turn around so she could clasp the necklace around your neck. Then, she ordered you to stand in front of the mirror to see how it looked. You stared at yourself in the mirror, your eyes wide as you touched your precious diamond that sat between your collar bones. It looked like the kind of trinket that the protagonists in your books would have.

“Here,” Hajin said as she handed you an open box with your old quill pen, where bits of the plume had been burned off, due to an unfortunate training accident on another cadet’s part. “For safekeeping. And I was right. The necklace does look gorgeous on you. In fact, gorgeous wouldn’t even begin to explain how good it looks, Y/N. It looks magnificent. No, wondrous. Oh, I know! Resplendent!!”

You laughed, setting the box with the quill off to the side and hugging your best friend. You held onto that old quill afterward, for it was still of sentimental value—it reminded you of the days you spent in Botswana Agate and of course, of your parents. Still, it collected dust, and you only occasionally opened it on arbitrary days to see if it was still doing well; your new trinket became your most prized possession. “Thank you!” you said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You spent the next several circas brainstorming the perfect gift to give to Hajin, to somehow repay the favor. But how could you find something that she, the Darlaean princess, didn’t already have? You decided to opt for something hand-made.

Hajin was always complaining about her gowns; she wanted something that would allow her to run and climb trees and do cartwheels. So, using the fashion alchemy you learned at Botswana, you shifted her the perfect purple pantaloons with ruby-hued stitchings—to match her trinket. And with the remaining fabric, you made yourself a matching gown. Hajin was more than ecstatic when she opened your gift, declaring that you were sisters for life.

You went on many more adventures outside of the 12th city with your matching outfits. Your favorite city quickly became the 5th. It was where they made all the beautiful and intricate fabrics that merchants and vendors sold in the grand 3rd city markets and the much smaller mini-markets of the 8th city. You could spend hours, perusing the selection of cloths, textiles, and fabrics until Hajin begged you to move on. When that happened, you would often drag her to the 4th city, which happened to be your second favorite. The 4th city was home to Darlae’s plantation and livestock. You especially loved to pet the cattle that roamed around the grass terrains and tried not to think too hard about their fates (which either involved being slaughtered or tested on by alchemists).

One of Hajin’s favorite cities was, of course, the 6th, which was entirely the royal family’s land—a mere extension of their castle in the 12th. There lay their abandoned summer home, where they had land that stretched on and on and what must be hundreds of rooms in the castle. They used to use it more often when more of the family was alive. Hajin loved to run through the castle, exploring all of the different chambers and attempting to find any secret passageways (there were too many to count). But ironically enough, for such an avid explorer, Hajin loved the 12th city the most, where she was born and raised. There was the man-made Sapphire Lake that she enjoyed swimming in, the lovely orchards she explored when she grew hungry, and the enormous training grounds where she trained in hopes of avenging her mother’s death.

On some off days, you grew tired of all the exploring, though Hajin never really understood that. Still, she was happy to stay in her chambers all day if it could be with you. The two of you would usually people-watch or dine on some deviled eggs—not too many though, so you wouldn’t ruin your appetites. But there was one particular day when you decided to poke around Hajin’s bookshelf to see what books she never had the joy of reading. Hajin liked to tease you for being such a bookworm, but you never really minded; she was missing out, anyway. She blamed her aunt for installing so many bookcases in the room, for before Hajin, this room belonged to her—before she mysteriously disappeared one day. Apparently, Hajin’s aunt went a little mad from the war, and no one could blame her. They never really found the body. In part, Hajin only kept the bookshelves in her room to honor her aunt, though you think the king only agreed to this because he wanted his daughter to begin reading books, which simply never happened.

But stories like the ones you read stuck with you, and you had read just about every single fairytale out there, exhausting every library. So when you saw a beautiful, red leather-bound book with a title that you did not recognize, sitting there on Hajin’s bookshelf, you simply had to explore it. Hwayoung’s Tale, it read on the spine. There was a small golden imprint of a flame as well. It seemed to entrance you. Immediately, you reached out to take it from the shelf. Except the book was stuck. You frowned. No matter how hard you pulled on the spine, it wouldn’t budge from its slot on the bookshelf.

Frustrated, you gave the book a hearty yank. But instead of flying out off the shelf, there was a small click! and a loud creeeaaak! that followed. The book stayed on the shelf.

You heard Hajin gasp from behind you. “Look!” she shrieked. “Look!!” Your head jerked sideways, and immediately you saw that the floor of the unused fireplace had opened up, leading to a dark hole. “A secret passageway!” she yelled, jumping up from her bed and nearly flying over. She grasped your hands, squealing, “We have to explore it! How could this have been in my room all these years? How are we only finding this now?” She laughed. “Maybe I should’ve taken up reading earlier. Oh, Y/N, we’ve got to go in there! It’ll be like the secret passageways in my summer home! Oh, what an adventure! I wonder what we’ll find. Today’s looking out to be adventurous after all. Come on!”

“W-Wait!” you said, trying to resist her beginning to tug you towards the dark hole. “Don’t you think it’ll be dangerous?”

Hajin paused momentarily. Then, she shrugged. “If it was dangerous, it wouldn’t be in my room.”

That was fair, but then again… “W-What if this is how your aunt disappeared?”

Hajin pumped her arm heroically in the air. “Then we can finally solve that mystery!” Before you could stop her, she took hold of the old ladder leading into the dark hole and began climbing down. “I can always go by myself!” she called, her voice echoing as she disappeared out of your view.

You began pacing nervously across the room, sweat beginning to accumulate on your brow. What to do, what to do? You and Hajin had training early tomorrow, and there was no telling what would be down that hatch. What if you disappeared before ever being able to accomplish anything? What if everything you’ve ever lived for went down the drain due to some stupid, spontaneous decision? The thought scared you. But there was also another overwhelming emotion: worry. You couldn’t possibly allow the king’s only child to disappear into oblivion. She was his only family member, and if he found out that you were the one who let her gallop into danger, you wouldn’t know how you would live with yourself.

So, after nervously tugging on your necklace for a few seconds, you picked out a random book from the bookshelf—that thankfully didn’t trigger any more secret openings—and masked it into a bright oil lamp. “I’m coming, Hajin!” you yelled after your best friend and soon followed her into the darkness.

But it turned out what was at the end of that secret passageway wasn’t so dangerous after all. You and Hajin faced an elaborate underground tunnel system that stretched on for so long that even after spending years in it, you never quite finished tracking all of the paths. These underground passageways took you all around the nation—from the sewers of the very 1st city to even a burrow nearby Sapphire Lake.

“Who do you think made these?” you always asked in awe. “And why?”

Hajin liked to joke it was her aunt’s doing because she had been quite as adventurous as her niece. “It seems like something she would do to sneak around the cities.”

But that didn’t answer the question of how she was able to create an entire tunnel system.

“My aunt didn’t talk much, unlike me. She and my dad weren’t that close. He liked to call her a social recluse. Maybe it’s ‘cause she had so many secrets.” Hajin grinned.

Nevertheless, you and Hajin were 15 years old—young and simple-minded—and didn’t question the origin of the tunnels as much as you could’ve; instead, the two of you explored the underground passages every minute you could without compromising your rankings in the program.

It was usually pitch black in the tunnels, which always made it a little scary when going on your weekly expeditions, but much of that fear was alleviated by having the other around. You would never explore the tunnels without Hajin, and Hajin vowed never to do it without you either—for she was also a bit prone to losing her way, and it was superbly easy to get lost in the maze of tunnels. So, to avoid becoming trapped in the tunnels, you decided to draw out a map, which you kept hidden between two arbitrary books on Hajin’s bookshelf if you weren’t using it. And as circas passed, your map expanded and expanded—until you had drawn over 100 paths originating from the castle grounds.

There was something so mysterious about the tunnels that drew you and Hajin both in. It felt so much bigger than the two of you, but it didn’t necessarily make you feel small and insignificant, either. The underground passageways became your and Hajin’s little secret, and you never told another soul about them—it was sort of a best friend pact.

But that joyous phase of wonder and exploration ended too quickly when training became cutthroat. Soon, the program took up all of your time, and there was no opportunity to run around and have fun anymore—not even on off days. There were more and more showcases to attend, and the physical training became more arduous as well. They wanted the cadets to learn more advanced alchemy, which wasn’t a problem for you but was a source of anxiety for many others. It seemed that they wanted to up the ante to see who was ready to move on. And for a while, you were doing just swell; if the program increased its challenges, you simply worked harder. It was only when they introduced dueling that you finally stumbled, hard.

Dueling felt barbaric, for the lack of better terms. You were told to fight another cadet with alchemy until one of you surrendered. But you simply couldn’t bring yourself to purposefully attack another person—and especially using alchemy! Even all that combat training on the wooden dummy couldn’t prepare you for this. Heroes never hurt anyone without good reason; in fact, some of them had moral conduct of never laying a finger on others, which was what you’d always aspired to do, even if it was a pipe dream. You always knew that, in the end, you would have to fight the Darlaeans, but that was a problem worth agonizing over in the future. But this wasn’t the end; this was merely just the beginning—the training period. You simply couldn’t understand why you had to potentially hurt your comrades—and for the sake of training? What bullshit! Couldn’t you practice combat alchemy with wooden dummies? Was this the unnecessary violence that the scholars always warned you about in the Darlaean Army?

There were cadets leaving duels with cuts and bruises, and the worst case you’ve ever seen was a broken nose. It made you feel sick to the stomach that you could hurt someone like that—or someone you’ve never wronged could inflict that kind of pain onto you. This was what villains did—cause pain, wreak havoc—and you wanted nothing to do with it.

Every time you faced your opponents, and every time that they threw their first charm your way, you immediately surrendered. The first time you did it, you tried to convince yourself that it had been a mistake—that you didn’t mean to surrender so instinctively, merely seconds into the duel. But when the same thing happened in your second duel, your third and so on, you realized that you were turning surrendering into a habit.

But there was that exhale of relief every time you surrendered as the fear squeezing your guts suddenly relaxed. And once you got used to this feeling of comfort, you chased after it again and again—never once even attempting to participate in your duels. It made you feel like you didn’t have what it took to become a soldier. Soldiers, who dealt with the pain and nervosity of marching into a battlefield knowing full well that they might not come back. And even though Hajin—who was a natural-born dueler—tried to make you feel better and offered to help, you couldn’t really get that horrible, gut-wrenching feeling out of your stomach when you even thought about throwing a hex at your opponent who was very much not an inanimate object and would feel every bit of the pain you inflicted.

Your ranking, as a result, began to plummet.

“Y/N, you’ve got to participate!” Hajin told you. “You need to learn how to do this! Sometimes before duels, I try to think about the bastards who killed my mother—it really gets me going!” Hajin was worried and was only giving advice because she wanted the best for you, but the advice was hard to follow. You simply didn’t have that kind of rage and hatred in you. You never lost anyone you knew in the war, nor did you think that losing someone in the war would make you want to attack your comrades, who had done nothing malicious to you at all.

Your ranking continued to plummet.

It came to the point that one day, General Son met with you to warn you that you were on the verge of being cut from the program.

The world around you shattered.

“I cannot understand why you refuse to participate, cadet.”

His words rang in your ears for days on end.

“There is no place for cowardliness in my army.”

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps you were being a coward.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. If you were cut, they would kick you out of your home in the 12th city and stop paying you. You would have to say goodbye to Hajin, to the king who felt like your third parent, to the secret tunnels, to your other friends, to one day saving the world… It would ruin everything.

The General was being merciful, and you knew it; not many other recruits were given warnings when they were up on the chopping block. This special treatment only increased the pressure you felt to begin participating in these duels. You were on ice so thin that it was on the verge of breaking, and you could already imagine yourself drowning in the deep, freezing waters.

General Son gave you three days to change your behavior—an ultimatum. If you surrendered another duel, you would be cut and kicked out from the 12th city; it was final. This meant that you only had one choice: to win your next duel—you’ve never done that before.

All at once, it felt like you were at a dead end. You began regretting your decision of dropping out of Botswana Agate. You began ruminating on what could’ve been—by now, you would’ve been a respectable student at Aven Quartz. You began wondering if you were even cut out to be a soldier. How could you be? When you were terrified of hurting others and hurting yourself?

And how could you be a hero when you were so cowardly?

All those times you surrendered flashed in your mind. It was almost as if fear was your second nature. No proper soldier could be as cowardly as you. If you were this nervous for a minor duel amongst your comrades, you couldn’t imagine the trepidation you would feel going off to war. General Son was right. There was no place in his army for cowards.

It was surely one thing to be an adequate alchemist, but what good was that when you didn’t have the courage to use it?

So what were you going to do with your life now?

The more you thought about it, the deeper you sank into your feelings and questioned your choices.

But when you felt like you were drowning beyond the point of no return, it was Instructor Shin, who sent a response letter more than one year later, that brought you back to the shore.

Y/N,

I have spent circas contemplating my answer to you, my student. To be quite honest, I was disappointed at first—perhaps a little angry as well. I could not understand why such a talented student as you would be content with throwing away a bright future as an alchemist scholar. Yet… you must see something in the army to join their cause. This may be something that my limited point of view as an instructor heavily interweaved in scholarly practices cannot see. So, after much thought, I trust that your reason is sound.

I am happy for you, Y/N, that you are in the right place. Academia is constraining at times. There is freedom of thought, yes, but you have always wanted to think bigger, haven’t you? Perhaps you want to participate in a cause that will bring great glory to Darlae. Perhaps the world of academia is too small for your liking. I understand why the army is your calling now.

I trust that you will make the change you set out for, for I assume that there are many ways to excel in the army. Your passion, determination, and perseverance will speak volumes wherever you may go. You have dodged the many obstacles of academia, and this experience will help you overcome the more grueling challenges of the outside world. And so, I humbly wish you the best. I am happy to have been a part of your journey of excellence and to have taught you the little that I know. May you one day change Darlae for the better. And may you one day still remember me, your strict, old, incompetent instructor, who nearly stopped you from achieving greatness in the Darlaean Army.

Instructor Shin

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⨰ a/n: whoops so let's pretend this isn't two weeks late haha! life has been... busy. it's the summer but there's a lot to prepare for in the fall semester 😭 plus they're making me do full stack for my internship and i was NOT expecting that at all :') also life update: i think i'm starting to see someone????? cool, i guess. he very lowkey reminds me of the solarian general LOL. both isfjs

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