#also please know amber is considering violence

[sumbsdrawingblog]

[bits-and-babs]

ok i know it's a very specific request but can you PLEASE do a softish joel x reader where they've been partners for a while and they have a lil soft slow dance moment to Fooled Around and Fell In Love and then like.. smut. but like a softish, needy, primal sort of smut iykwim.. i just love soft joel and need more. thank you 🫡

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Previous Joel Fics: Mule [5.1K], Atta Girl [10.2K], PlayBoy [3K], Animal [4K]

Summary: Joel’s birthday is coming up, but it isn’t something to celebrate.

Word Count: 3K.

CW: Sad, made me tear up at some points. Touches on trauma, references to gore and violence. A little artsy again. Joel feels guilty, oral (f receiving).

Tease: “Christ- I’ve been neglectin’ you, Darlin’. How could I neglect such a pretty thing?”

Brass clatters against the small wooden table beside the front door to your shared apartment, jolting you from your sleep. It's Joel's keys, and he hasn't set them down quietly to not disturb you– instead, choosing to discard them with the toss despite knowing it would make a racket.

Even in your hazy consciousness between the dreamworld and whatever the fuck this was, you had enough of an idea to understand that this was Joel's attempt to ask for help. His lack of improper communication was less about pride than stubbornness, refusing to share his pain, especially after the raging argument that had preceded him leaving the house without you.

“No, you will be staying here this time,” Joel ended his speech, explaining his next smuggling run with an admittance you hadn't heard him utter or even considered that you might hear.

"Wait-your going without me?" You ask with a scoff, expecting Joel to drop the funny joke. He's not laughing.

"I need to do this one alone," Joel insists, his voice forceful as though his decision wasn't up for debate.

You had fought with him quite loudly but not unnecessarily. You presented to him all the logical questions of what if. What if someone attacked him? What if he got hurt in the smuggling tunnels, and a stray quicker had wandered in? What if Robert and his lackeys attempted some payback for the deal that had gone wrong last week?

It had all fallen on deaf ears, Joel shouldering through the door and ignoring your yells of protest.

The shuffling of Joel's leather boots against the kitchen floor is a relief to you, indicating his safety. It also sparks an unpalatable feeling of guilt, one that settles in your stomach and curdles when you consider the reason Joel had been particularly standoffish recently.

While Joel fixes himself a whiskey, you rise from the sofa slowly in an attempt to avoid detection. You sneak a glimpse of him and find him invested in pouring the amber liquid into a chipped crystal glass. Hurrying, you use the moment of distraction to slink into your shared bedroom and make a point to avoid his gaze.

Calendars were a long-forgotten relic of the past in the Apocalypse. Who would waste precious paper that they could use for a map on something to track what day it was? Regardless, without knowing the date or even what month it was, you always know when Joel's birthday is coming up.

The days would get shorter, and the dying light of the sunset painted the clouds orange much earlier in the day. Leaves would begin their metamorphosis and fade from a vibrant evergreen to a muted, pale rust colour. They’d be littered with cracks and holes as if they were the bodies that lay slumped on the streets outside the QZ, chunks of flesh ripped from their muscles by the jaws of the infected. You were sure that the caterpillars that had no doubt left the shark-bite-like indentations in the green membrane were much less brutal.

And then there was Joel, his mood taking a brutal hit as the memories came flooding back of how he spent the final seconds of his twenty-sixth birthday clinging to his limp daughter's body and screaming into the blackness. He'd washed his hands of Sarah's blood almost two decades ago, but when he looked at his palms, they were still stained crimson.

See, Joel’s birthday was marred with death, so much so that it reeked of decay. How could it be a celebration of his life, of surviving another year, when the whole world, including his daughter, was slaughtered in the time it would have taken for the wax candles on his birthday cake to melt—had he remembered to buy it?

Of course, his forgetfulness had saved his life. The cake’s contents would have turned him into one of those things, scratching at the mossy walls of the quarantine zone with their long nails. However, you are confident that the regret of not picking up the cake box after work kept Joel awake at night as summer gave way to autumn, wondering if it would have been so much easier to succumb to the spores.

Sinking to your knees at the foot of the double bed, its threadbare sheets crumpled and pushed to one side, you duck your head beneath the wooden frame to search for an old cardboard box. So worn now, the seams were practically disintegrating. You take care as you pull it across the floorboards and dig around inside for something in particular.

It's a box of mementoes shared by you and Joel to protect the items that matter most to you. There were little pictures in frames of loved ones, items of great significance. If Joel worried he might lose his precious watch on a mission, he would often leave it here.

Gently fishing around, you finally find what you're looking for. With a delicate touch, you pull out a black cassette tape. It's dusty and unplayed for years. Across its surface lay small, holographic stickers that glint rainbow under the warm light of the bedroom. Their shapes consist of unicorns, clouds and tiny hearts, all strewn haphazardly across the black plastic surface.

The ink on the centre label is written in scratchy child's writing, the lettering large and bold until the opposite end, the letters trailing and squished to fit: To Daddy. Lots of love, Sarah and uncle Tommy xoxoxox.

Rising to your feet, you make your way into the living room. Joel has settled into the couch; his skull set back against the headrest with his whiskey resting in his lap. He opens one squinty eye when he hears your footfalls, watching you cross the living room floor to the window.

“What’re you doin’?” He mumbles, voice gruff and hoarse.

“It’s too quiet in here,” you admit, avoiding his question as you open the cassette player that lay beside the radio that Joel spent all day listening out for. You’d found the little player on a smuggling run in the city and had nearly been chomped on the arm by a runner for it. You were gonna damn well use it!

Joel's eyes burn into your shoulder blades as you swap the cassette tape inside the machine. You can hear whispers of his thoughts in the stagnant air. What is she doing? Why can't she leave me alone? Do I want her to leave me alone?

The tape feeds into the player and settles into its lot with a click. It rings out in the silent room, and it sounds like the safety catch of a gun switching off. You can almost feel how Joel tenses, his muscles primed for war.

Instead of a bullet ripping through the air, a light drumbeat trickles from the player's speakers. You carefully twist the sound dial, raising the volume so Joel can hear the percussion bleed into the guitar.

When you turn to face him, there’s this crack in the carefully cultivated mask your partner wears. A devastating pain flashes across Joel’s features and almost has you backpedalling, reaching across to the button that would cease the agonising sound of his past.

“No-“ Joel speaks up, his voice uncharacteristically emotional. You swear you hear a tremor in it, freezing your body in place when he clears his throat awkwardly as if to hide the ruin that the earthquake of emotions had surfaced. “No… I wanna hear it.”

You swallow thickly, making your way over to the slumped body of your partner as the honey-sweet voice of Elvin Bishop floats across the room. Joel’s emotions had rid him of what little energy he had left, his muscles slumped and body almost curling inwards to suppress whatever reaction threatened to spill out of him.

Taking a leap, a terrifying guess, you slowly pry the whiskey tumbler from his hand, the bronze-syrup liquid appearing as a thin film of gold in the bottom of the crystal glass. Gently, you set it aside, the quiet ‘tnk’ of the cup causing Joel’s body to jolt slightly. Always on red alert, even amid grief.

Your fingertips press into his pulse as your hands wrap around Joel’s sinewy wrists. He’s ageing, his hair greying and the skin above his veins lightly leathery to the touch, but his heartbeat is strong. It pulses heavily against your prints, screaming out just how alive he is when you drag him off the sofa.

Joel defies expectations. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even groan in protest at the ache in his bones at having to stand again. Instead, he settles his head against your shoulder, wrapping his strong arms around you. He holds you so tight that your lungs wheeze in objection- but you don’t have it in you to complain because Joel sighs against your jugular, and it’s like the relief unwinds every rigid muscle in his body.

It can hardly be called dancing, but your body sways to the beat of the music like a pendulum. Back and forth, back and forth. Joel seems to lose himself in the hypnotic oscillation, pressing delicate kisses across the skin of your throat and inhaling the gritty cologne of apocalyptic life that you wear. You can almost hear the infomercial; “Top notes of sweat-musk and smoke from burnt corpses, base notes containing earthy soil and the metallic tang of blood. Heart notes contain devastating grief and an underlying desire to curl in a ball and die to escape this hellscape.”

Slowly, you slide your fingers into the roots of Joel’s silvering hair. He leans into your touch, groaning softly at the comfort he finds in the swirl of your fingerprints, massaging his scalp. He’s so at peace that you barely even notice him whisper the lyrics into your skin, enchanting it with the baritone of his husky voice.

“Free on my own; that's the way I used to be. But since I met you, baby, love's got a hold on me,” he murmurs, barely following the tune with how quietly he hums each syllable. You cling to him, casting your eyes to the mossy ceiling and revelling in a moment of vulnerability that Joel hadn’t afforded you in months.

“That how it happened?” You ask him with a slight teasing lilt to your voice. You may imagine the feeling of a smile against your throat, the smooth enamel of his teeth brushing the thin flesh.

“Somethin’ like that,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your pulse point. You’re sure he feels it flutter. Joel was never a man of many words, and knowing him as long as you have, you could be certain he would rather blow his own brains out than admit to a fairytale ‘love at first sight’ moment. His answer was the closest thing you would get to a confirmation of guilt.

You can’t help but giggle at his refusal to expose the inside of his heart to you, yet simultaneously unable to conceal his obvious adoration. His breath tickles your cheek as he exhales the carbon dioxide from his lungs. You’d breathe it in, if you could, even if you suffocated on it. A piece of you wanted every part of Joel in a desperate attempt to fill the hole in your heart left behind by your losses. By your Sarah.

Perhaps he could feel that in you because Joel pulled away from your neck for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours in the closest thing to ‘affection’ that the brutal smuggler could muster. The tip of his aquiline nose brushes up the sloping bridge of your own before pressing a kiss to your lips. Tender at first, an inevitable hunger quickly surpasses Joel’s desire to ease you with delicate kisses and sweet nothings as Elvin Bishop croons the confession that you cannot pry from your partner.

“I fooled around and fell in love….”

-✩-

It’s miserable at first. Joel’s kissing you like he needs to swallow you down to numb the pain, like those little white pills he knocks back with a shot of whiskey when he thinks you’re not looking. You find him sprawled on the sofa some days, mumbling Sarah’s name in his sleep as tears stream down his cheekbones and into the sparse hair of his beard.

It takes you both a moment, but when your back hits the mattress, something sparks up inside Joel. He abandons his distress in the bedroom doorway, planting kisses up the length of your stomach and sternum as he slots his hips between your thighs.

“Fuck, Joel-!”

“I know,” he mumbles, licking a stripe across your bare chest and swirling the tip of his tongue around your hardening nipple. “I ain’t been as attentive to my Darlin as I shoulda been.”

You attempt to ease him down from his deprecation, to remind him he’s been suffering, but he grinds the length of his clothed cock against your weeping cunt, and it’s as though your mind stalls, your protests overridden by a sigh of relief.

“Mhmm, that’s it,” he whispers, feverish with a kind of emotional need that you rarely see in your usually animalistic sexual encounters. “That’s it.”

Joel yanks your cargo pants off your hips, hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband of the dirtied beige material to slip down your underwear too. He groans at the sight of your glistening pussy in the candlelight, sweeping his thumb through the slick mess between your folds and listening to the wet noise you make for him.

“Fuck,” he rasps, dragging the pad of his thumb over your clit and listening to you meek, watching your toes curl, “Christ, I’ve been neglectin’ you, Darlin’. How could I neglect such a pretty thing?”

“Joel, you’re hurti- Aghh-!”

You let out a strangled moan because Joel dips his face down and licks a hot stripe across the length of your cunt. It’s sloppy and desperate, and you feel the warmth of his exhale waft across your clit and spark hot embers deep in your abdomen.

Locks of Joel’s hair are wrapped tight around your trembling fingers, but Joel doesn’t relent. He drags his tongue against your throbbing clit, relishing how you taste and enjoying how the meat of your thighs muffle the music when they squeeze against his ears.

“Joel,” you beg him, voice needy and back arching against his ministrations. You want to touch him too, want to ease his own frustrations, but Joel approaches this like a punishment. He is serving time for abusing you like this, leaving you wanting beside him in bed due to what he believes is his own selfish actions in wallowing in his grief.

He lazily sinks his tongue into your entrance for a moment, lapping up more of the mess you leak across his face and groaning in delight at how your taste smothers him. He’d drown in it if you’d let him.

It takes you a moment, given he’s working you up into a frenzy, to note that Joel’s rutting his hips into the mattress in a feeble attempt to pleasure himself. He groans softly against your cunt, the vibrations stimulating you and tightening the coil settled deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Fu-uuuck, Joel-!” You keen his name, thighs thrown over his shoulders. The tip of his tongue dances slowly around the circumference of your clit once, twice, three times before swiping back and forth over it. Tears well in your eyes as he repeats the process, and you watch as the wetness on your lashes causes the image of his head between your thighs to reflect back at you like a kaleidoscope, fractured and duplicated and oh-so-beautiful.

“Mhmm,” Joel hums, his hands sliding up your ribs and squeezing at your breasts with his paws. His thumbs trace your nipples, and again your back is arching, your hips rutting against his chin and pushing your abused clit against his nose.

“Oh God, Oh God, that’s it-“ you’re telling him it feels good, but it sounds like you’re begging him to keep going, heels pushing into his back and dragging him impossibly closer to you. The aged, rotten, wooden frame of the bed creaks at your sloppy attempts to thrust against his mouth. You’re so tight, all wound up with the threat of an orgasm, and Joel is whispering against your cunt.

“Baby, come on,” he murmurs, using his thumb to swipe back and forth a little more rapidly against your clit as he eats you out, smearing your wetness over his lips and beard, “That’s it, Darlin’, that’s it.”

You wheeze out a version of his name that sounds foreign to your ears, slurring the single syllable as your orgasm blooms through you. It’s slow at first, creeping, but then it burns through you. It detonates like the bombs they dropped on Outbreak Day, devastating your nerve endings and crushing your body inwards. Joel continues to coax you through it with his tongue, and you’re feebly pushing his head away as it grows and grows, the peak seemingly nowhere in sight.

Finally, it subsides, Joel groaning loudly as he settles his head on your lower abdomen, still grinding his hips into the mattress like a schoolboy. You’re giggling through your heaving breaths, delirious thanks to the liquid warmth that settles in your bones.

“Oh fuck-“ you whisper, voice hoarse and broken from yelling out Joel’s name. He offers no vocal response, instead kissing at the junction where your thighs meet your pelvis.

The action means just as much as those three unspoken words.

END

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[ramblingoak]

The Cardinal's Bride, Chapter 12: Diavolessa

~~ Please visit The Outlaw Brides Masterpost to catch up and read more stories from this world ~~

Thank you to @tasty-ribz for the wanted poster, @ghuleh-recs for the collage and @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!  For some more amazing fanart check out: @missygoesmeow (1 / 2), @snail-shell2335  here, @vahvco here, @ghulehgwen here, @rabidghoul here, @nocterish here, @enjoy-my-swearing​ ( 1 / 2 ), @blacktie-whitenoise (1 /2), @z-xmyers (1/2/3/4), @foxybouquet ( 1 / 2 ), @delulluart here, _simpera_ on instagram and valkyrieinpink on twitter.  Also thank you to @kissingghouls for all her help and emotional support.

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader: Copia is desperate to find you before you end up in Saltarian's clutches.

Warnings: violence (the usual cowboy violence but Reader is put into danger as well and hurt) a lot of angst and smut (apologies for the vagueness but I'm trying to avoid spoiling anything), nsfw 18+ only mdni, 7,900 words

“You look like shit.”

“Grazie, fratello.”

Secondo snorted, shaking his head once before taking a swig of his whiskey.  The two of them were quiet as they sat in his office.  Terzo was dabbing at his face with a wet rag to clean up the blood leftover from Copia beating him when they were out on the road.  He finally gave up, throwing the bloody rag onto the floor and leaning into the back of the couch. 

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?”

“Copia’s smarter than you give him credit for.  He already didn’t want to be out there anyway.”

“Usually he can’t wait to get back on the road.”

“Well usually he doesn’t have a pretty girl waiting for him.” 

Secondo groaned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.  

“Think of all you two could accomplish if you thought less with your dicks and more with your brains.”

“Why are you dragging me into this?!  I wasn’t the one that fell in love with Saltarian’s fucking fiancé!”

“You’ve had your own issues with lovers.”  He rubbed his chest idly, stopping when he felt the familiar chain of his grucifix under the fabric.  “I can’t believe you both gave away a family heirloom.”

“For the last time mine was stolen.”

“Then get it back.”

“That was over ten years ago!  Who knows where she is now.”  

“Considering she was able to steal it from under The Morningstar’s nose I’m sure she’s still out there.  Probably robbing banks now.”

Terzo was silent for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face when Secondo glanced at him.  

“I’ve thought about it.  Looking for her.”  Secondo smirked but when Terzo noticed he quickly shook his head.  “Only to get my grucifix back.  Nothing more.”

“Whatever you say, fratellino.”

Quiet once more settled over them both.  The brothers each lost in their own thoughts.  Terzo eventually groaned and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees and turning to look at his brother.  

“Do you believe him?”  When Secondo raised an eyebrow he elaborated.  “Copia.  That he loves her.”

“Sì.  I do.”  

“What are we going to do about it?”

Secondo was quiet again, staring down at the amber liquid in his glass.  He couldn’t get Copia���s face out of his mind.  The last time his brother had looked that determined was when they were all hiding in the woods, the smoke from their burning abbey heavy over their heads.  Secondo knew then that Copia would stop at nothing to protect his princess, to protect the woman he loved. 

He also knew he had a choice to make now, one that would have far reaching consequences for them all.  Was he ready to fight again?  Was he ready to possibly lose more of his family?  This could be their last chance to get their lives back.  Their last chance to get their church back.  

Secondo wasn’t sure if he still believed anymore.  It was hard to after the last decade.  After everything that had happened, things none of them deserved.  He had built a life here for everyone but there had always been something missing.  Something that helped keep them all together has one.  

He knew what he needed to do.  

“We’re going to fight.”  He stood up, pulling his grucifix out from under his shirt and letting it hang out in the open.  “We’re going to kill Saltarian once and for all.”

“Pay up shithead.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Our bet.  I won.”

“There are a lot of bets between us so you need to be more specif—ow!”

“Copia admitted he loved her!  It was amazing, I think Swiss even cried a little.” 

Swiss gamely nodded his head, grinning when Dewdrop turned to glare at him. 

“Well I didn’t hear it so it doesn’t count.”

“The fuck it doesn’t, Swiss and I both heard it.  Even Secondo did!  You can ask him when we get back.”

“Uh, no thanks.  I’m not sure anyone that brings up Copia or Princess around him will survive.”   Dewdrop glanced up towards where Copia and Aether were riding a bit ahead of the group.  “Is he even gonna let us come back?”

“He better, I left my favorite gun there.”   Sunshine and Dew shared a grin before she held her hand out towards him.  “Now pay up.”

“Lucifer’s balls, fine.”  He rummaged in the pockets of his coat before he came up with a crumpled bill, balling it up even more and throwing it at her head.  “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

The three of them quieted down after that, all lost in their own thoughts.  Sunshine kept her eyes on Copia and Aether, watching how Copia kept getting more and more tense the longer it took them to find Princess.  Rain had picked up her trail heading south, but as of yet they hadn’t run into any other signs of her.  Right now Rain and Mountain were scouting ahead, trying to see if she had stayed on the road.

Sunshine was hoping they didn’t find out she was dragged off of it.

“What’s going on now?”

Swiss’s voice snapped Sunshine out of her brooding and she focused on Copia again, noticing that he and Aether had stopped.  They seemed to be having a heated conversation so she spurred her horse and quickly headed their way. 

“I don’t want to talk about this now.”

“Then when?  Look, Boss, I’m not trying to talk you out of anything, I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“Aether right now there is only one thing going through my mind and that is that I have to find her.” 

“I know, I know.”  Aether caught Sunshine’s eyes and sighed.  “We’re going to find her Boss, I promise.” 

“Then keep moving!  We’re not going to find her standing around arguing.”  

Copia’s shoulders sagged then and Sunshine could see how exhausted he was, how worried.  She moved closer to Copia, wanting to comfort him in some way but a sharp whistle got her attention.  They all looked up the trail to see Rain and Mountain in the distance, both focusing down on the ground. 

“Do you think they found her trail?”

Copia didn’t even bother answering Aether, he snapped Brizio’s reins and took off towards them.  Sunshine glanced towards Rain again and saw him waving his arms, almost like he wanted them to stay away.  Her blood instantly ran cold and she shouted after Copia.

“No!  Copia stay here!”

She groaned when he didn’t stop, instead riding after him as fast as she could.  He had already reached the two Ghouls and she could see Mountain trying in vain to push him away from where Rain was standing. 

It wasn’t until she got there that she realized why. 

She could smell it first, the sharp smell of blood.  As she got closer she could see that the ground was soaked with it.  Copia was taking a few steps forward, his boots sinking into the wet earth.  His hands were shaking, clenched into fists as his eyes stayed on the ground.  Rain walked up to him, a hat in his hand that Sunshine easily recognized.  The same one Princess had been wearing since they left the farmhouse. 

It was stained with blood. 

Copia only had it in his hands for a moment before it slipped from his fingers and he fell to the ground.  Sunshine was rushing over to him in an instant, her hands falling to his shoulders.  The smell was stronger now and the sight of how much blood there was made her feel sick.  She lowered her head, squeezing Copia’s shoulders when she felt him start to tremble. 

“Copia, I-“

“It’s too much.”

“What?”  She crouched down next to him, freezing when she saw the tears running down his cheeks.  “What’s too much?”

“The blood.  She’s lost too much.”

Sunshine stayed silent, not wanting to admit the same out loud.  It was too much, too much for anybody to lose.  She turned to look behind her when she heard footsteps and she watched as Swiss, Aether and Dew stopped a few feet away, their hats in their hands.  When she looked back she noticed Rain walking along the edge of the trail, stopping and kneeling down after a moment.  He turned her way, pointing down at the ground before disappearing into the underbrush. 

She gave Copia one last squeeze and then stood up, walking over to where he entered,  noticing that the grass was flattened down.  Her stomach turned thinking of Princess’s body being dragged somewhere and left for the vultures.  Tears started to prick at her eyes and she turned back, meeting Copia’s gaze as he watched her from his knees. 

“This is my fault.”

“Copia, no.”

“I got her into this mess, I took her away from the life she was supposed to have.”

“A life she didn’t want!”  Sunshine moved back to his side and knelt in front of him.  “She wanted to be with you.  She loved you.”

“And now she’s dead.”  The words were practically spit from him and he dropped his hands onto the ground, digging his fingers into the bloody soil.  “They killed her.  They took her away from me.”

His voice was seething with rage and she found herself thinking back to that day of the attack, of the fire.  The only other time she had seen him like this.

She opened her mouth to try and reassure him but the sound of someone rushing through the grass stopped her.  Everyone turned to see Rain sprinting onto the trail, his chest heaving and a knife clutched in his hand.

A knife Sunshine recognized.

“It’s not her!”  Rain grinned and stumbled over to Copia, grabbing his arms and yanking him to his feet.  “It’s not her.  She’s alive.”

Your head hurt.

It was hard to keep your eyes open.  Every time you opened them a wave of dizziness hit you.  There was a constant dull throb, an ache that seemed to echo through your whole body.  It hurt, it hurt so much but you were trying to be strong.  You couldn’t give up, you refused to lose hope. 

You didn’t want the bastards to see you cry. 

Their laughter echoed around the small camp.  You weren’t sure exactly how many there were.  At least three of them had met you on the trail but there could have been more waiting further on.  They had rode up right when you had stopped your horse and been about to turn around.  Copia had to have been back by then and all you wanted to do was see him again.  To have him hold you and tell you everything was going to be ok. 

“She awake yet?”

You shivered at the voice nearby.  It was the same man that had knocked you out.  One moment you had been fighting off a man that had gotten behind you on the horse and the next you had turned to see the butt of a rifle descending upon you.  The ground crunched in front of you and you did your best to steady your breathing, trying not to give away that you were awake. 

“Leave her, we’ll deal with her in the morning.” 

“What if I want to deal with her now?”  A shadow fell over your face, blocking the fire.  You could smell his awful stench and it made you nearly gag around the cloth between your teeth.  “I thought Salty was gonna kill her anyway?”

“Who the fuck knows, he changes his damn mind every day.” 

“Wasn’t Goore supposed to nab her before?” 

You felt a hand on your head and fought to stop from jerking away. 

“They were supposed to, yeah.  But The Cardinal kicked his ass.  Took out like twenty guys too.”

“The fucking Cardinal.”  A glob of moisture hit your cheek and you realized the man had spit on you.  “You sweet on him, girl?” 

His fingers suddenly tightened in your hair and you cried out.  You reached up to try to pull him off but he grabbed the rope around your wrists and slammed them back onto the ground.  The man was grinning at you, when you managed to glare at him.  The pain was even more intense with how hard he was pulling on your hair. 

“Hey!  We aren’t supposed to touch her!”

The man holding you was abruptly shoved away and you yelped when he managed one last yank on your hair.  Tears were falling down your face, soaking the rag around your mouth.  You heard them scuffle close by and you pulled away as far as you could, trying to steer clear of them. 

“What does it matter?  We can just say she showed up like that!  Blame it on The Cardinal.”

“Salty ain’t gonna believe that and you know it.  He’s already gonna be pissed about her face.” 

“Well no one else was doing anything!  I wasn’t gonna drag her back to camp kicking and screaming.”  You dared to look over at the men, flinching when you saw their eyes on you.  “We should just kill her and be done with it.”

“I fucking told you Salty wants her alive.  He made some deal with that asshole at the casino.” 

“Fuck.  Fine, whatever.”  He shoved past the man and walked by, kicking dirt on you as he went.  “But if she freaks out again I’m slicing her throat.” 

Things quieted down around you as he walked off so you tried to even your breathing.  The pain wasn’t getting any better but if you wanted to get out of this you’d need to try to fight through it.  You couldn’t help but think of Copia and what he would do when he found your note.  Would he believe the things you said?  Would he even be coming after you? 

“Hey, girl.”  The one who seemed to be the leader crouched down in front of you.  While you were grateful he had gotten the other man to leave you alone there was no kindness in his eyes.  “Do me a favor and stay put, got it?”

You nodded, wincing when your head swam at the motion.  He didn’t move for a moment and you were starting to worry he was gonna hurt you like the other man did but he finally stood up.  His eyes were cold as they looked down at you and you felt like crying again. 

“No one’s gonna save you so you best behave.  We’re getting paid a pretty penny to bring you to Saltarian alive.”  He smirked then, slipping a knife out of a small sheath at his belt and pointing it down at you.  “But we’ll also get paid well even if you’re dead.”

He didn’t wait to see a response, he simply turned and ambled away.  The tension seeped out of you then but you stayed as still as possible.  It was impossible to stop your tears now and they ran down your face freely, pooling in the dirt beneath you.  Silently you begged for help, begged to be rescued and allowed to escape from the fate others had chosen for you. 

You begged to see Copia one last time. 

“There’s ten of them but only three at the camp with her.”

Copia nodded, taking in everything Mountain and Rain had been relaying to him.  The ten men weren’t going to be a problem, Copia knew they could be easily taken care of.  It was the fact that you were there as well, vulnerable, that made things difficult.

“Where’s Princess?”

Sunshine had stayed close to him since they had stumbled upon the blood on the ground.  Acting like an anchor almost.  He appreciated it more than he could say, he appreciated all of his Ghouls right now so much.  They had stuck with him for so long and through so much.  

They deserved an easier life.

“She’s on the ground by the fire.”  Mountain met Copia’s eyes when he glanced up at him.  “We didn’t see her move but she’s tied up pretty good.”

“Probably just sleeping.”  Sunshine fiddled with one of her knives, slipping it into the sleeve of her coat.  “Or unconscious.”  

“We should have Dew and Swiss snipe the lookouts while the rest of us get closer.  Take ‘em by surprise.”

Copia nodded silently, his thoughts still caught up with the image of you hurt and tied up on the ground.  He flinched when a hand brushed his shoulder, turning to meet Sunshine’s eyes.

“They’ll probably leave first thing in the morning, we should hit them right before then.”  Sunshine stood up and slung her rifle over her shoulder.  “Before they’re ready to go.”

“I don’t want to wait any longer, she could be seriously hurt.”

“If she was seriously hurt they just would have killed her.”  Mountain held up his hands when Copia glared at him.  “They wouldn’t waste time bringing her body all the way to Saltarian’s.  They’d just say you killed her and dumped her body somewhere.”

“It doesn’t matter!  She could be hurt and I don’t want her to be alone with them any more than she has to!”

“Damn it Copia, just listen to us!  We don’t want her to be in any danger either but the best way to avoid her getting hurt any more than she might already be is to wait till the right moment.”

Copa turned away from Sunshine and Mountain, his shoulders sagging as their words sunk in.  They were right, he knew they were right but it was killing him to leave you alone there when you were so close.  He sighed and turned back around, ready to accede their point.

“Fine, we’ll wai–”

A sharp yell rang out from the camp and everyone’s eyes whipped in that direction.  Copia took a few steps forward, his legs suddenly shaking from fear.  In front of them the grass started to shake and Dew flung himself into the small clearing everyone had gathered in.

“She’s running!”

Despite his fear Copia couldn’t help but grin, turning towards the rest of his Ghouls and nodding.

“Then let’s find her first.”

Copia would be so mad at you.

Although technically you weren’t running away from him so you supposed it was okay.  You just couldn’t stand to be around those men any longer.  It seemed like they were getting more and more irritated at your presence as the night had worn on.  The man that seemed to be in charge didn’t have as much control over them as you liked and when he had said he was going to sleep for a few hours you had decided that was your best chance.

Running away was much easier without a dress on and you crashed through the vegetation around the camp.  The moon was high enough to help light your way but even then you still had no idea where you were going.  No idea the direction you were stumbling in.  Not that it really mattered, you just needed to get away.  You’d worry about where you were once you were safe.

“Get back here!”

You made the mistake of turning to look behind you, the dark voice startling you.  It was the man that had spit on you earlier and you shuddered, trying to move even faster to get away.  He wasn’t at the camp when you had run and you had hoped he’d be too far away to catch up to you.  

Unfortunately you weren’t that lucky.

He continued to shout after you, promising to make you regret taking off from camp.  The fear started to take a hold of you again and you felt tears prick at your eyes.  No matter how much you begged your legs to move faster it wasn’t enough.  The man was getting closer and closer until finally you felt his hands grab at your arms and yank you back against him.

“Don’t touch me!”  

The man grunted when you kicked back at him, your foot connecting with his knee.  With an angry growl he tried to wrap an arm around your waist but you slammed your head back against his, grinning when you heard the sickening crunch of his nose.  Your glee was short lived and with a curse he shoved you down onto the ground.

“You’re gonna pay for that.”  He reached for the gun at his belt and pulled it out of its holster, pulling the hammer back and pointing it down at you.  “Salty will just have to find another fiancé.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the shot.  Pictures of Copia appeared in your mind and you let out a broken sob.  You loved him so much and now you’d never get to tell hi–

A loud shot rang out and your entire body flinched, waiting for the inevitable pain of the bullet.  When seconds passed with nothing you slowly opened your eyes, expecting to see the man still there glaring at you.  Instead you saw him falling to the side, his eyes wide and unseeing.  A figure emerged behind him, stepping into the moonlight and you let out a heavy sob when a familiar set of mismatched eyes became visible.

“What did I say about running away?”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh but you were quickly overcome with emotion again.  Your hands reached out for him, desperate for his touch.  Desperate to be held by him again.  Copia quickly obliged, dropping to his knees next to you and gathering you up in his arms.  He pressed kisses into your hair as you cried and whispered promise after promise that he’d never let you get hurt again.

The journey back to the casino was mostly quiet.

When you and Copia had gotten back to the camp the sun was starting to rise in the sky.  The Ghouls milling around and cleaning things up.  Sunshine had been the first to rush over, enveloping you and a long hug that brought more tears to your eyes.  When she pulled away she was holding your dagger out to you, the one you had shoved into the first man that had tried to grab you.

“You did what you had to, Princess.”

You nodded, leaning back into the comfort of Copia’s embrace for a moment.  The other Ghouls came up one after the other.  The biggest surprise for you was Dewdrop, he had thrown his arms around both you and Copia with a wide grin on his face.  Copia had to shove him off when he lingered too long but he fell back with a laugh, winking at you before he let Aether take his place.

The calm Ghoul didn’t embrace you, instead he took your hands and started gently unwrapping the rope that was tied tightly around them.  You hissed as they came off, your skin red and raw underneath.  Copia kept an arm around you as Aether rubbed a salve over the skin, quickly wrapping them in some clean cloth with a promise to clean them again when you got back to the casino.

Your other wounds were given a quick check before Aether nodded at Copia and walked away.  Your knuckles were fairly scraped up with a few larger cuts across them.  The wound on your scalp would definitely need to be cleaned but thankfully it didn’t hurt as much anymore.  The throbbing in your skull had faded to a dull ache as well.  You couldn’t wait to get back to the casino and hopefully have a long bath.

You had planned on asking about what had happened with Terzo and what they had done when they’d gotten back to the casino but as soon as you were settled in front of Copia on Brizio you couldn’t keep your eyes open.  The exhaustion of everything that had happened since you had left The Ministry caught up with you and you were asleep in seconds.  You didn’t even fully wake up until you were riding back into town, the casino large and looming in front of you.

Mountain came over, helping you off Brizio easily.  You were turning to wait for Copia but Cumulus was rushing over, Aurora hot on her heels.

“Come on Princess, let’s get you cleaned up.”  

Copia dropped down next to you and prodded you over to the Ghoulettes.

“Go on, let them take care of you.”  He pulled you close for a moment, not seeming to care about all the eyes on the both of you.  “I’ll meet you in my room soon, yeah?”

You nodded and took Cumulus’s hand, letting her pull you towards the Ghoul’s building.  Her and Aurora chatted while they led you to a room full of steaming bathtubs, quickly helping you out of your dirty clothes and into one of the tubs.  You let their words wash over you, too tired to speak much yourself.  In truth your mind was too busy to pay attention anyway.  Thinking about what might happen now with Copia’s brothers, with Saltarian.  About what might happen with Copia himself.

The sun was completely gone when they were done.  Aurora handed you a familiar dark red shirt and you blushed when she grinned at you.  They gave you a robe next and led you up the back set of stairs to avoid the common area.  It wasn’t as loud as you had expected and you imagined that most everyone was probably tired themselves or working in the casino.  The door to Copia’s room was familiar and welcome and you gladly accepted Aurora’s hug when she let you in and left.

You tried not to be disappointed that Copia wasn’t there.

His room was much like it was when you had left it the other night, although it was clear that he had left it in a rush.  You made your way to the bed, dropping the robe on the floor and sitting down.  There was a soft knock on the door and you quickly grabbed a blanket, getting your bare legs covered right as Copia walked in.

“How are you feeling, Principessa?”

“Good.  Better.”  You gave him a soft smile as he walked over, your eyes taking him in.  He was only in his pants and a button up shirt, his suspenders clinging to his shoulders.  “Clean.”

He laughed softly as he knelt at your feet, his eyes roaming over the blanket for a moment before setting a bowl of water and a rag down onto the floor.

“Let’s see those hands, eh?”

Copia was quiet as he cleaned your knuckles.

You stayed quiet too, content to just be close to him.  To be someplace safe with him.  He had scrubbed his face of the grime from the road and the fight so you were able to see him without his paint.  A rare treat that let you see the bags under his eyes, the toll that the life he had been living had taken on him.  You let yourself imagine a different life for him, one that had no battles and no worries.  A peaceful life in the country maybe, on a farm with room for his Ghouls...

And hopefully room for you too.

He pressed his rag into a deeper cut and you hissed, pulling your hand away to cradle it against your chest.

“Mi dispiace, Principessa.  I’m not sure I have the most gentle hands for this.”  He dropped the rag into the bowl of water and sat back on his heels, his hands resting on your blanket covered knees.  “Let me go get Aether.  Or Sunshine?  They’ll do a better job than me.”

“No!”  You dropped your hands over his, covering his own scraped up skin with your own.  “Please, no.  Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not much of a nurse.”

“I don’t need you to be anything, Copia.  I just need you here with me.”

He leaned forward then, moving back onto his knees and dropping his head into your lap.  You felt his lips brush against the backs of your hands, ghosting along the cuts and bruises you had gotten.  His shoulders shook slightly and you couldn’t help but fall forward yourself, burying your nose in his soft hair.

“I’ll never let you get hurt again.”  

Copia leaned back, freeing one of his hands from yours to cup your cheek.  His thumb brushed across your skin briefly before he pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours.  The kiss was one you didn’t think you would ever forget.  It was soft and full of promises, promises neither of you had spoken aloud yet but they were there between you regardless.  All too quickly he pulled away, a soft smile on his face.

It was your favorite smile of his.

“I’m ok, I’m safe.  Thanks to you.”  He ducked his head down like he always did in moments like this but you let him.  Deciding a little teasing would help ease the heavy emotions between you.  “Although I think the Ghouls did most of the work.”

Copia laughed as he took the rag up again, squeezing the excess water out before taking one of your hands once more.

“I don’t know, I think you were doing pretty good on your own.”

You couldn’t help but grin, proud that Copia thought so.  Some of his hair fell across his forehead and you reached out with your other hand to brush it back, letting your fingers linger against his skin a little longer than necessary.  He looked up from cleaning your hand and caught your eyes.  Slowly he turned his head to press a kiss to your palm before looking back down to your hand.

As he worked you let your mind wander, running over every moment you had shared with Copia since you had met.  You had to stifle a laugh at that.  ‘Met’ wasn’t exactly the best way to describe your initial meeting.  The man had kidnapped you after all.  The same man you had spent your nights dreaming about.  An escape from a world of being used as a bargaining chip in your father’s business deals and a future of being something purely ornamental.

But all that changed with a wink and a grin from the man at your feet.

“I’m pretty sure I broke that one guy’s nose.”  Copia chuckled, shaking his head while he muttered something in Italian.  “What was that?”

“Nothing important.”

You poked his leg with your foot, the blanket moving out of the way to expose part of your bare leg.  Copia stopped cleaning your hand when he saw it, not moving at all except for the flexing of his jaw.  

“Tell me.”  He still hadn’t looked away from your leg, like his brain was having trouble processing the knowledge that you were naked save for his borrowed shirt.  You gave him another poke, this time jamming your toes against him a little harder.  “Tell me right now.”

“Have you always been this demanding?”

“Yes.  Now tell me what you said.”  When he remained silent you attempted to poke him again but he grabbed your foot, easily holding onto it when you tried to pull it away.  You shivered when he ran his calloused thumb along the side.  “Copia.”  

“Diavolessa.”

“In English!”

Copia finally looked away from your leg, slowly running his eyes up your body until he was looking right into yours.  His soft smile had now been replaced by that insufferable grin of his and despite how much it annoyed you it was hard not to match it with one of your own.

“Per favore.”

“Per fav–oh!  Copia, no!”  

Your words ended in a shriek as he dug his fingers into the bottom of your foot.  You fell back on your elbows and tried to kick away from him, desperate to escape the tickling sensation.  With a deep laugh he finally relented and let go.  Your back hit the wall beside his bed as you scrambled to get away, the blanket completely falling from your legs and getting pushed to the side with the movement.

He stood up then, his eyes dark as they stayed fixed on you.  Where your boldness came from you weren’t sure but you spread your legs slowly before tucking them under you and rising to your knees.  Copia reached up and shrugged out of his suspenders, his fingers quickly going to work on the buttons of his shirt.

“Come here, she-devil.”

“Per favore.”

His smile was brilliant and it had you moving closer despite him not saying anything.  When you were close enough he quickly reached out and grabbed you around your waist, yanking your body against his.  Your hands landed on his chest to keep yourself steady, your fingers tangling in the dark hair that covered him.  He dipped his head down but you quickly moved yours back, raising your eyebrow when he let out a heavy sigh.

“Please, Principessa.”

You both moved at the same time, your mouths meeting in a desperate kiss.  One of his hands dropped to cover your ass and when his fingers flexed against your flesh you moaned into his mouth.  The noise had him breaking away with a moan of his own but he stayed close, sliding both of his hands down your back until they were gripping the back of your thighs.  

“Copia, wha-”  

He yanked your legs out from under you and when your back hit his bed again you laughed, nearly giddy with happiness.  Copia finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it over his head, immediately unbuckling his belt and then working on the buttons of his pants.  In the next moment he was naked in front of you, standing proudly in the moonlight but with fidgeting fingers at his sides.

Copia was breathtaking.  It didn’t matter that you had never seen anyone else like this, Copia was the only one you needed to see this way.  His shoulders and arms were strong, well muscled from years of work.  Your eyes moved down his chest, lingering on his tattoo for a moment before running down to his soft belly and sides.  His thick thighs flexed as he climbed onto the bed, slowly moving between your legs and then reaching out to grip the bottom of his shirt you wore.

When he hesitated you took over and pulled the deep red shirt you loved to steal over your head.  Copia looked you over much like you had done to him, his eyes lingering on the bruises you had received.  He was hesitating again, like he was afraid to move, afraid to touch you.  It was strange not seeing him confident and cocky.  You reached out for his hands, tangling your fingers together and pulling them to cover your heart.

“Principessa…”

“I am here, we are here.  Safe and together.”  You lifted your foot and ran it up and down his thigh.  “Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

“I won’t.  I’ll give you everything.”  He pulled a hand away and slipped his arm around your waist, tugging you across the bed so your head was laying on his pillows.  “Anything you want.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, your fingers brushing against his sideburn.  Copia lowered himself down to settle against you, holding himself up by his elbows.  The moonlight caught his eyes and like always the white one gave that almost otherworldly glow.  You trailed your fingers across his cheek and down to his mouth, running them along his full bottom lip before dropping it down to your chest.  

“I just want you.”

It was like a dam broke between you, Copia swiftly lowered his head to yours and took your mouth in a rough kiss.  Oh you would never tire of this, of the way he seemed to use his entire body to kiss you.  He buried a hand in your hair and tilted your head so he could deepen it.  You opened your mouth under his and his tongue immediately tangled with yours.  

At the same time his hips started grinding down against you, his hard cock brushing across your lower belly.  You could feel him leaking already as the tip moved across your skin, trailing the proof of how turned on he was.  Of how turned on you were making him.  That knowledge had you pressing harder back against him, hooking a leg around the back of his leg to try to get as close as possible.

Copia pulled away, groaning when you ground up towards him again.  He began nipping at your lips, causing little zings of pleasure to shoot through you.  When you tried to capture his lips again he smiled and pulled away just out of reach.

“Patience, Principessa.”  He began to drop kisses down your chin and along your jawline.  His teeth nipped at your earlobe, sucking it between his lips to soothe the hurt with his tongue before letting go.  “I’ve been waiting for this for quite some time.”

“Since wh-oh, since when?”

He didn’t answer at first, content to keep kissing you.  His lips trailed down your neck to your shoulders before moving to your collar bones.  You hissed when he nipped there too but he quickly ran his tongue across the mark, smirking when he looked up to see you watching him.

“Probably since that first day when you busted my nose.”

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand to try to stifle your laughter.  It didn’t last long though, Copia continued his path down your chest until his mouth was hovering over a breast.  His hot breath had you trembling with anticipation, waiting for him to continue his worship of your body.  It seemed like forever before he peeked his tongue out and flicked it across your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

“Copia, don’t tease.  I just…”

His mouth dropped down, pulling the tip of your breast into his mouth and sucking.  Your body bucked off the bed and you buried your hands in his hair to keep him there.  The hot, wet suction of his mouth felt so good and it only amplified when he nipped at your nipple.  You mewled when he pulled off with a pop, your hands trying to keep him close to your chest.

“In my church, Principessa, this is one way we worship.”  He leaned down and pulled your nipple between his lips, hollowing his cheeks and sucking roughly.  Copia slid his free hand up your chest and took hold of your other breast, massaging it between his calloused fingers for a moment before he pulled his mouth away again.  “You are my altar.”  

Your body was trembling in earnest now as he moved lower, his mouth and tongue leaving a trail across your belly button and then stopping right above your cunt.  He pressed his hands against the insides of your thighs, pushing them apart so you were open before him.  You watched Copia lower his head and take a deep breath right over you before he groaned deep in his chest.  

He lowered his head even more until his nose brushed against your clit, teasing around it a few times before sliding his tongue out and across the small nub.  Your hips bucked up immediately, desperate for more contact.  Copia must have been just as desperate as you because he quickly went at it again, tonguing your clit over and over again until it was red and swollen.  

You were a whimpering mess already, your thighs quivering beneath his hands as his mouth worshiped you.  He pulled your clit between his lips, suckling it like he had done your nipple.  The sensation was racing you towards your orgasm and you buried a hand in his hair to try to keep him there.  You wanted to come so badly, you wanted to hit that peak under his mouth.  Copia groaned around your clit when your nails dug into his scalp and after one last hard suck you finally got what you needed, your orgasm tearing through you and making you cry out.

As you laid there panting Copia was still making noises against your cunt, his mouth now lower and his tongue licking long stripes between your lips.  Your hand fell out of his hair and you instead covered one of his hands on your thighs.  You barely had the strength to do anything but watch him, watch as your wetness covered his nose and mouth.  His mustache was soaked and shining in the moonlight as well and it tickled your sensitive skin as he continued to mouth at you.

When he tongued across your trembling entrance you finally moved, your hips jumping up to meet his mouth involuntarily.  Copia chuckled darkly, his eyes finally leaving your wet, pink flesh to catch your gaze.  He didn’t look away as he pressed his tongue against it, his eyes only drifting closed when he was able to push it inside of you and lap at the inside of your walls.  

“Ah!  Copia!”

He kept his mouth on you but you could feel his growl echo into you.  Your cries of his name spurred him on and he lapped roughly at you, closing his lips around your entrance and sucking, like he was desperate for every drop of your previous release.  You didn’t even notice one of his hands leaving your thigh before his mouth pulled away and two fingers prodded at your entrance.  They easily slipped inside and he went to work thrusting them in and out of you, scissoring his fingers off and on to stretch you.

To get you ready for him.

Your blood was so loud in your ears you didn’t even register Copia was speaking at first.  His voice was low as he continued to pump his fingers.

“...mine, Principessa and I will give you everything I can.  Anything in my power.”  

Tears pricked at your eyes as you watched him, as you listened to him.  You were close to another orgasm and you were absolutely desperate for it, your hips moving to meet his thrusting fingers.  Copia pulled his hand off your thigh and gripped the base of his cock, letting out an almost pained groan as he squeezed himself.  The sight of him nearly losing control of himself was all it took for you to hit your peak again and you came with a shuddering cry, your inner walls contracting around his fingers.

You weren’t sure how long you drifted in that zone of pleasure.  The brush of lips across your cheeks finally brought you back to yourself and when you opened your eyes Copia was right there, gazing down at you with such a look of fondness you nearly had to close your eyes again.  He must have wiped his mouth off but his mustache was still in a state and you reached up with a shaking hand to help get it under control, smiling when he rolled his eyes.

“Anything in your power?”

“Sì.”

His cock brushed against you, still hard and leaking.  You spread your legs to try to open yourself up for him again.  Needing to feel him against you.  Needing to feel him in you.

“Only you, Copia.  That’s all.”  He smiled, ducking his head down for a moment to collect himself.  When he raised it up again his smile was wide and you couldn’t help but match it while you brushed his hair off his forehead again.  “At least for right now.”

He dropped his head into the crook of your shoulder, his body quaking with laughter.  You took the opportunity to wrap a leg around his waist and press yourself against his cock.  His laughter turned into a deep groan and he quickly rose up to kiss you roughly.  The taste of yourself on his lips had you whimpering, chasing the taste with your tongue.  You angled your hips so his cock brushed against your cunt and he broke away quickly with a growl.

“Diavolessa.”

You couldn’t find the strength to respond, you had become so desperate for him.  Desperate for him to enter you and make you his.  You continued to rock your hips against him, wanting him so badly you felt delirious with it.  When he began to move back you tightened your leg, worried he was going to move away.  Copia whispered something soft in Italian towards you before dropping another kiss to your lips.

He stayed close, but moved away enough to settle more comfortably between your legs.  You watched with bated breath as he stroked his cock, his eyes briefly falling shut.  Feeling bold you reached out and covered his hand with yours, helping him pleasure himself.  He called you a she-devil again under his breath but you just smiled and continued to touch him.  His cock was hot and throbbing, twitching almost desperately towards you.

“Are you ready, Principessa?”  

You nodded desperately, your mouth falling open when he gently removed your hand from his cock and began to press himself against your entrance.  Your body welcomed him, opening around the head of his cock and stretching as he pushed inside.  You wrapped your arms around his back and clung to him.  Worried that if you let go he would disappear and that this would be a dream.  A sob left you and Copia immediately pulled back so he could see your face.

“I’m sorry, I just…I thought I wouldn’t see you again and now…”

“You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”  

Copia started to pull out, his cock dragging along your walls slowly for just a moment before he pushed back in.  He continued to move like that until he was finally fully inside of you, his hips flush against yours.  You kept your arms tight around him, holding him close so his face was hovering over yours.

The moonlight still highlighted his face and your eyes traced his freckles as your body adjusted to him being inside of you.  The silver in his hair shone just like his white eye and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling up at him.  You had to tell him, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I love you.”

You weren’t sure what to expect, you weren’t even sure he felt the same but it didn’t matter.  You needed him to know.  Copia let out a breath, lowering his head to kiss you briefly before pulling up with a smile on his face.

“E ti amo.”

He leaned down to kiss you again, over and over along your lips and cheeks and nose.  

“Copia?”

“I love you, Principessa.  More than I can say and more than I have any right to.”  He moved away then, holding himself up by his hands as he stared down at you.  Slowly he began to pull his cock out, stopping when only the tip was inside of you.  “You’re mine.  Forever.”

He pushed back in, slow and steady.  You pressed your head back against the pillow as your body took him, the stretch delicious.  Copia stayed flush against you, watching your face like he was waiting for something.  You let out a breathless laugh as you wrapped both your legs around his waist and kept him close.

“Forever.”

Go to Chapter 13: And You Can Hold Me

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[lonelym00n]

The Red Means I Love You

Amber Freeman x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Ghostface is running around and you don't know who to trust. Amber reassures you that things will be okay.

Warnings: Typical canon violence with descriptions of blood. Please read with caution! Follows the events of Scream V. Also, Angst!

A/N: guysss... I did a thing... I'll just let you read and find out.

Title + fic inspired by Madds Buckley's song, The Red Means I Love You

If someone had told you a few days ago that you’d have to watch your close friend take a bullet to the head, you’d have slapped them across the face and added them to Mindy’s ever-growing list of potential future ghostface suspects. 

In retrospect, you suppose you were naive for thinking that you’d make it through Woodsboro High without falling victim to someone deciding to take up the infamous killer’s mantle. You should’ve suspected that it would happen eventually, especially considering that three of your best friends were related to survivors from the years prior. That fact alone painted a bright red target on your back and it was only a matter of time until an eight-inch hunting knife sunk into you because of it.

Did some higher deity sew the stars together to seal the fate of you and your friends? Were you destined to die at the hands of the ghost that haunted the little town you’d lived in all your life? Some part of you thinks that yes, this was meant to happen, because a tiny voice in your head always figured the friend group you’d become a part of was doomed from the day it began to form.

Everyone else in Woodsboro had it easy, their parents were present and the killings that plagued the town only existed for them in the form of the notorious Stab franchise. The same couldn’t be said for your friends.

Put a handful of Woodsboro High’s most traumatized students into one group and what do you get? The perfect cast for the next series of killings. Mindy tells you as much when you and the rest of your friends are clustered together in her living room, trying to identify who among you was responsible for brutally attacking the others left and right. 

As if being friends with people who are related to the survivors wasn’t bad enough, you learn from Tara’s older sister that she is connected to Billy Loomis, the original ghostface himself. More than being connected, Sam’s his daughter. You have half a mind to notify your parents to start picking out your tombstone now.

You barely listen as accusations fly around the room. How could it be possible that you were in the same room as the killer right now, when you’ve known everyone here your whole life? You were having a hard time processing the fact that one of the kids you’d played in the sandbox with in elementary school had grown up to become someone so sinister. 

Distantly, you hear Mindy conclude that Sam must be the killer, that it made the most sense because of who her father was. She storms out of the room and after a beat, you stand up on shaky legs and murmur a goodbye to the remaining occupants of the Meeks-Martin living room. Your head was reeling and you needed to get away or you’d break down and lose your last semblance of sanity. 

If there is a God that exists, they must hate you, because you break down anyways. Just outside the house, you’re hunched over, a hand clutched desperately at your rapidly rising chest. Despite your best efforts, you’re unable to chase away the dread and terror that have nestled in and made a home in your torso. 

Too wrapped up in trying to calm your irregular breathing, you don’t hear the familiar clunk of boots swiftly making their way towards you.

Though your vision is blurred, you’ve spent enough time around Amber to recognize her presence almost instantly. She’s bent over you concernedly, and you think she’s speaking to you but you can’t hear her over the accelerated pounding of your heart that has arisen from the lack of proper oxygen intake. 

Her body firmly encompasses your own and your senses are overtaken with everything Amber. If you were able to breathe, you would’ve sighed at the feeling of security that blanketed over you. 

Amber’s hands grasp yours and she presses your joined hands onto her chest, where her heart steadily thumps beneath. At the feeling of it, you will your own heart to match its rhythm. It takes a while for it to slow down but once it does, you faintly become aware of her sweet voice reminding you to breathe slowly, in and out, in and out. 

She looks relieved when you finally descend back to reality. “There you go, baby. You’re okay. I’m here.”

You throw your arms around her and sob into the embrace, struggling to ignore the burning in your chest. She rubs your back and shushes you quietly. 

“Amber, I can’t do this. I’m scared.”

She presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulls you in closer, resting her chin on the top of your head. “We’re gonna be okay.”

You mumble into her chest, “How can you be so sure?”

Practically smothered in her embrace, you remain completely unaware of the ominous look that has blossomed in the dark brown eyes that you love so much. 

“You trust me, don’t you?” 

You nod, albeit a bit hesitantly.

“Good. I’m going to protect you, I won’t let anything happen to us.”

It isn’t lost on you that just as there is with everyone else, there’s a slim possibility that Amber could be the killer. But out of everyone, you know her the best. Ever since she had asked you out, all shy and nervous and very un-Amber Freeman like, the two of you had been inseparable. She weaseled her way into your everyday thoughts and in turn, you became the center of warmth that thawed her previously cold heart. No one could deny that you and Amber balanced each other out perfectly. For the first time in your life, you found someone you could trust enough to fall deeply and irrevocably in love with. If you could trust Amber with such an intimate and fundamental piece of your soul, you could trust that she wouldn’t be silently plotting your death, right?

Wrong.

Just like Liv’s skull cavity, your heart shatters at the abrupt finality of Amber’s bullet. 

Chaos erupts at the spray of Liv’s blood and the crash of her still-warm body hitting the ground. Sam and Richie scatter as Tara knocks Amber’s next shot off course. 

The only thing you can think to do is run, so you do. You clamber up the stairs and dive into the hall closet. You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the pitiful sounds desperately trying to slip past your lips. 

You feel utterly broken, like the piece of your soul that you’d given to Amber was cruelly snatched out of your body and crushed in her murderous grasp. You want nothing more than to scream and wail until you yell yourself hoarse, but you can’t give up your hiding spot. As much as you’re sure that the pain of betrayal outweighs any cut from the blood-stained knife, you don’t want to find out if there’s any truth to the comparison. 

You hear two sets of feet making their way up the stairs, one stomping heavily and the other flailing uselessly. You aren’t one-hundred percent sure, but you think the pained whimpers you’re hearing belong to Tara. Which means Amber was likely the one accompanying her.

At the thought of your girlfriend, you recoil further into the closet. You can feel your whole body shaking in fear. 

After a few more long minutes, you can hear the familiar creak of Amber’s boots on the hardwood floor. She’s calling out your name and you press your hand harder against your mouth to completely silence the sound of your breathing. 

Her search becomes more frantic and the clunking of her boots begins to pick up speed. You reach around blindly in search of anything you can use to fend her off.

Just as you tighten your grip around what you think might be an umbrella, the closet door flies open. You swing with all your might, but Amber moves quicker, grabbing the umbrella and disarming you.

She quirks an eyebrow and chuckles at your failed attempt to hit her. She motions for you to stand.

 “Come on, down to the kitchen we go.”

You make no move to get up, paralyzed at the sight of her donning the ghostface robes. 

She groans, “I can’t have you ruining the plan. Let’s go.”

Her commanding tone does nothing to move you. You’re rooted to the spot in fear, wondering what fate is waiting for you down in the kitchen. 

Amber growls and you flinch backwards as she steps into the closet, towering over your seated form. 

“You’re being such a pain in the ass.”

Her hands wrap tightly around your waist as hoists you up and tosses you over her shoulder. You struggle futility, but there’s no chance you can escape the strong arm wound snugly around your midsection. 

Amber carries you easily down the stairs and you wriggle around faster, knowing from your frequent visits to the house that you’re almost across the threshold that leads into the kitchen. 

You’re placed onto the ground and firmly shoved to the other side of the island. Before you can even think to move, the steel barrel of a gun is pressed into your forehead. It’s Richie on the other end of it, and only then do you realize that Sam is laid out on the ground, a hand pressed into her side, where blood is trickling out despite her efforts to stop it. She looks up at you with sorrow and terror and you’re sure that your expression reflects hers like a mirror. 

Amber takes the knife that Richie offers to her and makes her way to a different corner of the kitchen. She jumps gleefully, and if things weren’t so fucked up you might’ve found the sight endearing.

Though the gun blocks out most of your vision, you see two other women in the kitchen. 

Gale Weathers and Sidney Prescott. Shit, even they managed to get trapped in this nightmare. 

Richie, seemingly pissed that you aren’t giving him your full attention, grips your jaw with more than enough force to leave a bruise. Your resulting moan of pain is insignificant to him.

“Leave her alone!” Sidney yells out and Amber’s knife presses threateningly into her throat, swiftly silencing her.

Richie laughs menacingly, “Sid, when are you gonna finally realize you aren’t in control here?” 

He turns towards you and frowns angrily.

“You know if it were up to me, you’d have been dead at the start of this thing.” 

A glob of his spit lands on your cheek and the gun is pushed further into your forehead, the force practically moving you backwards.

You’re scared, the most afraid you’ve ever been in your life. Your hands are trembling and you stutter, completely unable to come up with the necessary words to plead helplessly for your life. 

“Pathetic,” Richie growls out. He looks in Amber’s direction, “I don’t know what you saw in her honey.”

“She usually has a lot more fire in her.” 

You meet her gaze for a second. Amber’s eyes are nearly black, pupils blown wide with what must be psychotic pleasure. 

You open your mouth to finally say something, but the sudden smack of the gun across your face shuts you up. You cry out and lift your hands to your face instinctually. Your head is pulsing at the unexpected pain.

While Amber’s distracted with Richie’s assault on you, Sidney makes a grab for a knife sitting on the countertop.

Her actions don’t go unnoticed. Amber reacts with the speed of a demon and plunges her knife into Sidney’s gut. Gale yells out as Sidney crumples to the ground.

With both Sidney and Gale momentarily incapacitated, Richie knocks you backwards, sending you carelessly stumbling back and straight into Amber’s arms. He turns towards Sam, while Amber pins you against the counter.

“Get rid of her Amber, we need to start staging the bodies. Fast baby, we don’t have much time.”

She hums, not bothering to verbally acknowledge him. You shiver as your eyes lock together, hers still full of straight mania. 

Her arm lifts up and she moves slowly, tracing the blade against the smooth skin of your face. You try not to gag at the coppery smell of blood that is being carelessly smeared across your face.

She smiles softly at you, creating a confusing juxtaposition with the wild expression that fills her eyes. 

Amber leans in to whisper almost lovingly in your ear, “I always knew you’d look so pretty covered in blood, baby.” 

You can’t stop the tears from leaking out of your eyes. You’re so distraught, it’s nearly impossible to think straight with how overwhelmed you are. How could this Amber be the same Amber that had admitted to being nervous the first time she told you she loved you? 

“Amber, please.” You begged brokenly, hoping the girl you loved so dearly was still somewhere inside the maniac that stands in front of you.

Her gaze softens just a hair and you nearly cheer at the glimpse of your Amber. 

“I’m sorry. You know I’d keep you around if I could.”

The relief exits your body. Your heart drops deep into your chest at the words.

“You said you’d protect me.” You feel desperate, there had to be something you could say to snap Amber out of this state.

She pouts and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I did. Richie wanted you to be the opening kill, but I stopped that from happening.” 

The special smile that she always saved just for you spread across her face, “I even convinced him to leave you to me tonight. I’ll be the last person you see, won’t that be nice?”

Your jaw trembles with the newfound knowledge. Amber spared you, but only to prolong your life so you’d die by her hand. Your resolve finally breaks, and you are fully encased in dread. 

In a strange mirroring of the day’s earlier events, you begin weeping loudly. Amber’s arms wrap around you in an attempt to comfort you. 

She deposits a kiss onto the top of your head.

“I know you don’t understand it, but I’m doing this because I love you.”

Her arms tighten around you and you’re suddenly blindsided by excruciating pain. Amber’s knife is slowly pushed deeper and deeper into your body, your insides twist around at the intrusion. 

As you yell out in pain, she shushes and gently praises you, repeatedly whispering how much she loves you. 

She rips the knife out of your gut, just to harshly plunge it back in once, twice, and a third time. You feel sick at the squelching that sounds out each time the knife enters your stomach. 

Blood dribbles out of your mouth as you groan in pain. 

Hazily, you notice that she’s covered in your blood. Your vision is darkening and you feel yourself begin to dwindle in and out of consciousness. 

Amber takes note of this and leans closer, her lips nearly touching yours. 

“You did so good for me, love. I’ll make sure they cast someone beautiful to play you in the movie.”

With a final whispered confession of love, Amber places a gentle series of kisses to your bloodied lips. She stabs you once more, and lowers your body carefully to the ground as she pulls the knife out one last time. 

You lay there, unable to move even if you wanted to. You stare up at the ceiling, it spins around and around and around. 

Your ears are ringing. If you could think clearly, you reckon you’d wonder what you did wrong to end up in this situation. You don’t think there’s any possibility for things to have ended differently. Fate was cruel and unforgiving, but at this point you have no choice but to lie in the bed that it has made for you.

The pain is gone, replaced with the silent weight of nothingness. You feel yourself drifting away, and you welcome the feeling. Maybe your next life would be kinder to you.

Unfortunately for you, your peace never comes. 

Instead, you find yourself opening your eyes disorientedly. You let out a sharp hiss at the blinding white lights that glare back at you. 

Once you’ve adjusted to the light, you finally make out that there are a couple figures crowding around you. 

“Wha-”

It hurts to talk, as a matter of fact, everything hurts. 

“Alright, alright you’re okay. My name’s Dr. Ford. You’re gonna be in a lot of pain for a while, so let’s take it easy.”

You stare back at the man in disbelief.

Somehow, despite all the odds, you survived.

A/N: ta da!! I'm actually planning a part 2 to this that follows our dear reader through the events of scream vi, so stay tuned! Heads up, it won't actively be about an Amber x R relationship cuz... well you know :'(

Fellow Amber stans plz forgive me for not feeding y'all more regularly.

[freesia-writes]

Hello 👋 💌💌💌

This week has been super draining and I'm in need of some good hurt/comfort/angst with my man's cross 😪😪

(Ofc you don't have to pay attention to this considering the theme)

I was wondering if u can write a one shot in which fem! reader is assaulted sexually ( NOT r*pe) but maybe creep gets to like groping area and scarily close to 'more' and so cross notices reader struggling with creep and goes full on rage on the creep, like I'm talking its gotta take more than just wreaker to get crosses fists away from the guys face. And maybe when the bastard is delt with and cross has came to his senses he comforts reader 👉👈

(I don't know if you've written one like this before . So if you're uncomfortable with the suggestion then please just ignore this 🖤🖤)

Hi anon! I'm sorry to hear it's been a draining week. I've been in a Crosshair vortex so you had good timing. ;) I really appreciate such a kind and considerate ask! I hope I nailed it for ya. <3 Crosshair divider by @djarrex

Crosshair x Fem!Reader - SFW - 2.4k words - triggers for sexual assault up to grabbing/neck kissing, violence of a fistfight, emotional repercussions of it all

It was a busy night at 79s, and you were thrilled to see not only a variety of battalions on shore leave but also Clone Force 99. You’d been bartending for almost a year now and had proven yourself proficient enough to manage a shift with the service droids, although tonight you were silently wishing for some extra help as it was a particularly raucous atmosphere in the neon-light-filled club. Your head was spinning already with the endless stream of drink orders and random thoughts being yelled in your direction, but you took a deep breath and focused on the rote muscle memory of preparing the drinks. 

Face after face, trooper after trooper. All alike and yet not even close. You forced a laugh at a cheesy joke, shook your head at an invitation to dance, and handed over a whole line of smoking shot glasses to a pilot with mischief in his eyes. The music shifted to the beginning of a new song, which mercifully was quieter in its intro, and you had a blessed moment to breathe and hear more than just the deafening bass vibrating in your chest as well as your ears. It was at that moment that you saw Crosshair leaning over the bar, catching your eye with his sharp gaze. Your heart did a little flip; you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why this man had you in such a chokehold, but something about the push and pull, the revealing and concealing, the banter and depth had you feeling a certain kind of way about him. 

“Glad to see you boys are back,” you said, resting on your elbows to bring yourself close enough to hear his beautiful voice of cinnamon and amber. “What will it be tonight?”

“Have you forgotten already?” Crosshair drawled, slowly rolling the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. His delivery was deadpan but the glimmer in his rich brown eyes said otherwise.

“I would never!” you gasped in mock indignation, relishing the microscopic curl of the corner of his lips. “But I never know if you’ve found some fancy new creation on your wild and wonderful adventures.”

“Eh. Seems like the best stuff is right here at home,” he returned, tilting his head to allow the vague yet undeniable implication simmer between you. You wanted to linger there all evening, but you had already used up all the time you’d get -- a whole horde of thirsty patrons were yelling at you from across the counter and the service droids were getting backed up.

“The usual, coming right up,” you said, begrudgingly returning to your work. 

The night seemed to go by painstakingly slowly, and you found yourself scanning the crowd to see where Clone Force 99 had posted up for the night. They were usually upstairs, in some quiet corner (as quiet as could be found in the raucous club), out of sight and out of the way. The company of their own squad seemed to be sufficient for them, and they rarely interacted with the other troopers. When they did, it didn’t seem to go well. Just when you thought you were getting a bit of a reprieve, with most of the groups being served and satiated for now, the one clone face you always hated to see appeared at the bar. 

You didn’t know his name, or his CT number, so you always just called him Pervert. He was grizzled and scarred from battle, and apparently that gave him a confidence that he didn’t truly deserve. His relentlessness in hitting on unsuspecting victims was rivaled only by his tendency to get into fisticuffs with little to no provocation. You wanted to feel sorry for him, but you were so frequently the object of his pursuit despite repeated, clear insistence that you weren’t interested, that your sympathy had worn thin. 

He was on another level tonight. You’d already seen a few individuals storm out, frustrated by his raunchy humor and persistent touches, and he’d had a few more drinks than usual. Things were slowing down a bit, as the night wore down to closing time, and you had some gaps between orders to begin restocking and cleaning in preparation for the sweet freedom at the end of your shift. Leaving the service droids to fulfill the occasional drink order that would trickle in, you headed to the utility closet to organize the supplies in anticipation of a quick and efficient clean-up once everyone had left. 

The light was broken again, and you squinted to make out the shapes of the tools you needed, illuminated only by the reflection of the endless neon flashes from the main room. You’d fetched the broom and were searching for the mop when suddenly the light was blocked by a looming shadow in the doorway. Turning around quickly, you were surprised, and immediately fearful, to see Pervert slumped against the frame. 

“Get out of here, Perv. You know you’re not supposed to be back here,” you yelled, absolutely not in the mood for his shenanigans. There was something menacing about his posture though, and your voice quavered despite the feigned bravado in your words. 

“You know you’ve been toying with me long enough,” he slurred, shifting to stand on wobbly feet.

“I’m not toying and you know it. I’m not interested. Now go before I call--”

“Call who, you little tease? There’s no one here that would even miss you,” he said, voice growing louder as he took a tottering step toward you. Your grip tightened on the broom handle, and you felt the cold grip of fear settle more tightly around your core. “Girls like you need to be shown a thing or two,” he continued, reaching for you.

“Stop it!” you shrieked, pressing the broom across his chest and shoving with all your might. But he was already leaning fully in your direction, and you weren’t in any position to brace yourself or take a good swing at him. Before you knew it, he had you pressed against the wall, hot breath burning with alcohol as he shoved his mouth against your ear. 

“Come on, you know you’ve only been postponing the ineninivitibble…” he growled, and you were nearly in a panic now. You struggled against him, trying to get any kind of leverage with your knee or arms, but he’d gotten you pinned far too quickly, and began to bury his face in your neck with a hungry sloppiness that made your stomach turn. You opened your mouth to yell again, but a clammy hand covered it immediately, and you felt the panic threaten to overwhelm you. 

But suddenly he flew backward, crashing into the opposite side of the supply closet with arms and legs everywhere. You gasped, relief and shock cascading over you simultaneously as you recognized Crosshair’s frame in the doorway, dark and backlit by the club lights. He said something, but you were falling apart so much that you didn’t even register his words, and Pervert was already scrambling to his feet with an angry roar. 

Crosshair grabbed your hand, pulling you out the door behind him in one swift movement and turning back to face the inebriated clone, but the split second distraction cost him dearly -- Pervert barreled straight at him, head down, crashing into his stomach and tackling him into the hallway. You yelled incoherent nonsense, frozen to the spot and torn between trying to help somehow or running out to get help. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Crosshair though, and you tried to swing a kick at Pervert as his fists flailed around the sniper’s head. 

He somehow caught your leg, twisting it and toppling you to the ground with a pained cry, and was on his feet in an instant. But Crosshair matched his speed, and the two of them were at it immediately. Blows landed with sickening thuds, and there was no semblance of gentlemanly combat but rather an all-out, animalistic mess of knees, fingernails, elbows, punches, and kicks. You felt as though you were going to throw up, whether from the pain radiating from your knee or the adrenaline coursing through your veins at the sight before you. It was hard to tell who had the upper hand -- you yelped as you saw Crosshair take a blow to the face, and when he turned back, eyes flashing with more rage than you’d ever seen, there was blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. 

It felt as though it went on forever, and when you caught the movement of a figure crossing the hallway down at the end, you began screaming as though your life depended on it. It caught his attention, and you thanked the Maker as you heard some shouts in the main room, followed by his reappearance with a few others. They usually didn’t intervene when Pervert was on a tear, though, so you were hoping beyond all desperate hope that they were here to help and not just to watch and cheer. 

They couldn’t even get close.

Crosshair was absolutely feral, wrestling now with Pervert like a predatory animal, snarling audibly as he drove a knee into the clone’s side. He crumpled to the ground and Crosshair was on him in a flash, pummeling him with punches that were as relentless as the sexual advances that Pervert had been dealing out. You couldn’t tell if Pervert was even moving anymore, and you felt the fear start to blur your vision, but the clones grabbed Crosshair by the arms and pulled him away, leaving his opponent in a motionless heap. They had their hands full though, as they were met with growls and squirms as Crosshair sought to free himself from their grasp, still lunging for the figure on the ground. His face was contorted, bright red and sweaty, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from it until another clone approached you, bending down and offering to help you up. 

It took a while for everything to die down. 

Pervert was taken away and some of the local police droids remained behind. Statements and holos were taken, and one of the clone medics gave you a quick bacta injection to hold you over until you could receive proper medical attention. Crosshair had disappeared, and you were leaning over the sink in the refresher, splashing cold water over your face with trembling hands. You did your best to fix your appearance, at least pulling your clothes back where they belonged, then limped out to the main floor. You almost collapsed in relief as you saw that the police droids had cleared the bar out, deeming it to be closed prematurely, and the silence was as deafening as it was welcoming after the whole ordeal. 

There would be no cleanup tonight. You instructed the droids to complete as much of it as they were capable, and collapsed onto a stool to balance the credit register. It was wildly difficult to keep a singular train of thought, and you had to refocus yourself repeatedly, taking twice as long for a usually easy task. A smooth voice over your shoulder startled you into dropping an entire handful of credits, a curse falling from your lips as you whirled to see Crosshair. 

“Sorry,” he said, hands in the air in submission, “I just…”

“Crosshair!” you interrupted, eyes widening at the sight of him. His left eye was swollen and surrounded by black and blue, and the right side of his bottom lip still had a formidable split in it that he had to keep dabbing with a napkin. “Ohh, I’m so sorry. Look at you,” you said, eyes beginning to glisten with tears. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but the mere thought of getting off your stool was too much until you realized you had to pick up all the credits you’d just scattered. With painstaking movement, you shuffled off, moving toward him for a moment as you took in his bruised yet intent face. “I feel so bad,” you murmured. 

“It was worth it,” he answered, eyes narrowing as he continued, “That filthy reg deserved every bit.”

“But you didn’t,” you said softly, mouth curving into a frown. 

The conversation stalled as you bent down to pick up the credits, surprised when he joined you to help. Your eyes met as he handed you a few, and you cupped his hand with intentionality as you took them from him, brushing his red knuckles with your thumb before staggering to your feet with a wince. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking a step closer as you leaned backward onto your stool, dropping the credits into a bag and zipping it shut.

“I will be,” you said, moved by his compassion that seemed such a stark contrast to the sharp exterior. You looked at him again, yearning to convey so much but being entirely too shell shocked to put it into words. “Thank you,” you whispered, eyes dropping to your hands, which were folding and unfolding awkwardly in your lap. His fingers lightly grazed the side of your cheek, causing you to flinch disproportionately, and he retracted them quickly.

“Sorry.”

“No, it… normally it would be nice… sorry… I’m kind of a mess right now.” 

“Understandable.”

But the combination of his gaze, his presence, and his bravery cleared some of the fog in your mind like the sun breaking through the clouds on a coastal morning, and you lurched to your feet again, wrapping your arms around him in a sudden hug that made him freeze for a moment. You pulled them tightly yet carefully around his waist, pressing the side of your head against his chest and shoulder to try to express your gratitude. His stiffness slowly gave way to movement, and he rested his own arms awkwardly over your shoulders. 

“Thank you,” you said again, pulling away to meet his gaze but leaving your arms around his waist. You didn’t think you’d want to be touched, but he felt strong and safe, a soothing presence in the face of all that had transpired. “Really,” you emphasized, heart skipping a beat at the flash of softness in his beautiful eyes. 

“It’s alright,” his sybillant voice was honey to your ears.

You had a feeling this wouldn’t be the end of things between you.

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[5ummit]

Post-CATWS Winterbones Fic Recs

I truly never could've predicted the incredible influx of amazing winterbones fics over the past year or so, and I especially couldn’t have predicted the rise of an almost entirely new winterbones genre – Bucky choosing to return to his abuser Rumlow of his own free will – in the year of our lord 2022. Previously I said I wasn’t going to make a separate winterbones rec list, since most of my favs were already on my HTP rec list, but this delicious new HTP-adjacent genre really deserves its own collection.

Pretty much everything on this list will be some flavor of Bucky relapsing post-CATWS. While many of these fics may not be strictly considered HTP by some standards, rest assured they're still plenty trashy and Rumlow is still a Very Bad Man. If you’re looking for actual good guy Rumlow and tender handholding, look elsewhere.

Since Steve’s abandonment of Bucky in Endgame was undeniably a major catalyst for this genre and many of these fics were written in direct response to that event, I’ve split the list into two categories: fics that are canon compliant with and/or directly address the fallout of Endgame (some of which are NOT compliant with TFATWS) and fics that clearly diverge from canon before Endgame. I’ve also made note of any fics that feature The Gun, an intriguing bit of winterbones canon I recently discovered that's already made its way into multiple fics, much to my delight.

Blanket warnings for dubcon, unhealthy dynamics, violence, psychological abuse, victim blaming, non-negotiated kink, and dehumanization. Any significant additional pairings or kinks/tropes not covered by the blanket warning will be noted to the best of my ability, but please read all tags very carefully!

- - - - - - -

Endgame Compliant

Old Faces in New Places by SubverbalDreams Words: 44,600 Additional pairings: Steve/Bucky, Zemo/Bucky, Hydra Agents/Bucky Notes: noncon, whipping, torture, voyeurism

“The fuck do you want.”

That voice. A hundred, thousand dreams. Bucky’s lower half turns to water and he forgets how to speak for a minute.

“What, jaw ain’t workin’ after you been suckin’ off Wilson all this time?” Rumlow asks in a flat tone. “Fuck off, cyborg. Go back to your new handler.”

Something Broken [series] by Exorin Words: 23,350 Notes: The Gun, gunplay, object insertion, erectile dysfunction

"Oh now," Rumlow breathes, sounding just as caught off guard as Bucky feels - the other man’s deep amber eyes flicker from Bucky's face down to the gun in his hand, lingering there long enough that Bucky wants to let the weapon clatter to the concrete floor between them and turn tail to run.

Brock nods toward the gun in Bucky’s hand—the custom SIG Sauer P226 SCT.

"That mine, sweetheart?"

Crying Wolf by sparklingbinjuice Words: 9400 Notes: The Gun, gunplay

“You’re dead,” he says again, the words now more doubtful than decisive. The Commander Rumlow tilts his head, lips twitching into a twisted smirk. He looks vaguely amused.

“Well, that ain’t no way to greet an old friend.”

Untitled by barb-aricyawp Words: 350 Notes: caning

Rumlow opens the door. Without even really looking at Bucky he says, “You again.”

Bucky can’t meet his eye as he asks, “Can you do it?” And then, because Rumlow will make him say it anyway, he grits out, “Please?”

Until the blood runs clear by darthpumpkinspice Words: 4430 Additional pairings: OMCs/Bucky

Bucky shudders, disgusted with his own selfishness, furious at even contemplating the thought of finding a girl to play house with, some innocent woman he’d inevitably ruin.

He reopens the app, inhales a deep, steadying breath. Goes to his settings, selects “men only”.

He knows what he’s good for.

Make the call and take it all (again) by itallstartedwithdefenestration Words: 13,240

“I—” Bucky began, and Rumlow held up one hand: be quiet. Bucky shut his mouth instantly, without thinking about it. He remembered in Selby’s bar, how easy it had been to do things without thinking about them. To do them because he knew it was required of him, to have no will of his own, no power—

“You didn’t come find me for the first time in almost a fuckin’ decade to ask me about a serum,” Rumlow said.

Turn soonest to the sea by itallstartedwithdefenestration Words: 7040 Notes: The Gun, gunplay

His memory glitches. But he knows this gun. He knows that he knows it, in the same way he knows his functions, his languages, his directives. He picks the gun up; feels its weight in his hand (he does not trust himself to hold it with the flesh hand, which is still malfunctioning). He doesn’t know why the Commander’s gun is on the floor here when the Commander himself is not in the room.

(Heart rate increase: three bpm.)

Thoughtless Familiarity by sirtrash Words: 1750 Notes: CNC, gunplay

“I’m not going to tell you again, let’s go, soldier,” the commander said and the soldier had no choice but to obey now.

The soldier was not allowed to fight back.

A Certain Romance [series] by Exorin Words: 10,390 Notes: exhibitionism

“Ah-ah, no, not you Baron,” Selby says with a grin that shows too many teeth for Bucky’s comfort - she snaps her fingers and he straightens his posture, his spine going rigid as one of her bodyguards steps forward from the circle of heavily armed men around them; the other man moves to stand beside the couch, his darkened eyes the only part of his face that Bucky can see, the rest of it covered with a full black mask, “I think he’ll do nicely, don't you?”

The man's eyes are a deep amber; the colour of them make Bucky’s shoulders go instinctively tense.

His Vice by LadyLetterR Words: 3000 Notes: infidelity (briefly mentioned)

It had been a bad idea, letting him pay for his drinks, one after the other and it had been a terrible idea to follow after him, no, walk with him, to the motel on the corner in which he was apparently renting a room, closing the door behind the two of them.

It had been the worst possible idea to let himself be pushed onto Rumlow’s bed.

You’ve always known by Exorin Words: 750

The soldier finds his way back to Rumlow’s doorstep just under three months after Steve – tears-in-his-eyes, ‘what did you say about Bucky’ – Rogers finally fucks off and leaves his buddy alone for real and not just through neglect and indifference and his own stupid inability to actually help in the way that Rumlow knows the asset needs.

Good fucking riddance.

- - - - - - -

Pre-Endgame Canon Divergence

You held my hand and pulled me down (with you) [series] by itallstartedwithdefenestration Words: 127,000 Additional pairings: Steve/Bucky Notes: prong collar, whipping, waterboarding, infidelity

Assets were not built to make their own decisions. Secretary Pierce had been quite clear on that point, and the Commander was too. Sometimes, when the asset answered to that other name, he could pretend (convincingly) that he thought like Steve, and Steve’s friends: he wasn’t an asset at all, but a person, and was therefore allowed and even encouraged to make his own decisions. But it wasn’t the truth. It would never be the truth.

The Handler by SubverbalDreams Words: 39,850 (Incomplete) Notes: eating disorders, exhibitionism/voyeurism

“I’m—” can’t say ‘functional’, Steve HATES that word now “—feeling okay. I’m okay, S—Steve.” The asset’s heart is tripping over itself in an unsteady rhythm. He’d almost said ‘Sir’, another of Steve’s new forbidden words. He keeps changing the rules. Nothing means what it used to. Steve is the only one who could make this safe, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

'Til the end of the line [series] by Exorin Words: 14,000 Additional pairings: Steve/Bucky Notes: Hydra sex tapes, voyeurism

"What is it?" Steve starts and Bucky wants to cry, wants to scream when the other man's thumb traces - too soft, always too soft - over his jugular before moving away to stroke across Bucky's cheek and then gently over his lower lip like the carefullest of caresses, "I'll give you anything you want."

You won't, is what Bucky wants to say.

You can’t.

Out with the new by seabone Words: 1780 Notes: daddy kink (minor)

Imagining the shock on Steve’s face soften into delight as he flips through each photograph and old sketch, now yellowing and fading but crystal clear in Steve and Bucky’s minds, Bucky almost, almost, overlooks the unmistakable flash of leather-black hair. Sharp jaw, eyes a strange pinwheel of green and amber that Bucky always remembers as daybreak filtering into the woods, littering its gold across a pack of angry wolves. He almost does. But he doesn’t.

Our Share of Night by anonymous Words: 3300 (Incomplete) Additional pairings: Steve/Bucky Notes: infidelity

Bucky knocks at the door and that’s a statement, because he could easily break in or break it to pieces, or just enter through the window unseen. He’s not here as an intruder, though. Today he’s a petitioner.

Bucky equally expects Rumlow not to open the door at all, to shoot him right through it or to burst out and challenge him to a fight. Neither happens. The wood creaks as the door opens a gap, the scarred grimace of a familiar face studying him. If he’s surprised, he does not let it show.

Quis Pro Quo by fallbekind Words: 6280 Additional pairings: Steve/Bucky Notes: voyeurism

A ghost of a smile flashes over Bucky’s face, making Steve’s stomach toil, and then Rumlow leans in and licks slowly across his lips. Doesn’t kiss, doesn’t linger. Claims him like a kid would a cookie, letting everyone know they touched it and now no one else wants it. As if Rumlow knows Steve is right there, crouching, watching pathetically on the sidelines, while his- his- Bucky, is being ruined by someone else.

[silveronc]

( SILVERONC ) : independent &. private &. selective roleplay blog for violet sorrengail from the empyrean series. novel canon based with headcanon influences. triggering &. mature themes present. faithfully transcribed from navarrian into the modern language by ghost. all events are true &. names have been preserved to honor the courage of those fallen. may their souls be commended to malek.

important links. carrd | ask memes | pinterest

disclaimer. this blog is not spoiler free.

temp info under the cut.

one. this blog will contain content not suitable for minors. anyone under the age of eighteen will be blocked on sight. i do not consent to the recreation, redistribution, or reposting of my writing. do not claim or translate my work on this or any other platform. it is not for public use.

two. if you’re not familiar or don’t know me, i’m GHOST: a queer 29 year old non binary asshole who uses they/them pronouns. i’m extremely adhd, autistic, and just super duper depressed. my activity is considered sparse / low at all times. speed is not a priority, nor am i a fast partner. the speed in which i reply to things is in no way a reflection of the thread, muse, partner, etc. but of my own limitations. i am extremely duplicate friendly. i won't follow others first out of respect for other writers unless i know they're okay with duplicates as well.

three. i respect all dynamics of ships and connections, even if i don’t personally wish to explore or write them. i love everything from toxic relationships to soulmates, the types of relationships that stick in your gut, and show the good and bad of a character. i love midgames and endgames and one night stands. life is messy and difficult and i am interested in exploring all of it. smut threads, headcanons, etc. will only be done with writers at least 25 years old. i just love shipping. i almost always have the idea of shipping two muses when plotting or interacting. i will not however force anything ever- and all boundaries are respected always. shipping is fun, i get invested and it keeps my muse up for the plots or dynamics. i am unapologetic about this & as always: chemistry matters most of all.

four. behaviors such as homophobia, transphobia, biphobia, ableism, or bigotry are not welcomed. characters who are meant to portray real people, whether based on fiction or not, are not welcomed. i will not interact with certain faceclaims like amber heard, johnny depp, colton haynes, evan peters, elizabeth olsen, emma roberts, holland roden, kj apa, marie avgeropoulos, matt davis, nate buzolic, ian somerhalder, or lulu antariksa. i will not interact with characters from 13 reasons why, anything sarah j. maas, a handmaid's tale, star wars, reign, hamilton, glee, or yellowjackets.

five. must be 18 years of age or older to follow, though i have a strong preference of 21+. this is due to themes and content found on this blog. i am highly selective, meaning that i can be picky about who i follow. i do not follow everyone back. if we are not mutuals, please do not like or interact with my posts. i'm slow to reply but also to check followers and blogs. it will likely take at least a few days before i follow back, if i decide to. i take the time to read writing, rules, character information, along with the types of interactions. if a blog lacks a rules page, mun information (name/alias & age), basic about page, and clean tagging system i will not follow or interact. for original characters i would like to see an about page otherwise i likely won't interact.

six. this blog contains content unsuitable for minors such as death, violence, murder, canon typical content, war themes, chronic illness, physical disabilities, parental neglect and abuse, torture, blood, gore, scars, mental illness, self-harm, age gap relationships, toxic relationships, post traumatic stress disorder, anxiety and depression disorders, and other potentially triggering topics. if these themes upset you in any way, please consider if you really wish to follow me. all triggers are tagged to the best of my ability. i use trigger / format when doing so. nsfw content may appear & i will tag it as usfw / for those that wish to block the tag.

seven. beta editor only and xkit rewritten to cut posts. i use minor formatting at best, some bolds and italics with double or triple spacing. due to my terrible eyesight, i prefer to use the large-sized font.

eight. i am a plot-focused writer. i prefer to build dynamics and relationships together before we start writing. i have a strong preference for dark, angsty, or feelsy plots. i don’t mind a little fluff sprinkled in when it makes sense, but pure fluff will make me lose interest in a dynamic or thread very quickly.

[deadincel]

who gives a

fuck about

movies?!

welcome!

masterlist

archive

about me !

i’m 19 years old

not much to say other than that i post a lot about the scream franchise, but i will occasionally post from other horror media as well

expect to see a lot of posts about scream V and VI! the main characters i post about are the teens from both movies + richie and sam, but i will likely also post a lot about ghostfaces from the past movies

obviously as you know this blog is not spoiler free

i love to chat and make friends! my inbox is always open to talk about the franchise and its characters

writing guidelines

i do not take fic requests but i do take drabble/headcanon requests in my inbox!

i do not write insert reader. i only write ships with canon characters (mainly slash or femslash), so PLEASE do not request any x!reader/oc content! i will ignore it

but with that being said, im extremely lenient when it comes to multishipping and will write just about anyone! the main ships youre likely to find are chad/ethan, tara/amber, chad/tara, mindy/anika, and stu/billy. honorable mentions are gale/dewey and jill/kirby. i do hc amber as a lesbian and ethan as gay, so only you will only find femslash/slash with those characters

i am not a smut writer so do not ask for smut requests! i only write implied/medium nsfw content

a lot of my content may be dark and contain triggering/squicky topics so PLEASE HEED MY TAGS before reading anything! i especially warn that my works will often depict unhealthy/unstable relationships between couples, friends, siblings etc…

other major warnings include graphic violence, abuse, manipulation, dubcon (usually implied), and major character death. i consider myself a horror writer and do not write these topics for romanticization purposes.

i think that just about covers it! if you have any questions feel free to dm/ask me!

[faithdevotion]

#FAITHDEVOTION, a 2022 established indie multimuse consisting of original & canon creations. produced & written by rosy, 24, spain.

• private, highly selective, explicit material. viewer discretion advised. 21+ only. slow & low activity. currently most active on weekends.

• before interacting, please read my rules under the cut & carrd for my muses list & further info.

• using the beta editor since I'm on mobile all the time.

dash icon & header ©.

rules. | interest tracker. |  promo. | carrd. | memes. | my edits. | wishlist.

✶ language ✶ 

first and foremost, i’m not a native english speaker. my mother tongue is spanish, so any misspelling/grammar errors I may have… do forgive me, please.

✶ interactions ✶ 

I love establishing connections ooc, so please don’t be shy to approach me. i believe the person behind the screen comes first before characters & i love getting to know wonderful muns, although i may not talk every day since i’m a shy, introverted person. i’ve been here for quite a while and i know the ups and downs.

i won’t tolerate drama, hate or any kind of insult towards me, my blog & my partners. callouts, vague posting and negativity in general will make me unfollow & block. i reserve the right to use the block button if i consider someone to be problematic, dramatic or one that could make me extremely uncomfortable. i’ll be very selective with who i choose to interact with, and i’ll only write with mutuals. not only that, but i’m strongly attached to my muses and, therefore, i don’t wish for them to be a part of a face/character hunt or just another face on a list.

✶ activity ✶ 

my activity will most likely be frequent during weekends, that is, if i don’t have any plans. i’m married, working as a web developer and studying at the same time. besides, i have a social life. please don’t rush me when it comes to replying! i hate making my partners wait, but real life comes first. also, don’t ever feel rushed to reply to our threads. take your time! i’m patient and very understanding. you can take months, even years, and i’ll never grow upset. like i said: the person behind the screen comes first. 

✶ shipping ✶ 

i love shipping. so if you wish to ship a muse of yours with mine, don’t hesitate to approach me. i’ll most likely end up accepting it.

✶ threads ✶ 

over the years, i’ve grown to be a plot based writer because plot driven threads motivate me, so i believe a good plot should be discussed before threads. i love long threads. one-liners will only be accepted upon previous discussion or if they’re meant for crack or short stuff.

✶ formatting ✶ 

i’m not picky with formatting. i’ll always go with small text and gifs, but i don’t mind how my partner formats.

✶ smut ✶

 i love writing erotica & this blog may have a lot of it. smut will be tagged under #sutra. there will be plenty of nsfw (smut and other potential triggers) but it will be tagged accordingly as ‘trigger tw’.

✶ themes that I won't write ✶ 

anything involving abuse, excessive violence is a no & not welcomed here.

✶ first time interacting?✶ 

always feel free to reach out to me and send memes as icebreakers! do remember to specify muses, please.

✶ memes ✶ 

send as many memes as you want! (mutuals only, of course.)

✶ godmodding ✶ 

no godmodding, please. it’s a major turn off for me and it will most likely end up with me deciding to drop the thread.

✶ banned fcs ✶ 

jennifer lawrence, amber heard, anime/cartoon, kardashians, problematic & deceased people in general

[piqued-curiosity]

speaking as a bi woman, i just want to say that i myself have met bi women who enjoy “lesbian conversion” fantasies & who RP these fantasies with men. they exist, and it’s not a matter of “well i guess SOMEWHERE out there, there’s probably one or two bi woman who are into that”…….sorry but, there is more than one or two bi women who are into that. the male in that screenshot was not one of them, but it’s true. don’t shoot the messenger.

i understand where people are coming from on both “sides” of this debate. frankly, i think many bi women dont immediately understand just how violating & viscerally painful the existence of this fetish is, for lesbians. it’s simulated rape and conversions of lesbians, after all…..it must evoke many strong emotions on your end, i’m sure. and i’m sure it feels like a huge betrayal to know that OSA women participate in this fetish sometimes.

so i think a lot of lesbian women were already Extremely sore about this topic (understandably so) before this whole debate even began. after reading about this horrible fetish, you probably dont feel like sympathizing with bi women, or patting us on the back while we gripe about what YOU guys say about US.

but on the flip side, i have seen a lot of degrading things being said about bi women on radblr, and the vast majority of lesbian users either agree with them, ignore them outright, or dismiss them as bait. i know that you’re exhausted from dealing with lesbophobia and everything else that comes with it. but a lot of times, silence can be read as agreement/assent. it feels like: what if users like oddysseyalice is just saying what everyone else is thinking, but are afraid to say?

and again: i dont blame lesbian women for being tired, or frustrated, or even enraged. so i can understand venting, and punching up, etc….but when ppl directly say that bi women lie about their rapes, and joke about bi women being assaulted & abused by men, that crosses a line. and to be honest, in the aftermath of amber heard’s defamation, remarks like that are not just crossing a line—they are like salt in a very fresh wound. it stings. it’s extremely cutting and extremely personal and, also, extremely misogynistic. it’s frustrating, so so so frustrating, and it makes me really sad to see comments like that from feminist-aligned women.

so i guess what i am trying to say is: in the context of this particular argument, everyone is REALLY mad. and i totally understand why each and every person is mad. it is reasonable to be mad

but please, i would only ask everyone in this debate to remember to treat sensitive, serious issues with the gravity they deserve. even if you’re so, so mad, and you have every right to be, dont laugh along with people making light of violence against women. please take a moment to think seriously, and consider why statements like that might rub bi women the wrong way.

and even if you’re so so mad about lesbians’ response to that one post, take a minute to consider how devastating the concept of lesbian conversion fetishes must be, for lesbians. and consider that lesbians AREN’T lying or making things up when they say that bi women do participate in this fetish. the screenshot in the post was not real, and it’s rational to take issue with that, but the pain lesbians feel about this fetish IS real. and their pain is rational. (and bi women’s involvement in this fetish is also, unfortunately, real.)

sorry this is a huge mess and it got so long. i am not really addressing you…..i just had a lot of thoughts about this argument. and i agree with many of the things you have said as well. i just think a lot of users are lacking perspective here.

Thank you so much for this 💕

[kurishiri]

12 . . . alfons main story

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: consumption of alcohol, violence (with guns), finally some action /ref

When we stepped inside, what looked to be a different world altogether spread before me.

The crystals hanging down from the chandelier reflected light off, giving it a dazzling glow, welcoming us inside...

I sat down on the sofa next to Alfons, and we casually listened in on people’s conversations from the buzzing as they came.

(I can’t deny it’s very lavish, but it also doesn’t seem so much different from any other bar...)

Perhaps because the entrance is so heavily regulated, it didn’t really feel so much like a ‘members only’ club,

and we didn’t feel any eyes staring us down.

Male server: Would you like some?

The server was carrying liquor of an amber color, and I could tell from the smoky smell that this was a type of high-end whisky.

Kate: I will pa——

Knowing the alcohol content was strong, I tried to turn him down, but then Alfons whispered from beside me.

Alfons: As we are in a gentlemen’s club, you will end up raising suspicion should you turn down an offer for liquor.

(Urgh…)

Kate: …Well then, I will partake in some. [1]

Alfons: As will I.

Male server: As you wish.

I took the whisky glass he put on the table in my hand before slowly tilting the glass toward my lips until I could feel the drink.

(Urgh... it really is strong...)

However, remembering Alfons’ advice he had given me just moments before, I tried my best to present myself in a more masculine way as I downed some of the glass.

Alfons: Hehe.

Kate: W-what’s so funny...?

Alfons: Oh, think nothing of it. I was simply thinking you are such a good girl, trying your best to do exactly as you’re told.

Kate: ...

Throwing me a short side glance while laughing, I felt my heart skip a beat.

And just like that, I felt my heartbeat go ever so slightly faster than normal.

(T-this must be because of the strong alcohol...)

Being next to Alfons had a bad influence on my heart.

When we first met, it had been because ‘I could feel he was dangerous’...

...but now, even the most trivial expressions he made, and each of his gestures were enough to send my heart into chaos.

(Okay, forget about Alfons for now, I should focus on the mission...)

Gentleman with round glasses: I believe we are just about done at getting rid of that annoying journalist woman now.

At that moment, the conversation I overheard brought me out of my thoughts.

Gentleman in a plaid suit: Indeed... I take it you speak of the woman who raised some claim, ‘Gentlemen’s clubs are the root of political corruption!’, is that it? So she has already been eliminated from the picture.

Elderly gentleman with a blue ring: So we are one step closer to a purified society. As expected, the younger ones have quite some energy to spare.

Gentleman with round glasses: Goodness, no, I could hardly hold a candle to a long-standing member of this club and the Privy Council like yourself.

Gentleman in a plaid suit: And the purification of the East End recently was so amazing, my eyes might have come out of their sockets.

(There it is! ‘The purification of the East End’!)

Alfons: .........

My anxiety tensing me up, I exchanged a look with Alfons.

Gentleman with round glasses: That said, I did hear that the previous time, there was someone who had interfered and whatnot...

Elderly gentleman with a blue ring: That there was. As such we have decided to shift the location a little bit next time...

Elderly gentleman with a blue ring: So we have decided to punish the illegal immigrants of the Port of London [2] with the ‘eternal fire.’

​​Elderly gentleman with a blue ring: It will happen two days from now. We have already arranged for cleaners as well.

Gentleman with round glasses: I would expect no less from you.

(Did they just say they’re going to be punished... by an eternal fire...?)

Alfons: Hehe, now that there is one to gild the fact they plan to commit an arson.

(Arson…!?)

An indescribable fear shot through my body, causing me to tremble.

(If they really are holding such a cruel conversation…)

(...they were speaking so casually, I could hardly differentiate it between small talk.)

It was as though they didn’t feel at all that any of this was a bad thing.

Kate: ...Alfons.

Alfons: Indeed. It seems we have found our target to glean information from.

Alfons looked over at the server who had just served us, knocking lightly on the table.

Upon doing so, the server approached us without uttering a word.

(So Alfons knows how to act in a place like this as well...)

(I wonder if it’s because he had learned these things while living as a noble at Lord Elbert’s estate?)

At the slums and the pub, he seemed quite decadent and self-indulgent, while in a place like this, he showed a more refined demeanor.

They couldn’t be more different from one another, and yet I felt nonetheless they were both fitting for Alfons,

perhaps because he had experienced and wore both sides, making them as true as they came.

(I feel like I’ve learned yet another thing about Alfons.)

(...Not that I’m really happy about that or anything though.)

Saying something only to negate it right after had long become something like a habit of mine now.

Pulling on my own cheeks, which had unconsciously become relaxed, I looked on at the exchange between the server and Alfons.

Male server: How may I assist you?

Alfons: You see, I am interested in inviting that gentleman donning a blue ring over there to a dinner gathering next time...

A: As such, I was hoping you could be so kind as to tell what types of liquor he takes a fancy to.

Male server: Lord Goa [3], a member of the Privy Council, favors vodka martinis.

Alfons: Thank you for that.

Male server: Hardly. I’m simply glad I could be of assistance.

Thanks to the server, we were able to immediately glean the name of the target.

(...Lord Goa, member of the Privy Council...)

As long as they have a name, I imagine William and Victor would be able to glean all sorts of things about him from their network.

Kate: ...I must say I didn’t expect them to give away his name so easily like that.

Alfons: Well, this place is meant to encourage and spur on connections between members, but besides that...

Kate: Besides that?

Alfons: When we entered the lounge, I made sure to sneak in a tip that amounted to a sum a tad bit on the higher end, so there is also that.

(What the...!)

Kate: Is that not bribery...

Alfons: Heavens, no, I was simply compensating him in advance for the corresponding amount of information he gives.

When he answered me with nonchalance, he downed the remaining whisky in my glass before doing the same for his own.

(Did he just drink not one, but two glasses of such strong liquor!?)

Alfons: Alright, off we go.

Kate: Ah, right...

Alfons stood from his seat, and I followed after.

Kate: Did you really have to drink it all…

Alfons: I do have what one may call a ‘poor man’s mindset.’

That was what he said as he laughed, making my heart skip a beat once more… which was something I feigned ignorance to.

As we departed from the bar lounge, we moved to a place with no people around.

Kate: We have the name of the Privy Council member and information on the next incident, but what should we do now?

K: If we at least can obtain some physical evidence… the police can be dispatched, right?

Alfons: That would be the case, I suppose.

Alfons seemed to be thinking about something as he looked out the window.

Those ashy gray eyes that reflected not even a single ray of light wavered, as though he were planning something.

Alfons: Sending letters containing orders in a place where other parties can enter and exit would be a show of a lack of caution, to be sure.

A: That’s why I imagine they wouldn’t use such means here, at least,

A: but if this hotel were to have something of a private service exclusively for VIP members,

A: a search through their storage room may bear some fruit.

And so, with a dexterity I just could not fathom, Alfons picked on many a lock,

until we were able to slip into the storage room, much like smoke.

(Alfons had said that ‘valuable goods of VIP members are often somewhere around here,’)

(but we have never even stepped foot in this place before, so how could he know something like that…)

Half of me couldn’t believe his words, but the room we had arrived at was very much a vault.

And with whatever tricks he had up his sleeve… he ended up unlocking the door there as well.

[1] Just who did you learn this from?

[2] You’re quite skilled at this. (+4 / +4)

[3] That’s incredible!

Kate: You’re quite skilled at this, aren’t you…

Alfons: Well, it’s hardly my first time doing so.

Kate: Don’t tell me you were formerly convicted for theft…?

Alfons: It’s quite a convenient skill to have, for a great many things too. Care for a lesson or two on the art of picking locks, Miss Kate?

Kate: Thanks, but no thanks!

(To so easily unlock the doors to the rooms and the vault…)

Kate: If you were a thief, though, you’d be regarded as the biggest of the century.

Alfons: Ahha! Now that title does hold a charming ring to it. Maybe this is a sign to start my journey to become one then.

Kate: Absolutely not.

I shut down that idea with a half-serious tone, and Alfons laughed wryly.

Alfons: Hehe, I jest. This level of skill is hardly enough to warrant such a title as the ‘biggest of the century.’ I only learned enough to be able to survive.

A: All that said, though, I did live off of Elbie’s money after meeting him for a while, so perhaps you could say in that sense I was a ‘thief’...

While searching the vault, though, his words suddenly trailed off.

Alfons: ——Ahh! Good heavens, just what have we here!

Kate: W-what happened!?

Alfons: We’ve hit the gold. Here it is, a confidential letter from the councilman Goa himself.

With one brow raised, Alfons nimbly handed me the envelope.

Its contents were completely sealed, and the envelope stated that it should be opened by the recipient themself.

(To think they’d keep it here of all places...)

Kate: ...They know no caution, I see.

Alfons: Well, we cannot just rule out the possibility this letter’s contents bear no relation to the incident in question. But in any case, let’s borrow this and book it out of here, yes?

A: We shouldn’t outstay our welcome here. My illusions aren’t able to hold long either, anyhow.

——Just then.

???: Who’s there!?

(——!)

When I looked back, a man who looked like a worker of the hotel was looking at us with surprise on his face.

(We’ve been found!)

Worker: We have intruders! Guards!!

At his shout, several heavy footsteps approached.

Alfons: Hmm, now this is quite a pickle, isn’t it. We’re not close enough that I can touch the back of their necks, so casting an illusion is out of the question as well.

Kate: How are you so laid-back in this situation!? We have to run, or... ah!

In my agitation, the letter that was in my hand slipped out.

(Oh no...!)

Alfons: ——Kate?

Kate: I have to get the letter!

Alfons: Wai——

I ran for the letter, lunging for it, when...

A dry bang! resonated in the room.

(Wh...)

With the letter now in my hand, I raised my head.

I was crouched down, while Alfons was holding me, as though concealing me from the door...

...but from over his shoulders, I could see how the guards were armed with guns.

And from the muzzle of the gun, smoke rose.

(That, just now... was that a gunshot?)

Alfons: ...This is why I say you are ever too serious.

A: Why so folly as to worry so much over a mere letter? Just leave it be.

Guard: Put your hands up!

Alfons: Yes, yes, as you wish.

Seeing him stand up and lift both hands in the air, I followed his actions in a panic.

(Seeing as there was a gunshot, that would mean... he was shot...)

(But, where...?)

Guard: ...Good.

The moment the guard seemed to relax as he lowered his gun...

Alfons: ——Miss Kate, we’re running.

(Huh...?)

He grabbed my hand, and before I could understand what was going on, he pulled my body.

Guard: Wh—!? W-wait...!

Evading the oncoming gunshots, we ran for the innermost door.

Through the hotel’s storage room, the restaurant kitchen, someone’s house, alleyways I was unfamiliar with...

Alfons maneuvered and ran through countless crossroads without an ounce of hesitation——

And when we jumped into an alley with no other people around, he burst into a hearty laughter.

Alfons: Haah... Ahahaha! Ahh, now that was simply the best, was it not?

A: Just where in the world are there intruders who quietly wait simply upon being told to do so?

A: That guard is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

Kate: Haa... haah...!

(I-I’m glad that... we didn’t get caught, but...!)

Kate: This is no laughing matter!

When I thought about how a bullet could have hit, my body started trembling.

Alfons: Is it not? I find nothing strange about laughing at something comical.

A: Plus, we’ve got ahold of the suspect’s information, and we have obtained what could be physical evidence. So I would say our mission ended in a swimming success.

A: Oh, and the way you tried to act the role of a man, though ever so positively inept, was quite endearing as well.

Even when he was as talkative as ever, I still felt an unease in my chest.

No matter what he did, I couldn’t stop thinking about that gunshot.

(That distance, and his position. It wouldn’t be strange if Alfons was shot somewhere.)

Kate: Alfons.

Alfons: Yes, what is it?

Kate: ...Show me your body.

to be continued…

← prev next →

NOTES:

[1] Kate says [……ああ、ではいただこう] (aa, de ha itadakō). This is not normally how she speaks; she is actively trying to speak in a more ‘masculine’ manner. For example, [ああ] (aa) is like a ‘masculine’ way to say yes or affirm something. If she was using her normal speech, Kate would probably say something like [はい、では(遠慮なく)いただきます] (hai, de ha [enryo naku] itadakimasu).

[2] The actual text translates to the Port of London, but the furigana, or the apparent pronunciation, I believe is the Docklands of London, which is in the boroughs of Southwark, Tower Hamlets, Lewisham, Newham, and Greenwich.

[3] If there was a different way of spelling for this, [ゴア] (goa), I’d love to know.

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[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK THREE: WARMER - CHAPTER 5

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 3 Chapter 1 is here …

MPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER FIVE:  SHAYLINE

“You’re definitely sure it was her?”  I’ve finished most of my food now, saving the waffles for last.  It’s all such amazing food, the hole in my centre has long since been plugged again but I’m not about to stop, this isn’t about just satisfying my hunger any more.  Now I’m just pigging out, really.  But with food this gorgeous it’s worth it.

Kesla’s mellowed somewhat since their return, and while I’m sure seeing me up was at least part of what’s improved her mood since, I’ve no doubt her own selection of the varied food on offer has had something of a soothing effect on her too.  That being said, she’s still trading the odd sharp look with Art, who’s been watching her with something like smug amusement since we all sat down together to eat and catch up on the latest developments.  Clearly he’s got something on his mind that she’s picked up on, and I have a feeling it’s irking her, but she’s not backing down from him right now.  In truth, I think they both enjoy it, anyway.

“Oh yeah, it’s her.”  Kesla cuts one of her sausages in halt, then halves this piece before spearing one morsel on top of the other and transferring it to her mouth.  She gives it a long, indulgent chew, waiting until she’s done and swallowed before continuing.  “I got a damn good look before they were gone the other night.  An’ I’m good with faces.  Couldn’t have forgotten her if I tried.”

“So that’s it, then.”  Gael’s definitely perky about this particular news too, but they’re invested, so I’m not surprised.  “We know where they are, right?  So what’s the plan?”

“Well now, hold your horses, young ‘un.”  Kesla chuckles a little as she spears another bisected morsel of sausage and pokes it into the rich amber-yellow yolk of her remaining fried egg, giving it a good swirl.  “There’s still a lot we gotta be sure ‘bout before we commit on this.”

I’m starting to hate watching them deflate, every time they get excited it’s so sweet that when their little bubble of happiness is burst it’s so thoroughly disheartening.  “Oh … but –”

So I just jump to their defence as quickly as I can, determined to challenge Kesla now, as much on their behalf as the simple fact that, honestly, I mostly agree with them too right now.  “Like what, exactly?  I mean, honestly I think it sounds pretty compelling.  You saw her, she’s there.  Plus we have what Kurnev told us, that that’s where that huge bloody orc goes too.  If she’s there too it feels a whole lot more likely they’re using it as a base of operations, rather than just some loose coincidence.”

Gael looks my way now, and I can see they’re glad for my backing them up right now.  I try not to seem too smug as I give them a smile to perk them up a little more.  Then I turn and find Kesla’s watching me pretty close again, more critical now.

I’ll admit, looking back at her now is a lot more interesting because after all the time we’ve spent together I was getting used to her look, and now she’s changed it up again.  Sometime since I was out she clearly found the time to take care of her hair, having shaved her undercut right back again, but now that it’s grown longer on top it’s a good deal more unruly.  She’s been cleaning it more diligently too, because the thick, tight black curls are a good deal bouncier and more sleek than they were before as they hang over the right side of her face where she’s swept them.  It’s a very striking look, which suits her extremely well, but I’m also finding it rather distracting.

“Honestly, you’re probably right, but I want to make sure before we go storming in there and tear up a dockside bar purely on hearsay.  There were a lot of weapons in there, even if this Jammund fellow does have a strict no-naked-blades policy, so he’s got a lot of fighters.  If he is involved it’s gonna be a hard fight, maybe hard as the one we had the other night.”

“Yes, all right, but still –”

“And you got pretty tore up that night, Shay.  You gotta admit, that was a close call for you.  I don’t wanna run the risk of something like that happening again.  One of us already died once, I don’t want it happening again.”  She’s looking at Gael again as she says that, and I can see the reminder’s cutting as deep as it’s intended to.  Part of me wants to stand up and punch her teeth out for that alone, but I push it down hard.  I don’t want to ruin what trust and respect we’ve built in the time we’ve had since Ashsong.

The table’s quiet for several long moments, and Kesla uses that as an excuse to get back to her food.  After a little consideration my own sense of smell gets the best of me as much as the look of those waffles still waiting for me to dig in, so I follow her example, picking up the miniature pitcher of syrup and pouring a generous helping of it over the top of the stack.  I’m just cutting into it when Thel decides to pipe up, the first time she’s spoken since she sat down after congratulating me on my recovery, actually.  She’s been as hungry as me, it seems, having made very short work of her own trayful of substantially packed food.

“So what’s the deal with this Jammund guy, then?”

“Far as we know, just an old sailor.  Used to captain a ship when he was younger, this is his retirement.  Once upon a time he was a damn good smuggler but he called it a day once the Terror’s crackdown on unregulated imports got to be too much hassle.”  Darwyn takes a bite of her sausage sandwich, then when she sees everybody looking at her she winds up pausing mid-chew.  “What?”

“You rattled all o’ that off pretty smooth.”  Kesla’s grin’s subtle.  “Almost like you had it prepared.”

Darwyn frowns at her while she’s chewing, waiting until she can swallow before she answers:  “Yeah, cuz I did.  Figured somebody’d probably ask.”

“Smart.”  Thel sets down her cutlery so she can pick up her mug, filled from Dumoli and Yeslee’s pitcher.  “You lot had your eyes on ’im, then?”

“Far as we had to, is all.”  Darwyn clearly looks like she’d rather just be allowed to continue eating.  “Guild manages most o’ what goes on land-wise, but when it comes to import an’ export over the water we tend to hire out to the smuggler crews.  Ain’t a whole lot of us particularly keen on getting our feet wet, if you will.  Long as they don’t try an’ undercut us by sneaking shit in under our noses we tend to let ‘em operate how they want.  Within reason, o’ course.”

“So he ain’t in on the game anymore?”  Thel wonders, watching her close even as she takes a big gulp of cider.

“No, ‘least not far as we know.”  Darwyn puts the sandwich down again, clearly realising she’s not going to be left alone right now.  “That said, he’s still got a lot o’ contacts.”  She looks down for a moment, seeming more thoughtful now, and I suspect she might be starting to follow a similar train of thought to whatever Thel’s considering.  “Reckon if somebody wanted to get a lot o’ cargo out the city good an’ fast without anybody knowing, including us, he’d be a good person to know.  From what I heard back in his day he was about the best in the business working out of Untermer.”

“Including moving people.”  Kesla muses, chewing on more sausage.  She swallows before continuing.  “Even before they started pulling our attention, they’d have wanted to be as discreet as possible.  Reckon they’d wanna stagger out much o’ the deliveries as possible, so they wouldn’t be doing it all at once.  So they’d still have to store ‘em somewhere first.”

“We’re definitely sure these folk are being shipped somewhere alive?”  Art doesn’t look entirely convinced.  “Wouldn’t there be easier ways an’ places to get bodies than here?”

“Reckon it’s safe to assume they’re taking ‘em alive for transport to wherever, otherwise why bother?  From what we learned, looks like everybody’s been taken got grabbed careful.  If they’d just been killed an’ then the bodies taken away already dead there’d have been more mess.”  Kesla takes another bite, chewing for a few moments before going on.  “Somehow I doubt we’re dealing with cannibals here.  I mean, that bitch Vandryss was fucking creepy, can’t say I’d necessarily put it past her, but no, don’t smell right, that idea.”

At the mention of her name I put my hand to my stomach, I can’t help it.  I’m not feeling any worse for it now than I did when it happened, the healers did their work well, but … that memory’s a nasty one.  The pain, and the fear it set loose in me, knowing what I was probably looking forward to.  Worse, the look on her face, in those eyes.  She wanted me dead all right, but there was more to it than that.  There was … Thorin protect me, it almost felt like a hunger to me.  Kesla might be right there.  It’s almost enough to ruin my appetite.

Almost.  This food’s too good, the waffles especially.  Gael was right, they’re so rich they don’t actually need the syrup, but that’s such an exquisite quality too I can’t help myself.  So I pick my knife and fork back up and start cutting away another bite.

“Does Jammund seem like the type to be in on it, though?”  Gael wonders now, looking to Kesla again.  “What did you think of him?”

“He’s clearly full of himself, but I get the definite impression it ain’t exactly unwarranted.  He’s got a way about him, he’s clearly capable.  Seems … honestly, he seemed dangerous.  I known plenty folk like him in my time, mercs an’ soldiers an’ more, there was some back in the Legion too.  Charismatic, folk other folk’ll follow, for better or worse.”

“You mean he’s like you, then?”  Gael asks, then must realise how that sounds because they start blushing instantly.  “Oh, no … no, I mean apart from being full of yourself, of course.  I just meant the charisma.  The fact that people would follow you.  Because they would.  They do.  I mean, we do, of course.”

Kesla grins at last as she looks at them, a distinctly amused twinkle in her eye now.  “You reckon I’m dangerous, then?”

“Very much, yes.”  Gael says it as matter of fact as they can, I judge.  “Not to us, but certainly you are, yes.  I’ve seen you fight, remember?  And you’ve taught me a fair bit now, too.”

“Served you well too, it has.”  She turns to look at me again for a beat, and I know she’s thinking as much about what I managed to teach Gael on the road back to Bavat as she did herself.  They’ve definitely progressed impressively well since fighting Ashsong, Kesla’s impression’s definitely right on the money there.  “You’re getting dangerous yourself, too.  But that ain’t quite what I mean.”

I can’t help frowning at that.  “So … what do you –”

“There’s certain people out there, they’re just inherently dangerous, they’re just born for trouble, and it finds ‘em wherever they go, but the way they’re made they can always get out of it, cuz they’re just naturally good enough to get out of it.  More dangerous than whatever it is they run into.  That can get pretty intoxicating sometimes, and some of ‘em get to like it, they like being in the centre o’ the whirlwind all the time cuz it’s fun for them.  More’n that, though, other folk can become attracted to that, to being around that kind of … unpredictable power.  That can be intoxicating too.”

Yeah, I really don’t like the sound of that.  “Jammund is like that, you think?  One of those people?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure of it.”

“Sounds like he’s definitely our man then, surely.”  When she doesn’t answer, simply looking at me with a cool amusement, I put my cutlery down again, frowning a little as I just stare back.  “You don’t agree?”

“No, reckon you might’ve finally convinced me.”  She cocks her head at last.  “So what d’you reckon we should do about it, then?”

“Well, I …”  I falter as I come up short, and it’s all I can do not to glare at her in sheer frustration.  The way she’s still smiling is infuriating enough.  “Okay, you win.  What do you want to do then?”

Kesla looks at me for a long moment, musing.  Finally she just lets out a sigh, picking up her cutlery again.  “Honestly?  I’m mindful to take a step back for a minute or two.  We went at it pretty hard before that battle in the ruin, and all we got for it was a load o’ pain and more’n one of us laid up.  We need to take a big step back as a whole and think about this.  So I’m …”  She shrugs, starts cutting into her substantial stack of well-syruped pancakes.  “I dunno.  Regrouping, I guess.”

Gael’s eyes go wide at that, and as they open their mouth I know exactly where this is going to go.  Their thoughts have gone straight to their father, the great and famous Silver Order wizard Darion Foxtail, whose disappearance got us mixed up in this mess in the first place.  Problem is, I can kind of see Kesla’s point, because I can’t see a quick way out of this right now, not without just charging in like a stampede of bulls and potentially getting into something worse than last time.  So I lean into their side again, giving them a gentle nudge as I reassure them.  “Patience.  She’s right.  We have to be smart about this.”

“Besides, your da’s a big deal.”  Art pipes up now  “They won’t have just killed ‘im.  I mean they’re trying to keep a low profile, right?  Reckon murdering one o’ the most famous wizards in all Rundao would draw way too much attention.”

Art’s words don’t seem to do the best job of perking them up, I notice, and I’m not really surprised since the vague implication there is that they might still kill him at some point when it becomes more convenient.  I resist the urge to slap him up the back of his head, instead just giving Gael another nudge and kissing them beside the ear.  “He may not have used the best choice of words, but the fuzzy lothario’s right enough.  And we’re not going to sit still for long, are we?”  I turn to look at Kesla as I say it, putting as much intensity into my glare as I can.

Kesla just looks right back at me as she ruminates on the big mouthful of pancake she’s currently chewing, regarding me with the cool patience of a sphinx.  “No.  We’re not.  Ain’t like we don’t have a few things we can still try, like that blood trick, ‘least if that one Gael fought in the alley’s still with ‘em.”  She turns to Thel now.  “What was his name?”

“Tog.”  Thel practically growls the word, I notice, and she’s gripping her knife and fork particularly tightly now, surely enough to bend them with her impressive dwarven strength.  “That little prick.  Next time I see him I’m finishing what I started.”

“No you won’t.”  Dumoli sighs, fixing his friend with a warning eye.  “If we go looking for him, it’s to capture him, not kill him.  He’s too useful to us alive for you to go off on your personal vendetta again.”

“Oh yeah?”  She looks right back, seeming a little irritated now at being reprimanded.  “How’s that?  We worked out he ain’t much more well informed than that kid we got locked up in the back, no matter what he might think of himself.  He’s just a flunky, same as the rest of ‘em.”

“But he knows where that other one was.”  He looks to Kesla now.  “What was his name?  The one who runs all the gangs.”

“Vik, I believe.”  Kesla looks to Gael, who nods, then me, and I do the same, remembering well enough.  “Dumoli’s right, he might be a smart target.  Clearly he’s a reasonably direct line to Vandryss, she’s the one we want right now.”

“But I thought this wizard woman –”

“She’s a lead, so’s Granzun, but that’s tricky ground, we’re gonna have to work out exactly how we’re gonna proceed there.”  Kesla looks back at Thel again.  “If we can get to Vandryss another way, might be we don’t need to bother.”

Thel looks at her for a long moment, but Kesla’s already gone right back to her meal again.  So she turns her ire on Dumoli instead, but he seems impervious to it now, clearly having built up the same immunity to her disdain that Kesla seems to have for Art’s, I’ve noticed.  I think he might be a bit like her in that way, he’s clearly similarly hard to rattle.

He’s looking a good deal better than I would’ve expected, really, given what I heard.  Gael made it sound like he got cut up even worse than me, but he seems hale and healthy now, sitting easy as he did when we first came in.  If he is still recovering, what damage there is that’s still mending clearly isn’t visible right now.

Yesle’s looking at him again, I notice after a moment.  It’s a strange thing, I’ll admit, the clear regard she has for him, or maybe I’m just finally starting to learn how to read her.  When I turn to Kesla again I realise she’s picked up on it too, giving them both a sneaky side-eye as she works on her food.  Which is enough to remind me of my own again.

“Kesla.”  Driver 8 rumbles now, grabbing everyone’s attention even though he’s clearly using his lowest, more conversational tone.  She jumps with the rest of us, turning to look up at him where he’s stood behind us, not having moved since the others joined us.

“What is it?”  she finally asks, once she’s got her surprise under control.

“Master Saxiros.”  He’s turning to face out into the room, and I shift in my seat to look in that direction, first noticing that the room seems to have emptied out some since we all gathered.  I hadn’t thought we’d been here so long, but I’ve not really been paying much attention.

Then I see him, that tall, haughty green-scaled dragonhalf wizard, strolling with a surprisingly casual step towards us.  Some of the remaining staff still gathered in the hall with us turn to watch him, but I get the impression his presence is not of any particular note around here.  Perhaps some of them don’t really know who he actually is, so to them he’s just another Order wizard.  He’s impressive, sure, but I’ve seen dragonhalves before.  One used to be a very good friend of mine.

“Oh, right.”  Kesla lets out a heavy sigh, setting her knife and fork down again as she reaches up and wipes her thumb and forefinger across her mouth, clearly intending on getting rid of crumbs or whatever else might be clinging there, although I don’t see anything anyway.  “Heads up, folks.”

Following Kesla’s lead, I put my own cutlery down too, swallowing my own mouthful now before picking up my mug so I can give my mouth a little rinse.  Finally I give my own lips a little wipe, not finding anything more myself as I shift in my seat so I can face the senior wizard as he arrives, stopping just short of the end of the table.

Folding his hands behind his back, Saxiros doesn’t bother with his usual formal Order greeting this time, instead simply nodding to the table at large with a cool smile.  “My apologies for interrupting your meal, I promise I will be brief.”  He looks to Kesla now, and nods again.  “Mistress Shoon.”  Then he turns to me, which is enough of a surprise, but then he graces also me with a nod too.  “Mistress Swift-Kill.”

Frowning a little, Kesla shoots me a look and starts to push her chair back so she can stand up.  Reasoning I should do the same, I simply turn the rest of the way and step up out of the chair, moving around the others to join Saxiros at the head of the table much as Kesla does.  Saxiros simply waits where he is, watching me the whole way as I approach him, and while he seems pleasant enough it still disconcerts me somewhat.

“Um … Master Saxiros.”  I give him my own nod, then shoot another look to Kesla as she does the same.  Mostly she’s just cool again, but I get the impression she’s just as curious about what this means.  “Good morning.”

“It is indeed, my dear.”  His smile widens a little as he looks me over with surprising warmth.  “Seeing you up is a decided relief after what transpired.”

I can’t help arching my brows at that.  “Oh, um … thank you, of course.  I’m pretty relieved about it too, of course.”

“Which is to be expected.”  He nods with the slightest quirk of one of his own spiky brows.  “It is most timely, as well.  I have some most excellent news to impart upon you.  I have heard from the Citadel, Mistress Thermyse sent me a message just this morning, and I thought you would want to know as soon as possible.”

When I look to Kesla this time I see she’s starting to frown, much as I realise I am too.  “Don’t s’pose it might be that Darion’s turned up alive an’ well after all, by any chance?”

This seems to put the very slightest dent in Saxiros’ good humour as he turns to look at her, but he recovers impressively quickly.  “No, I’m afraid that’s not the case.  Unfortunately.”

“Figured as much.  Reckon you’d have wanted to call on Gael for that.”

He grins, although there’s less humour in it than simply a show of sharp teeth, I doubt he’s really that amused.  I’m definitely getting a handle on what they’re all talking about when they call this man pompous.  “Most amusing, Mistress Shoon.”  He clears his throat, turning back to me, and his manner becomes a good deal more pleasant again.  “No, I am indeed here for Mistress Shoon.  Mistress Thermyse informed me that the Council looked into your friend Master Javette’s case.”

“Garnon?”  My brows shoot right up again, of course.  “Really?  How … forgive me, but –”

“Master Clearwood was most insistent on pleading the case for your late friend, my dear.  Given their sacrifice in your battle against the … unfortunate stain that was Erjeon Ashsong, he thought it prudent, and Mistress Thermyse concurred.  Garnon Javette was posthumously awarded the full rank and status they forsook when they left before their graduation, and their name has now been recorded with full grace on the Lists of Our Honoured Dead.”

I don’t realise Gael’s gotten up too until they’re at my side, looking as surprised as I must.  “Wow, that’s …”  They turn to me, and their smile, while a little sad, is still quite thrilled.  “Shay, that’s incredible.�� That’s an immense honour.  Garnon’s being celebrated as a hero of the Order.”

For a long time I’m just speechless, all I can do is gape at Gael as they seem to grow a little worried for me.  Garnon was … it was a bad situation for him at the end, with the Order, they were forced to leave in their final days at the Academy in order to prevent a friend from being punished and publicly ostracized, essentially giving up their dream for love.  They let them leave without a scandal, but that meant they were just a hedge wizard, unrecognised by their peers and without the support and protection of the Order, which ultimately led them to my mother, Min, and her outlaw enterprise.  All right, they found a home with us, and a new family, but … I knew it weighed heavy on them.  And I didn’t know how badly until just before they died at the hands of … something horrible.  To see so much of that lost honour restored, even if only for the sake of their name and not themselves …

“Does …”  I finally mange to find my voice, but the words are slower coming.  “Does that mean … Gael, I don’t understand anything about the Order, I mean … what does that actually mean?”  I finally realise I’ve reached out and taken hold of their shoulders, and I may be holding on a little more desperately than I should right now.

“Well, I mean …”  They blink, and I suppose they’re having to think about it too.  They’ve been able to live with their untarnished honour and status for a few years, they never went through what he had to.  “As far as the Order’s concerned, they’ll forever after be a full-fledged graduate and celebrated member.  Their name will be recorded in the annals, and those are preserved for eternity.  It’s not just set down on paper, or even in stone.  It’s carved into the very soul of the Order, which means it’s deep in the heart of all of us.  If they’d lived they would have been allowed to come back, they could have taken up any position he wished.  They could have stayed with you if they wanted, but would have been recognised as a true, official Order wizard.”

“More than that, though.”  Saxiros seems so solemn when I turn back to him, you’d never think he was capable of pomposity.  “Master Javette’s name has been emblazoned within the Log of Fallen Heroes.  Every Order member who sacrifices their life in protection of the Order, or simply for the ideals we stand for, is celebrated for eternity.  Their name will be carved in the Hall of Memory among a great many famous and illustrious mages of great past repute.  It’s the highest honour any of us can aspire to.”

“That’s pretty cool.”  Kesla’s smiling, but it seems as sad as Gael’s.  “I mean … sorry, I mean it’s proper awesome.  They’re like … a legend now, I guess.”

“That is most astute, Mistress Shoon.”  Saxiros nods, and while there’s a little haughtiness in his voice again, he doesn’t seem to be growing arrogant again.  “At its essential core, that is very much the case.  The name Garnon Javette shall live forever in the hearts and minds of all the Order mages who come after him.  Given they were felled in the defeat of such a … monster as Ashsong, I should imagine their celebration will be especially illustrious.”

Thanks to all that flowery language, I’m a little slow on the uptake for that bit, but Gael seems to catch it well enough.  They manage a warmer smile now.  “Means he’s a hero of special repute, according to the Order.  Kesla’s right, he’s a genuine legend now.”

“Well that’s just …”  I’m feeling a little overwhelmed now, but as I step back from Gael and turn to face Saxiros proper again, I’m starting to get it.  “Thank you.  Really, just … thank you.  Thank you very much indeed, Master Saxiros!”  And before I can even think about what I’m doing I just take one more big step forward and hug him.

He’s bloody tall, he’s got a clear foot on me so when I wrap my arms tight around him and squeeze as tight as I can I wind up with my face squashed into his upper chest.  He’s quite lean and sinewy, but there’s some ropey muscle to him all the same.  He’s stiff as a rail, too, and I’m several moments realising this must be extremely awkward for him, I really doubt he’s the hugging type.  Certainly he doesn’t hug me back, and as this finally dawns on me I let go, taking a slow, careful step back as I feel the heat instantly rising in my face.  “Oh gods, please forgive me, I am unbelievably sorry …”

Saxiros clears his throat as he checks himself over for a moment, smoothing down his robes now, but mostly he just looks surprised.  “My dear, I … there is no need to apologise.  I … ahem, I understand how emotional you must be after receiving this excellent news, so it is perfectly reasonable to expect some greater enthusiasm to take hold.”  He finally manages a smile, and while it’s no more convincing than the last one, it feels a touch warmer, at least, and he nods too.  “Of course … you are welcome, Mistress Swift-Kill.”

When I turn back to Gael, they just jump right on me, hugging me as enthusiastically as I just hugged her superior, and I’m perfectly happy to return this one.  “That’s really great, Shay.  I’m so happy for you.  For Garnon too, of course, I mean … they would’ve loved that, right?”

“Yeah, I think they would’ve been thrilled about it.  I’m sure they are, wherever they are now.”  I ponder on it for a moment as I just enjoy my friend’s embrace.  “Do you think they might be with Minerva?”

“In the Halls of Knowledge?  I don’t doubt it.  They’ve got access to the secrets of the Universe now, I imagine they’re very happy indeed.”

Yes, well I don’t really know about all that, not being a wizard I’m not really that fussed about that kind of thing.  But I should think they’re in a better place now.  And if they know that now they’ve finally got their good name back in the eyes of the very institution they were once ejected from before they could be recognised, I’m sure that means the world to them.  That’s good enough for me.

Giving Gael one last crush, I pull away but keep my arm wrapped low around their back as I turn to see Kesla watching Saxiros curiously.  “That’s all very well, but Gael died in that fight too.  They get any kinda recognition for that?”

“Well obviously I got better.”  Gael protects, their face colouring instantly as they grow flustered again.  Their alarmed eyes flash to me, a little embarrassed now.

Before I can interject on their behalf, Saxiros simply nods with impressive solemnity.  “But of course.  Your own heroic contribution has been noted as well, Master Foxtail.  Your godmother didn’t even have to pull any strings for that, the Council voted unanimously on it.  You are being awarded the Heart of Minerva for your part in the defeat of Ashsong.”

Again, I’m a little lost, and Kesla just frowns.  Gael, on the other hand, becomes very still now, noticeably stiffening against my arm as their eyes widen about as much as they’re capable, I think.  “Really?”  the manage to squeak in the tiniest voice I’ve ever heard from them.

“What’s that?”  I finally just have to ask.

“The highest award the Order can bestow on a living hero of the Order.  Darion has received this particular commendation six times now.”  Saxiros’ expression is some dread kind of fascinating now, like some crazy mixture of envious and immensely smug.  “It would appear you truly are a chip off of your father’s block, Master Foxtail.”

Pulling Gael close again, I give them another good tight squeeze, and as realisation must sink in they’re now entirely pliable since they’re clearly so dumbfounded.  “That’s fantastic, Gael.  Your da’s going to be so proud of you.”

“He will?”  They look up at me now, and their eyes are very wet now, while their lip’s wobbling badly, and as the tears come they’re smiling all the same.  I pull them into another hug as they let their emotions get the best of them again.

“That’s more cracking news, Master Saxiros.”  Kesla finally says as she catches my eye, and I suspect she’s wondering why she got a specific summons for this too instead of Gael.  That’s just occurred to me too.  “You just came down to let us know about that, then, or …”

“Of course.”  Saxiros grows more solemn again as he nods, clearly getting down to business now.  He reaches into his robe now, rummaging in one of the pockets now, probably.  “I received word from Madame Daste, as well.  She requests a meeting as soon as possible.”  He produces a folded slip of paper, pinched between two of his long, black-taloned fingers, and holds it out to her.

“Now, in other words.”  Kesla’s grown as serious as him as she reaches out to take the paper.

“When you have completed your repast, of course.”  He slips his hands behind his back now as he gives a much more formal bow.  “She is … aware of your current recuperations, and so arrangements have been left up to you.  I suspect in light of recent events a secure, neutral meeting place would probably be best.”

Reading the note, Kesla’s brow quirks up again, but her look only seems to grow darker.  “Course.  That’s smart.”  She folds the slip again and slides it without ceremony into one of her britches’ hip pockets.  “Let her know Gael will send her a message shortly with our directions.”

“Very good.”  He tips her a more clipped nod this time.  “Mistress Shoon.”  Now he turns to me again, tipping a second nod.  “Mistress Swift-Kill.”  His brow cocks again as he looks down at Gael, still wrapped up in my arms as they’re now just breathing peacefully against my shoulder.  “Master Foxtail.”  Finally he turns to face the others, who’ve remained seated but have been watching the whole exchange with great interest, and nods one final time before turning on his heels and stalking out of the room with just as much haughty grandeur.

Looking back to Kesla, I have to frown again.  “What’s up?”

“Eat up, Shay.”  She’s already moving back to her seat.  “We got business.”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[agirldying]



My abuser has "witnesses" to say they're the innocent one but I'm aware of why they're considered witnesses and it's all a manipulative act. Some I know are just liars and manipulators but I have no proof of that. And one of them has no clue what actually happened between us because if she did she would know what exact conversations and actions happened between me and my abuser and she would know what events led into other events to cause me to react with such a ferocious intensity. She seems to not understand that at all. tw ment of J*hnny d*pp quickly: I know everybody is leaning towards believing Amber Heard now and even though JD had his own witnesses (so did Amber) people realize now how manipulative JD's side was. so I was thinking maybe people might do the same for me some day? im tired of abusers and the fact that they get away with everything. ive been feeling sui over this the all of 2022. I hope and honestly wish for 2023 to be better for me.

Hi anon,

I hear you.

Abusers will often be surrounded by people to defend them, even if they're blatantly in the wrong. It makes me so mad when people claim to know what happened when they weren't even there. Like, if they're going to complain about hearsay, then it's hypocritical of them to believe only what they've heard from one side.

I'm also hearing what may have been reactive abuse, where an abuser will get a rise out of their victim and then blame the victim for having "abusive tendencies" or what have you. It's unfortunately not surprising that those who side with an abuser will fail to see those inner-workings that bring about the survivor's ferocious response, and will believe it out of context.

I hope that if I ever go to trial I will be believed, but Depp vs Heard made me terrified to come out about what happened to me. What Amber endured is my worst nightmare and I saw it happen. I wish that in 2023 we can have an exponentially more respectful approach to Intimate Partner Violence.

I hope you're doing alright. Please let me know if you need anything.

[psychicexpertlover]

hi i really hope this doesn’t come off as offensive at all because it’s not intended to be but it probably will anyway just by default but… if i may ask, why do you stand with amber heard? you’re under no obligation to answer this but i wanted to know what your perspective is since there is so much evidence of her being an abuser circulating in the media. do you only support her because you don’t believe men can be victims? again i apologize if any of this comes off as hostile or accusatory, i genuinely just want to know your opinion!! i hope you have a nice day

\\ TERFS DNI //

Hey anon! I'm going to try to take this ask in good faith, but please know that assuming things ("do you only believe her because you don't believe men can be victims?") is rude - and unnecessary considering the content on my blog easily disproves it. It's simple really:

I do believe men can be victims.

I don't believe Johnny Depp is a victim of domestic abuse at the hands of Amber Heard.

You state that there is "so much evidence" to prove that she is abusive, but here's the kicker: there isn't. The piece that is most often cited as "evidence" is a heavily edited audio clip from Amber and Depp's marital therapy sessions, that was leaked by the Daily Mail. In this clip, Amber is heard saying that she slapped Depp (open palm) to which he argues that it was a closed-fist punch.

When the entirety of the recording was later released (don't remember to which site but I believe it was used in the most recent trial, which Depp lost) it was revealed that Depp headbutted Amber, making her nose bleed - she initially thought it was broken - and she struck him in self defense.

Now, another misconception is that Amber severed Depp's finger during a fight in which she threw a broken vodka bottle at him. This. Is. False. (Or at least very likely to be as I'll explain now). When the incident occured in 2017, Depp repeatedly stated that he cut his own finger. He said this unprompted, to several people, including ones who he would have no reason to lie to (e.g. his good friend Paul Bettany who has always harbored a strong dislike of Amber) and his personal doctor. The evidence (text messages, emails, etc) is currently being reviewed during the ongoing trial and can be found in the transcripts of Depp's witness testimonials as well as reputable news sites. (source used here being Insider)

Additionally, according to this excerpt from court documents, Depp's lawyer orchestrated a smear campaign to try to ruin Amber's reputation and credibility. Judging by the sheer amount of Depp supporters floating around the internet, it was successful.

There are also allegations that Amber abused her former partner, Tasya van Ree. However, Tasya herself has come forth and said these were entirely false, and were based in homophobia and misogyny. In the same statement, she went on to describe Amber as "brilliant, honest and beautiful woman and I [Tasya] have the utmost respect for her." (source)

Finally, most recently, makeup brand Milano accused Amber of lying of using their product to cover up her bruises. They stated, through a TikTok with questionable grammar, that the palette hadn't been released until 2017, a year after the allegations of DV. The ethics of the TikTok in question aside, it's... simply not true? Popular makeup magazine Glamour UK included the product in question in an article from June 3rd 2016. Plus, the brand of the palette used in court was never mentioned, and it was stated to be a prop, not the actual item Amber used.

So, now that we have cleared the rumors about Amber's supposed dishonesty, let's talk about the fact that Depp is a violent and abusive person - and has been proved, with evidence.

This article by the Irish Examiner goes in-depth about Depp's libel trial against the Sun (a tabloid that referred to him as a "wife-beater" which he contested). It examines the 14 cases of alleged violence - 12 of which were confirmed, and 2 of which were declared likely but lacking sufficient evidence to be confirmed. These date back to as early as 2013.

Let me say that again.

Johnny Depp beat and abused Amber Heard. This isn't "conjecture" or slander - a judge ruled him as a wife-beater based on actual evidence.

I would highly encourage everyone to read this article. It's horrifying and eye-opening.

Last but not least, please remember to take everything Depp's friends say with a whole ocean-full of salt. Case in point, Paul Bettany?

Yeah. That text exchange is from June fucking 2013.

I hope this was enough for you anon. You can also peruse the "amber heard" tag on my blog if you want to know more.

[dendrograna]

Respite Hereafter Pt. III

I've finally decided on a name for this series !! I'll update the other parts with the new title now hehe

Btw I plan on making this a pretty damn long series, focusing on each nation at a time. You arrived in Mondstadt, so the first chunk of the series takes place in Mondstadt. I'm gonna try to give each character at least a mention before going to the next nation so you don't end up travelling all over the place. Liyue and Inazuma will get some love soon tho <3

Pt. I

Pt. II

Pt. III

tw // panic attacks, past violence, trauma, paranoia, fire/burns, eye damage

Your acolytes were not the only ones who were horribly traumatized. You yourself had endured months of torture, living in abandoned camps, starving and freezing during the nights, being hunted down like an animal by the very ones you held dear. The disgusted, hate-filled looks they hurled at you seared into your memory, as well as into your dreams.

You regularly woke up from horrible nightmares screaming, and while your maids tried to help you, you very rarely let them get very close to you when you got like this. Paranoia often took hold of you during the nights, terrified they would try to hurt you again, that this had all been some sort of trick and they were just waiting to pull the rug out from under you. When morning came you always realized how silly it was, that your maids were so traumatized themselves they could never even think of hurting you, yet it never stopped you from doing the exact same thing the following night. The darkness brought out your most horrifying, albeit irrational, thoughts and fears.

Your maids were concerned for you, though. Your acolytes began to notice the dark circles under your eyes and the drowsy way you stumbled into things sometimes, but you always brushed them off. You were okay, and even if you weren't, telling them as much would only worry them.

Your maids did something that pleasantly surprised you after a few weeks of sleep deprivation, though. Three of them came to you while you ate your breakfast one morning, bowed in greeting, and timidly asked if they might suggest something to help you sleep.

"Perhaps having someone else you trust in the palace might help you sleep better," they said. "You've grown pretty close to a few of the Knights, Your Divinity. Would you like us to request that one of them spend a few nights here to help calm your anxiety?"

You yawned, considering the idea for a moment. "Like a slumber party," you said with a giggle. "I'd hate to put this on anyone else..."

"You need your rest, Your Grace!" one of them said suddenly before covering their mouth. "Ah... I apologize for my sudden outburst, please forgive me..."

You chuckled tiredly, smiling at them. That was a good sign, they'd started feeling more comfortable with you. "No, you're right. I think this is starting to affect my cognition. Plus, I don't think I have anything urgent that needs to be done today... You know what, slumber party it is. What abouttt... Kaeya, Albedo, and Amber?"

"Would you three please ask them for me? I don't think I'll be able to get all the way there and back with how exhausted I am," you said. They all bowed with a little "yes, Your Holiness," before they left you to finish your breakfast.

---

You spent the morning getting through a little bit of the day's work: signing your approval for new trade routes, working on some paperwork, and drafting the plans for a new festival you'd proposed to be sent to Jean. You still had a lot to do, but you decided it could wait until you were in a better state of mind.

Your guests arrived a little after six, meeting you in the foyer as all your guests did. They also kneeled and bowed in greeting as a lot of your guests did, too. You chuckled as you approached them, pulling them all up to their feet. "You guys don't have to do that anymore, remember?" you teased them, smiling. While it was true you'd gotten to know them each pretty well, this was the first time you were seeing them outside of their work with the Knights.

Albedo cleared his throat, handing you a rather large portfolio bag he had over his shoulder. "I believe it is customary for guests of the Divine One to bring them an offering, yes Your grace?" he said.

When you opened his portfolio bag, you found a delicately painted portrait of you inside, glancing over your shoulder with your hair ruffled in the wind and a bright smile on your face. The landscape of Mondstadt in the distance behind you was silhouetted against a brilliant rising sun. You covered your mouth as you admired the beautiful picture, gasping. "I've been working on it for quite some time, so I made sure to have it completed for you, Your Holiness."

Kaeya and Amber both nodded, offering you the gifts they'd brought. Kaeya, of course, brought some expensive dandelion wine, and Amber had a replica Baron Bunny for you.

"Don't worry, this one won't explode," she said with a big smile. "I thought maybe he could help you sleep a little better, Your Grace."

You couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face, or the tears stinging your eyes. You carefully sat their gifts down on a nearby table, pulling them all into a big hug. "Thank you guys, these are all so nice! I'll find somewhere to hang the painting and get a corkscrew for the wine. Why don't you meet me in the dining room? Our dinner should be done soon."

One of your maids assisted you in placing Albedo's painting in a frame and hanging it on the wall and another took Amber's plushie to your bedroom for you. When you met your guests in the dining room and took your seat at the end of the table, they greeted you with a small bow.

A maid brought out your food on a tray, placing each plate in front of you and your guests with one in the middle to split. "Northern smoked chicken with Liyue-style golden shrimp balls, Your Grace. Allow me to pour your wine for you," they said.

The rest of your night with your guests went by fairly smoothly. After you finished eating, you requested that they play a few card games with you and you taught them how to play a few they'd never heard of. You improvised a few games of Uno where the kings were draw fours, the queens were draw twos, the jacks were reverses, and the jokers were skips, and they picked it up surprisingly quick. Amber in particular really liked it.

After that you gave them a tour of your palace, starting with the ground floor and working your way up. The ground floor was all your guests usually ever saw: the dining room, kitchen, living room, bathrooms, an indoor pool, and a library. On the second floor was your personal space, such as your master bedroom, bath, walk-in closet, office, balcony, and a few guest bedrooms. The third floor was for the maids with lots of bedrooms and an extra room for laundry and cleaning supplies. Finally, on the fourth floor was your throne room. Should anyone have requested to meet with your impostor, this was where they would meet them. You, however, rarely used it anymore.

They were in awe of just how huge the place was. Your impostor had been incredibly demanding, insisting on the most luxurious palace Teyvat could offer them. You decided to sit with them on the balcony on the second floor for a while to watch the sun set over Liyue's mountains in the distance, thanking them each for coming.

"It's an honor, Your Divinity," Amber said with a smile. "I just hope our company can help you get some rest tonight." Albedo and Kaeya voiced their agreement.

You yawned, leaning against the railing for a second. "This world is beautiful," you said, closing your eyes to relish in the calmness of the moment. "So many beautiful places and beautiful people."

Your words seemed to comfort the three a little bit. Your impostor would never have said something like that. They'd described Teyvat as a world full of disgusting animals, waiting to be put out of its misery. They regularly contemplated genocide, whether the people of Teyvat were deserving enough to walk the same planet they did. The impostor received so many offerings in large part because the people of Teyvat were terrified of what they might do if the gifts and worship ever stopped.

“It’s getting pretty late, Your Mercy,” Kaeya said, "would you like to head to bed soon?"

You stretched your arms above your head and yawned before nodding. "Yeah, I think so. You guys can take any of the extra bedrooms on this floor. I'm gonna turn in for the night."

After you said your goodnights to your guests, you headed to your luxurious bedroom. Pushed against one wall was your bed, translucent silk curtains framing the sides with an intricate gold-plated headboard. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed by thick gold curtains lined the side wall, and doors to your bathroom and walk-in closet laid opposite the windows. In the bathroom, a huge circular tub sat against some tall bay windows and some folding screens sat beside it. You made your way into your closet and picked out your pajamas made of silk, got changed, and finally crashed in your bed.

---

Fire. All you could see around you was fire.

Your feet ached and your lungs burned, partly from smoke inhalation and partly from screaming. Your once-beautiful luxurious palace was burning around you from every angle, the windows and doors boarded up. You were on the fourth floor, desperate to escape the fire now creeping up the stairs, staring out the large windows.

The ones you'd trusted the most stood around it, cheering as it burned with you still inside it. And there your impostor stood, a smug, satisfied look on their face. You couldn't recognize very much of what they were saying, but the words "blasphemy," "fake," and "sacrilege" reached your ears intact.

Your breathing quickened and your fists pounded against the stained glass windows, the sound of your own screams drowned out by the crackling fire that was coming closer and closer to you. Your stomach turned and it seemed like every fiber in your body was aching. It was all a trick. A cruel trick designed to make you suffer the most.

The last thing you saw was your impostor's sadistic, twisted grin before the smoke on the windows made it impossible to see out.

You screamed for help- for someone, anyone, to save you. Tears streamed down your face and you squeezed your eyes shut, flames licking your ankles as you pressed yourself closer into the corner. Your lungs burned, as did your legs, and each breath in felt like the fire itself had invaded your body. You screamed with all the air left in your lungs, praying that someone who cared might hear you. You heard the floor creak loudly, a quickly repeated knocking sound, and you knew this was it. If the flames and the smoke didn't kill you, the fall you were about to take would.

You were awoken by your own screaming, as well as the sound of a frantic knock at the door. You huddled into yourself on your bed, pressing your legs to your chest and sobbing. You were frustrated, upset, scared. Why did this have to keep happening to you?! The horrible things your own mind conjured up were far, far worse than anything you'd ever experienced.

Your head snapped up when the door swung open, your vision blurred by tears. "Your Holiness, are you alright?" a soothing voice said. You frantically shook your head, trying to back away from them. "No! No, no get away from me," you sobbed. The person obeyed, taking a small step backward. "I'm here to help you, Your Mercy, remember? What can I do for you?" they asked, their honey-like voice easing your paranoia just a bit. As the tears rolled down your face, your vision cleared slightly and you were able to process who you were talking to. Kaeya.

You took a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. It felt like your heart was being crushed, and you were gasping for air. You'd experienced this before, but never to this degree. "W-Water," you choked out. You didn't think you could manage by yourself though, so you quickly added, "the maids, have them get water. Stay, please."

He obeyed, peeking out the room and relaying the request to one of the maids running up the hall. He dragged a chair up next to your bed, sitting beside you. "What else can I do, Your Holiness? Is it okay if I touch you?" he asked, and you nodded. He grabbed your hands, his cool touch soothing you a little bit.

One of the maids came running with a glass of water, helping you take a drink. Kaeya assisted you in a few breathing exercises and techniques he'd learned over the years. When your breathing had finally evened out and the death grip on your heart finally released, you took a deep breath and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, Kaeya..." you said quietly. You glanced up and noticed everyone else was there too. "You all can go back to sleep. I'm sorry for waking you up like this," you said with a shy smile. They all offered you their own version of "it's okay, goodnight," before turning to the door and leaving. Kaeya stood up to leave too, but you grabbed his hand.

"Wait. What if... What if I have another one?" you said. His expression turned to one of pity and sadness, sitting back down in the seat. "Would you like me to sit with you for a while longer?" he offered.

"Sleep here," you said, pushing to the opposite side of the bed and pulling the blankets back. "If... You'd be comfortable with that, I mean."

His face flushed a darker shade. "Your Divinity... I could never," he gasped, averting his gaze. "To lay in the same bed with you would be... Sacrilegious, would it not?"

"Pleaseeee? Wouldn't it be even more sacrilegious to say no?" you said teasingly. "If you don't wanna sleep here I won't force you, but... I don't think it's sacrilegious at all."

Kaeya considered it for a moment before he sighed, pulling the blankets up and laying beside you. "If you insist, Your Holiness."

You grinned and hugged him tight, giggling. "Yay! Thank you, Kaeya," you said. He chuckled, and then it was silent in your room.

After a moment of silence, you spoke up. "Kaeya?" he hummed. "...Venti told me what happened. To your eye. I'm... so sorry. I just wanted to tell you that... I'm here for you if you ever wanna talk about it or need someone to listen," you said quietly.

Kaeya looked away. "Thank you, Your Grace," he said, barely above a whisper. You rested a hand against Kaeya's right cheek just below his eyepatch and he closed his eye, leaning into the affection. You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against his good eye.

A part of you wanted to be angry. A part of you wanted to rage and scream and be upset for what they did to him. Yet all being angry had managed to achieve so far was scaring your Venti. They were already dead, and being angry now would achieve nothing. You pulled him a bit closer to you, resting your chin on his shoulder. All you could do now was be there for him.

"Would you mind?" he asked, "If I wanted to talk about it, Your Holiness?" You nodded.

"...I was sent here to meet with them on behalf of the Knights. We'd been having problems with the Fatui and they sent me to urge Their Grace-" he cleared his throat, "I apologize. They sent me to urge the impostor to keep the Fatui out of Mondstadt's business."

"I looked up at them on your throne and we made eye contact. Immediately, they... they drew their sword and swung it at my face," he said quietly. "They said they were being merciful, that I deserved a far worse punishment for involving them in such trivial matters. The next time they saw me... they said I looked nice with an eyepatch."

Your stomach turned as he told you the story and you pulled him into a hug. "Oh Kaeya..." you said quietly. "I'm so sorry... I wish that... I could've stopped this sooner." It wasn't until now you noticed the deep scar running up his right cheek under his eyepatch. You traced the mark with a light touch. "You didn't deserve this at all, Kaeya. They were cruel and sadistic, and now you don't have to worry about them anymore. If I could take all of this away from you, I'd do it in a heartbeat," you said in his ear.

"You're far too kind, Your Divinity," he said, tears clinging to his eyelashes. "And far too forgiving. Have I not drawn my sword on you as well?" he whispered, remembering that he himself had tried to execute you under the impostor's orders. "Why are you... Allowing me this close to you?"

"Because I trust you," you said, running your fingers through his blue hair. "You'd been following that monster's orders your whole life, and you would've been killed yourself if you tried to protest. I'm just happy everything worked out the way it did, because that meant that nobody else got hurt. Please don't feel guilty, Kaeya, what happened to us is nobody's fault but that impostor's."

He smiled slightly, nuzzling closer to you. "Thank you, Your Grace," he said.

"Sweet dreams, Kaeya," you said, pressing one final kiss against his cheek. You had a feeling you weren't going to be having any more nightmares tonight.

"Goodnight, Your Grace."

---

@tanspostsblog @laurafaye13-blog @karmawonders @samsmidnightthonks @uchihaeirin