#and it fits SO WELL she’s unstoppable & won’t let anyone get in her way

[atlasira]

I’m replaying Heaven’s Secret and although I’ll always love my Angel MC, Demon MC is so fun oh my goodness. She’s such a little shit! I got to the part where Satan is crushing her throat and the options were basically “be chill 😇” or “insult him again 😈” and it was an Experience™️ choosing the idiotic option. I love it, I love her.

[slasherhaven]

What about billy, michael and Brahms (and whoever else you’d like to do) with an s/o that’s also a killer?

The Slashers with a S/O who is also a killer

Thomas Hewitt

Judging would be hypocritical but...really...you? Thomas can’t judge you for what you do, he done things just as bad. He just couldn’t believe that you had done these things but you have...he doesn’t know how to feel. But in the end, he loves you more than anything. If you can love him despite the things his family do, he can definitely love you even with this new information. You’re still you.

More willing to let you help. Now that he knows about all of this, he doesn’t feel the need to shelter you from the morbidity of the family as much (he is still very protective of you, though). If you want to help out with that side of the ‘chores’, then he is more likely to allow it. That doesn’t stop him from worrying though.

Michael Myers

Okay. Why does he not react to anything?! Okay, there is a chance he already knew. This man can be quite the stalker when he wants to be, so he might have already found out. Either way, he’s not going to judge you for this, I mean...look at him. However, the first time he found out, he was actually surprised, he’s just good at not showing it. But he is also curious.

He likes to work alone...but he can make an exception. Michael likes working alone, he doesn’t want to have somebody tag along. However, he is curious as to how you would behave, how the two of you would work together, he wanted to watch and have some of that curiosity satisfied. So, maybe the two of you team up for a night or two before going back to your individual work.

Jason Voorhees 

You? There’s no way. Jason doesn’t even believe it at first. You’re so sweet and gentle and kind, there’s no way you’re a killer...right? He just sees you as his sweet S/O, the only person who has shown him any love or kindness. So, you can understand why it’s difficult for him to picture.

Worries about you. Not in a hypocritical way, it’s just dangerous work. Jason worries about you enough even before this information so now that he knows you put yourself in dangerous situations purposely, he frets even more. If you start working with him on dealing with intruders at the camp, he will worry about you no matter how capable you prove yourself to be.

Brahms Heelshire 

Hypocritical little bastard. As if he has any room to judge you for what you do. You know his history, about the nannies that came before you and how he had to deal with them when they didn’t accept him. You knew all of that, he had opened up to you about it, that’s why you told him the truth as well. He just needs some time to process this and remember that you’re still you.

As long as you’re still caring for him. He decides that as long as nothing between you both changes, he’s fine with it. As along as you continue to love him and care for him, he doesn’t care about all of that.

Bo Sinclair 

Doesn’t believe you. Straight up laughs in your face, shaking his head at you. Yeah, that was a good joke. No matter what you say, he thinks you’re just messing with him. He doesn’t think you could do it, he’s underestimating you.

Well, fucking hell, okay then. That’s pretty much his response when you prove it to him. Either showing him evidence of past kills or just straight up killing somebody in front of him. You weren’t joking, he gets it...and is almost impressed. Well, looks like you’re going to be doing a lot more to pull your weight around here.

Vincent Sinclair

He...doesn’t like the idea. The thought of you killing somebody doesn’t sit right with him but he’s also aware that he has no room to judge. He doesn’t like the idea of you hurting somebody or of you accidently getting hurt in the process. He’s more worried about it all than anything else.

He comes around to it. He just needs some time to process and accept it. In the mean time, just remind him that it doesn’t change anything between the two of you. Continue to show him love and prove that you’re still who he thought you were, he’ll eventually relax about the whole thing. Just please don’t get hurt.

Lester Sinclair

Honestly, it makes him a little nervous. He knows that you’re not going to hurt him, it’s not that, he actually trusts you with his life. It’s a natural reaction to finding out your S/O is a killer, but he won’t judge. I mean, how can he. While he doesn’t usually play a direct part in the killings, both of his brothers are killers. So, he can’t be too put off by you being one too.

At least you’ll fit in here, eh? This newfound information actually makes him think that you’re less likely to leave Ambrose (and, in addition, him) because the things that happen in this town aren’t too difficult for you to accept and get used too. He worries less about you seeing the dark side of the town. He can see how this could be a positive thing in a strange way.

Bubba Sawyer

Confusion and disbelief. He just can’t believe the person he loves so much and who shows him so much tender affection could be a killer. But you tell him that you feel the same about him. He’s so sweet and kind but he’s killed people before. Well, maybe it’s not so bad then!

Well, he can’t judge! Killing is pretty normal to him and, while he doesn’t you to get hurt or put yourself in harms way, he can’t judge. This just means that you are like the rest of the family, so that’s fine! And now you can help them deal with intruders if you’d like, he’ll just be watching so that you don’t get hurt. He worries too much about you sometimes.

Billy Lenz

Is actually very torn about it. I mean, how are you supposed to react when you find out your S/O is a killer, especially when you’re one too. He’s not judgemental because he’s in the same boat as you, but he just struggles to process that you have done stuff like that when you’ve only ever been kind and accepting of him.

As long as you’re nice to him, he doesn’t care. If this changes nothing between you both, he accepts you for who you are because you’ve done the same for him. He also gets this feeling of relief because you must understand him. You wouldn’t judge him, you’d understand and still be there for him. And that’s all he wants from you.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Does his research. As soon as he finds out, he wants to know everything. Whether you simply tell him everything, from your first kill to where you are today, or he has to do some extra research on your kills. He wants to know how you do it and why you do it. What can he say? It’s an interesting subject. Plus, it helps him better understand you and learn more about you.

Mutual curiosity. Just as he’s curious about your kills, you’re interested with his. If he hasn’t already taken you to the hotel, he will. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from each other, maybe even help each other out. Either way, this is certainly interesting to him.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) 

Probably how you met. It’s likely that he caught wind of your kills and became interested. Of course, he had to investigate and learn more about this mysterious killer, only to find you. You’re just lucky that he developed an interest in you rather than wanting to eliminate any competition.

Partnering up. He just thought teaming up with you for a kill or two could be interesting, just a little bit of fun but the two of you enjoyed it more than either of you expected, so it became a regular thing. Eventually, it became official. You are quite the team...

Otis Driftwood

Tell him everything. He wants to know everything, every little detail. Just tell him everything. No details are too gory for him. In fact, he wants to know the gory details. He just wants to know it all and he will listen intently the whole time.

Otis likes having a partner more than he thought he would. When he found out that you’re a killer, the first thing he wanted to do was kill somebody with you. And he enjoys it even more than he thought it would. He likes terrorising people, whether it be on his own or with somebody else, but none of it compares to doing it with you. This is definitely going to become a regular thing. Side note: it shouldn’t be surprising that this all gets him going.

Baby Firefly

What a power couple! As soon as she finds out, all she wants to do is cause chaos with you and kill somebody with you. She truly believes that the two of you are unstoppable. And even if you’re not, the two of you are about to have a lot of fun together!

Just fucked up people doing fucked up shit. The two of you are definitely bad influences on each other. The fact that you kill anyone at all only encourages her to do it more because of how fun she finds doing it with you. And she just makes you all the more chaotic.

Yautja (Predator)

Not quick to judge at all. Killing is a perfectly normal thing in their culture, well maybe not just killing each other but hunting is normal and encouraged. So he’s accepting of it.

Teaches you their honour code. Honour is extremely important to the Yautja. If you’re killing innocent humans, that’s a problem. They aren’t worthy kills, they’re easy. Preferably you would aim higher, killing an opponent who is a challenge is worthy. Or you would kill people who ‘deserve’ it, that doesn’t exactly bring you honour if they were an easy target but you wouldn’t loose any either. He’ll pretty much train you if you’re okay with that.

[chironshorseass]

“We're gonna be okay, I promise that” for the prompts, if you want to ofc

yeah, um...i planned on making this angsty. but then i remembered: skater percy.

read on ao3

“We're gonna be okay, I promise that.”

Annabeth looked down at the steep slope of the concrete beneath her. It was steeper than she’d thought.

Slowly, her eyes drifted back to her boyfriend, whose hands rested comfortably on her hips.

“How do I know that we’re not gonna fall off and die?” she said, not daring to move an inch from her death grip on Percy’s neck.

It was a miracle that he hadn’t choked from her grasp already. She probably looked laughable—all paralyzed and wide-eyed—but she didn’t care.

“Because,” he said, holding her tighter. “I’ve got you. And I’m not letting go.”

“Reassuring,” she muttered but didn’t argue further.

She had to do this. There was a reason why she’d practically begged Percy to teach her how to skateboard. She knew the basics now, but hanging out too much with his friends and feeling useless around them as they all took to skating around this particular park had done something to her self confidence.

However, she’d told herself that she could do this.

And yet, she had no clue why the idea of this ramp and her balancing on just a piece of wood terrified her so; she’d experienced much more frightening situations during her lifetime. Monsters weren’t exactly cute and cuddly, after all. But there was just something about this slope and this skateboard that made her want to run and hide and never look back.

“Hey,” Percy said softly. He’d likely sensed her thoughts, what with how well he knew her. “We don’t have to do this, you know. It’s okay to be scared. I was scared the first time I tried this. We can just do it another time.”

“No, no—I want to try this out.” Because she couldn’t give up; her pride wouldn’t allow it.

“It’s going to be a breeze after the first time. Trust me on this.”

Easy for him to say. He was the invulnerable one in the relationship.

“Just…don't let go, okay?” she said.

“I won’t. Already promised that.”

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear—which was partially hidden under her helmet. A helmet he’d forced her to wear, though she realized just how foolish she’d been to argue with him against it, because if she fell off, the helmet was her only salvation. His fingers swiped at some other stray hairs, and the tender feel of his fingers brushing against her skin made her heartbeat slow down its galloping pace.

“You ready?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Cool.” Her arms wrapped around his neck impossibly tighter than before. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay,” he repeated, grinning.

She saw his leg lift itself off the ground, ready for its placement on the skateboard. But still, the board barely moved an inch, as if Percy was waiting for some kind of signal.

“What are you waiting for, Seaweed Brain? Get it over wi—AAAHHHH!”

The words left her throat in a shrill screech. Clarisse would’ve never let her forget it if she’d been present in that moment. Luckily, it was just her and Percy and the steady roll of the small wheels beneath her feet. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what Percy had taught her. Tighten the butt and tighten the abdomen.

And most importantly, not letting go.

The moment was over as quick as the wind rushing past her face when going down the ramp. Through her screams, all she’d felt was Percy. She’d only felt his warm hands on her back keeping her in place, and when she opened her eyes, they were gliding steadily across the rest of the park.  

Annabeth let out a breath of relief.

“That...wasn’t so bad,” she managed to say, glancing up at him.

The smile he gave her was infectious—a boyish grin that only meant trouble. Fit for a skater boy, some of the Aphrodite kids would say.

But she knew, better than most, that Percy meant more than just trouble. He was beautiful this way, with his snapback making his curls peak out like clouds in the sky and his green eyes sparkling with pride, that gaze directed only to her.

“Hey, I knew you could do it,” he said as they turned a corner.

With the wheels from the skateboard, the concrete felt as smooth as glass, like she could skate for hours without stopping. Most of all, this closeness to him felt like freedom. Like the first breath after submerging underwater. It was as if, now that she’d gone down that ramp, she felt unstoppable with a giddiness that only occured on the first kiss, or on a first date.

She’d begun to realize however, that with Percy, everything new felt like turning a chapter.

“Feeling good for another round?”

She found herself beaming. “Sure thing.”

They stopped suddenly, and she craved that intimacy with him as soon as he jumped back into solid ground. She had no choice but to do the same.

“I’ll accept another round. But only if you don’t let go,” she said, nudging him. They walked side by side, hand in hand, towards the ramp.

“Easier said than done.”

Suddenly, he halted in his step but didn’t drop her hand. That’s when she turned around, only to find him mere inches away from her.

“What are you doing?”

He cocked his head to the side, sending her that look. It was a look that she’d never get used to, even now, that they were dating. His lips tugged upwards; she felt his arm drag her closer to him, like when they were riding on that skateboard that currently lay discarded on the ground.

“You told me to not let you go.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’m doing.”

His breath was warm against her lips.

“Getting cocky, are we?”

It came out breathier than she expected. It wasn’t like anyone could blame her, really. Not when Percy’s lips spread to a full-on grin as he cupped her cheek.

“What can I say? Dating you makes anyone’s ego skyrocket.”

She barked out a laugh, ignoring the way her cheeks grew hot. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He only hummed, leaning down even more. Taking his face in her hands, Annabeth, guided him closer—and that’s when her helmet bumped with his forehead, making them both laugh.

“I told you the helmet was stupid,” she said.

“Ah, fuck it.”

Percy’s head tilted slightly further to the left, and before she could protest, their lips had already met in a soft, feather-light kiss. Sighing, her fingers brushed against his jaw. She stood on her tippy toes, then, deepening the kiss.

Who knew he’d one day grow taller than her? Sometimes, she saw it as a disadvantage. Like right now, as she tried to grab hold of Percy's snapback that was just barely out of reach. Finally achieving her goal, she broke the kiss.

“Hey!” he protested, noting how she’d promptly taken his snapback and placed it on top of her head. “What was that for?”

Annabeth gave him a quick peck on the lips before stepping away. She winked at him, throwing her helmet his way.

“It’s my turn to look cool, now!”

“Get back here!”

But she’d already broken into a sprint, reaching for the ramp.

“Race you to the top!” she called out.

“That’s not fair and you know it!”

“See ya later, boy!”

“Ohh you are not quoting Avril Lavigne on my watch!”

“Why not?”

She felt a breeze brushing by her side and heard the tell-tale sound of the roller wheels. Faster than she’d thought possible, Percy whirled and whisked the snapback into his own hands, then tossed the helmet she’d hurled at him earlier. Demigod instinct took care of that, hands reaching to catch it in the blink of an eye.

“Hey, no fair!”

“You weren’t being fair, either!” is all he said, as he kicked back with his leg and sprang to the top.

Show off.

He made skating look easy, the jerk.

Apparently leaving a skateboard behind with a Skater Boy had its disadvantages. But she laughed anyway, once she reached the top—once he belted out the lyrics to that Avril Lavigne song at her arrival.

The pull of gravity when skating down the ramp took her breath away, but afterwards, she laughed again, and again, until that’s all she knew how to do.

And of course, she now knew how to skate.

(She’d found that in more ways than one, dating a skater had its perks.)

[13uswntimagines]

I Should Sleep With You More Often (Sam x Reader)

Sequel to Works Like a Charm  where Sam and Reader finally get together. It’s a very fluffy piece, with a little bit of late night breakfast making and a surprise kiss. 

special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​ cause this wouldn’t have happened without her. 

Hello?”

“Hey, I can’t sleep.” Sam’s voice comes over the phone, getting straight to the point with frustration.

“And you’re calling me about it? At 3 am. I could have been asleep you know.” You huff into the phone, pinning it between your chin and your shoulder. 

“Were you?” She asks, and you can almost see her eyebrow quirking up. 

You look down at the frying pan where you were about to pour your egg-cheese scramble. “No. But still.”

“Don’t worry, I appreciate the irony of the situation,” she says, with an attempt at humor. “can I come over?”

“Sure. You can split my omelet.” You hum, your tongue poking out as you make sure the entire omelet landed on the plate instead of the floor. 

“Omelette?” Sam asked, sounding amused. “I thought you weren’t supposed to --” 

“Eat anything after 9 pm I know, I know. But I woke up and was hungry, and couldn’t just ignore it to fall back asleep for two hours. I had to eat something or I was going to get nauseous.” You interrupted her, waving your hand dismissively. 

“What?” Sam asked entirely confused. 

“You know that feeling, where you’re like, so hungry that you get kind of nauseous?” You tried to explain again. 

“No…” She trailed off. 

“Oh, well it’s the worst. I like to try to eat something before it gets too bad because otherwise, the food won’t do anything. Anyway, I made enough you can have half of it, just let me know when you get here so I can send down the elevator for you.” You said, whipping your hands off and walking towards the door. 

“I’m actually just parking,” Sam’s voice came sheepishly over the phone. In the background, you heard the unmistakable sound of her car being locked. She always insisted on clicking the lock button twice so it would beep, like she didn’t trust it to lock the first time. 

You shook your head and left your apartment to buzz her into the building. “You’re telling me that at 3 am, before even checking to see if I was awake, you just decided to come to my apartment because you couldn’t sleep?”

“Yes?” 

“You’re insane,” you said, hanging up the phone as the elevator door opened to reveal her tall frame. 

She ruffled the hair at the back of her neck, grinning. “I knew you would be awake?”

“Bullshit.” You led the way back to your apartment and grabbed two plates from the cabinet. “You want soy milk?”

“What?” 

“Soy milk. I’ve got vanilla or dark chocolate.” For some reason, soy milk helped reduce the insomnia nausea more than anything else most days. Still, the omelet smelled amazing. 

“Um sure, vanilla please.” She shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. Vanilla was for the weak. 

You pulled out both cartons and two glasses, before cutting the omelet in half and handing her a fork. 

“Don’t I get my own plate?” Sam whined, cutting off a piece of the Omelet and popping it into her mouth. 

“People who come barging into my apartment at 3 AM have to share with the host. Unless you wanna do dishes?” You raised your eyebrow at her, pointing your fork in her direction, smirking when she emphatically shook her head no. 

She quickly changed the subject, avoiding your eyes as she ate. “So how are you liking your apartment, it’s new right?”

“Yeah, I moved in four months ago, you know when I suddenly got traded to North Carolina,” you said, a very bitter edge in your voice. How Mark could let you leave the thorns you would never know, but at least Hinkle was retiring. 

You took another bite “So why couldn’t you sleep? At camp, you’re usually snoring like a freight train by now.” 

Sam paused mid-bite, fork in the air. She looked like she was debating how to answer then, stuffed her last piece of omelet in her mouth. “I donb snowe.”

“You totally do. Rose even sent me the video evidence if you wanna see it,” you smirked, standing to go get your phone. 

“No!” Sam jumped up and you sprinted across the kitchen to get out of her reach, grinning. “You really don’t have to do that, it’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, but I really don’t mind,” you taunted, starting for your phone before Sam tackled you. Well, it wasn’t a tackle so much as a grab, but she had a good foot and a half on you, so same difference really. 

“Put me down. This is highly unnecessary,” you sputtered, laughing from Sam’s shoulder. “I’m not supposed to exercise within an hour of bed. My therapist would be unhappy with so much activity.”

“Yeah cause eating an Omelette at 3 am is totally something she would approve,” Sam rolled her eyes, as she tossed you onto your couch.

“Lies and slander. I won’t get the alleged snoring video, but seriously. Why are you here?”

Sam sighs, and slouches onto the couch next to you, dropping her head into your lap. You smile down at her, liking this new angle. While you certainly didn’t mind being the baby of the team, it was kind of nice to do the petting for once.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, furrowing her eyebrows.

“You were never a good liar. It’s why everyone catches you when you try to pull pranks. I hear it helps if you talk about it,” You murmured, using your thumb to smooth out the crease that formed between her eyes. 

“Fine, I couldn’t sleep because I kept having nightmares. It felt like, I was tossing and turning for hours, and then every time I dozed off, my brain came up with these fucked up images. Like, silence of the lambs shit. I could sell some horror film director the plotlines and make bank, I’m telling you. And since Rose and Wilma moved out, my place has felt so empty. It felt like, the panic attacks I used to have before games. When I had to always bring a bag with me to hyperventilate into before I could get my mind on the game.”

You frowned. “I don’t remember that.”

“Once you became my bus buddy I didn’t have that problem. You got me out of my own head with fun word games and stupid jokes. Remember that time you gave me the sentence ‘The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog?’ You kept grinning telling me to stop stressing out, it would be alright, to just guess a letter.” 

“Because whatever you guessed would be right.” You hum smiling down at her. 

 “You couldn’t take that shit-eating grin off your face, you jerk, but like, it helped me stop second-guessing myself. Sitting on the bus with you, I’ve never felt more calm going into a season. And so I just thought. It’s dumb but I hoped coming here would help.” She shrugged. 

“It’s not dumb Sammy. You help me sleep too. Why do you think all the vets insist I sit with you?” You said softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. 

“Because you used to fall asleep literally everywhere and they hoped I could get across the aisle and catch you before you hit your head?” She giggled and you snapped her shoulder lightly. 

“Wow. Thanks.” You said in a monotone, “Or maybe it’s ‘cause you’re my favorite teddy bear.”

“If anyone is the teddy it’s you. You’re like half my size,” She giggled. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you muttered, playfully pushing her head off your lap. “Come on you giant.”

“Where are you going?” She asked, allowing you to pull her to her feet. 

“To go grab you a toothbrush and a fresh pillowcase for the bed.” You said, your tugging getting a little more insistent. You really wanted to get to sleep tonight. You had been so good lately (ignoring the random omelet you cooked tonight).

“Oh, um. I was hoping we could just watch television on your couch and I would fall asleep,” Sam rambled, eyes wide. “I mean, not that I mind, but I didn’t want to like, invade on your--”

“Just come up to my room. It’s no big deal, it’s large enough for both of us, and I honestly don’t think that couch is even big enough to fit you. Besides, maybe it will help you sleep to be on a mattress actually purchased in this century.”

“Hey, I like my mattress!” She grumbled indignantly, crossing her arms. 

“You flip it twice a month because it keeps forming an indention where you’ve slept!” You said exasperated. That sleepover had been a terrible idea and you stood by that. At least your bed didn’t spit out feathers when you turned over too fast. 

“Well, I. um. No comment.” you hear her say as you go to take your turn in the bathroom. 

When Sam gets back from brushing her teeth you’ve done everything except turn out the lights. You look up from your side of the bed as she pauses in the doorway. 

“Is this… Welcome to Night Vale?”

“It helps me ignore my thoughts. Can you get the lights please?” 

You had to replay the podcast the next day after Sam left. You couldn’t remember anything after “Wednesday has been canceled due to a scheduling error” because within moments you were asleep.

*****

You thought that sleeping with Sam was only supposed to be a one-night thing, but it wasn’t. One night turned into two, which turned into the two of you usually crashing at each other's places. 

If you were being honest, it was the best sleep you had ever gotten. It was nice to have someone there to hold onto, to protect you from the bad dreams. The problem was that your feelings were edging past the line of friendship, and you had no idea what to do about it. 

It started with a team party you both went to, where Sam offered to be the designated driver. After she dropped everyone else off, you told her she might as well stay the night at your place since it was already so late and she did. And you both slept great. And then you had your usual Saturday spa night the next night, and you were several shots in and it wouldn’t have been responsible to drive home. And you both slept a solid seven hours. 

Not that Sam was a magical cure to your insomnia. You still had nights where your brain was like a train running off the rails, unstoppable no matter how hard you tried. Yet, having her there helped. She made sure blue lights went off when they were supposed to, and your late-night breakfast-making was kept to a minimum. AND after the first few nights, you realized that she was amusingly clingy in her sleep. Which meant that occasionally if you woke up and tried to get out of bed, she would sleepily grab you and hold you in place murmuring about whatever was happening in her dream. Since you couldn’t get up you had to just lay there, which normally might have been boring, but with her was amusing as you listened to her rambling state of consciousness. 

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. You really needed to get your shit together and just ask her out. But what if she said no, and you lost your cuddle buddy? That would suck royally, and if you lost your bus seat it might completely curse the USWNT. 

“Alright, I can practically feel the steam coming out of your ears, spill,” Sam groaned, rolling over and throwing an arm around your waist. 

“Isn’t it weird?”

“What?”

“Time. Like someone decided that seconds were a thing and a certain number of seconds equaled a minute and there were a certain number of minutes in a day. Like someone just decided it was a thing, and everyone went along with it and now we all have to plan our lives around this arbitrary system. I wonder if that asshole realized that people would use it to put kids in detention and force them to cram so they could regurgitate facts in a specified amount of his made-up system. And like the Romans made a Calendar and the Mayans did one too…” Your rambling was cut off by Sams’s soft lips touching your own in a quick peck before she collapsed back into the pillow. “Just blame capitalism babe.”

You stared at her for a minute, shocked, before she bolted upright. “SHIT. Sorry, I just. I forgot to ask for consent. I just forgot--”

“I consent, yes, more of this please,” you said, leaning over to kiss her again. Your hands cupped her cheeks and her fingers tangled into the baby hairs at the back of your neck. 

After a few minutes, Sam broke off the kiss, both of you breathing heavily. “Um, wow. You know, I’m not sure this is helping you get to sleep, love.”

You smirk, biting your lip and straddling her hips before you lean in to kiss her again, slowly. “You’re the one who said you needed to sleep with me more often.”

[whirlybirdwhat]

crown the king with bloody flowers - chapter 33

Hanahaki au drabble series, in which Luffy is in love with the sea.

Ao3

chapter 33 - adonis flos - shanks 

Luffy - he’s so small in Shank’s arms, smaller than he was last night, partying with the Red-Haired pirates held upon their shoulders, and smaller than he was this morning, when he ran into Shanks’s knees and caused a ruckus as they were loading the ship. Shanks doesn’t know why he never noticed it before. 

Maybe it’s because now, Luffy is asleep, wrapped in blankets and held in Shanks’s arms, blood on his chin and red stains on the blanket. Maybe it’s because Luffy - vivacious and unstoppable, even with a stab wound to the face - has never been this quiet. This small. This unmoving

Shanks holds him in his arms, sitting in the quiet guest bedroom on the small bed Luffy calls his own above the bar. Knickknacks of child’s toys and treasures, shells Shanks had given to him and odd trinkets the Red Hair pirates had left behind litter the room. 

He’s a child - a child who loved the sea more than anything else. 

(When Shanks had first met him, Luffy had been sitting by the sea, watching the pirate ship come in. Water had lapped at his ankles, and later - when introductions were over and pirates were mumbling into a fifth round of drinks - Luff had simply stared off into the horizon with a smile.

Walking by tide pools, Luffy had said, The sea’s the best! She’s free! Picking up shells, Luffy had told him Isn’t the sea pretty? Living near the shore, the horizon reflected in his gaze, Luffy didn’t have to speak for Shanks to know that he loved the sea.)

A child, that was loved back by the sea. 

Until — 

Luffy coughs, and water and blood and dogwood flowers drip out of his small mouth. Shanks takes the blanket and holds him closer, his own arms trembling, terrified. 

— Until Luffy had eaten that damned fruit. 

It was only a few hours ago but - still - it stays in Shank’s mind.  The way Luffy had bitten in and started choking, not coughing out pieces of fruit but rather flowers. The way his eyes had gone wide and tears had welled up, the way Luffy had clawed at his throat and spit blood unto the floor - the way Luffy had said It hurts and had closed his eyes when Shanks whispered hanahaki.

Shanks watched his captain die in a flurry of petals. He’ll never forget it.

This moment is just the same - seared into his memory like a brand, like a warning, like a curse. 

Luffy, Shanks thinks and tilts his head back to the ceiling, feeling tears wanting too well. There is no shame in crying, every pirate knows that - but here, when Luffy is in his arms and may wake at every moment, Shanks must stay strong. He brought the fruit. He tore Luffy from the sea that he loved more than anything. He’s the one who cursed him. 

He has to stay strong for Luffy. 

(The sea hates Devil Fruit users, the legend states, but Shanks has only ever talked to Buggy and well - he never made it seem that way. Shanks hadn’t really believed it. But this - this is the truth isn’t it? The sea hates.)

There’s another cough from Luffy, but this time - this time he starts shifting. Groaning. Shanks tilts his arms and lets Luffy roll onto his bicep rather than his chest so Luffy is looking straight up at him. 

(His hands, bloody and red, still grip Shanks’s shirt. He almost never wants him to let go.)

“Hey Anchor,” Shanks says softly, quietly. “How you feeling?”

Luffy blinks blearily, brown eyes dazed and faintly pained. He adjusts his grip on Shanks’ shirt and looks around, minutely moving his head, absolutely exhausted, before responding. “‘M tired. Hurts.” 

Something breaks in Shanks’ chest at that, but he tries not to show it. Luffy is  strangely empathetic, even if he doesn’t care about others emotions that much and he’ll know Shanks’ sorrow - 

Luffy tilts his head further into Shanks’s chest and ah - he already knows. “‘M glad you’re here. You always come back. No one really else does.” 

His heart clenches. Oh, how he wants to steal this boy away - away from a bar with a woman who tries her best, away from a village that doesn’t understand, and a grandfather who cares but not enough. He wants to keep Luffy with him, wrap him up and let him see the world on the deck of ship, let him wonder, let him live but - 

He can’t. 

(A ship’s no place for a child who still has somewhere to call home on land.)

Shanks tilts down and presses a kiss onto Luffy’s head, soft and affectionate, his beard scratching at Luffy’s silky hair. The boy gives out a giggle at that, soft and melodious, before a coughing fit starts up again. Hacking and hacking away, flowers spilling out and sinking to the ground. Shanks rubs his back, gently, soothingly, as Luffy starts trembling before sagging in his arms. 

When he looks back up at Shanks, his eyes are pained.  

“Shanks?” He asks, quiet. Unnerving. “Am I going to die?”

And Shanks’ heart breaks.

Am I going to die?

Am I going to die?

Am I going to die? 

No child should have to ask that, should have to bear that burden, and oh - 

Shanks’ reaction is instantaneous and he crushes Luffy to his chest, finally unable to fight the tears that prick at his eyes. 

“No,” he lies, he lies so badly, choking out as much conviction as he can manage. “Anchor, Luffy, no. You - I won’t let you. It’s going to be okay, you won’t die, you won’t.” Luffy shakes in his arms, and he knows, doesn’t he?

That Shanks is lying?

He doesn’t let Luffy go, only listens to his mumbled sobs as he cries with him. 

“Oh, Luffy,” Shanks says, helpless. “I - we will find a way. We will - I’ll sail the entire world, I’ll find something.  I-‘“ His voice cracks. He can’t get another word out. He just holds Luffy tight, tighter than he’s ever held him, before, and sobs into his pitch black hair. ‘Anchor,” he gasps, and this boy is going to die and it’ll be the death of him.

Shanks knows it.

He knows it.

He wishes he didn’t.

His mind races, trying to come up with something, anything, mind always, always, hitching on the way his captains smile was bloody when he said goodbye to Shanks for the last time, bloody red petals stuck in his teeth.

Did you do it, Shanks had asked, sobbing, clinging to his captains coat on that last day, did you achieve your dream?

Not yet, Roger had said, and that had hurt the most. Roger was a pirate. Roger was the Pirate King.

And to a pirate, losing a dream was worse than death.

Shanks doesn’t want that to happen to Luffy. Luffy, who is small in his arms and dying the same way Roger did. Luffy, who is sobbing and terrified. Luffy, who looks out to sea and says he wants to be a pirate with more determination than anyone else in the world.

Luffy can’t die. He can’t.

Shanks can’t stop his tears. He can’t stop crying. 

But. 

He - 

(He’s got will, Rayleigh had said, when Crocus made exasperated noises about why Roger wasn’t bed-ridden in illness, He’ll stay standing as long as he’s got reason to, and adventure’s a good enough one as any.) 

-He won’t let Luffy die.

He takes off his hat with a careful arm, making sure not to move Luffy to roughly, and slowly pulls the hat off his head and place’s it on his Anchor’s. It startles him out of his sobbing for just a moment, his eyes big and red-rimmed with wetness still dripping down. 

“Luffy.” Shanks says, despite the tears that match Luffy’s on his face. “You - you wanna be a pirate, yeah?”

Quiet, quieter than he’s ever been, Luffy nods. “Ye-yeah.” He hiccups. 

“Then listen to me. Pirates are free.” Each word feels like a vow. Like a promise. Like defiance. Shanks keeps his eyes on Luffy’s, and lets the words carry him. “We do what we want, when we want. We sing, we dance, we sail, we laugh - but most of all Luffy, we chase. Our. Dreams.” Here, he holds Luffy tighter, tipping the too-big hat on his head back enough so he can see Luffy’s entire face. “That’s what a Jolly Roger is. It’s a symbol of our conviction in chasing our dreams. And Dreams - to a pirate - that’s our life. If you have a dream, Luffy, then you’ll live. You got that?”

Luffy is staring at him, eyes wide, tears forgotten. It’s just like when he heard Shanks sing Binks sake for the first time, or when he heard about the tales of the Grand Line. It’s awe. 

(Shanks thinks he’ll break if he can’t uphold the pedestal Luffy has placed him upon.)

“Do you?” Shanks prompts again, and Luffy nods.

“Yeah.”

“Then what’s your dream Luffy?” 

“To be a pirate!” Luffy says, voice filled with unsteady conviction. “To sail the seas and be free!”

It’s not enough. But it’s a start.

“Then you won’t die Luffy - as long as you’re chasing your dreams, you won’t die.” Shanks voice cracks again. “You can’t die without being a pirate, right?’

C’mon, Luffy - if anyone’s got the same Will as Roger, it’s you so - 

“Right!” Luffy says, rubbing at his eyes with a hand and blinking tears away even as that same hand comes to clutch at his chest. “I can’t die - not until… not until I-‘

And what he says next isn’t the dream to be a pirate, but something grander, something that spilled out of Roger’s mouth as he laughed with the entire world - something that makes Shanks burst out in glee and hold Luffy close as a few more desperate tears escape his eyes.

“That’s - that’s right. You can’t die till then. You can’t!”

(It’s not a promise. It can’t be. The Seas to much for that. But… Shanks can pretend.)

That night, Luffy sleeps with the hat on in the crook of Shanks’ arms, new found determination in his eyes even as he cries himself to sleep and sobs through the pain.

He gives the hat back, but the next week there are bandits who pick on pirates and little boys alike, missing arms and little anchors lost at sea.

The next week, Shanks has to leave.

But not before hearing Luffy make another promise.

“I’m the man who will be King of the Pirates!”

He won’t die before achieving his dream. 

(Roger did.)

He won’t die before seeing Shanks again.

(Roger did.)

Shanks just has to have faith that this boy - who can smile like the sun, who loves the sea with his whole heart, who has flowers on his lips and in his chest - will live.

King or Dead.

It’s the only choice Luffy has left.

-

adonis flos: a red flower that is also called "blood drops" adonis flos mean 'painful, sorrowful recollections." its named for Adonis, the youth that Aphrodite loved who died in her arms, and who's blood and pain formed flowers where they dripped.

[mirahuyooo]

Baby | knj

Baby

—Your daughter had been so sure about one thing. You are Baby. End of discussion. 

Word Count: 1,268 Content/s: FLUFF, drama (super light, extra smol), established relationship, married life, husband and wife au, dad!namjoon is a p r e c i o u s concept & I'm glad we all agree Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

A/N: Hi, hello, idc if I'm posting out of schedule, this would've been a better tribute for Joonie's birthday but I went away and posted the one that's been in the drafts SO hERE I AM, houRS AFTER COOING AND FALLING HEAD OVER HEELS FOR THE CONCEPT OF F U T U R E  D A D to deliver you this short blurb inspired by the stuff i saw on twt 😩👌💕 Hope y'all enjoyed!

[masterlist]

Any couple with a kid would gladly attest to the saying that parenting is no easy feat. The two of you, of course, have found fact in such a statement and have always managed. You, yourself, think you two did a brilliantly decent job raising Luna, your four-turning-five-year-old who had recently donned her big girl shoes on and entered the great unknown—kindergarten.

Now, you don't really know why you've been called in to meet with the teacher instead of doing the usual routine of waiting by the school gates, but you were certain that your sweet, little angel didn't do anything wr—

"What do you mean she got into a fight?"

Your jaw falls slack as you turned to the little girl sheepishly sitting in the chair next to you. An eyebrow of yours raised, waiting for her explanation, but Luna refused to meet with your questioning gaze. "Luna," you call out, soft yet firm so as to not scare her into not speaking a word. 

"Well, Mrs. Kim," the teacher, Ms. Oh, began, catching your attention once more. She brings her hands together over the wooden desk with an awkward smile gracing her features, somewhat unsure of how to properly tell the story itself. "Luna here threw a little fit when one of her classmates, Chunsa, made fun of your name."

The confusion that seizes you knows no limits. "My name?" You incredulously ask. What's wrong with my name?

Ms. Oh glances at Luna for a moment before clearing her throat. "She said that your name was Baby," she tells you, "Chunsa laughed, because she found it funny and proceeded to make fun of it with the others. The fight,  fortunately, was able to be stopped before anyone got hurt."

You could hardly believe your ears. Luna is a reserved girl, always has been, inheriting her father's introverted tendencies and love for books. She has the patience of a saint, too. For her to be like this...

"Baby?" You found yourself muttering aloud. "Why would she—oh..."

Oh no.

A blush stains across your cheeks an unmistakable red, spreading like an unstoppable forest fire except the one that got slain is your will to live. "I," you stammer, scrambling to find an excuse. "It's just that, uhm," you coughed into one hand. "Her, uh, father used to call me... baby before we got married. He still, uh, calls me that to this day. We didn't—"

 You glance at your daughter, who was now looking at you with complete and utter betrayal. All you could muster to give to the both of them was an apologetic smile. "We didn't expect her to do such a thing," you told Ms. Oh in all honesty. 

The silence that hung in the air was killing you mentally, when really you want it done physically so you can be rid of this mortification. Can the ground just swallow you whole please? Thanks. 

To save yourself and your daughter from any more of this agony, you stood up, securing your shoulder bag with one hand before bowing to the young kindergarten teacher, both as an apology and as a farewell. "My husband and I will discuss it later," you solemnly swore, "I promise it won't happen again."

You grabbed Luna's hand, coaxing her to utter a small goodbye with you before taking the two of you out of the school grounds and into the parking lot where you had parked your car. You usher your daughter into her place in the backseat before hopping onto the driver's seat yourself and driving onwards to home. 

As soon as you drove a good distance away from the school, a loud outbreath of relief escapes you, along with a little chuckle for you have been made a clown after that little hooha. Come to think of it, if all the embarrassment could just leave your body right now for even just a damn second, the scene that had just unfolded was hilarious. 

Luna, behind you, however, looks at you with a puzzled expression. Eventually, she speaks up. "Mommy," she slowly began, "did I... did I really do an oopsie?"

You glance at her through the rearview mirror, offering her an assuring smile to ease her guilt. "It's okay, honey," you tell her, "you didn't know. Just don't fight with anyone again, hm? Remember what daddy said?"

Luna nods. "Violence is never the answer," she utters Namjoon's reminders along with you. Still, she fiddles with her fingers. 

"What's your real name then, mommy?"

You beam a smile. "Mommy's name is (Y/N), sweetie," you tell her, "we can try spelling and writing it later if you want."

Your little offer seems to have efficiently lift her mood a little. She nods enthusiastically, but her curious eyes were still swimming with thoughts and questions. "Why does Daddy call you baby then?" She asks.

Nearly but fortunately not so, your grip on the steering wheel loosens as your throat chokes on your spit for a moment. You clear your throat. "Well," you began, scouring your head for a suitable explanation, "it's like a nickname! You know how mommy calls you honey sometimes? Or sweetie? Or, how daddy calls you moonchild?"

Luna nods understandably, getting a grasp onto the concept. "But why does he always call you baby?" She soon asks, not fully satisfied with your initial statement. 

See, now that's not wholly true—but your daughter will have even more questions, so you're gonna have to shut up about that and just go with the hell of it. "Sometimes," you say, "sometimes, it just gets stuck that way, y'know? Like how you'll always call me mommy or eomma, and how you'll always call daddy your daddy or appa."

Luna, for now seemed to have enough. A small 'ah...' leaving her lips, as she resorts to looking out the window for amusement. 

All you could do at that moment was let out yet another outbreath of relief—this time quieter so as not to catch Luna's attention again. Still, your lips tugged upwards. 

Baby, huh? Wait 'til Namjoon hears about this. 

BONUS

"We're home!"

Your voice rings throughout the house, as you lock the door behind you. Luna runs along and into the kitchen, immediately sensing her father was there. 

You enter the premises to see Namjoon ducking down to her height in order to perform their daily kiss on the cheek ritual. He had been at the dining table, coffee in one hand—presumably taking a break from composing. 

Just as you reach the two of them, Luna runs off to play with her dolls, leaving you alone with your husband. You lean down to press a light kiss on his lips, which he greatly welcomes. You sat on the chair next to him, resting your cheek against the palm of your hand. "You can not believe what just happened at school today," You halfheartedly groan, ready to spill some tea. 

Namjoon chuckles, glancing at you as he sips on his mug. "Humor me," he tells you with an encouraging pat on the thigh. 

Though the touch of hand sends shivers down your spine, you carry on with your words. "Luna got in trouble today," you say, "because she genuinely thought my name was baby and her classmates made fun of her for it."

"She what?"

You laugh at the ridiculous expression that seizes Namjoon's face. "Guess how she came to such a conclusion," you mused, eliciting a chuckle from your husband. 

"Hm, yes," he feigns to ponder with a smirk, "I wonder how."

[catracorner962]

Karaoke

I promise I can write something that’s pure fluff. See?! 

In the newly renovated Fright Zone, the gang is having a party. Catra and Glimmer duet Shaggy. Catra has a surprise. --- AJ Michalka has a phenomenal voice and covers "Warriors" on the SheRa soundtrack. She does this in character as Catra and even says "Hey Adora," at the end, what else did you expect me to do with that except come up with an excuse for Catra to sing this for Adora? I'm sure this has been done before this is just my take. Also whenever I hear "Wasn't Me," or "Angel," by Shaggy I imagine Glimmer and Catra getting drunk and singing it.

Adora brought a hand to her nose, trying to cover her snorting laughter. Besider her Bow swayed in time to the music. Light flashed from above blue and pink.

“HA!!”

Adora couldn’t stop herself, exploding into a fit of giggles, nearly toppling the cocktail in her hand. Nearly sending pink liquid all over her white pants and halter top.

On the stage, her girlfriend and her best friend sang like they hadn’t a care in the world.

“How could I forget that I had given her an extra key? All this time she was standing there she never took her eyes off me!”

Glimmer sang into the mic, her purple leather skirt sparkling in the stage lights.

“Wooow! Yeah Glimmer!” Bow cheered, he took another sip of his beer. More delicately then anyone else around them and probably the only one with a modicum of sobriety left. All around them people sang along, swaying and trying to dance.

“To be a true player you have to know how to play!” Catra sang, winking at Adora from her place on the stage. Her hair had grown out again in the year after the war. Already falling just beyond her shoulders. Adora took a sip of her drink to conceal the blush rising in her cheeks.

“ To be a true player you have to know how to play, if she stay a night, convince her stay a day, Never admit to a word when she say. And if she claim, ah, you tell her, "Baby, no way"

“But she caught me on the counter!” Glimmer’s voice cracked but she kept going,  

“It wasn’t me!” Catra leaned forward into the mic.

“Saw me banging on the sofa!” Glimmer laughed, leaning in to meet Catra halfway.

“It wasn’t me!”

“I even had her in the shower!”

“They’re not bad,” Bow admitted whispering in Adora’s ear. The blonde nodded, pulling a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. Catra had convinced her to wear it down for once.

“Saw the marks on my shoulder!” Glimmer and Catra sang in unison. Catra unsheathed her claws in flash, winking again, this time a little more suggestively at her girlfriend in the audience. Cheers erupted throughout the bar, an eager welcome Adora thought, her chest warming. To have Catra greeted with rounds of applause rather than boos and hisses and threats.

“ Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. I had tried to keep her from what she was about to see, why should she believe me when I told her it wasn't me.”

Glimmer and Catra belted through the mic. It was all Adora could do not to transform into Shera. Just the sight of seeing Catra in the limelight, black pants held up by suspenders, her white shirt open just a tad too loose. She took a swig of her whisky mid chorus and continued to sing.

“I have to hand it to Scorpia and Perfuma; they've really done wonders with the Fright Zone,” Bow mused. He clapped along to the music and finished his drink.

“They sure have!” Adora answered, finally turning her attention from the stage. “Glad they were able to renovate the place into a karaoke bar. Somewhere in the distance Mermista’s groan could be heard, Adora turned. Seahawk and the water princess sat at one of the tables, the pirate’s eyes wide with amazement at the flaming martini set down before him.

“Should I….?” Adora made a b-line towards their table. Mermista flunk out her hand, a spray of water dousing the flames.

“Just drink it,” she groaned to Seahawk’s evident dismay. Adora bit back a grin. It had been awhile since they’d been able to just kickback and relax, indulge even. Post-war meant bringing magic to all the galaxy. Which meant traveling around, squashing the last of Prime’s brotherhood. Plus meetings after meetings and much needed reconciliation between Catra, Entrapta, Wrong Hordak, Scorpia and everyone else. It had been trying and difficult and the work was far from finished. But tonight, tonight was a chance to simply let loose.

“Honey came in and she caught me red-handed, creeping with the girl next door, picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the bathroom floor. How could I forget that I had, given her an extra key, All this time she was standing there, she never took her eyes off me!!” Glimmer and Catra finished in unison. Again cheers lifted from the crowd. Glimmer bowed, losing her balance until Catra caught her by the arm to steady her and they made their way down the stage.

“Wow, that was...wow,” Scorpia’s face nearly matched the color of her claws. “That was..I don’t think I understood half those words! But uhh next, next...we have...Perfuma! Who I’ve been told is going to do an...an interpretive dance called Ode to Rain, so that will be….uhh….fantastic.” Scorpia laughed nervously but clapped all the same while Perfuma seemingly floated up the stage.

“Hey!” Glimmer greeted Adora with a hug and Bow with a kiss.

“You were great!” Bow put his arm around her waist. “Who knew you and Catra could duet so well together!”

Glimmer laughed, full and hearty, accepting a glass of sparkling wine from Bow.

“Where is Catra?” Adora looked around the crowd. “I thought she came down with you?”

“She said she had to get ready for something,” Glimmer shrugged.

Adora nodded, trying to quell the bubble of anxiety that threatened to rise.

Catra would be fine, she can be left alone. She’s not a child. She’s perfectly capable.

Bodies pressed against Adora in the maylay of the crowd. Talking and drinking and laughing. The lights flashed all around them. Dizzying.

There’s so many people here….what if...there could be….threats. Some clone we forgot?

Someone wanting to take Catra down?

Adora forced herself to breathe, gripping her glass tight.

“Adora, you alright?” Glimmer touched her arm.

“Yes!” She smiled automatically, “I’m great!” She took a breath, eyes flicking upward as Perfuma left the stage.

Still no sign of Catra.

“It’s just...I worry sometimes...I worry about leaving Catra alone sometimes...what if there’s…”

Glimmer opened her mouth to respond when a cool light drifted across the crowd from above to the stage.

“Adora….you might want to…” Glimmer pointed. Adora followed her gaze, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. Silhouetted against the limelight a lone figure stood before the mic. The outline of someone wearing a tight fitting black dress that fanned out toward the bottom. Catra’s tail swished nervously behind her, ears flicking. She stepped forward, the high slit of her dress revealing one leg as she moved. The light illuminating her freckled face, mismatched eyes gleaming.

“Oh my….” Adora took the last sip of her drink. Beside her bow gasped. Even Glimmer’s eyes stared wide with shock. The hub-bub of the crowd died instantly, everyone holding their breath. Even Emily and Entrapta, who were observing in the corner, fell silent.

Catra’s shaky inhale of breath sounded through the mic throughout the bar. Adora waited, stunned. Taking in her girlfriend, the deep V of her dress, the way she shifted her weight. Then finally, after a mini-eternity, Catra’s eyes slipped close and her voice drifted out:

“We're warriors, unstoppable. We feel the evil coming, and shadows all around.”

She sang low and haunting, each word a melodic whisper. Goosebumps rose on Adora’s skin.

“Danger surrounds us, but won't bring us down. We're on the edge of greatness, turning darkness to liiightt,”

Her voice undulated and moved like the waves, the crowd beginning to hum. She opened her eyes, gold and blue sparkling in the light. Catra’s gaze looked through the throngs of people finally meeting Adora’s. The blonde felt her knees shake, she passed her glass to Glimmer without looking away. Catra smiled,

“We're right beside you, ready to fight. We must be strong! And we must be brave! We gotta find every bit of strength that we have and never let it go!”

“Wooo!! Yaaaah!!!” People exclaimed, clapping. Catra’s smile widened, she took the mic from it’s stand, now walking across the stage, tall and proud and brimming with pride. Adora’s cheeks ached, beaming with a smile. She too clapped along.

“We're bound to this struggle, with mighty sword and flame, we'll never fail you, when you call our name.”

She turned, again meeting Adora’s radiant face across the audience. Their eyes met, though Adora could hardly see her through a fog of tears pressing against her eyes. Her heart expanded so fast and full she thought it would explode. Catra too grinned with confidence, revealing pointed fangs. Her eyes dazzled, shoulders lifting as she sang, not once looking away from Adora.

“Together we'll be heroes, joining forces as one. Strong as the steel we carry, we rise like a su...uu...uu...un!”

She hit the note perfectly, the whole bar erupting into ecstatic joy.

“Yeah Horde Scum!” Glimmer fist pumped at the air, jumping up and down. Off to the side of the stage, Perfuma pat Scorpia on the shoulder through her tears.

“That’s my wildcat!”

Catra sang through another round of the chorus, parading back and forth. People reached out from below towards her, laughing and whooping.

“Cause we're warriors, we are unstoppable,nothing's gonna get in our way. We're gonna win in the end….”

Catra sang through the last chorus, coming to stand gracefully before the microphone stand once more.

“We're gonna reach inside, still together and fight and never let it go. We must be strong…” She finished with a flourishing whisper. Looking at Adora from her poised position stage, she blinked, slowly, her own voice cracking with emotion.

“Hey Adora.”

Tears streamed down Adora’s face, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel herself glowing, transforming, this time brought on by pride and admiration for Catra. Catra who only sang in secret, in dark places, until now. Catra who had always deserved every bit of attention and affection and praise but never got it, until now. Catra who was so guarded who never let herself betray emotion or vulnerability, until now.

There was a white flash, people gasped, and Adora didn’t need to look down at herself to know she’d become Shera.

Catra climbed down from the stage with Scorpia’s assistance and made her way Adora, people parting for her instantly, cheering and clapping.

“Catra! Y...you! You’re…”

Catra’s lips cut off the rest of her sentence, pressing in a full deep kiss, nearly melting against Adora, well, Shera’s chest. Adora put her arms around her girlfriend holding her close, one hand to the small of her back. She had to control herself in public after all, though it was hard to do with her girlfriend looking so...so ravishingly gorgeous, so happy and exuberant. A new round of tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I knew you could sing,” she breathed, breaking the kiss only to press her forehead against Catra’s which required her to lean down a little more in this form. “But not...l...like that.”

Catra laughed, holding Adora’s hand to her face and leaning into her touch. The ruckus of people seemingly disappearing. The only thing that mattered, the center of her universe was already right in front of her.

“I love you,” Catra whispered.

“I love you too, so much.” Adora pulled her in for another kiss, the cheers escalating around them.

Catra rolled her eyes only to be shoved by Glimmer’s arms around her waist.

“Catra, where was that voice when we were singing?! I need to up my game!”

“That...that was beautiful Catra!” Bow wiped his eyes with his yellow jacket. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Alright, alright Sparkles,” she pulled away from Adora’s hold. “Next time we do Angel by Shaggy I’ll be sure to really sing it with pathos, yeah? And take it easy Arrow Boy your gonna get snot all over your jacket.”

Glimmer only rolled her eyes but gave Catra a kiss on the cheek.

“Well next rounds on me Wildcat!” Scorpia announced happily clapping Catra across the back gently. This time Catra didn’t stiffen or bristle at the touch but smirked. A testament to how far she’d come in such a short time. Adora could hardly contain her emotion.

“You may regret that Scorp.”

The night continued on, Catra changed back into more comfortable pants and dress-shirt. Rogeilo sang...well..grunt roared some prolonged ballad that no one but Lonnie understood. Mermista and Seahawk performed no less than seven shanties. A curtin was set on fire by the third one. Frosta entertained with a series of impressive ice sculptures and Double Trouble, dramatic as they were, impressions that left everyone’s sides sore from laughter. Scorpia closed out the evening, singing a rendition of “Beautiful,”  by Christina Aguilera that had everyone, even Catra in tears by the end. Though Catra swore her eyes were she only  irritated by the bright lights.

Adora put her arms around Catra from behind, still having advantage of being in her Shera form. Muscular arms holding her girlfriend close in the dark of the crowd while Scorpia, sang her last few notes. Catra swayed in tandem, tail going around her girlfriend’s leg, she leaned her back against Shera’s broad torso and hummed. Adora planted a kiss on the crown of Catra’s head. The mark of the Heart of Etheria glowing against her chest. In the mass of folks and the company of friends, lights glowing and Catra content in her arms, sniffled happily through tears of joy.

They had indeed won in the end.

[marveloussupernerd]

Okay. So I just watched the Hunger Games and was wondering what the RFA+V+Searans reaction would be to MC having to fight in the games? That would be so scary and sad.

I LOVE THIS REQUEST also I’m adding Vanderwood too oops

You Get Picked for the Hunger Games - RFA + Minor Trio

Important Note: if you’d like any of these written in a more in-depth one or two shot I’m begging you to request it I love this prompt so much. That’s why I didn’t write about the actual games happening :) hoping maybe someone may want a pt2 of any of these

Warnings: mentions of death, killing, a lil angst

Zen

You were in District 7, the lumber district

You and Zen had been together for years

You liked to spend time in the forests together, getting a little peace from the real world

More aptly out, you liked to climb the trees together and spend the day in them; you would all day if you didn’t have to go home to help with your younger siblings

“I’m so sick of the games,” you grumbled. The reaping was today, where the tributes would be picked. “At least its our last year in the poll to be picked.”

“Thank goodness.” He agreed, leaning forward to place a kiss on your lips. “Then we can finally get married and start a family.”

You giggled. “We have to take care of my siblings too”

He shrugged. He’d do anything for you

When they picked you, your heart stopped

Nobody volunteered; they usually didn’t in 7

As the lady went to pick for the boys, you scanned the crowd for Zen

Shaking your head vigorously. He couldn’t volunteer

You felt like you were going to cry or die of anticipation

He understood

It killed him inside but he didn’t volunteer

You got to meet with him to say goodbye before you were off to the Capitol

“Zen,” you whimpered. He pulled you in for a tight hug

“Take care of my siblings. Okay?”

He nodded. He was at a loss of words for the first time ever

Then he inhaled deeply, fishing in his pockets and pulling out a small copper band

“Put this on and we’re married. I don’t care if that’s not how it works. I can’t have you leave without marrying you first.”

You took it wordlessly

“Your family is mine now. I’ll take care of them. You focus on coming back home.”

You wanted to cry. “Don’t... don’t let them watch me die, Zen.”

“You’re not going to.” He was crying now too, despite the confidence in his words

“Promise me though. If I’m going to die don’t let them watch.”

He sighed. He didn’t want to even consider that

“I won’t.”

Yoosung

You were in district 11, the agriculture district

Yoosung’s family lived on the farm next to yours

You had been close friends your whole lives

When they picked you

Well, you had put your name in a few extra times to get more food for your family

It shouldn’t have been a surprise

Nobody volunteered. They never do.

They made you sit in a room while you waited for the train

Your family could come say goodbye if they wanted

You were surprised to see Yoosung

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” was all he could say

You frowned

You weren’t confident in your chances

“I- everything was supposed to be different. I was going to tell you I loved you,” he whispered, his voice so low you had to take a minute to process what he had said

“You do?” You asked

“I do. First Rika and now you? I- I can’t...”

Rika had been picked two games ago and was killed

“I’ll just have to win then,” you said, more determined than before

“You- oh?”

“I love you too Yoosung. I’ll just have to win for you. So you don’t have to lose us both.”

He wrapped you into a hug

“I’m holding you to that. You promise me you’ll come back to my arms safely.”

You chuckled. “Okay. I promise.”

Jaehee

You lived in district 6, the transportation district

It was no secret to those in your district that you and Jaehee loved each other, as more than friends

It was nice that you lived in such a progressive district that they understood that

Volunteering wasn’t normal in district 6

But when you heard them call Jaehee’s name...

You wouldn’t let her die in the games

“I volunteer as Tribute.”

The crowd was silent

They all knew

The Peacekeepers pushed Jaehee back into the crowds, escorting you to the stage

She was sobbing

And then she passed out

“A volunteer! How exciting. Why did you volunteer for that girl?” The lady asked you

“Because I’m in love with her.”

“Oh!”

The Capitol would eat that up

You didn’t even get to say goodbye to her

The Capitol wanted a show. And the show was better if you didn’t get to say goodbye

“So you have to win then. Win and go back to her and steal her heart. Her hero. Her savior,” Caesar had said in his interview with you

You’d have to win then

Jumin

Being from district 3, the electronics district, meant that you and your families were much better off than most other districts

Jumin came from one of the wealthiest families in the district

He probably was even more wealthy than some of the people in the Capitol

He could buy anything, right?

But he couldn’t buy you a ticket out of the games

“Listen to me.” He sat down across from you, as he met with you before you had to leave to head to the Capitol for the games. “You’ll win.”

“I- how?”

He had the smallest curve of a smile on his face. He was confident.

“I’ll sponsor you. Anything you need, you just say it. I’ll buy it and send it your way.”

It was true that district members could sponsor, they just usually didnt

But this time, he was invested

“I have a list of all the things I can send you. Food, water, medicine, bandages, weapons, rope, anything you want. I can even send you a teddy bear.”

“Please don’t send me a teddy bear. Only important things. Those are expensive.”

“I have money.” He cupped your cheek. “I’m going to make sure you win. I will do anything in my power to do so. If I go broke, okay. You’re so much more important than money.”

“I’ll try my best to make sure I don’t need to ask you for things.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so stubborn. Let me help you. Don’t get into fights intentionally. Just outlive the others. I’ll send you food every day for weeks if it’s what it takes.”

It was time for you to go

He pulled you into a quick, heated kiss. “Anything, My Love. I promise.”

707

You were from district 5, the power district

The games were not big in your district. You had a few victors but people mostly dreaded them

So it wasn’t surprising that when you were picked nobody volunteered

There was no way you could win

You were weak. You had seen the other tributes picked in district 1 and 2 today

You were lucky if you’d survive the first day

You had zoned out the rest of the Reaping ceremony

Until...

“I volunteer as tribute!”

He didn’t.

But he had

Once you both got on the train, you were ready to confront him

“Seven!” You yelled. “Why! Why?” You were hitting his chest. You were so mad at him. “Why would you do this?”

You were breaking down

He just pulled you close, hugging you

“I’m going to make sure you survive”

There could only be one victor

He knew that though. Didn’t he?

“My home life sucks anyways. Sacrificing my life for you is the best thing I could ever wish for.”

You were sobbing. He seemed oddly okay.

He would make sure you’d survive

V

You were from district 8, the textile district

V’s work with the textiles and art was so good that once he had passed the age where he would have been pulled for the hunger games, he was invited to the Capitol to be a stylist

You thought you’d never see him again

Until you were picked

And then there he was

With his hair dyed bright blue to fit in with the people at the Capitol

A stupid smile on his face as he got scissors to start shaping your hair for the event tonight

“You seem awfully happy,” you said smugly. You were going to die and he was grinning. He had become a stupid member of the Capitol after all

“I get to see you again.”

“I’m going to die,” you said simply

He shrugged.

Just shrugged.

“I actually have a plan.”

Oh?

He leaned close to you to whisper in your ear

If anyone found out, they’d have him killed

“I have a way for everyone to think you died in the games, but for you to stay living”

It was a big risk

But you wouldn’t say no to the chance of staying alive

Of course he wasn’t upset

He had a plan.

Saeran

You were from district 2, the weaponry district

District 2 was a part of a group called the careers in the hunger games

Basically districts 1, 2, and 4 trained their teenagers to enter the games and win

They were unstoppable

You had trained as well, of course

But you weren’t like some of your crazy classmates who wanted to enter the games

They wanted to enter, until they heard about the twist for this year’s games

Every 25 years there was a special twist to make it more interesting

Every 3 hours a tribute would be randomly killed off

More aptly out, they put a bomb mechanism inside you and you explode

You couldn’t train to beat that

So it was no surprise that nobody volunteered to take your place once your name was picked

Saeran was fuming when he met with you

He had been training to become one of the Capitol’s soldiers, a Peacekeeper, as most men in 2 did

But he had lost all respect for them and the game

“This is stupid and unfair. What’s the point of them randomly killing people off? It’s supposed to be a fight to the death. This is just random chance.”

“I agree with you. But there’s nothing we can do. I’ll just try to kill people as quick as possible before they even get to explode someone.”

“No.”

“No?” You questioned

“This is bullshit.” He grabbed you by the chin to look up at him. “I’m taking down the Capitol. They can’t do this to you?”

“Saeran, don’t.”

He had an evil grin

“I already have a group to do it with.”

Vanderwood

You were from district 12, the coal mining district

Vanderwood was always a sort of enigma to you

That’s why you were so interested in him

And he was absolutely infatuated with you

Nobody had ever volunteered in 12 before

So when you got picked, you were stuck

Vanderwood didn’t volunteer. Why would he? Why would he get himself killed like that?

You almost though he wasn’t going to visit you, that all your time together was just him messing around

And then he busted in

“Hurry Babe”

“Hurry what?” You questioned

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to follow him, running through the halls. Where were the peacekeepers?

“I’m getting you out of here. We’re running away”

“To where?”

He laughed, still running. “The woods. We’ll figure it out. We’re not following those bullshit rules.”

“If we get caught, we’ll be killed.” You were afraid to defy the Capitol

“If you stay there, you’re as good as dread. We’ve had one victor from here, yknow? Your chances aren’t good. Let’s run.”

[orsuliya]

Alright! Time for part 3 of married!Awu/XQ headcanons. This time? It’s all about the children!

There is nothing unplanned about Awu’s second pregnancy. The subject of children comes up again not long after Awu reunites with Xiao Qi after the so-called death of the latter. Their days in Ningshuo may be filled with the hustle and bustle of preparing for the upcoming march on the capital, but evenings and nights? Those are for holding each other close in search of comfort and reassurance. If not for that, Awu would scarcely have the strength to let Xiao Qi out of her eyesight during those first days and weeks.

During one of those quiet Ningshuo evenings Awu finally breaks. She has had to be strong for so long, all the while half-believing she would never be allowed the luxury of being weak in her husband’s arms again, that even now it takes time for her to let go and simply cry. When tears finally do come out, so do all of Awu’s past fears, leaving her one by one in an unstoppable torrent. Fear for those reliant on her, for the orphaned country and for her own fate; all of those are carefully listened to and soothed with words, silent affection and sense of complete togetherness.

One of those fears? Had you died, had you truly left me alone, what would I have of you for all the years to come? she asks, her voice muffled, her face pressed into her husband’s neck. There is a good reason why she was prepared to die after exacting her revenge. Far too many sleepless nights in Hulan had been spent imagining the long, dreary years of her widowhood. Ten, twenty, thirty years of loneliness, seeing her nephews and nieces being born and then growing up, with nothing, not even her husband’s sword to put in that bloody chapel; would that have been her fate?

She hits him – not too hard, but hard enough for it to be more than a playful tap – when he says that, in time, she would remarry and find happiness again. Would you?! she demands angrily, then softens, once she reads the answer in his eyes. A man should take responsibility from the beginning to the end. Not even a bloody sword to be mounted on the family altar, she laughs tiredly. You owe me, my Prince Yuzhang, you owe me and I shall be your most merciless creditor. Give me a child with your smile, one with your hands and eyes, she demands, pressing insistent kisses to that smile, to those hands and eyes, and then and only then will I consider myself satisfied.

He would, you know, he would have given her a dozen children if that were only possible, but surely she must know that it is not, it can never be in this lifetime. Awu can have anything else for the payment of his debt; he knows he owes her and will give her all that she may wish for that she does not already own. She wants children? Fine, she may have all the orphans in Ningshuo for the raising, if that will bring her joy. But he doesn’t, can never regret putting her health above all else and would give her five more miracle flowers if he had to…

Yes, Awu finally shuts her husband up, unable to take any more of this lethal sincerity. How? Well, the exact method I shall leave to your imagination, but the gist of it is as follows: Xiao Qi is not getting off that easily. They can and will have that child. How? Well, Awu might have plotted with Doctor Shen towards that goal and it will work this time. Maybe not now, maybe it will take another few months or years of fiery needles, but it’s not like they are in hurry. There is no way Awu will agree to have a child in the middle of a civil war, so her husband should really get on with restoring peace in all Cheng. Not right now! In the morning should be soon enough.

____________________________________

It does take some time, first to restore peace and then for Awu to actually get pregnant. In the meantime, she does take all the orphans in Ningshuo as an advance on that debt, not to mention their first son and daughter, Xiaohe and Qinzhi.

Doctor Shen, who – struck with a sudden premonition – had moved to Ningshuo among much grumbling and trembling over the contents of his priceless apothecary, is rewarded with the dubious honour of playing witness to Xiao Qi’s complete meltdown. The first thing our brave general does upon hearing of his wife’s pregnancy is to hug her and refuse to let go for a good while, not that she protests. The second thing? He panics like he’s never panicked before. Doctor Shen comes upon his noble patron, well, not hyperventilating, we’re talking about Xiao Qi here, remember. But certainly in throes of a good old anxiety attack. It’s… an experience for the good doctor, that’s for sure.

Thankfully Doctor Shen manages to talk Xiao Qi out of his wildest ideas. Like, for example, shutting Awu in her rooms in the middle of Ningshuo Fortress and standing guard over her until the baby is born. Yeah, that was not Xiao Qi’s proudest moment. Doctor Shen promises not to tell anyone of this sudden bout of unreasonable behaviour and keeps his word… for about three days, when he gladly throws Xiao Qi under the bus in order to ensure Awu’s full compliance with his own, medically justified safety measures.

Mind you, even Doctor Shen cannot work miracles, which he comes to bitterly regret in those next few months. Panicked Xiao Qi and worried Turnip Wang make for a truly hellish duo and Ningshuo soon experiences a steady trickle of accomplished doctors from the capital. Some of them have clearly been dragged out of their comfortable practices under duress, for others it’s quite an adventure. The latter soon find themselves put to work; no use in simply standing around and deliberating over a stunningly healthy woman when there are actual patients in need to be seen to!

____________________________________

Awu considers Xiao Qi’s debt fully repaid the moment she sees her son smile for the first time. Xiao Qi, an overachiever that he is, doesn’t quite agree… and a few years later they try for another child; this time it’s a daughter. One - as Xiao Qi likes to brag - as beautiful as her mother and isn’t it lucky that he has an army fit to guard the greatest treasures in all Cheng? Awu thinks that it would serve him right should Treasure the Younger marry an officer of that very army in the future. She doesn’t, by the way, but that is an entirely different story.

The children are named Yunshuo and Yunning, which is a reason of much good-natured teasing. Even among the children themselves. Yunning, once she grows to an age when she starts to assert her dominance, insists that really, her brother should listen to her in all things. He may be older in years, that much is true, but Ning always comes before Shuo, everybody knows that!

Jinruo’s words come true after all: Xiao Yunning is Awu’s tiny copy, only, according to Awu herself, twice as bossy and confident. Xiao Qi never questions this claim, at least not out loud, but Uncle Asu has no such qualms and immediately provides a good half-dozen stories to that effect. Now, Yunning has every chance to grow up spoiled with a mother who applauds her strong character, a father who might seem strict, yet folds like wet paper at the first sight of a trembling lip and a whole bunch of playmates only too easily coaxed into following her commands. And she very well might have... if not for one Hu Yao (who is alive and you won’t convince me otherwise, ha!). The younger Hu, a true Ningshuo legend, enjoys great authority among recruits and veterans both; she proves a match for a head-strong girl like Yunning, although only barely. No, Hu Yao’s pupil doesn’t become a general in her own right, choosing another path instead… but she keeps up with her training in the years to come.

Xiao Yunshuo, affectionately called Xiao Xiao, is no warrior in the making, being of a rather gentle disposition, something that he never grows out of, for all that this gentle disposition later turns out to hide a character of pure steel. Oh, make no mistake, Yunshuo is perfectly competent with weapons and on horseback, but it is not something that comes naturally to him, nor does he find much joy in fighting. This becomes blatantly obvious once he starts advanced training. Every child under Awu’s care is taught enough to be able to defend themselves or know when to run away, but nobody is forced to persist with military training, should they not wish to. Yunshuo persists all the same, making continuous progress. It’s only natural that he does: he’s rather frighteningly smart, that boy, and he works hard.

A bit too hard, as it turns out. Xiao Qi becomes suspicious of his son’s behaviour and makes sure to ‘accidentally’ come upon one of Yunshuo’s solitary and completely unsanctioned training sessions. Why, he asks and becomes rather angry once the truth starts coming out. No, not with Yunshuo. With himself, for not preventing this whole issue from existing in the first place. See, Yunshuo thinks it shameful that he, the firstborn and only son of Prince Yuzhang, the greatest general and warrior Cheng has had for generations, will never be able to become a worthy successor to his famous father. No, nobody has said anything, but Yunshuo is not stupid, he knows what he is and is not capable of!

Xiao Qi takes a minute to consider his next words carefully. In the end, he tells the truth: when he was a bit older that Yunshuo is now, he had no valuable skills, no education, no family and no real hope for the future. Signing up for an army was pretty much the easiest choice to make for somebody who didn’t really have all that much to live for. Killing people? Is not that difficult. All it takes is a good sharpened sword and some basic training. Learning to protect people, well, that was a bit harder; took Xiao Qi some years and a lot grief and pain to master that. Everything else – building a true home, making peace for yourself and everybody else, and creating a lasting, better future? That’s Awu’s forte and her work. There is no shame in having different skills, explains Xiao Qi. Find what you do best and make sure that it is of use to somebody. That’s it. Whatever Yunshuo’s skills, as long as at the end of the day he is be ready to use them to protect what is dear to him, he will be a warrior in his father’s eyes.

Xiao Yunshuo takes his father’s words to heart and, when the time comes, relays them to his own children. He never becomes a one man army, for all that he takes care not to let his skill with weapons go to rust. He does, however, become a great lord and statesman, and a startlingly brilliant strategist to boot; his advice is greatly appreciated by his older brother, the brave General Xiao Xiaohe… as well as by his brother-in-law, the Emperor of Cheng himself.

In Ningshuo, despite all his merits and great dignity, Xiao Yunshuo stays Xiao Xiao long, long after becoming a father himself.

____________________________________

Xiao Yunning is widely held by the ministers of Cheng to be the cause for at least a quarter of their grey hair. And all because of one rather tiny, if rather infamous deed. Okay, maybe not that tiny… But it is not Yunning’s fault that Xiao Qi had made such an impression on a bunch of delicate noblemen over twenty years earlier!

Once His Imperial Majesty, one Ma Jing, successfully negotiates puberty, it becomes a matter of national importance to supply him with a wife of appropriate station, character, beauty and fertility, the first and the last being the most important, of course. The true war over who will become the Empress of Cheng does not start until His Imperial Majesty becomes a fully-grown man; that is not until the Prime Minister’s eldest daughter comes of age. Having another Wang Empress is seen as inevitable by many; others are rather eager to see the streak of Wang Empresses die a final death. The idea of courting a foreign princess gets briefly thrown around and then soundly rejected. It’s a pity that all of His Majesty’s marriageable cousins with even a drop of Ma blood have the same family name, says somebody who sounds suspiciously like a true Classist Wei. For a moment there is complete silence as the thoughts of everyone present turn to the one cousin who is neither a Ma or a Wang.

See, Xiao Qi and Awu could easily make their daughter an Empress… if they thought that it would make her happy. They have nothing against Jing’er, why, he’s a beloved nephew to them both and they have taken a good measure of his character during the time he spent in Ningshuo, which amounts to a good couple of years. If they were to be honest, Yunning could use a husband this good-natured and conciliatory, and Jing’er would do well with an Empress of Yunning’s strength of character. There is also the matter of a rather touching childhood crush… but since Yunning herself has nothing but derogatory words for this whole imperial marriage mart mess, there is nothing to be done. Nothing to be done at all, as Xiao Qi quite readily assures his brother-in-law, adding that being an Empress is not an easy fate and one that he would not wish on anybody. Asu, long-used to not truly understanding Xiao Qi’s ambitions or rather the lack thereof, takes this assurance on its merits and goes back to planning his own daughter’s imperial wedding.

Rather surprisingly it’s Jing’er who becomes the greatest obstacle to Asu’s dynastic plans. Somehow he never really says no… but no mercenary father can ever pin him long enough to force him to say yes to any of the myriad of candidates. This stand-off lasts for some time, to Xiao Qi’s quiet amusement and Turnip’s frustration. Awu, on the other hand, becomes rather pensive, although she refuses to share her suspicions with anybody. It’s not like she has any proof…

...until her daughter provides her with all the proof she could have ever wished for.

The day another group of potential candidates is to be presented at court, Xiao Yunning pulls a Xiao Qi, causing many a minister to relieve their old trauma. Yes, she marches into the throne room accompanied by six of her companions, most of which do rather poorly at concealing weapons under their dresses. Yes, she climbs the stairs without as much as a by-your-leave. Yes, she does all of that while wearing clothing in a colour appropriate for the occasion. In this case? Wedding red. The main difference is that Ma Jing is a much wiser Emperor than Ma Zitan and grants Yunning’s petition immediately and with good grace.

The reason why Yunning did what she did, leaving Jing’er with no choice but to accept her suit? Well, that childhood crush might have been rather more than a crush. Really, Yunning would have had it in the bag the day of her coming-of-age ceremony, were His Imperial Majesty not such a noble bore. I cannot condemn you to carry this burden with me before you really know what you want, he said, every word disgustingly noble and self-sacrificial. You are not somebody who can be caged, so go and spread your wings and I shall wait for you for as long as it takes, he offered in a rather suspiciously bland tone of voice. Really, one could almost believe that Jing’er actually bought into that silly rumour that Xiao Qi requires every prospective son-in-law to fight him with live steel. Which, by the way, is not true. He only ever fought two rather persistent young lordlings who couldn’t understand that Qinzhi’s no means no.

Everything ends rather well for all interested parties, although Turnip keeps grumbling about having an unfairly deceitful brother-in-law. Awu quickly shuts him down, if only to get in her own portion of shameless teasing. See, if Xiao Qi wanted to avoid such situations, then he should have given his children a better example. This quickly devolves into a round of Yuzhang-style teasing, which prompts a stark realization from Xiao Yunning. She might be the Empress-to-be now, but even being thrice an Empress would still give her no power to stop her parents from being a pair of embarrassing old people in love. Jing’er, ever the conciliator, shows his diplomatic skill by proposing that she might have her revenge… by being one half of a pair of embarrassing young people in love.

The Wang Princess of that generation, a rather lovely and wise young woman by the name of Wang Xu, is not all that sad about losing a chance at the throne. Why, her tastes were always rather specific and in general ran more to generals than delicate young nobles. Now, this Xiao Xiaohe looks like an interesting specimen and certainly worthy of taking a closer look, should one be in-market for a pet general of one’s own...

[wannabeauthorclive]

[Image ID: Dark blue banner of the ocean with four pirate ships saying “Over Land and Sea” with “Camp NaNo WIP Update” underneath. End ID]

I have been really bad at giving updates about how nano is going for me. I said I would do one of these every Sunday, that failed. I’m only doing this one because I finished!! I did it! I hit my goal!!

Project — Over Land and Sea

End Goal — 30,000 words

Daily Goal — 1,000 words

Total written — 30,162 words

Overall Notes — I’m absolutely loving this project and how it’s coming along! It has been difficult juggling all my characters, by it’s a struggle I am willing to do. I also made Desmond a protag (along with Black and Silver) cause I love him too much not to, and it fits the story. I was able to reach my daily goal almost every day and I’m really proud of that! Some days were definitely harder than others, but that’s ok, it’s all part of the journey. I’m changing a lot from my initial outline so I’m glad I kept it in a way that I could change it if I wanted. 

Thank you every single one of you -- I don’t think I could have made it this far without you. You’re all wonderful friends and are so so supportive and I love you! Thank you!

~~~ Four of my favorite scenes under the cut! ~~~

Desmond’s POV

He looks over at Captain Black, still a good fifty feet away, and sends her a wicked, wicked smile. For a split second, he could see the panic in her eyes before it’s gone again, wiped away and leaving the Captain Black everyone knows and either hates or loves. She shoots him a wicked grin of her own and his smile falters before returning full force. This will be fun.

He would go and greet her halfway, but alas, he must stay in-between the crew and the ship. She walks right up behind her crew and moves to stand in front of them defensibly. Her posture never sways and her face never softens as she stares at Desmond. Part of him thinks she’s staring into his soul, which is impossible. Impossible.

“We haven’t gotten the chance to properly introduce ourselves.” Desmond starts, holding out his hand. Captain Black doesn’t take it, doesn’t even glance at it. He withdraws his hand, nodding in acceptance of the refusal. “I am Desmond Ponsa.”

Captain Black’s crew’s eyes go even wider while Captain Black herself just snarls. “I know exactly who you are, Ponsa.”

Silver Sterling’s POV 

The newspaper. That’s how she found out about Black in the first place, no letters from her or Desmond, and certainly no espionage agent. Could the press be able to track pirate better than a chase could? Someone who has seen the Queen of the Seas lately would sure to report it for good money, and people pay good money for information. But if she tracked Viras’s press, she’d have to catch Captain Black before she moved on. Would Silver be fast enough?

She straightens in the tub, her relaxed posture fully gone. Maybe if she was already moving, maybe if she could find where the Captain would probably stop for supplies. It’d be a wild goose chase, trying to find a pirate. It’s a wild goose chase trying to find someone who has roots, but a pirate? It’s nearly impossible.

That’s what she loves doing, though. The impossible. Proving people were wrong to say she couldn’t do something. That’s what she has been told her whole life. “You can’t do that.” “Only men are able to do that.” “Berian women don’t do that, it doesn’t fit with society.”

And every single one of those things people told her she couldn’t do, she did. That’s one reason why she loved her sister, she didn’t even ask if she could do something or not. She just did them and by the time people could tell her she couldn’t do that, she had already gone and done it.

“The impossible is only impossible to those who are afraid.” Her sisters voice whispers in her ear. That was her motto, said before every risky thing they did. And the words solidified Silver’s idea further.

Captain Black’s POV (TW: mental health problems, serious anxiety)

“No, no, no. No.” Black repeats, her voice quavering but leaving no room for argument. Leaving the wheel, not seeing her crew, not watching for the National Guard, not commanding her ship would be sure to send her into a panic attack. If her anxiety is getting to hard for her to captain her ship properly, she shouldn’t be here at all.

But whatever happens, she’s not gonna let her anxiety and memory blackouts take control over her and dictate wether she is capable of captaining her ship. She’s gonna find a way to put an end to all of it before it gets to that point. Black won’t risk the safety of her crew but she won’t give up being captain unless she is fully incapable. And that’s not gonna be any time soon.

“Black!” Black jerks out of her stupor. “Black, god, you can’t do that.” Ironside whispers, relief and worry and scared blanketing her tone. “You’re here one moment and not the next and something has to change. We can’t be in battle and that happening.” She says forcefully.

This is why Black loves Ironside, she doesn’t step around anything. Straight to the point. Black doesn’t respond, she just keeps staring out over the sea. Waiting for the National Guard give a surprise attack on this bright and cloud-free, sunny day.

Ironside sighs. Her friend’s mind is breaking. It has been for a long while, this is the first time any of them noticed it though. She glances behind her at the faces of the crew, gathered around to see if their captain, friend, and family is alright. A spike of guilt hits her, she should have seen it. But none of them did and now, now Black is paying the price.

It’s like Black’s sanity is slipping out of her fingers like sand and it’s so hard to watch. So, so hard. But she has to, it may be the only way she can help.

Captain Black’s POV (TW: violence, death)

A quick second is all it takes for Black to notice the pistol aimed at Lakoma’s head. A quick second for Black to realize that blood is gonna be split. Not their blood, not if Black can help it. And by God, she can help it. She isn’t losing anyone today. A borderline wicked smile replaces her grin and with a flick of a wrist, two daggers are in her hands.

She sees the panic in her crew’s eyes as the entire Viras Treasury surrounds them. Too many people. They’ve never fought this many before. “Keep going!” She screams at them. She has. She’s fought this many people.

Another flick of the wrist and the dagger is flying through the air. It finds its target in the belly of  the same guard with his pistol aimed at Lakoma and another dagger is flying. Another dagger, another guard down.

Tons of weapons can be hidden among the folds of her dress and Black is ever grateful for her weapons. Two more daggers come out, two more daggers hit their mark. One in a throat, one in an eye.

Out of the corner of her eye, Braveheart is beating down one after another soldier, Lakoma is throwing daggers faster than Black can see while gun shots ring out from Tonya.

If only Captain Black had her Cutlass sword, this would all be much easier. She is unstoppable with her sword, no one can get out of her way. But alas, her sword is a size too big to fit in her dress.

A moment in her head and a guard was able to get too close. He throws his weight into his rapier to slice her — obviously not well trained, rapiers are stabbing weapons, not slashing ones — and she quickly ducks under him. With a swift kick to the balls, his rapier is now hers and she demonstrates how you really use a rapier. A stab though the gut. Or heart, but she goes at the gut. The pain lasts longer.

Taglist: @baguettethebooklover @a-completely-normal-writer @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @hysteriwah @tiredlittleoldme @the-writing-avocado @vellichor-virgo @radiomacbeth @wildwrites @crowewritesstuff @crystallized-ink​ @strangerays​ @47crayons @ladywithalamp (ask to be +/-)

[brandyspringsluxury]

The Staff of Brandy Springs Suites

Welcome to Brandy Springs Suites- a luxury apartment complex filled with clean, cared for facilities and on location gym, spa, emergency laundromat, and even a recreation room. It was once a hotel, but bought and modified by the current owner it is now peak luxury living. It’s a place that values consistency, kindness, and loyalty. The owner, a very mysterious man known only by Mr. Carter, was already very wealthy, so money is not something he prioritizes solely. In fact, he values loyalty more than income and if you prove to be a loyal and kind person, you may find certain perks and advantages. So, I hope you enjoy your stay and remain here for a long, long time. Nevermind all the tenants who seem to always have ulterior, hidden motives or the ever revolving spa and cleaning staff. Oh, and if you’re looking over things, please do try to ignore the first floor after midnight- and if you go down it’s in your best interest to feign ignorance to whatever noises you hear or things you see. And if you ever- EVER- manage to meet Mr. Carter make sure you are on your best behavior and prove your worth, or you may not leave the complex alive. 

TW: mentions of sex trafficking, kidnapping, murder, drugging, torture 

The Owner - Mr. Carter

55 - 6’1” - 188 lbs || Caucasian || he/him || lives separate || Weinstein Wannabe

Evil, awful man. Sells victims in the basement of the apartment complex, sex trafficker and if a tenant can’t pay and their intensive “background check” indicates the tenant is not someone that may be missed that tenant will be sold. That being said, if a tenant shows worthwhile attributes that could bring the Owner more money (ie bringing victims, more tenants, or generally having skills the Owner can exploit, etc) then the Ownery may be able to help the tenants with their own, perhaps nefarious, deeds (ie kidnapping/killing someone for them, bribing the police, etc). That being said, only the staff know what he looks like and have a direct line of communication with him. All tenants speak to staff, unless they are unlucky enough to have bumped into him or to have been a direction for his ire. He has no empathy and doesn’t attempt to pretend he does. He’s a cold, cruel man and he makes it known to everyone he interacts with. 

Emergency room in complex is Room 002

The  Front Desk -  Ronaldo Cortez

28 - 5’9” - 196 lbs || Latinx || they/them || lives separate || Golden Retriever Friend

Raised hyper christian american; couldn’t speak at the table or if they weren’t spoken to, couldn’t make or visit friends outside of the church, etc. Because of that they are fantastic at masking or playing characters and very much embodies the charisma of the golden retriever friend, but has an aggressive and vicious side hidden. Doesn’t let the tenants know much about them, but does blind side them with occasional double-sided comments. Great at picking up information on the tenants or on potential tenants from the position of Front Desk. Very beneficial for the Owner. The Owner places a lot of trust in them and how they vet tenants and workers-- essentially the Owner’s right hand person and second in command. Much smarter than they seem and is quite intuitive. Struggles to back their intuition so they get along very well with Lily-- the very person who can dig up the evidence to back their intuition. The pair are largely unstoppable. Their intuition is never wrong and Lily can find literally anything if they motivated her enough. Has never personally done anything illegal (hands on) but has facilitated and encouraged it enough. Essentially, the plan B of the operation should it fail. Cannot legally be prosecuted for any crimes and thus can help anyone who falls  into legal trouble get the best help to get away with whatever crimes committed. 

In case of emergency has access to Room 003.

The Head of Security - Lily-Anne 

23 - 5’4” - 180 lbs || Russian American | she/her || Room 005 || Greasy, Lazy Genius 

  Doesn’t look it but can pick anyone up and throw them like they’re nothing. Learned to deadlift and hack to prove the boys in her high school classes wrong. Mastered biology freshman year and went on to throw herself into the STEM programs. Won lots of scholarships but never went to secondary school. Can find anything about anyone. Normally quite apathetic but you don’t want to trigger stronger emotions- obsessive to either degree. She’ll either kidnap you as hers (and literally love you to death) or she’ll just kill you in her anger and hatred of you. Wants to push those around her to the brink, control them to the point that they’d do anything- kill or die for her. Heavily sapphic but not exclusionary and likes who she likes. Has few friends, most online, but Ronaldo is one she begrudgingly admits to befriending. The Owner knows a lot of Lily-Anne, but she knows little of him. She mostly digs up the dirt for Ronaldo, in return for a toy to play with and some cash, but she also largely protects the complex more heavily than traditional security including cyber security and bribing/hacking the police. This makes her a very valuable asset and the Owner has a soft spot for her, throwing her a toy to play with out of the blue occasionally if one fits her preferences that the Owner can tell. 

The Gym Trainer - Rocky

25 - 6’1” - 265 lbs || Dominican-German || he/him || Room 217 || Aggro-gym bro

Got hired after being a tenant due to his actual degree but also because Marissa had stumbled across his strength and ruthlessness and mentioned it to Ronaldo. The perfect backup and, well, Rocky killed his darlings often enough that the disposal of their bodies was payment for the heavy lifting he did for the Owner. Doesn’t know much, just knows he sees some bitches being taken and he beats some douchebags up. He doesn’t care what happens to the victims, doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know or care. Rent is significantly cheaper and after being the backup for a few years, his rent was waived. He showed loyalty and that is rewarded. Always on the prowl for tenants to trick into the complex and then trap them in the gym so he can bully them. Its a win-win for the Owner and for him. He earns commission from both. Quite handy to have on staff despite his own (willing and willful) ignorance. The rooms on either side of him are often vacant due to the screams of his victims (both sexual and tortured) and the Owner buckled down and sound proofed his entire apartment. Saves them both some stress.

The Head of Maintenance - Marissa Thompson 

27 - 6’ - 178 lbs || Black American || she/her || Room 008 || Chaotic ADHD gremlin

Trans-woman and proud. Black and proud. Can do everything a straight white man can do but better. Always has 100+ projects on her plate but still takes on every project offered. Prioritizes well and always helps the tenants in a timely and kind manner. Has never gotten a complaint-- about her work. She, herself, now requests tenants be out of the apartment while work is being done because she’s so chaotic it stresses out the tenants. Loves and leans into the “plumber’s crack” trope when she does plumbing work. Makes straight white men super uncomfortable and she lives for it. Unlike most other tenants, she knows nothing about The Owner or his operations, she was vetted by Front Desk and okay’ed due to her oblivious nature and genuine skills. (Front Desk totally knows about how she’s obsessive and stalks her love interests, how she sneaks into their rooms and frots against their bed while she caresses their skin while they sleep, how she hooked cameras up in her apartment so she can watch them always, how she always helps them first-- drops everything to help them first; but it’s okay, Front Desk can use all that to their advantage and when it stops being an advantage, well, they have more proof against her than she could dream of having against them. This job pays too well to lose, anyway, right?)  

Lobby Cleaner - Amelia Moser

21 - 5’6” - 134 lbs || Caucasian || he/him & she/her || Room 004 || Discreet Wallflower 

Soft, sweet, and quiet. She often blends into the background unnoticed. Gathers  a lot of intel that way and is quite willing to play the bait or honey pot people for the Owner. She’s more dangerous and promiscuous than she looks, after all looks are deceiving. She’s always getting dirt on the tenants, too. Cleaning the lobby and gym bathrooms while people are in them, eavesdropping on conversations, and generally watching everyone with a very close eye. She, herself, has an entitlement to her if you can catch her in conversation, though just know if you are in a conversation with her she’s already got you hooked. She doesn’t talk to anyone unless she wants or needs something from them- though they’re largely the same. Whatever it is, she’s getting it. Loves sweet things that aren’t just pretending to be kind, if you treat her and everyone with kindness but also get shy and flustered or you’re a little bit of a crybaby then- well, you’re her’s now. She’s kidnapping you, locking you up in her nursery, and drugging you until you believe you’re the child she’s treating you as. And if you try to leave- well, she won’t be afraid to take drastic measures. She knows how to clean up the toughest of stains after all.

[ahsokasanity]

Chapter Ten

A Court of Shadow & Ribbons           Wanna start at Chapter One?

                                                            *

Mor apologised the moment they entered the sitting room.

“I’m sorry for the subterfuge, but Azriel knows about me and he…..”

Emerie had not let go of Mor’s hand and as she spoke, Mor found herself being turned toward the female who had captured her attention at the party, and even before that. Mor was staring into Emerie’s hazel green eyes and losing any capacity to finish her sentence.

Emerie said “Now, I know too” and kissed her. Not a passionate kiss, a request of a kiss. Mor sizzled and held tight to Emerie’s hand, putting her other around her waist to hold her there. She didn’t let Emerie move back from that touch, Mor licked her lower lip and went back for a more intimate meeting.

Emerie sighed and felt herself going pliant and loose. She stepped toward the lounge, pushing Mor backwards to sit facing each other, stroking her hands in Mor’s hair, around her waist and over the perfect lines of her cheek and jaw.

“Oh I’ve never known what this felt like”

Mor stopped kissing Emerie’s ear lobe

“Just you wait” she whispered, Loving the shiver that ran through the female with her

“I just want to feel you and have you here with me, but tell me what you want” She hadn’t stopped touching and feeling and kissing, and Emerie’s eyes were closed when she murmured

“More of this for now, please don’t stop”. There they stayed, on the lounge as the sun rose and they discovered each other. Mor stopped at one point to ask if they should move from the sitting room

“Nope, this is it for now, I want to fall asleep here with you Mor” Emerie answered. So they did.

                                                            *

The training ring was pink with the streams of sunrise when Azriel landed. He found the rose with it’s chain in his pocket and strode into the house and his room. He couldn’t believe that Nesta and Cassian had not fallen asleep yet as he heard the low murmur of Cassian’s deep voice followed by a higher demand from Nesta. Mother save him from having to hear much more of that.

The house seemed to respond with some modicum of decency and muted the increasing sounds from their room. As Azriel closed his door, the moaning was left behind altogether.

He went to his armoire and opened the furthest right bottom drawer. In to it, he placed the jewellery beside a small cedar box. The only item that he kept from his childhood – a gift from his mother created when he was discovered to be a shadowsinger. She had placed a few items in it as he grew, even when he was imprisoned and she was unable to contact him. A lock of his hair, a note she’d written and a tiny dagger that she hoped he’d be able to learn to wield as he matured.  

He picked it up for a moment. Re-promising that his children would be loved in person, daily, and never would come to hurt whilst he breathed

He closed the drawer with his foot and changed into training gear. His body screamed at him for some sleep but he kicked back at the need and told himself “after training”.

                                                                       *

Most of the girls were already at the roof by the time Azriel arrived. Emerie was of course not there, nor were Nesta and Cassian. Apparently you do not have to train the day after your mating ceremony. All of the others were there including Lorelei and Roslin who had perhaps drunk more alcohol than they should at the celebration.

Those who had not attended the festivities were happily listening to the stories from the ceremony. Many of them had heard the tale of Gwyn’s singing and were congratulating her as they warmed up.

“Gwyn”. Azriel got the attention of the entire group. He indicated that Gwyn should join him at the front and she was nervous.

“We are a little short on instructors and members today, so I thought it might be nice if Gwyn led us in a warm up”

“Phew” Gwyn sighed inwardly and took a big breath. The best moves that she and Nesta and Emerie had found to get moving everyday were easy. She felt comfortable with the trainees and not pressured by Azriel. She could see him out of the corner of her eye correcting stance and core strength movements.

Everyone was flushed and perspiring by the time Gwyn finished the last rhyme. Azriel broke the females into three groups of three and had them sparring with staves, the third person of each group was the watcher to help with their feet and defence in-case anyone was having a particular problem.

Funnily enough, that left Gwyn and Azriel. Azriel handed her a heavy shield and led her to the area with a little more room.

“Sometimes, you won’t have a weapon but you may have some protection. Learn to use it to stay alive longer against an armed opponent”

Gwyn stood awkwardly holding the wooden metal plated implement on her left arm. Azriel attacked with deliberate slowness, signalling where he was going with each strike of his staff. Gwyn dodged and held, shuffled her feet and moved her weight to take every blow. Azriel sped up and reduced his warnings until they were both running with sweat and one of the other groups had stopped to watch them.

Azriel did not yell as Cassian could sometimes drag on his General’s mask, he merely indicated with a hand and “Ladies” -for the females to gather to watch.

“You see how you can fight without fighting? Defence can be the best way to stay alive until help arrives or until you are able to locate something more like a weapon”

Gwyn stumbled as Azriel spoke, attention lost in a memory of desperately waiting for help to arrive. Too late. Help came too late, even in the form of the winged assassin standing before her now. She dropped her eyes and Azriel continued to address the others.

“Get into a line and you can each have a moment to attack me with your staff, one at a time. Let’s go.”

The Idisi formed up immediately and began an assault on Azriel, giving Gwyn space to step out of the ring to get a drink. Why couldn’t she just get over this? How could the mention of being in danger make her stop thinking? Stop fighting? It had not happened on Ramiel. She thought that she was Valkyrie and unstoppable. Breathe she told herself, just breathe.

Once her heart rate had calmed both from the exercise and the panic, she returned to the line of staff wielding priestesses. It was time to have her revenge on Azriel’s earlier attempts at her. She would not be cowered and would never again be simply left waiting for help to arrive.

Azriel looked pleased to see Gwyn reach the front of the line and the others had begun to stretch and to drink water before the cool down.

“Apologies if I triggered something there, you were doing really well”

Gwyn stepped right then left and slammed the staff toward his exposed left wing. Azriel ducked and laughed at her audacity, but got his shield up in time to block the next blow.

“Now that was serious” – he blocked a third hit, but with effort and when Gwyn spun and angled the staff at his shins, he had to jump back to protect himself.

“You’d better give Azriel, I can do this all day” She grunted as she threw another two-handed attack at his neck and shoulders. Her feet were actually getting faster as she became more comfortable with the longer weapon. Azriel knew he could out manoeuvre her without a time limit, but she was so strong, so resilient he knew working her to exhaustion today would not be helpful. She needed this confidence and she needed more training and further fitness, but Cauldron was she a warrior.

After a resounding clash of staff and shield, Gwyn aimed a particularly good weight at his upper arm and connected. It was not enough to take Azriel out of a sincere fight, but it was a move that deserved reward.

“Give. I give” Azriel admitted freely. He was not winded, while Gwyn was pink and panting slightly. She knew without commenting that Azriel had forfeited. She didn’t mind. She had hit him after all!

They both drank greedily and Gwyn wondered if she was doing anything useful toward gaining Azriel’s affection. He was just the epitome of trainer today, although he’d focused on her a bit more than normal. She looked over at him and smiled, he gave her a nod of appreciation and she lowered her eyes.

“Form up Idisi” Azriel’s voice carried easily across the rooftop.

“Gwyn, please lead the cool down?”

Gwyn stepped out of the line sideways and began the relaxation chant.

Azriel stood sentry still, but took it all in, tensing and relaxing different muscle groups as the trainees breathed steadily and stretched. He was just nodding off, his wings held slightly open and his eyes closed. A stiff breeze nearly knocked him over and he realised that he was asleep. Thankfully he had no more appointments for the day and could just wash and sleep.

The females were saying goodbye and thank you to him and Gwyn was storing the staves and shield and tidying up around the ring as Azriel went to enter the house. He called out

“And thank you Gwyn for your help. And for reminding me to protect my upper arms!” He smiled at her and she grinned.

“Anytime. You are certainly training me to keep up my guard”

He turned again to look at her and she made a face like she had not meant to say that.

“Oh. You’re doing really well, so, you ah, you should feel good about that. I’ve gotta go, I haven’t been to sleep yet. See you tomorrow”

Gwyn nodded and headed off, embarrassed that she had dragged that information out of him. Where did he go after he dropped her here? He must have been back by dawn, he had got changed for training. Did he go to the nightclub? Did he hook up with someone? Gwyn cursed herself for a fool. He’s an experienced male who is your trainer. Why would he curtail his fun just because you spent some time with him? Why indeed when she’d given the gift back?

                                                                                   *

She used the library to forget all about thinking and re-thinking through last night and her memories of Azriel. The other priestesses, especially Merrill, wondered where she got the energy to run from place to place and help others with heavy tomes.

She just wanted to be exhausted by dinner time. Just wanted to sleep with no tossing and turning.

Azriel slept. No dreams, no startling awake. He drifted off hearing Gwyn singing in his head and woke up having barely moved. It was pitch black outside so night had fallen, but it was hard for him to surface from the total relaxation that he’d found. He merely checked his windows and his connections to Rhys – no emergencies, and stretched his wings. Laying on his other side, he fell right back to sleep.

                                                                       *

[zargsnake]

Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 9: Crix Spartak

Word Count: 2309 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

*   *   *

Two Years Ago

Shmi sits at a desk by the windowsill in Watto’s shop, composing fake documentation for a shipment to a more legitimate planet. She used to do this kind of thing all the time for Gardulla on Nal Hutta, and she's very good at it. Forging and faking are probably her best skills. She knows legal-speak and formatting; she has a knack for coming up with random numbers and convincing names. When she has a sample of handwriting or writing style from a real person, she can imitate it flawlessly, which she has done for business leaders, crime lords, and even Senators. When she doesn't have anything from anyone real, she invents someone. She has no honest idea what the closest Senator's name really is, but she's invented a self-serious personality and a squiggly autograph that has tricked docking-receivers as far away as Rodia.

Watto has little use of this power of hers for his day-to-day needs, but he sometimes comes up with plots to trick his neighbors using Shmi’s forgeries. And, sometimes, like now, he needs her tricks to get rid of stuff, like these ten tons of toxic waste he ended up with from a bad bet, and that he now wants to pass off as fertilizer and sell to a gullible offworld farmer who won't be able to trace it back to him.

Writing isn't bad work. It’s challenging, and, malicious as it is, she knows she could enjoy it, if she let herself: getting into people's heads, living other lives, for just a short while. It is like solving a puzzle, to figure out how to make other people believe something that isn’t true. The cruel intention of the trickery is not her own, it never is, so she doesn't let that aspect of her work bother her, not anymore.

The only bad part, from her point of view, is the knowledge that her words get to go somewhere that she does not.

And the only good part, really, is that she gets to look at her little boy as she writes. He sits on the desk, next to her cobbled-together, whirring word-processor. He is carefully cleaning a fragile hyper-carburetor with a rag, putrid green gear-soap, and a very serious expression.

Suddenly Crix Spartak pokes head through the window: “Skywalkers!”

“Crix!!” Anakin nearly drops the carb, but of course his reflexes are too fast. He spins around on the desk and grins at the gladiator.

Crix leans on the windowsill -- then lifts his arm quickly from the heated clay, and leans just one calloused elbow on the sill. “Good morning, Ani.” He reaches across and tussles his hair. The boy nearly glows with happiness.

Shmi raises her eyebrows at the man her son admires so much. “Good morning, Crix. Can we help you?”

“D’you wanna go for a spin on the old speeder?”

“YES,” answers Anakin.

“We have a lot of work to do. Not all of us have 6 free days out of 7,” answers Shmi.

“I don't have any work, Mom!”

“I can think of one or two things for you,” she tells him.

“Just a loop round the block, Shmi? You'll be back in a minute.” Crix rests his head on his hand and smiles at her, looking just like a puppy.

She looks at him with a very deliberate expression. “I can't.”

“Take me!” says Anakin, heedlessly.

“Ani! You need to stay with me while I work. I don't want you zooming around, testing the limit on your tracker-bomb.”

“I've calculated for that,” says Crix. “Your tracker-bombs are the same as mine. The loop I planned wouldn't go anywhere near the limit.”

“Please, Mom? I'll work twice as hard.”

“No need for that.”

“I'll bring him back in ten minutes.” Shmi does not look convinced. “Five minutes.”

“Please?” Anakin begs again.

“Ten minutes,” she concedes.

Anakin sets the half-cleaned carb down, crawls off the desk, moves the carb onto a shelf, and climbs back onto the desk and over the word-processor into Crix’s arms.

“I'll bring him right back to you,” says Crix.

“If you don't, I will kill you,” says Shmi.

“I'm more afraid of you than any gladiator alive!” he tells her, laughing.

“Good! You should be!”

“Is that YOUR speeder?!” Anakin interrupts them.

“Yup! -- Well. Not really. But I won it, anyway.”

“It's BEAUTIFUL!”

“Ani!” Her son looks at her. “Keep it down.”

“Sorry!”

“Have fun.”

“I will!”

Crix grins at her, drops a big yellow flower on her desk, and points at it. She rolls her eyes and he blushes and carries Anakin to the speeder to drive him around. Shmi can't compose at all without her little muse at her side. She sits there, worrying, as they drive somewhere out of sight. A minute passes, and she picks up the flower. She doesn't recognize it. It must be an import. He must have won this, too.

They return in just eight minutes.

   *   *   *

One Year Ago

Anakin is not supposed to be in the audience of the death match. No one wants him here, not his master, not his mother, not even Crix himself.

But he just had to come. Everyone is talking about it. He’s never known anyone so talked-about, so famous. He feels so proud. Crix is like family. And everyone, all over town, is raving about him, how unstoppable he is, what a bloody, powerful killer he is. And now Crix’s master has rounded up a spectacular squad from faraway worlds, incredible people who are paying huge amounts for the chance to fight him, to fight Crix, to fight his mom’s cool boyfriend.

They say there’s monster-men, like Wookiees, and there’s even a Mando, whatever that means. Everyone is saying they’re crazy. Everyone is saying all his opponents are gonna die, shot by Crix’s bespoke mega-blaster or crushed in Crix’s bare fists. Anakin can picture it, but he can’t really believe it; he has only ever seen those hands used for good. It'll be Crix’s grandest fight yet, maybe even the grandest fight that's ever happened in the universe. No one can keep Anakin away from such a prospect!

He has an average amount of chores, but he sets his droids on them. His newest and, by far, most ambitious droid, C-3PO, isn't much for cleaning or repairing, yet, but he can speak, a little, and write, a little more. His mom bought Anakin a fairy-tale book and assigned him to copy out the letters to improve his handwriting. Anakin sets Threepio on the task instead, and hopes that his mom won't be able to tell.

He does feel guilty, but he's too excited to feel that guilty. He sneaks out without telling her. There was a sandstorm this morning; fortunately it has passed, but the leftover wind keeps kicking sand into the air.

The arena is in a different neighborhood than the slave houses. Anakin lifts up the tarp of a delivery truck and hides in there to hitch a ride. To his surprise, the truck is full of gross little creatures called gizka. They crowd around him and rub their big faces on his legs. He pulls one onto his lap and pets its soft horns and noses.

“I wonder why they're taking you to the arena? ... Oh, I bet the gladiators are gonna slaughter you.”

He finds it kind of funny, in a sad way, that these little animals are so cheerful; that their doom is close, and they have no idea. He pretends his hand is a sword and chops it on their heads, making them coo and squawk. He laughs.

Once he hears a crowd outside, he sneaks out of the truck and hides among the people. He is far from the only urchin running around, but he does not pick pockets. His mom forbids it, and they wouldn't be allowed to keep the money, anyway.

He follows the other children and soon finds the hole in the arena’s wall which they use to sneak in and out. He fits inside the thin crack without too much difficulty, and flits around the dirty, dark area behind the stadium seating. He finds a spot with a good view, between the legs of some pink-skinned person. He leans on the bench and rests his head on his arms, and watches the battles with wide eyes.

He almost doesn't recognize Crix, in a ridiculous helmet with a big feather, but the nasty red scar across his shirtless torso gives his identity away. He's touched that scar; it feels rough and scratchy.

Crix is more than just a killer; he is a performer. He yells and growls and taunts; he makes obscene gestures and even takes bites out of his opponents, both animals and people. Anakin feels shocked and uncomfortable to see him this way, but it does not lessen his affection for him. It only increases his amazement, that one person could contain two such different personalities.

Just as the pilots and farmers had predicted, Crix wins every battle with ease. His main strategy involves shooting to stun, weaken, and disarm his opponents, and then taking them down with glamorous, bloodthirsty wrestling moves. Anakin has never seen such gratuitous and extended violence before, though he has seen plenty of people die, from podrace explosions to mechanical accidents. Until today, the bloodiest thing he ever saw was someone's tracker-bomb explode their head, but some of these deaths far surpass that one. When he starts to feel dizzy, he looks away and takes deep breaths, but he is too invested to look away for long.

Something about all this murder makes him feel cold. But it isn't a real cold. And it isn't nearly as bothersome as this heat or this wind. He rests his sweaty forehead on his arms and swallows his own spit, but it is a weak comfort. The bench shakes under his arms as the audience bangs their feet on it. Anakin marvels at their energy. He wishes he was having as much fun as they are. He really is trying to enjoy himself, and he sort of is. The thrill of it all is similar to podracing, and the triumphs are satisfying. He supposes he will grow into liking it.

After forty minutes of this action, the host announces the next opponent -- the Mando, Chahlee Tiango. Anakin watches the helmeted warrior posture and pose as the audience frantically cheers and boos.

The little boy is starting to feel bored. This would be much more exciting if they were flying around on fast ships, not shooting and punching each other. The only real difference anymore is the color of the blood. But Chahlee looks like a human, meaning he'll just bleed red, which isn't anything new.

Anakin looks at Crix, whose helmet cracked in half in the last battle. Now that his face is visible, Anakin can enjoy his confident smile. He wishes his mom were here to see her boyfriend winning so much. He supposes she would hate it.

As Anakin's thoughts wander, the audience jumps to its feet and screams uproariously. Anakin fastens his eyes back on the battle.

Crix was shot right in the chest. He crumples. A wave of sand lifts from the ground and nearly covers him, like a blanket, hiding him, as if he were never there. Tiango takes a gleeful lap around the arena.

The audience is screaming far too loudly to hear anything from the announcer. The bench is shaking too much to remain a suitable armrest. Anakin stands up straight and stares ahead.

The pink legs that had framed Anakin's view now jump and move around with everyone else, obscuring the arena with cloaks and pants and boots. The other children in this hideaway start moving around, their own views also disrupted, trying to find better spots. Some of them move in front of Anakin. He lets them. He backs off further into the shade.

“Crix…” His initial shock starts to wear away, and he feels tears cross his parched face. “You were supposed to win! They all said you would!”

He had to lose eventually. No one can win every time. Mom told me he would lose, sooner or later. Everyone dies. It's okay.

It really doesn't feel okay. But this feels like podracing, too. Failing. Losing the game. He has been close to death himself a few times, especially when Sebulba is in the match.

He wipes his eyes and holds his fingers in his ears, which are popping from the terrifying decibel level of this audience. He squints his eyes and waits for the volume to settle and the people to sit back down.

What am I waiting for, though? They'll just continue with Tiango as the new champion. I don't want to watch that.

He makes a half-hearted attempt to get another good view, but one of the other children accidentally brushes up against him, and the feeling of being touched makes him deeply angry. He doesn’t trust these other kids. He doesn’t like them. They can’t understand. That wasn’t their friend who just died. It’s too loud here. And it isn’t going to get quiet. Not for a long time.

He worms out the crack in the arena wall and sees a truck that looks similar to the one he used to get here. He hides under the tarp again -- it is now empty inside. The truck jostles along, though it doesn't take exactly the same route back. It takes Anakin a little closer to home, but then it makes a turn he did not expect. He wonders if the truck will eventually come back around to the slave houses. He has no way of knowing. He fears it will wander out of range of his tracker-bomb. He jumps off the cart and walks the rest of the way home.

Chapter 10: Gafia Chumpi

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.10}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.2k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"Are you actually going to tell them the entire story?" Snape asked curiously once the girls' footsteps had faded entirely, turning to Robin with a not-smirk.

"Nah… I will tell them exactly what they expect to hear. Spells and plants and old castles and spooky dungeons. They have no use for anything that happened in between." Robin shrugged with a sigh, swinging her backpack back over her shoulders now that her jacket was gone.

"Clever."

"Did you expect anything else?" She smirked, giving him a smug look along with it.

"I wouldn't dare to."

"It seems I've taught you well after all."

"You're insufferable."

"Obviously." Robin laughed, leaning her head to the side and motioning down the hallway. "Let's get the Siazella to Professor Sprout, and the moss to the lab."

"Eager now, are we?" He smirked in return, without even attempting to hide his humor.

"Would be a true pity if I was eager only now." She teased right back, then sighed with a softening smile. "On a serious note, I actually can't wait to be back in our own dungeons. It's been a long day."

"In that case, lead the way."

To their luck, Professor Sprout was still in her office when they reached the greenhouse. It took a minute of explaining what exactly their matter was, but after that the herbology teacher was all smiles and excitement. Robin handed her the flowers, unshrinking them, and while she explained their specifics to the professor, Snape merely listened with a minorly amused and majorly proud expression on his face.

Robin for her part was surprised by how easily it came to her to talk to Sprout like an equal, which she probably shouldn't be doing, but the herbology professor didn't seem to mind, and actually took on a similarly proud expression to the one Snape displayed. Still, in an attempt not to completely overstep her boundaries, Robin merely stated the facts about the Siazella, carefully giving her own theory about how to best grow them as well, and then let Sprout take it from there. Shortly afterwards they bid their goodnights, agreeing that Robin would come back tomorrow afternoon to check up on the flowers.

When they finally made their way down into the dungeons and towards the lab, Robin felt like she hadn't been down here in ages. Like they had been gone for weeks. But it wasn't even ten o'clock in the evening when they finally entered the dark laboratory once again, and thus not even 24 hours since she'd last been in here.

The fire in the fireplace was lit in an instant, as were the candles spread around the room, and sooner rather than later, the room was filled with a soft comfortable light and a pleasant warmth. Robin sighed in contentment when she dropped her backpack onto one of the tables, summoning up the box with the moss while Snape threw his robes over the other table as he usually did.

"I suggest we do half and half." She mused, pushing the moss into the middle of the table before she also got out her notebook and a pen. "Gives us the widest range of possibilities to work with, in my opinion, but you'll probably know better."

"I agree, actually." He sighed, in tiredness not in annoyance, and went ahead to separate the moss into two piles. "Do you have a specific preserving technique in mind or may I suggest one?"

"No, go right ahead, the choice is all yours. I've done my part for today. The rest is up to you now." Robin smiled, and handed him one of the empty jars from one of the shelves even before he could ask for it. It was an every-day procedure to dry plants, and Robin knew enough about it to be one step ahead already. They would dry half of the moss, and then preserve the other half in whatever way he saw fit.

While Snape took care of the to be dried patch for now, Robin wrote a label for the jar and stuck it onto the glass, then a minute later sorted the finished thing with the moss in it into the shelves with the ingredients. Drying really was easy and fast, no thinking involved. The preservation process however took more effort.

The idea was to place the moss into a larger jar, which then they would fill up with a potion for long term storage. That potion however they needed to make first, and thus they both got started on cutting up the required ingredients. Before long the preparatory work was done however, and all that was left to do was waiting and adding things into the cauldron in the right order and at the right time. So far so good.

After a day out in the cold, the many flames' warmth that now filled the small room soon made Robin feel too warm for once, and she thanked herself for wearing layers that could be taken off individually. Sighing, she stepped over to the side where she wouldn't knock things off the tables, and grabbed the hem of her jumper to pull the thick fabric over her head at last. What she unfortunately hadn't considered was that the t-shirt she wore underneath was a loose fit. And that said t-shirt would ride up along with the jumper.

At first she didn't even take notice of the situation, but when she simultaneously heard a small gasp from off to the side and felt the direct heat of the fireplace in front of her brushing against the skin of her stomach, the situation became abundantly clear with a start. Her arms snapped back down to her sides in an instant, while an unstoppable heat rose to her face. Oh bloody hell… If anyone could be more awkward, she didn't know how. At least she was facing the fireplace, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her jaw, and not looking at Snape who was standing a few steps to her side, and that was the only reason why she could suppress the burning embarrassment enough to make another attempt at shedding her jumper. Holding her t-shirt down, this time around.

Then she took a deep breath to fight the heat on her face, dropping the stupid piece of clothing into the corner she was facing, and finally turned around as if nothing at all had happened. That usually worked well with him, just pretending that certain things hadn't even happened. But as it seemed, she wasn't so lucky this time.

Snape stared at her in a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort, but mostly in concern and surprise. Definitely not what Robin had expected… annoyance, disgust, indifference perhaps… but why on earth did he look so worried?!

"Is, uh… Is everything alright?" She asked with a small frown and a slightly too high pitched voice while crossing her arms over her chest for a moment. But she just couldn't stop fidgeting and thus she went to trace the scar on her neck with her fingers once again. At least she was wearing a rather pretty lacy bra and not one of those granny ones… as if that would make it any better! She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at herself. Her brain did weird things when tired.

"Your side." He finally said with a very much concerned frown. "It seems that your fall did leave a mark after all."

"What?" Now Robin frowned as well, glad to abandon the awkward situation so very quickly even if in replacement for a confusing one.

"You promised you were fine, and yet your entire right side obviously is not." He explained pointedly, and Robin's eyebrows rose in surprise. Before she could think better of it, she took a glimpse at the damage, and indeed, her entire right rib cage as well as what she saw of her hip was starting to colour deep violet. Oh great…

"I promised that I believe I'm fine, which is the truth. I'm feeling perfectly alright, actually. This looks far worse than it really is." She said when she looked back up at Snape with a small shrug. "It doesn't even hurt. I wouldn't have noticed had you not pointed it out."

He kept frowning at her, but the look of betrayal vanished from his face at least, and Robin wondered once again if he had always been so very concerned about her wellbeing. Perhaps she was seeing more of it now because they actually were something like friends at this point. The thought made her smile, and her smile in return finally got him to stop frowning.

"If you say so." He mused, moving around the table in time to add the next ingredient to their potion. "You would tell me if you ever found yourself being any less than fine, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would." Robin replied sincerely, giving him another smile that hopefully didn't reveal just how touched she felt by his words. Maybe it was the overwhelming tiredness that was slowly taking a hold of not only her body but her mind as well, but she felt incredibly cared for in that moment. In a way she hadn't ever before, with no one else before.

"Good."

"I know you won't, but…" She said then, halting in her movement of picking up her notebook from the edge of the table, "Just know that it goes both ways, yes? You can talk to me about anything at all, should you ever find yourself not repelled by the idea. I'm right here."

He froze for a moment, in the same way he had back in the study when Robin had told him that his presence was comforting to her, but soon enough this tension melted away again and he returned her gaze in the same way as always. "I know. Thank you."

"Anytime."

Smiling, and perhaps a bit surprised at how easily he had accepted her words, Robin grabbed her notebook and then sat down on the ground by the fireplace, sighing deeply. Sitting at last; what a wonderful feeling. While waiting for the potion, she might as well start noting down the minor alterations she had to make to her theory after today's excursion. Five minutes of scribbling down quick notes and small reminders of what she would still need to look up later however, she started to yawn. Once, twice, five times, eight times… until the words on the parchment in front of her started swimming together suspiciously. Sighing, she placed the notebook down by her side. Geez, she was tired… the day truly had taken its toll. Her eyelids felt heavy as lead, and her head was almost too heavy to keep upright.

"Tell me something." She yawned again, looking over to Snape who had sat down at the table with an equally tired expression. "Anything. Please… I'm falling asleep."

"Perhaps you should retire to your room then."

"And leave you to do the work and suffer alone? Hell no!"

"You truly are too stubborn for your own good." He sighed, but quite obviously was too tired to argue with her. "Ask me something then, if you want me to talk."

"Alright…" Robin chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, trying to think of a question that would be appropriate and not all too teasing for once. They both were too tired for that. "Why do you always wear black? I mean… only black."

"Habit."

"And how did that habit develop?" She rolled her eyes, stifling another yawn.

"As a student, I eventually took to wearing black whenever I could because it was easier to hide the blood stains."

Now that got Robin's honest attention, and she frowned up at him in surprised concern. "What? Why on earth was that something you had to worry about?"

"I wasn't as fortunate as to get rid of my tormentors like you did, before… matters degenerated." He replied in a surprising amount of honesty, especially since it obviously wasn't an easy topic for him. "Perhaps I simply wasn't as adept back then as you have proven to be."

"I…" She didn't know what to say. Nothing she could say would change the past, nor would her pity do anything but embarrass them both. "Perhaps I was just lucky enough to have you to help me, that's more like it. I am everything but adept at dealing with people."

"You seem to be doing just fine with your roommates. They undoubtedly adore you."

"Yeah, but I'm their adult friend, as they like to call it. A big sister. Not an equal." She sighed, and rubbed her eyes to perhaps get her eyelids to stay open a little while longer. "It doesn't matter, I appreciate them and they appreciate me. We're good. Tell me something else. Something funny."

"I'm hardly the person to ask in that regard."

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean by that." Robin grinned to herself lazily. "You're the funniest person I know. Your humour just takes a while to understand."

"And you believe to understand it?" He quirked an eyebrow at her in amusement.

"Obviously." She replied with a smirk, upon which he just had to return the very same gesture. "You always tell me serious stories. Tell me a funny one for once."

"I would rather drown myself in a cauldron."

"Oh come on… I insist."

"Fine." He was surprisingly quick to give in and yield to her request, and Robin felt affirmed in her suspicion that he had never truly meant to decline her in the first place. A warm rush of pride welled up in her chest, and a smile came to her face as he spoke on. "What have you heard about the man who I superseded as potions professor at this school?"

"Not much. Actually, I don't even remember his name… something odd which reminded me of snails."

"Close enough; His name is Horace Slughorn. A peculiar man, with a rather twisted idea of making himself important in a carefully woven net of dependency and liabilities. Either way, he had a way of picking favorites. Students who excelled in classes, who had a promising future ahead of them in a field he deemed profitable for himself, or who simply were born into influential families. He hosted various festivities for those individuals, which I can assure you were dreadfully mindless and generally far more interesting for those not invited. Logically, the ones not in his favour did not take particularly well to the exclusivity of his attention and assistance. Which, precisely, is why at one point in my sixth year, a few students decided to mess with him. They brewed a decent enough Veritaserum after stumbling upon the recipe, and poured it into his tea just before potions class one day. It was pure chaos. He had to lock himself in his office until the effect had worn off, or he might just have spilled all of his plans and secrets to the prying ears and eyes of his students. I still remember the horrified look on his face when he realized he could speak nothing but the truth… I believe he always carried an antidote with him after that day."

"I can very well imagine. Just fabulous…" Robin chuckled, having closed her eyes halfway through the story when they had become too painful, too heavy to keep open. "I assume you were part of the group of students he favored?"

"Unfortunately. We weren't particularly fond of each other though."

"You were the one who gave those students who pranked him the recipe for the Veritaserum, weren't you?"

"I will never admit to such a thing." He replied after a second of silence, pointedly innocently, and Robin had to smirk. She'd definitely caught him right there.

"That was a fun story, by the way." She said instead, yawning again. "I enjoyed hearing it, thank you. Isn't it, the time for the… uh… next thing in the… in the potion now?"

"Indeed. Would you like to or shall I?"

"Feel free to. Don't even remember..." Robin mumbled, unable to open her eyes or lift a single finger at this point. Even talking seemed too much of a hassle now that her mind was barely still awake. The warmth of the fireplace to her right was making her drowsy more and more, and the soft bubbling of the potion, a comforting rhythmic pattern, was only adding to it.

And then there was Snape's voice, muttering under his breath about something she couldn't make out clearly, which was wrapping around her senses like a calming blanket of safety and comfort. Just like that, his voice was what finally pulled her over into the realm of sleep.

… … …

A soft rustling of fabrics, a quiet mewl. Warmth. Labored breathing. The sizzling of a dying fire. Movement.

Robin's eyes fluttered open for a broken second, lids still heavy and unwilling, and she dug her face deeper into the scratchy fabric balled up beneath her head. The sounds that had woken her up reached her ears again, and she shifted on the hard ground, hugging the fabrics wrapped around her even more tightly. That smell… it was so familiar. So comforting.

Her eyes fluttered open once more upon a new crackling close by, and they stayed open at last. The things she was feeling, was noticing, were starting to make sense at last, as her tired mind processed her surroundings. She was lying on the ground in the laboratory, close to the fireplace that was barely even lit at this point. Her jumper had been placed beneath her head as a pillow, and she found herself wrapped up in a cloud of black fabric. The colour, the smell… her mind filled with impressions of Snape. Her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn't help hugging his robes even more tightly around herself. Good gods… she felt overwhelmed with love and affection in an instant.

A sharp intake of breath, a barely audible whine. She wasn't alone.

Robin turned onto her other side upon the sound, urging her tried muscles to function for the small movement at least. The laboratory was mostly dark, filled with silver moonlight more than with the dying fire's golden glow. She first spotted the large jar high above her on the table further down in the room, filled to the brim with a bluish liquid and the almost black moss at the bottom. Her heart squeezed together for a second; he'd finished the potion, finished their work for her. Relief and thankfulness took over her mind for a moment, crawling through the tiredness into her cocktail of unsuppressed emotions.

Then her eyes fell onto something far more interesting, and she couldn't help but stare with every speckle of awe she found within herself. She really wasn't alone after all. Not far away from her, the faint light that had lingered illuminated the sleeping form of none other than the potions' master himself. Robin held her breath for a few long seconds, observing his distressed expression, the subtle movements of his closed eyes, the frown on his face.

He must've been leaning against the shelf on the wall behind him before falling asleep, just like she had hours ago… Now however he was lying on the ground as well, his head resting on his arm while the other was stretched out into the open space in front of him. His dark hair was splayed out on the stone beneath him like black rivers, always the contrast to his pale skin, especially in the soft silver moonlight. Robin couldn't help being inevitably and utterly mesmerized. This was the person she was in love with, the person she did love so very much, and she had never been prouder of her heart for that judgement.

And yet, when he made another heartbreaking sound that might be born of pain or fear alike, Robin found herself more lost than ever in return. He must be dreaming, tormented by his own mind, and as much as she yearned to, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. At least nothing that he would not behead her for once he woke up. Well, that wasn't true… she could simply wake him up in this instant. She should wake him up, should return to her room and he to his. But what difference would it make if he was having nightmares here with her or alone in another place? The thought pained her no less, rather more even. No, she wouldn't wake him up, wouldn't leave him alone. But she also couldn't watch him suffering, not if there was a chance that she could –perhaps– make it better in another way.

Robin took a deep breath, pushing past her nerves and worries, and finally scooted herself closer to him. Not much, not enough to be next to him entirely… but enough so that when she stretched her arm out towards him as well, her fingertips touched his. She would never dare to be so bold as to hold his hand, not now, not like this, but the light touch of her fingers resting against his would be alright for the moment. For both their comfort.

For a moment, Robin focused on the lingering touch, focused on letting her own calm and comfort ebb through her and carry over to him from there. After a while, the frown on his face eased up and his breathing slowed down in accordance, to the point where he almost looked entirely at ease. Without the mountains of facades, Robin couldn't help marveling at how vulnerable he looked. Almost like that one time, that one moment a long time ago… she indeed had never forgotten that look of rawness and intensity on his face. Neither would she forget this one now.

Even though he looked so peaceful now, Robin kept her hand right where it was when she closed her eyes once more. They would both move away eventually, long before morning… he would never need to know. But she would grant herself this one dream, this one time of falling asleep next to him. Even if that happened to be two arms' length apart.

… … …

When the heavy cloud of sleep lifted from her mind again, and she slowly rose from the deepest unawareness, the first thing Robin noticed was something warm by her side. Without thinking, she instinctively tried to curl around it, savouring every bit of warmth she could gain.

"Robin…"

She hummed in return, smiling softly at the familiar voice, but didn't move in the slightest. Her mind was at perfect ease, telling her that she was right where she needed to be.

"Robin…" He repeated more loudly, and she did wake up just enough to notice that he couldn't make himself sound as annoyed as he was obviously trying to. "Wake up now, will you?"

Finally she opened her eyes, and once she realized that she had curled around Snape in her still half asleep state, she sat up immediately and pushed herself to an appropriate distance.

"I, uh… Sorry for… that." She croaked out, pushing her hair out of her face as she stifled a yawn.

"Good morning to you too." He merely replied, quirking an eyebrow at her in subtle amusement. "It really is ridiculously difficult to wake you up."

"Perhaps you're just doing it wrong." She replied before she could help it, but once the heat rose to her head half a second later, she hid her face in her hands. "Ugh, my brain isn't fully awake yet. I'm so sorry… again."

"Don't be. I find it rather amusing, to be honest."

"You do?" Robin frowned at him in mild doubt while he rose to his feet with a surprising grace for… whatever time it was. All she knew was that rays of sunshine were falling through the small window by now, creating soft illusions on the stones beneath her.

"Obviously." He answered with a small smirk, which Robin could barely see as he walked over to the other side of the small room.

"Thank you for finishing up the potion last night, by the way, even though I imagine you must've been rather tired as well. And thank you for staying, instead of just leaving me here. I hope you at least slept well, despite the cold floor, and, well, my presence." She finally said with a surprisingly insecure chuckle, while she also rose to her feet, picked up his robes that had slipped off her shoulders, and then straightened out her own clothes after placing the bunch of black fabric on the table.

"Indeed, unusually well even. The ground was a nuisance…" He mused, then added more quietly, "But your presence was not."

"That's… good." Robin found herself smiling down at the ground for a moment, then finally remembered how to human and moved to pick up her jumper. "I did sleep well too, actually, but I'm still way too tired."

"Likewise. However, we are already more than fashionably late for breakfast, and I believe you have made an appointment for after the meal."

"Right…" Robin sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, before she tied her jumper around her hips instead of putting it back on. "Perhaps I should just skip breakfast and go change before tutoring."

"I would prefer for you to have a decent meal for once. An apple and a candy bar hardly count in that regard."

"Well, you won't stand out negativity, looking just like any other day, with your same outfit as always! But people might actually notice that I didn't spend the night in my own room if I'm looking like yesterday's messier version." She protested, then tied her hair into a ponytail to give her fidgeting hands something to do. It would at least help with the mess her hair had turned into overnight.

"If I remember correctly, nobody saw you yesterday other than your roommates and Pomona. As for her, she usually cannot even remember having prepared herself a cup of tea five minutes after making it. And as for the former, I believe you have quite the authority over them. Simply do what you do best."

"Which would be?"

"Playing their game by your own rules. Outsmart them; you are quite brilliant at that."

"I don't know… doesn't change the fact that I probably look like a scarecrow." Robin sighed, but she had to agree that an actual meal sounded amazing right now. And she did see his point in it as well.

"You look perfectly fine, Robin. Stop worrying over nothing." He replied while he placed his robes back over his shoulders like he so often did, but this time it made Robin's heart skip a beat. How did he mind so ironically little that she'd been wrapped up in it all night?! It was as if he'd forgotten about it, or perhaps he simply didn't care. He didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest either way.

Thus she picked up her remaining things, stuffing the notebook and pen into her backpack, and then followed him out of the lab a moment later. They made their way up to the great hall quickly, in companionable and mostly tired silence, until they parted for the first time in over a day before entering the hall. Robin went in through the main doors, Snape through the one to the side that was closer to the head table.

The very moment Robin sat down next to Cas and across from Jorien, she knew that this conversation wouldn't be as easy as Snape had made it seem. She'd been gone the entire night… obviously they would be curious!

"Hey there, stranger." Jorien greeted her first, with a small smirk on her face. The girls had finished eating for the most part already, while Robin just now got started to pile foods onto her plate.

"Hey guys…" She sighed with a small smile she just couldn't get rid of. "Ready for some tutoring after breakfast?"

"Oh no, we're not doing that." Cas intervened immediately, staring at Robin with a smug smile on her face. "We are not talking about us until you spill where you've been all night. And don't even try to tell me you came back to our room in the meantime, because I know you didn't."

"No, you're absolutely right, I didn't come back to our room last night." Robin shrugged with feigned ease, taking a bite of her toast. "I was in the lab. We worked on a potion that felt like it might very well take forever, even though it wasn't particularly complex. When I think about the preparations, my legs hurt just from the memory of standing at that table for ages... But anyway, all is finished by now, and I'm left feeling very much tired."

Both girls seemed sincerely surprised by Robin's easy and honest reply, and that was exactly what Robin had counted on. If she just pretended that it wasn't a big deal, that she was happy to share all those irrelevant details, they would lose interest without realizing the extent of matters she wasn't telling them.

"So you were just in the lab with Snape all night?" Cas sighed, and once Robin nodded with an innocent expression, her sigh turned into a groan. "How boring is that! I was hoping for something unusual… a secretly passionate romance with a handsome prince, or seeing as it's you we're talking about, at least some kind of adventure. Not just an all-nighter, and the same old."

"I think both Snape and I had enough adventure throughout the day yesterday… We were glad to be back in the lab with the 'same old' as you call it." Robin shrugged it off, enjoying the scrambled eggs even though they had long gone cold and soggy. But any food was good food right now.

"I think you're the first person to ever spend more than 24 hours in a row with Snape, happily." Jorien snickered, and Robin let her eyes flicker to the head table for a second, only to see Snape looking as indifferent as ever while he was talking to McGonagall. Actually, McGonagall rather was talking to him for the majority of it. Robin smiled at the sight, and then turned her attention back to her roommates.

"I think she's the first person who survived more than 24 hours with him!" Cas snorted in return, lazily swirling pumpkin juice around her glass. "I don't know how you do it, Robin… Two hours per week is quite enough for me."

"You're getting it all wrong, guys… He survived 24 hours with me. That's the real challenge." Robin smirked at them with a wink, and both girls laughed.

"Well, there's no disagreeing with that. Especially when you're being so very strict about literally everything! Do you still insist on tutoring after breakfast?"

"Obviously."

______________________________

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[ayeitsjustmee]

Accident’s Happen- E.C

Ethan x Reader

So it was around 4 weeks ago when you and Ethan decided to spend the night together. Not that either of you were fit to make any decisions whatsoever, but that didn’t stop you at all. You were both under the influence of alcohol and had witnessed quite a lot of things the week running up to it.

You’ve known Ethan for years, literally since school and you’ve been there to support him all throughout his success with shameless and did your best to help him with schooling too which he adored you for. It was hard juggling both, but he saw that as the norm. You knew he could do well at school though so made sure he would prove your hypothesis there. You two were inseparable in the beginning but got used to spending time apart once he started filming for shameless and that has always been fine for the two of you because once you’re reunited, it’s like nobody ever left.

You were due to host a family BBQ at your house for your mother’s birthday and the Cutkosky clan were due to attend. You hadn’t really seen much of Ethan these past 2 weeks and any time you’d seen him since you two shagged has just been slightly awkward. Maybe that’s because you’re wanting to talk about what happened but not wanting to be the one to start the conversation. I don’t know. But either way, it’s been awkward and you’re anxious about tonight. Anxious about seeing his face. The face that you always miss, more than you’ve missed anyone else’s before.

You put on a dainty little button-up white dress and curl the ends of your hair, putting half of it up, out of your face. You add a thin eyeliner flick to your look and put on your mascara. Once this is done you place your Dr Marten’s sandals on with your dress and head downstairs. Greeting people as you pass, trying to find your way to your dad, knowing that his face will calm the nerves in your body. He has always been able to soothe your anxiety and talk you into feeling okay and calm. You’ve been feeling nauseous most of the week because of this. Finally, you find him at the barbecue and smile, heading over to him. You embrace him in a big hug. He’s been working since 8pm last night, on a night shift.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks as you embrace him. You just nod and he sighs empathetically before putting his hand on your shoulder and saying “It’s gonna be okay Y/N, everyone is family.” And you nod in agreement, taking a deep breath.

Just then, you hear a familiar female voice. The voice of Mrs Cutkosky greeting you and your dad. You turn around and smile in her direction enthusiastically and your dad does the same.

“Y/N, so nice to see you again! How are you?” She says sweetly holding her arms open for a hug which you gladly accept. “I’ve been good, just busy at work taking every possible shift I can get.” You giggle awkwardly as you reply to her question and she grins widely. Just behind her you see Ethan standing there with an unknown look on his face. Maybe he’s wondering why you’ve made yourself so unavailable.

“Aw bless, you’re a hard working Y/N! You deserve the best of the best.” She says and removes a piece of hair from your face. She’s always so friendly to you and you love her for that.

“Aw thank you so much, only time will tell ay.” You respond and she smirks before heading to talk to your dad, leaving you with Ethan, who has his hands in his pockets awkwardly smiling. You smirk and roll your eyes playfully moving closer towards him.

“Pull yourself together boy, are you trying to make it obvious to our families that something happened between us.” You say with a smirk as you remove his hands from his pocket and straighten up his jacket, causing his cheeky to flush red.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you Y/N. Be quiet jeez, there could be paparazzi here godddd.” He laughs and hits your shoulder playfully before looking around and pretending to hide.

You just roll your eyes and laugh at his response before saying “Cocky much?” And raising and eyebrow.

“I don’t think I need to answer that question for you. Cause like, you would know wouldn’t you.” He bites his lip holding in a smirk. Your mouth gapes open in response and his composure bursts. The laugher comes and you just cannot contain your laughter either.

“God sake Ethan, go and say happy birthday to my mother. I can’t deal with you right now.” You respond an check smirks before turning around and heading towards your mum. Obeying orders for once. As he reaches your mum, he turns around and winks at you.

Why does he do this to you? Dead.

****

You spend most of the evening talking to all of your family, playing board games with the kids and attempting to whoop their asses on just dance. That’s until you get the urge to throw up and have to run to the toilet to let it out. Ugh, you hate being sick. Despise it, fear it, don’t like it at all, nah-ah. Nope. Then, you decide to go outside and sit yourself on the swing’s whilst sipping at your water to gargle the sicky taste away.

It gets you thinking about Ethan. He’s very confusing, that is the first time he has even mentioned the night you spent together since it happened and he made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal at all. So if he can joke about it why can’t he talk about it?

“Hey little one.” Speak of the devil. He’s always called you little one, it’s just his nickname for you because you’re smaller than him and it makes him feel better. You look over to him and smile. He sits on the swing next to you and there’s about a minute of silence before he speaks.

“Are you okay? What happened inside?” He asks nervously, licking his lips.

“Oh I had to throw up. My anxiety has taken it’s toll on me.” You reply nervously and his eyebrows raise.

“Oh no, that’s not good. Why’s it been bad?” He asks innocently, just curious.

“Well, you make me anxious.” You state and he seems surprised.

“Me? Why? You don’t need to be anxious around me at all Y/N. We are Ethan and Y/N, unstoppable and nothing scares us.” He says with a smile holding your hand. You look down at your hands and sigh. He can be so casual and it’s so agravating when you feel so many emotions right now.

“Because, you won’t talk about it.” You reply and look to the ground.

“Oh.” He says and you stay quiet without looking to him.

“I don’t know what to say Y/N. I thought you’d regretted it, so I felt ashamed and embarrassed. Then you’ve made yourself work so much these last 2 weeks that I thought you were avoiding me. It’s okay, I get it, mistakes happen.” He blurts out. Word vomit much.

Just then, you have the urge again and run to the downstairs toilet, Ethan hot on his feet behind you. He walks into the toilet with you and grabs your hair out of the way before you end up with sick on it. He takes a band off your wrist and ties your hair up in a messy bun before sitting on the floor next to you.

“Thank you, E.” You say as you wipe your mouth with tissue. He nods, and again, bites his lip nervously. Then, his eyebrows raise and he sighs before standing up and pacing. Then he stops and looks at you.

“I’m going somewhere, I’ll be back real soon. Please don’t move.” He orders and you nod. Seconds later he leaves and you put the toilet lid down, get a towel and lean your head on it before quickly nodding off.

***

“Y/N.” Ethan’s voice hums, nudging you awake. You rub your eyes and yawn.

“Here.” He says and hands you a bag. He’d been to the shops. You look inside the bad and your eyes go huge. Your mouth gapes open and you stare at Ethan who shifts uncomfortably with his hands back in his pockets. Your heart aches a bit and your stomach drops. No one emotional can describe the way you feel at the realisation of what he thinks is going on. Especially when it makes so much sense. Your eyes start to well up.

“Are you fucking insane?!” You yell and stand up, shoving the bag into his arms.

You go to leave the bathroom but he places his hand against the door, stopping it from swinging open. He then locks it and barges you out of the way. You start to cry and try to shove him out of the way by hitting his arms and chest. He grabs your wrists gently, but firm enough to stop you, trying his best not to hurt you and locates you to sit on the toilet seat. You bring your legs up to your chest and bury your face into your knees and start to sob.

“Please Y/N, you need to know.” He begs, desperation in his tone and tears were threatening to fall from his eyes.

“Why me?” You cry and Ethan just rubs your back sympathetically. You stand up, go to the bag and open up the box getting out a digital pregnancy test. You go back to the toilet, lift the lid up and sit down. Peeing on the stick, right in front of Ethan, carelessly. He sits in the on the floor, head in hands and waits with you for the results.

“You know you’re not the only potential father right?” You say and he nods.

You don’t look, you pee on the stick, wipe and place the stick on the side upside down and set an alarm. You wash you hands and as you go to dry them, you knock the pregnancy test on the floor, making Ethan look up from his hands. As you pick it up you see the results, already clear as day, in just a minute. Pregnant. 4 weeks. You then drop it next to Ethan.

“Fuck.” He mumbles and ruffles his hair in worry. You feel numb but hazy. As if you were going to pass out any minute now.

“I’m going to bed.” You state coldly and begin walking through the crowded house and head towards the stairs. Barging past relatives, no idea what they’re saying to you. Ethan follows after cleaning up everything in the bathroom and bringing it with him discreetly and explaining to people that you’re going to sleep because of you being poorly.

“Go away Ethan, I don’t need to be babied.” You say, being a total bitch. He rolls his eyes.

“Get over yourself Y/N and accept care when you fucking need it. Stop acting like you don’t give a shit!” He yells and you jump back, shocked at his anger. But then you smile, proud that he defended himself since you were in fact being a bitch.

You just sigh and take off your dress, causing Ethan to become awkward seeing you in just your thong and no bra. You get an oversized t-shirt out and get in bed.

“You coming or not?” You ask and he quickly strips into only his boxers and joins you in bed. He goes to speak about it and you shush him, snuggling into him.

“We can talk about it tomorrow. I’m not ready right now.” You say and he nods, kissing your forehead.

—————

A/N- hey! So I plan on making this a series, but I’m not too sure yet. Let me know what you guys think I should do?? I know it’s long, I do apologise but there was a lot I needed to have in if just in case I don’t make it a series. Anyway, enjoy! Also, feel free to send me imagine requests etc!

UPDATEEEE

I have now turned this into a fan fiction on Wattpad, but I’m not going to make it one on here. So I’ll put the link below if anyone is interested in a full story, and if not you’ve got your one shot on here still!❤️

Wattpad

[40sbarnes]

Medici: Spymasters of Florence

Chapter 13: A Flicker of Melted Ice

okay just letting you all know i have this story planned for 20 chapters and it should still fit into that... sorry it’s super long!! i do appreciate you guys still sticking around <3 

also a special appreciation to @nana035 who has been so so kind and supportive from the very start!! i appreciate your comments and asks so much <3333

tag list; @brynthebulldozer @mythicalamphitrite @nana035 @valravnsraven @hannahhistorian92 @not-thatweird @isaac-lahey-is-bae @angrygardendeer @unstoppable-xavi

pairings; slow slowburn lorenzo x reader, platonic francesco x reader

Hundreds of voices spoke over each other, all droning into one loud chatter as it reached your ears. You had successfully made your way into the banquette. Lorenzo had entered separately earlier, of course, to avoid suspicion, trusting you to snake your own way in. Which you had. You stood at the end of the hall, taking in the scene before you. You were now dawned in your new dress, which forced your posture that slight bit taller. Between you and Lorenzo fussing, you had figured your hair into a resemblance of how you'd seen noble women wear it. Still, you felt a little out of your depths. You had performed similar missions for Pazzi before, he claimed it as one of the advantages of having a woman work for him, but those had been in Florence. Sure, Venice wasn't all so different, but you weren't granted the same knowledge Lorenzo's schooling as a child had given him. You knew little of the place, or the people there either.

It was certainly an unsettling feeling, not having the secrets of the guests stored away, as if they were weapons themselves. Of course, you still had your actual weapons, but a nonviolent route was always preferred. You never appreciated the sensation of Lorenzo being better equipped than you, but as you scanned the crowd, and you found him entertaining a group as they threw their heads back in laughter, you were forced to endure it. His eyes fell on yours for a second, his lips twitching further into the smirk already sitting on his face, you shot him the tiniest of smiles before looking away, in fear someone would notice. 

And then, you began to work. Making your way around the hall, eavesdropping on the finest of the Venetian population. Most of it was beyond boring, rich people droning on about rich people things. Some of it was juicy, but nothing of real substance, nothing that could help Lorenzo until…, you over heard the name 'Jacopo Pazzi' fall from someone's lips, and you made your way closer. They were discussing exactly what you'd hoped.

"Well he promised Vitelli a percentage of the trade through Bologna when they cease trade with Milan," one of the men spoke.

"How can Pazzi promise such a thing? Isn't Medici pushing for a treaty with Milan currently?" They lowered their voices as they continued, clearly aware the man they spoke of was in attendance.

"It won't pass. Not after his sister disgraced Soderini and his son. They needed his vote," the men sounded far too smug for your liking.

"A Pazzi in charge of Florence? I never thought I'd see the day," they all chuckled, and you had to stop yourself from joining in. They wouldn't see that day. Not if you could help it.

Parting from the groups of people standing around, you searched the room for Lorenzo once again. You eventually located him, on the dance floor, engaging in the routine everyone magically seemed to know. You assumed it to be taught in their schooling, and you imagined a young Lorenzo tripping over his feet. You forced the smile off your face, surveying not only Lorenzo but the people surrounding him, the dance seemed repetitive enough, and if you joined it would be an inconspicuous way to discuss your new found information with him.

Edging closer to the dance floor, you continued to watch Lorenzo, as he switched partners to a beautiful young woman. She whispered something in his ear, and a grin fell onto his lips. You felt your heart twinge slightly, but forced the feeling away as you tried to keep a straight face.

"Not enjoying the banquet?" To your shock, Vitelli had appeared at your side. You immediately bowed your head.

"No, Messer, the banquet is wonderful. Your grandson even more so," you congratulated him, hoping he wasn't offended.

"A heavy boy he is as well," he chuckled, and you eased up slightly, seeing his light humour.

"That is what they're saying," you grinned, your eyes not listening to your better judgement and falling on Lorenzo where he was still enjoying himself.

"Madonna..." he trailed off, not knowing your name.

"Cellini," you finished for him, "Anastasia Cellini."

"Well, Madonna Cellini, how long are you planning on watching the festivities before joining in?" His question caught you off guard.

Your eyes locked on his, before quickly shifting to the floor beneath you. "Me? No... I couldn't," you shook your head, playing up the modest act you knew noble women to put on.

"Why ever not?"

"I have two left feet," you chuckled, holding your hands together in front of you.

"Luckily for you, I have two right," you spun to the sound of the voice, to see one of the men who had been discussing Lorenzo earlier standing behind you.

"Cousin!" Vitelli embraced the man, they must've been second cousins or something of the matter, as the man didn't seem many years your senior.

"Madonna Cellini, this is my cousin, Porziano Lisi," Vitelli introduced you too, and you curtseyed before him, but he took your hand into his, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

"My pleasure," he lowered your hand, although not quite letting go of it. You felt eyes on you, but you didn't dare look for the owner. "Well, shall we?" He offered, strolling backwards to lead you to the floor as the band came to the end of the song.

"Enjoy!" Vitelli laughed, before spinning around to the people waiting to congratulate him.

"I was not spinning a tale when I said I do not have an aptitude for dancing," you warned him, as he positioned you in line with the rest of the dancers, readying themselves for the next song. You glanced over your shoulder to see Lorenzo staring at you, not seeming amused. You turned back to your partner, Lorenzo wasn't far behind, and it wouldn't take long to get to him.

"I find that hard to believe, a woman of your grace," Lisi grinned down at you, you mustered a smile back, as the gentle strumming of the bands instruments began to fill the hall once again.

In fairness to your partner, he lead you in the dance with little trouble, and when it came time to swap partners, you found yourself facing Lorenzo already. You don't know how he managed it, but you were grateful. He was more than enough to satisfy your quota for dealing with rich men.

"I didn't realise we were here to enjoy ourselves, Bellondini," Lorenzo smiled, his hand mirroring yours, as you began the movements of the dance.

"That's amusing coming from you," you bit back laughter, "but I certainly am not. I've been busy," you raised an eyebrow as you turned to face him, continuing the dance, although you were notably close. Lorenzo mimicked you, his own brows lifting, asking a question he didn't say aloud.

"Pazzi promised Vitelli profits of trade he has set up with Bologna when Milan falls through," you informed him of your findings.

Lorenzo scrunched his nose in frustration, glancing away for a moment, "Well..." he sounded defeated.

"No, not well, Pazzi can't promise that. Not with your Milan treaty," you reminded him, confused as to why he seemed so pessimistic.

"I don't know if there will be a treaty. Not without Soderini's vote," Lorenzo sighed, as he lifted his arm to twirl you underneath. "And now that my sister won't marry his son, I fear I will no longer have it"

"Don't you have someone other than Bianca you can sell off to Bastiano?" You teased, Lorenzo sharing a smug look with you.

"His heart was set on her," his face suddenly fell serious.

"So melt it, and reset it," your faces were but inches from each other. Lorenzo let out a chuckle at your words.

"I'm sure you know all about melting hearts," his thumb brushed the back of your hand, "but reset on who? Are you offering?" You scoffed at his words, making his grin wider. "Oh, come on, surely a marriage to a wealthy man is your dream. Then you could legally steal from him," he bartered, just mocking you at this point.

"I can assure you I do not spend my nights dreaming of marrying Bastiano Soderini," you smirked up at him.

"No?" He questioned, his breath warm on your skin.

"No," you replied simply.

Lorenzo grinned, his eyes locked on your own, "Then who?"

You took in a breath at his words, not having a witty reply. Lorenzo took a step forward, you hadn't even realised you would be changing partners, but you soon fell into step with the man now standing beside you. Lorenzo stole one last glance as he peered back over his shoulder, before focusing back on the dance.

At the next swap, Lorenzo excused himself, and you carefully watched, as he greeted Vitelli, and they left the hall soon after. He must've come up with something, as he always does. You waited a song or two more before leaving, muttering about how you were parched, and heading to one of the tables full of food. You poured yourself a drink, keeping up the excuse. When you were sure no one was looking, you slipped two drops of the poison into your drink, swirling it slightly with your finger before taking a sip. You had been upping your dose slowly, and felt barely anything at a double dose anymore. It gave you a strange sense of accomplishment, pouring the liquid down your throat that could quite literally kill anyone else in the room.

You remained at the table, unsure of what the next move was. You assumed Lorenzo would ensure Vitelli's vote soon enough, it was probably time for you to exit soon. Your eyes fell on the man of the evening himself as he re-entered the hall, although he did not seem a joyful as you would have hoped.

Vitelli soon joined you at the table, pouring himself a drink just as you had, notably without your secret ingredient. His eyes shot across the table of delicacies, before he moved for the gelato, now somewhat melted, and began scooping it into a bowl. He didn't even seem to notice your presence, he was so caught up in himself.

You took a step closer to him. "Not enjoying the banquet?" You teased, and his eyes fell on you. He quickly tried to shed his anxious exterior, although it wasn't too effective, he shot you a smile.

"We meet again, Madonna," he raised his glass to yours before taking a large swig, “have you tried the gelato?” he continued smiling anxiously, eating a scoop of it.

"Is everything alright, Messer?" You furrowed your brows, lowering your voice slightly so only he could hear you.

"I feel as though I have been split in two," he was no longer looking at you, instead his focus was on the man who had given him all this stress. Lorenzo was making his way throughout the banquet again, although now he seemed to be saying his goodbyes.

You pitied Vitelli, "I'm familiar with the feeling," you hummer. All too familiar.

"I shouldn't burden you with my problems, I apologise," he turned back to you.

"Do not worry for me, Messer, I enjoy being of assistance," when you got paid for it.

"Well, it is like this. I was certain about something, it seemed to be the best option. But now I feel torn. Maybe it wasn't as simple as I had imagined, as I had hoped," he watched the content of his cup as he swirled it with a flick of his wrist. "I do not know what the right choice is," he glanced back to you, searching your eyes as if they would give him the answer. You sympathised with him, having had this internal struggle since you'd first began working for Lorenzo.

"But you do know," you told him. As did you.

"Pardon?" He was confused, rightfully so.

"You do know what is right. Your heart knows," your eyes found Lorenzo's, he turned away as they did, exiting the banquet.

Vitelli seemed deep in contemplation at his words. "You've always known," you told him.

He nodded slowly, accepting your words. "I suppose I have," a hint of a grin fell on his features, "what helpful advice on a matter I have told you nothing of," he laughed, the stress fading away.

"I will not push any boundaries and dare ask," you began, Vitelli cutting you off.

"It is a Florentine matter. I suppose it would hold no importance to you even if I told you. But a young man was in attendance at this very banquet, attempting for my vote in a matter there," he explained, and you acted as if it was all new information to you.

"I see," you nodded along, "and his attempts?"

"I imagined would be futile. Still, I entertained him and now..." he trailed off, "I don't suppose you know Lorenzo de ‘Medici?" Your composure was tested, but you held it.

"Not personally, no," you shook your head, lying through your teeth, "but I have certainly heard of him and his family."

"And?" He pushed, desperate for your advice.

"You fear voting in his favour?" You took a sip of your drink, your eyes watching Vitelli for his reaction.

"Well no, certainly not, it's tha-" you cut off his ramble before it could begin.

"Things are not always as complicated as we make them, Messer," you could tell that whatever Lorenzo had done had worked. Vitelli would vote for him. You simply knew it.

"Maybe so," he took a drink himself, before a woman appeared behind him, gushing over his grandson, and he was pulled away from you.

"Thank you, Madonna!" You simply nodded at his brisk goodbye, finishing your drink before heading off yourself.

The warm reds of the sunset seemed to perfectly match your attire as you skipped down the front steps, feeling a chill as the night air crept over your skin. You were staying not too far from where the banquet was held, in another quaint inn. You set off down the road, until you sensed someone behind you.

Ready to strike, you spun around to Lorenzo already grinning at you. "You never told me you could dance."