#and people acted like having to walk down the escalator like a staircase was the biggest inconvenience of their entire lives

[gobbluthbutagirl]

living so close to the oscars is kind of annoying if i’m being honest. i have been hearing helicopters circling for like 3 hours

[cherr-22]

TNGDH 23

The day was warm and clear.

I stood before Belial, Sen, and the carriage at the castle entrance. Sen, who was gazing up at the castle, wore a thick velvet cloak and had her hair lightly tied up.

As if to prove the description within <Winter’s Heart> was not an exaggeration, she who stood before the Northern sun was more beautiful than ever.

Even a proud prince would fall in love with her. In fact, even the prince may not be worthy of Sen.

“Thank you very much, Your Highness the Grand Duke. ……I apologize for leaving so suddenly.”

Kyle looked down at Sen with his signature reticent expression.

Despite receiving no response back, Sen smiled. Perhaps because it looked as if Kyle was supporting her in silence.

Kyle Blake was that kind of person. Contrary to his cold and blunt attitude, he was someone who truly worried and cared for his people.

Sen smiled brightly.

“I will do well no matter where I am. I will never forget the favor you have given me.”

“Good.”

Kyle replied blandly, but the short response and his gaze conveyed the feelings he had for the one who had been one of his people until now.

I did not talk with Sen. After all, we have already said what was needed to be said and heard out one another. So all we did was exchange a reassuring glance with each other one last time.

Belial stood quietly. He briefly came over to thank me for saving him during the chandelier incident, and then gave Kyle a smug look while exchanging a few words in an arrogant tone. Despite this, the atmosphere between the two was not as heavy as it had been in the study.

Kyle also didn’t seem to want to create any trouble so he held out his hand as a goodbye to Belial.

Yeah, yeah. You must be happy to take Sen with you. Don’t regret it and come crying later and live well. Don’t act rash even if you are going to take revenge, and don’t bother Kyle anymore.

I glared at Belial for him to hurry up and leave. Thankfully, he quickly left as I had hoped. Seeing the carriage move far into the distance gave me a sense of relief.

“I thought something would happen.”

“My words exactly. It’s as if I grew 10 years older…….”

“I still dream about the chandelier. Damn it…….”

Hearing that, I felt Kyle staring at me. I was glad that my back was turned towards him to not be burdened with that gaze.

However, my eyes were still fixed on the carriage. It felt strange to see the carriage move further and further away, slowly turning into a black dot. Why did it look as if it were being swallowed by the fog.

‘……Whatever. I’m just having useless worries.’

The biggest problem is me, who had to live most of the day as a hamster after all.

“You asked me to follow you to the study for a moment to check on the demonic beast, right?”

Kyle caught on my signal that I wanted us to quickly leave. I only had two hours a day. Time is gold so let’s go, Your Highness the Grand Duke.

If it was the inside of the castle, I now knew all the routes like the back of my hand. It was all thanks to my previous life’s ability to find the cafeteria no matter where I was in the company. Office workers who lack energy always do their best to walk even a single step less.

“Let’s see. This way should be the fastest?”

I walked ahead with long strides. Of course, to Kyle, this would be like a duck showing off in front of a swan, but he decided to follow me from behind.

Soon we went up the stairs to the study. Climbing up the spiral staircase, climbing up more, climbing……

……My steps began to slow down. To be more accurate, I began to slow down from the fifteenth step. It seemed even my office worker’s stamina was brought over with the ‘Summon’ skill……

“Shit. What kind of place doesn’t have an escalator…….”

“Hm?”

Kyle came close. I grumbled back.

“Well, it’s nothing special.”

You don’t even know what an escalator is. Sigh, tsk. As expected of a countryside Northern hillbilly. 

“The stairs move on its own, carrying people all the way up to the top without needing them to climb.”

“…….”

Kyle looked at me as if he had just heard the biggest joke of the century, and then picked me up.

“The stairs won’t move as they are stuck to the wall, but I understand that you are feeling tired.”

“No wait, excuse me…….”

He just picked me up like some luggage.

I glanced at Kyle once and then at the top of the stairs in the distance once, and quickly put aside my resistance. Well, we’re only going to the study so what’s the issue anyway.

While he steadily climbed the stairs, I opened the store.

[Love Love Corner~❤]

……I will never get used to this.

[Current Possessing Hearts ｜ ❤×323]

[Replica hamster to sooth the loneliness (Duration : 30 minutes) ｜ ❤×100]

Hold on, the last time I saw it was 320 hearts. Where did the other three hearts come from? Does it increase on its own too?

No matter how much it increased, it was still barely 300 hearts. To need 100 for a single replica hamster…… this would mean it would take a third of what I have now.

How expensive, really expensive.

I glared into a random space in the air.

Do something about the price.

[(〃｀ 3′〃)]

Why. Let’s be honest here, this isn’t cheap at all. And the fact that it’s specifically the replica hamster that I need right now to be so expensive.

……Huh? Wait a second.

[（*゜ー゜*）]

Don’t avoid my eyes.

I narrowed my eyes at the system and hesitantly purchased the replica hamster. Then, a system window decorated with pink hearts popped up.

[‘Replica hamster to sooth the loneliness’ has been stored into the inventory!]

‘No. That’s not it!’

You’ve got to put it in the cage, not the inventory! If I pretended to take my hand out of the pocket and say, ‘Ta-da, your hamster is here~’…… the moment I say ‘ta-da’ would be the moment when my head flies off. Do you not know of Kyle’s personality!?

[‘Replica hamster to sooth the loneliness’ has been stored into the inventory!]

How shameless.

“Haaa…….”

Kyle’s arm slightly shook as he heard my sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“It sure is hard to make a living.”

“Do you lack in money?”

“I wouldn’t say I have a lot for sure. So, in return for taking care of the demonic beast, please pay me plenty.”

As I said that, Kyle opened the door to the study with the other arm that wasn’t holding me.

“I asked for your help first, so I have no intention of providing just a small compensation for your work.”

Good. I couldn’t use my first payment since I have transmigrated, earning Miracle Points was painfully difficult, and the Love Love whatever spent one point every three minutes. I hope to earn a lot of money from now on.

“I will look forward to it.”

We stood in front of the hamster house. Naturally, he began to look for Cashew by lifting up the nest and other items in the house.

“Where did it go?”

It’s obviously not there, you dunce. Because I’m over here.

I imagined pounding myself in the heart with my fist in frustration. I can’t even tell you that I’m your pet hamster. I’d love to tell you but I can’t!

Anyway, move out of the way.

“If you search so abruptly, wouldn’t the beast be surprised and scared.”

Kyle’s hand paused in place. He then nodded in agreement.

“……That makes sense. I’m sorry.”

The apology was most likely towards Cashew. Well, Cashew was also me though.

I nudged him out of the way and carefully patted around the sawdust. How to take out the replica as discreetly as possible……

“You can just touch it. It's clean.”

He said with pride in his voice.

“Cashew potty-trained itself. Isn’t it a genius?”

……Are you crazy? If I went to the bathroom anywhere I wanted, I’d be a beast not a human…… you might be right, in your eyes I must look like a genius.

I looked at him with conflicting emotions in my heart. Kyle truly seemed happy.

“Sooner or later, it’ll start talking too. How cute and clever it is.”

[Currently Possessing Hearts ｜ ❤×224]

Wouldn’t it be strange if it started talking? No way would a demonic beast would speak like a human. My baby has already called me ‘dad’! Is this what you wanted to happen?

You must be plenty happy just thinking about it……

“You look like you’d cry in happiness if your demonic beast really started talking.”

Kyle quieted down for a moment. It seemed he was really imagining what it would be like if Cashew started talking. What was there to imagine though. Can’t you see me chattering away.

While he was occupied, I quickly took out the replica hamster.

“Ah, here it is.”

Act natural. Act natural.

I’m a magician. I was a magician in my past life. I was a magician that shocked the whole nation with a single dove, a piece of cloth, and a hat. I could definitely fool at least one Northern Grand Duke as easy as blowing my own nose.

I pretended to carefully look over the replica hamster in my hands.

‘Hmm.’

This was rather detailed. It breathed, blinked, and moved around like an actual hamster.

When I flipped the replica over to pretend to examine its stomach, Kyle muttered something strange.

“Something’s a little different…….”

I flinched for a moment. ……He knew the difference? What was different? The appearance? Or its behavior?

The replica hamster cried out a squeak. See, the replica could also squeak. Even the voice sounded the same.

However, Kyle frowned even more after hearing it.

“I wonder if it’s hurting anywhere? It’s usually not this quiet.”

“How do you know?”

The system could take note of the difference. Now, give me a thorough feedback.

Kyle’s response was unexpected.

“I know it through love.”

“Love…….”

He was completely charmed. ……I will never get used to this.

[Currently Possessing Hearts ｜ ❤×225]

Different from the Miracle Points, Hearts could increase without doing anything. Right, let’s cheer up. Who knows when another expensive item will appear.

I glanced at Kyle, turned my back slightly, and moved the replica hamster around to pretend to check on it.

“Let’s see, our cute demonic beast.”

Kyle spoke softly behind me.

“My demonic beast.”

Whatever. Stop being possessive and giving me envious looks.

“There are no problems and it is very healthy. However, its weight is a little…….”

Did I really eat that much? I’m starting to feel guilty now that I’m saying it out loud.

“He’s a bit chubby, but there shouldn’t be any problems. You can just leave it alone for now. Since it is in its growth stage, don’t feed it only vegetables. Raw food can also ruin its stomach. Surely you’re not giving it any mealworms or other live food, right? ”

Kyle flinched.

“……I heard rodents like those kinds of stuff. It can learn to hunt too.”

“How savage. Are you planning to raise and release it in the North in the future?”

I spoke harshly on purpose as I carefully placed the replica hamster back into its house.

“Don’t give it anything weird and feed it what humans would eat. Cooked beef, chicken, or something. Demonic beasts can eat oily food quite well so there is no need to feed it only boiled food. ”

That’s right. Boiled food tastes bad. Would telling him to season it be taking things too far?

“Give it some fruits too.”

Kyle listened and nodded seriously.

“Yes, then I’ll do that. But since Sen is no longer here, it would be difficult to procure all those things…….”

He glanced at me as if asking me to take care of it myself. It’s important to meet Kyle in person like this often anyways, and two hours would be more than enough each day.

I nodded with an earnest expression on my face. All for the sake of a quality life of a pet hamster.

“Thank you.”

Kyle said honestly.

“How should I say this…… Right, thanks to you, I can let go one of my worries. In return for caring for Cashew, is there anything you want?”

What is there to think about.

The price of all hard work is, of course,

“Money.”

I flipped my hand and formed a circle using my thumb and index finger as I said that.

“Money is good enough.”

“…….”

“If possible, a lot.”

Now, let’s start shaking the duke’s wallet upside down. If you want to keep a pet hamster, you have to have a lot of money, alright?

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

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[clxckwork-sun-n-moon]

This one is also good from the injury prompts one;

"Trying to hide your injury from them, but failing miserably once you faint right in front of them"

>:3c

Tag-Team || Default/Hunter's Edition AU (cw: injury mention and detail)

From your viewpoint up over Gator Golf, you could take in a solid quarter of the Pizzaplex’s floor plan. The fact it was only a quarter boggled the mind, but it was, on the whole, a small quarter. Wait, no, that didn’t help your mental map in your head. It was big. The massive hall contained so much to see, with Gator Golf taking up only one section of the floor space. Down further you could see the Glamrock stage, now being cleaned up by various staff bots after the final performance of the day. Glitter, confetti and scraps of colorful paper littered the ground stretching away from the stage, remnants of the excited audience of children. The last few families were beginning to make their way towards the doors, although a handful of people were still making the most of their daily passes and going for another round on the golf course. With the going price of the tickets, you can’t blame them. 

Judging by the wandering presence of one tall purple mohawked alligator, Monty was already free of autograph signing duty. You watched as he moved from golf par to par, high-fiving a couple teenage kids. Like the other Glamrocks, he was downright popular, especially with the ‘too cool’ and badass wanna-be older kids. You hadn’t spoken to him too much, since his attitude towards the staff tended to be….abrasive. But he hadn’t told you to scram, and when he stopped to look up at you in your little perch, he pointed a finger up like he was mimicking a Fazblaster. And he grinned when you dramatically mimed keeling over backwards like he’d hit a direct shot. Your own smile was hidden as you stared up at the ceiling. It was nice, working here, with animatronics around that acted more like friends or funky siblings rather than awkward coworkers.

The tannoy announced half an hour before the Pizzaplex closed, giving you the jostle needed to abandon your lookout post and start making your way down towards the floor level. As you walked, you kept a good eye on the various corridors, connecting doorways to routes you knew already. In one direction was a circuit that would take you through the upper walkways over the Daycare, in another direction you could spy a connecting door to the arcade center. Circling down a spiral staircase behind a staff door, you pushed your way out into the emptying Pizzaplex ground floor. How quickly the building could hollow itself of any skin crammed with life. Only a couple of map bots and the evening march of janitorial bots could be seen moving across the long entry hall. Tipping your security hat at one of the little yellow lads, you walked up the deactivated escalators, waving out the final customers with a Fazbear-trademarked smile. Finally, you found your perch at the base of the Sun and Moon statues, settling on the base and staring out in the direction of the entryway doors. Finally, you heard the tannoy proclaiming the Pizzaplex was shut. Finally, your job hours kicked in and the lights dimmed around you. 

Metal skittered over metal, claws tapping against gleaming bronze. You slowly tilted your head back, watching as the six-limbed figure descended along the surface of the statues. Three amber eyes caught yours, and even in the low light you could see Eclipse’s head rotate around excitedly. 

“Play time?” his voice echoed down, bouncing from the distant walls.

“Not yet,” you replied, tapping a finger against your nose. As much fun as it was to get going right away, you’d made a promise to Sun and Moon that you would socialise with Eclipse under their supervision. Something about the first few ‘play’ sessions that had the Daycare attendant unhappy with Eclipse having free range of you.

Certainly nothing to do with jealousy, no.

Humming in temporary disappointment, especially since you weren’t making any moves away from here at the moment, Eclipse completed his skittering descent down the statues to fold himself up behind you. One hand reached over, hesitated, and then gently pushed your hat down your head. Before you could turn to admonish him for the cheekiness, you felt his claws so carefully beginning to brush across the top of your head.

“Soft.”

Oh. This you could live with. You smiled and tilted your head better for him, much to his chuckling and beaming delight. The pair of you stayed sat there, waiting until you caught sight of red eyes in the ceiling beginning to descend through the air.

“Evening, Moon,” you called out. 

“You’re early,” he responded. 

“Are you sure you’re not late?” You allowed yourself a teasing grin as Moon slouched over to you. Despite him being hunched over and you sat on a higher perch, he still managed to look down over you. 

“Programmed to always be on time, never late,” Moon replied, poking you on the nose to reward your cheek. “Eclipse is already up, I see.”

“Yep. He beat you in this race.” At the mention of ‘race’ Eclipse’s head immediately snapped up, and Moon pointed a finger at him.

“No.”

“Okay.” Animatronics were exempt from Eclipse’s chase protocols, much to your relief and the safety of the staff bots. 

“I’ve done a sweep of the corridors on the way up here, I was thinking of running a quick game of tag and that way the big boy here isn’t too antsy for the rest of the night,” you explained to Moon. 

“It’s been a while,” Eclipse chimed in. “It gets tiring without any fun for a long time. Besides, you can join in too.”

“...Wait, what?” This was news to you.

“Sure! Tag can have two people chasing one person after all!” God Eclipse looked so excited about this additional rule. Whereas when you turned to look at Moon’s expression, you could see his surprise go to malicious amusement.

“We can be tag, you can be go,” he said, leveling you a smile. “Whoever catches you wins.”

“Unless I manage to get away, of course,” you responded, already sliding off your perch to your feet. Oh dear. Eclipse was hopping to his feet too, every limb shifting and shuffling as he stared you down with that big smile, while Moon let out a low laugh that echoed in your bones.

“Not getting away from us, starlight,” he said. With a whir of wire, he shot up into the darkness overhead, and Eclipse promptly flung himself in your direction.

There was no countdown for these games. You had prepared yourself for that by now. But your heart thudded extra loud in your chest as you swept under all four of Eclipse’s arms and bolted for your planned escape route, knowing that you were now dealing with two and not just one. And yet you grinned. 

Swinging right, your feet pounded against carpet as you dashed along the walkway over the daycare. Down the back of your neck you could hear metal clicking, so light and faint you could think it was from wind chimes, not a nine-foot tall animatronic bearing down on you. You turned a corner fast, but not quite as fast as you hoped, as you felt the breeze of a hand sweep past your shoulder and Eclipse’s delighted laughter crawled the rest of the way to your spine. Take the next left, go past several doorways, duck left then bolt right under Eclipse’s grasp (as planned, not out of sheer luck). 

You circled up the staff staircase, hearing Eclipse’s footsteps echoing behind you. The fact that Moon had been out of sight all this time did make you solidly suspicious of where he was lurking, where he might swing from. Bursting out onto the walkway over the main hall, you could see the lights of Gator Golf below where you ran. 

You’re not entirely sure of what happened at that point. The event blurred itself together, even as you moved through it. A flash of red eyes from above. A claw grasping at your ankle. The walkway turning around you, or was it you twisting over the walkway. Off the walkway. The loss of a solid surface below your feet tore a shout of surprise from you, and you reached out for the hand that shot down towards you.

And missed.

Something else grabbed your shirt collar and you swung, choking hard, but the fabric tore and your descent continued at an angle. The rest of the distance vanished in time for the astro-turf to clock you in the shoulder and chest, tossing you up and over to juggle you a couple times before finally you rolled to a stop partway into a pond. Finally you could breathe, even though your lungs burned to try it and water lapped at the edges of your face. Faintly you could identify the outline of feet next to you.

“...Ugly fish they got in these ponds.” Monty’s hand came into view, dragging you to your feet before forgoing that completely to scoop you up. “That was bad.”

“I’m fine,” you coughed out.

“You fell from the ceiling. I approve ballsy moves but that was-” Monty shook his head from side to side. “Where’s your handler?”

“I am the handler.”

“Really? ‘Cause you look like you just got beat to shit.” Management kept saying they were going to program out the swear words in the animatronics. They never got around to it, apparently. 

“I’m fine,” you repeated, trying to weakly struggle from Monty’s arms. As he started going to put you down, a familiar figure floated down from the ceiling and into view, and Monty promptly held onto you tighter. “I - Monty.”

“Man in the moon droppin’ by. Suspicious that he does when a staff member just dropped down without the wire,” Monty commented. Moon’s eyes narrowed, red pupils on a black background piercing at the other animatronic. 

“He tried to save me,” you blurted out. “I fell by accident, it was my fault. He tried to catch me on the way down.”

The way Monty squinted at you made it clear he didn’t fully believe you. But Moon wasn’t saying anything, and there wasn’t anyone else’s word to follow on. Grumbling, Monty handed you over to Moon, the gator letting you stand on your feet but the celestial being quick to wrap an arm around your shoulders and gather you close to him.

“Don’t drop ‘em next time,” Monty snapped to Moon, before stomping away from the scene. You exhaled slowly, wincing as another sharp bolt of pain hit you.

“You’re hurt,” Moon said. You’d not heard this particular tone of voice before, it rolled with frustration and concern all at once.

“Just bruised,” you insisted. “When you caught my shirt, I think - oh shit, I really need to change.”

“New shirt. Clean clothes. Don’t want you getting a cold as well as a concussion.” At that comment Moon took your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. His eyes widened, turning a rare white with blue pupils that almost blinded you compared to the usual darkness. “Good, your pupils are normal. No concussion.”

“Might need to find ice for my shoulder though,” you mumbled. 

As you trudged the walk of shame through the corridors, Eclipse skittered into view, turning another corner sharply and lighting up at the sight of you both.

“You won!” he said with glee, pointing to Moon.

“I won, they fell in the Golf pond, the epitome of grace,” Moon replied with a low tinny chuckle. It seemed that most of his tense posture was starting to seep away, although he kept a tight grip on you. Your feet certainly weren’t doing the best job at walking in a straight line, and your chest was still burning with a painful ache. Clapping his hands, Eclipse settled in to walk on your other side.

“I’m going to get a new shirt from staff storage and then we’ll be doing the usual circuits, okay?” you explained to Eclipse.

“Moon won, so now we work. I got that,” Eclipse confirmed. Smiling back, you were ushered into the security staff room alone and left to locate a fresh shirt while Moon and Eclipse waited outside. You were able to find one larger than your usual size, with none of your actual size unfortunately. But as you peeled off the wet and torn shirt, a new set of surprises awaited you.

Blood. A tear in your skin from your shoulder blade down to your ribs blazed away merrily. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you bit down a soft cry of pain. Your shirt had been sodden with water and the bleeding was mostly across your back and the side that had been next to Moon, it’d been duly hidden until now. 

What were you to do? With fumbling hands you rummaged for the first aid kit, finding the little green box and pulling out cotton swabs and rolls of mesh. The burning pain kept building and building as your panic intensified. You certainly couldn’t afford an ambulance to the hospital, nor could you afford to clock off barely halfway into your shift. Biting on your lip, you swabbed down the large cut as best as you could, using plasters to hold down strips of mesh over more cotton to keep it from bleeding any further. With luck you could hold out for the rest of your shift, then get home and pull out your heavy duty plasters. It wasn’t even a particularly large cut, you told yourself. It was just long and in a very inconvenient place. Once you’d cleaned everything up, you could also see the menagerie of bruises that had formed over your torso and arm. It really was a miracle that you hadn’t broken anything on the way down. Guess you had Moon to thank for that.

Knock knock.

“You’re taking a while.” 

“Be right there!” You pull the shirt over your head, wincing as your haberdash bandaging set-up is jerked around by the motion. Once you were certain it’s not bleeding through (yet) and the shirt covered all the bruising and bandaging, you pushed open the door and nearly stepped into Eclipse’s chest.

“...Buddy? I - I need to get through the door,” you stammered out. Eclipse glanced down at you, and duly took a step backwards to let you out. 

“Work time,” he said quietly, shoulder slumping forward.

“Yeah, work time,” you replied. Moon shadowed you to the right, seeming to give you a thorough glance over. You spread your arms out (pain pain pain) as if to say ‘see? I’m fine’. He squinted right back.

“Should rest,” Moon said. “You did fall far.”

“It’s just some bruising,” you insisted. “We’ve established there was no concussion after all. I’ll be - “ You went to take a step away and staggered. Everything swayed sharply, and you had to wave your arms like a panicking duck to keep from falling over. Moon’s squinting intensified as he took a step towards you. 

“Rest.”

“M-Maybe I’ll sit down for a minute.” Through your stammering you had to inhale sharply as the pain in your chest reached a peak. It broke through into a whimper, as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Why was it dark now? Your thoughts crawled up through molasses as you watched Eclipse lurch forward next to Moon, the ground tilting violently away from you and letting you fall into nothing.

-

Nothing turned into softness. Blinking your eyes, you blearily stared up. Everything was very warm, and very soft, except for one warm and hard thing against your side. Slowly, three amber dots focused into view.

“Hello,” Eclipse chirped quietly. “You fainted.”

“I think so, yeah,” you managed to piece the words together. 

“You have three broken ribs, a sprained shoulder, and a bad cut. I was able to give you a diagnosis when you were asleep, and Moon fixed the cut better.” Eclipse’s head spun around, as if he’d just told you that you’d won a holiday and not that you had sustained worse injury than you’d known. Taking another furtive glance around, you realised you were currently wrapped up in a blanket and surrounded by a veritable mound of pillows and cushions, piled up over Eclipse’s legs across where you were laying. Judging from the ceiling, you guessed you were back in the daycare.

“Did you call the hospital?” you asked, dreading the answer.

“We wanted to. Moon wanted to too. But under Fazbear insurance, you haven’t sustained an injury that would require hospitalisation. So Moon has put you on mandatory bed rest until you can leave with the assistance of a supervisor, arriving in….four hours.”

You couldn’t help it. A snigger bubbled up from your aching chest, turning into painful wheezing laughs. 

“Fucking Fazbear,” you mumbled. 

“Language.” Eclipse prodded your nose gently. “Now sleep.” 

“Got no other choice, have I?”

“None at all.” And he said it so cheerily too. Letting out another low guffaw, you rested your head back into the crook of Eclipse’s elbow, letting the slow circles he was tracing into your head ease you back into a restless slumber.

[harryspet]

welcome to eden | steve rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stepford wives au, wife!reader, marriage au, institutional misogyny, wealthy!steve, housewives au, stepfordization, mind control/brainwashing, forced gender roles, breeding kink, oral sex (male recieving), vaginal sex (wear a condom, kids!), bad editing :)

A/N: i just love the concept of this! i was told this was done before but I hope you all like my interpretation!

THIS STORY CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT

In which the neighborhood you and your husband Steve move into isn’t like anywhere else on earth. The women are flawless and the men are way too happy. 

main masterlist

taglist: @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @charmed-asylum @fishwaterr @marvelsswansong​ @nsfwsebbie​

word count: 4.8k

“Now that we actually own this place it feels different. You still don’t think this is all a little much?” 

Steve lifted the cardboard box you were holding from your hands, starting to make his way into the house, “It’s perfect, pumpkin.”

Eden. 

You were now homeowners in the most luxurious and exclusive neighborhood in upstate New York. Howard Stark created this safe haven in the sixties and people now knew it as “heaven on earth”. 

You followed him inside the fortress of a house, knowing he was smiling wide. Even in your wildest dreams you never imagined that you would live in a place like this. There were so many rooms that you’d run out of ideas for what to do with them. The massive foyer was twice as big as the home you grew up in. 

Perfect marble floors, a winding staircase that reminded you of a castle, and a ginormous chandelier that was no doubt made of real diamonds. You followed Steve as he made his way into the kitchen which was, again, made for the Gods. You’d never been good at cooking but now you felt you had to start giving it a try just because of how nice it was. 

It had three ovens! Who in the world needs three ovens? “I don’t think we even have enough stuff to fill the house, Steve.”

He set the box onto the counter and you were reminded of the small number of things inside compared to the amount of cabinet space, “We’ll buy more things. Lots of things! You have my card, you can order whatever you want online,” You took a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed even by the thought of decorating this place, “Hey now, c’ mere. This is supposed to be a happy day.”

You walked into his embrace, letting his strong arms wrap around you as you leaned your head against his hard chest, “I am happy,” You made sure to say though you weren’t convinced this house would ever feel normal, “And I’m grateful. I really am, Steve.”

Steve’s big promotion in security at Stark Industries was unexpected but of course, you were happy for him. You just didn’t expect he’d suddenly be making millions and, since the two of you were married now, that you’d have to make the move with him and start looking for new jobs in the city. He’d do the same for you so you felt it was your duty to suck it up and try to make things work. 

You looked up at him and a soft smile was on his kind face. He leaned down to press a comforting kiss to your forehead. You tilted up to kiss him. He deepened it and, like you always liked, the passion you’d felt with him escalated the situation. 

Suddenly, Steven lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands on your waist and started to explore beneath your shirt, “This is going to be so good for us,” He spoke huskily against your lips, “What do you say we christen the new place?”

You nodded eagerly as he began to kiss your neck, “One good thing is we’ll probably never run out of places to have sex in a house this big,” Steve chuckled at your words. For a moment, his kisses took away the anxiety you were feeling. Change is only a part of life and it was something you’d just have to get used to. Luckily, you had Steve by your side to get through it all. 

“Plenty of space for kids as well,” He said and you assumed it was an attempt to turn you on. You gripped his muscular arms tightly as he 

“Mhm, put a baby in me, Steve,” You played along, knowing that you were on birth control and that was unlikely to happen anytime soon. Steve was dying to be a father but you agreed before you got married that you would enjoy your marriage to each other before you considered having kids, “Please, Steve.”

You knew that would send him over the edge and only seconds later he was pulling down your bottoms and pushing himself between your legs. Before you two could get really hot and heavy, the doorbell rang and left you both frozen. 

Steve helped you off the counter and you were quickly trying to pull up your yoga pants as Steve zipped up his jeans, “Edith, who’s at the door?” Steve asked which caught you off guard. The mansion was also a smart house, equipped with artificial intelligence that Mr. Stark had developed. 

“James and Natasha Barnes, sir. Would you like me to let them in?” There were small monitors throughout the house including the kitchen. It lit up when the door rang with a picture of the couple standing at the front door. 

“Yes, Edith. Thank you,” Steve turned back to you, not with frustration that their moment had been interrupted, but with a mischievous smile, “We’ll finish what we started later.”

You nodded, forcing a smile as he grabbed your hand. The two of you walked to the foyer which was a trip within itself due to the size of the house. 

Bucky was one of Steve’s friends that you were never quite sure of. He’d known Steve for way longer than you so you never thought it was your place to ask questions about their relationship. Bucky just seemed to bring out Steve’s impulsive side and you preferred Steve when he was cool and level headed. 

Nat, on the other hand, you loved her. 

“Welcome to Eden, Rogers family,” Bucky announced, his voice booming through the foyer as they came into view. Already, something was off and it wasn’t because of the new environment. Bucky was clad in his suburban husband get-up, like he’d been golfing all day and Natasha looked like she was preparing to go to some old-fashioned garden party. You’d never seen her wear a sundress and never seen her smile so wide. 

“Thanks, Buck,” You heard Steve say, going to hug his best friend. 

As you walked up to embrace Natasha, she even felt different. As you pulled back, you searched her face for something missing, “Wow, your eyes are beautiful,” She said, still beaming. Her red hair was now blonde and reached down past her shoulders. Her skin was bright and her makeup, which she didn’t normally wear, was done to perfection. 

“Thank you,” You spoke, unsure of why she was just now noticing. Besides that, you didn’t think they were anything special, “You look great … so new.” You laughed awkwardly as you took a step back. Bucky placed a hand on the small of her back and she gazed back at him lovingly. 

“Honey, you act like you haven’t met Y/N a million times,” Bucky grinned towards you, trying to ease the awkwardness. 

“Of course,” Natasha agreed immediately. You couldn’t help but think her tone was lacking a certain emotion, “I love spending time with Y/N. It’s so nice to have girl friends, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, appearing from basically nowhere, she pulled out a dish. It was a pound cake and she presented it to you with a smile that was now starting to make you uncomfortable, “A house warming gift,” Bucky added as you accepted it, “Natasha has been taking up baking.”

“That’s very sweet,” You said and Steve added a thanks.

“You two should stay. Let us give you a tour!” Steve clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Sure,” You agreed, “Stay for dinner. We can order pizza.”

“Order? Pizza?” Natasha was smiling but her head cocked to the side in confusion. Bucky responded by grabbing her hand and, again, she looked up at him with loving eyes. 

“That sounds delicious, Y/N,” Bucky said, ignoring his wife. 

+

You rubbed moisturizer on your face as you looked back into your bathroom mirror. The room was the size of a regular room and the closet was basically an apartment within itself. Steve came from behind you, his hands on your waist as he pressed himself into you. 

“Should we continue where we left off?” He asked as you grabbed a hold of your toothbrush. 

His hands were still roaming over your body as you began to brush your teeth before bed. You didn’t answer his question, your mind far away, “You don’t think Nat was acting super off today?” You asked after spitting toothpaste into the sink, “I mean, quitting her job. Suddenly wanting to be a stay at home Mom? She just got a promotion a few months ago.”

Through the mirror, Steve gave you a look that told you he was about to play devil’s advocate, “She didn’t seem that different to me. I think she realized what she actually wanted after the move.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as you rinsed off your toothbrush, “Are you being serious, Steve?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” Realizing he was not getting anything tonight, he stepped back with his hands in the air, “You never know about these things. People change. Who knows, maybe our priorities will change too.”

You scoffed, turning off the water, “My only priority right now is landing the Cosmopolitan contract. I can think about priorities once I’m working again,” You walked past Steve, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss his cheek, but he still had a defeated look on his face, “Let’s go to bed, it’s been a long day.” 

+

You barely had time to enjoy your bowl of cereal milk before there was another ring at the doorbell. Without looking up from his bowl, Steve explained that he made plans for you and Natasha to spend the day together. You knew he was working on convincing you that this entire move was a great idea. Of course, you didn’t have time to protest because the new blonde was now impatiently honking the horn of the golf cart in your driveway. 

As soon as you stepped out of the house, you realized you were underdressed once again. Her attire today was a sundress full of blue flowers and beautiful pearls to go around her neck, “Good morning, sunshine!” She beamed as you climbed into the passenger seat. She looked over your regular t-shirt and jeans with a smile but you could tell she didn’t understand the way you were dressing, “It’s such a lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah-”

“I know! I love gardening on days like this,” She suddenly pressed the gas and you were on your way. You were still figuring out what exactly happened to your friend since the last time she saw you but she could only seem to talk about gardening, “Bucky loves the flowers I plant. I put them in this gorgeous vase so he can look at them while he’s eating his favorite breakfast. It’s nice to have nice things to look at.”

Natasha showed you every house in the neighborhood, explaining what nuclear family lived in each house, “How come you know everyone who lives here? You never seemed like the type to ... “

“Oh, we all know each other in Eden. It’s like a family! Isn’t that sweet?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod this time. You were starting to notice that every person we passed seemed … flawless. All the wives were perfectly dressed, wearing heels, and had neatly pinned hair. All the husbands looked way too happy. 

You passed a golf course and soon arrived at the clubhouse where you’d be attending a book club meeting. You were a reader yourself so the idea of that gave you some hope that you wouldn’t feel totally out of place today. 

That hope dissipated quickly when you stepped into the room. On a landing overlooking a pool, a group of flawless looking women sat in a circle like they were having a tea party rather than a book club meeting. 

They were all happy to meet you and Natash introduced you to everyone. Instead of their names, she started with their husband’s. There was Sam’s wife Sharon, Vision’s wife Wanda, Thor’s wife Val, Clint’s wife Laura and most importantly-

“Pepper!” The group of women erupted with cheers as the matriarch entered the room. You’d recognize Tony Wife’s anywhere just from the tabloids. She was pretty much America’s favorite wife, writing self-help books, and posing on the cover of home decor magazines. 

“Good morning, ladies,” She moved like a cloud, floating through the room as she commanded everyone’s attention. She took a second look at you as she made her way to her chair, “Steve’s wife Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you and, wow, you have such beautiful eyes. Welcome to the book club!”

The room erupted in giggles and clapping once again. You felt you were in some sort of simulation, like a social prank and you were waiting for some tv show host to come out and reveal that all these people were paid actors. 

Pepper continued, crossing her ankles as she flattened out the skirt of her purple colored dress, “I hope you are all feeling like I am. My husband is happy, the kids are happy, my friends are happy and that. Makes. Me. Overjoyed,” Her words put them in a trance and they seemed even more robot-like than they already were, “I only want to add to that feeling so today we are discussing a highly anticipated book.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but you clearly weren’t on the same page as everyone else. Natasha nudged your side, giddy as ever, “I present to you ladies, Melanie Winkle’s Christmas Baking Book!” Now you were positive that you were in a simulation, “Christmas is a few months away but the season is so busy that I think we should get an early start this year. Who knows how many dance recitals, charity fundraisers, and Christmas parties we will all attend this winter? Too many to count! This book is going to change all of our lives.”

Natasha leaned into your ear, “I love Christmas, don’t you?”

“Nat?” Her eyes widened with curiosity, “Blink twice if someone is holding you hostage.”

She didn’t blink at all, “You’re silly, Y/N. You always make me laugh, don’t you?”

+

The next week passed in a blur. You had no idea how many brain dead women you had met or how many times Steve had told you that you were crazy for stressing over the Natasha situation. Tomorrow, you had an interview and you could finally leave the neighborhood and be around people who didn’t only care about knitting and Christmas decorations. 

Before you could have your sweet escape, your limit was met. 

You were attending a yoga class led by Pepper that Natasha had brought you to. It was an otherwise normal experience despite Pepper chanting about how true peace is reached when your “home is happy”. 

The class was in a cat’s pose when Wanda suddenly fell down to her stomach. The class froze and you rushed to her side. Your heart racing, you placed a hand on her back to check to see what was wrong. You brushed her hair from her facing, seeing that her eyes were wide open and she was saying, “I love my husband. I love my family. I love my husband. I love my family,” She kept repeating those two phrases over and over, her gaze completely empty. 

You felt Natasha’s hand on your arm, trying to guide you away.

“She’s going to be just fine, girls,” Pepper said calmly like the woman wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, “Us women are so delicate, with the yoga and the hot weather outside, she must be overheating. Natasha, will you lead the girls into the other room?”

“I think she needs medical attention,” You interjected, staring around the room to find a like mind. 

“Tony can help her,” Pepper smiled.

“She needs a doctor!” The room went silent before the wives began to whisper. 

“I love my husband. I love my husband. I love- I love- It’s a lovely day outside, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” 

“We will get her the help she needs, do not worry,” Piper continued, folding her arms in front of her. 

Natasha pulled your arm harder this time, “Y/N, let me walk you home. It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

You left the room with a feeling of complete uncertainty and as soon as Natasha was out of your site, you stormed up the spiral stairs to find Steve’s office, “Steve!” You shouted his name as you speedily walked through the long hallway. You pushed open the two, large, oak doors that led into the study and stormed inside, “Steve Rogers, I am done!”

Steve looked up from his desk and Tony turned to face you from his place in the chair in front of his desk. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Steve stood from his chair, concerned. 

You stared at Tony Stark, not with awe because he was the most famous engineer in the world, but with anger, “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, Y/N,” Tony stood next, fixing the buttons on his suit jacket, “Steve tells me you’re a photographer. Quite a talented one.”

You eyed him carefully, somehow knowing that he was the source of all that was wrong here, “I need to talk to my husband, alone, if you don’t mind.”

Steve’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, “Y/N,” He said with a warning, trying to tell you not to be rude, “This is my boss-” “It’s quite alright, I know an angry wife when I see one. I enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Rogers, and I think we’re on the same page now,” Tony approached you, a smug look on his face, “I hope to see you around, sweetheart. Oh, and again, welcome to Eden.”

As he left the room, you became even more frustrated, “You can’t talk to me like that in front of my boss, Y/N.”

“Steve,” You walked closer to his desk, “Listen to me. It’s only been a week and I am losing my mind. The people here are … are robots! They’re old-fashioned and daft, especially the wives. Nat used to be smart and cunning and now all she can talk about are gardening magazines!”

“Gardening is a very relaxing hobby-”

“Oh, please,” You crossed your arms, “That woman was on her way to being a CEO and now she’s … she’s a shell.”

Steve walked around the desk to you, grabbing your hands while they shook with anger. The look in his eyes was sincere, loving, and brought you back to a simpler time. When you were first dating, living in a tiny apartment in the city, the two of you were so in love. 

“I know this move has been hard on you and I don’t want you to see this all as a mistake. I’m trying hard, I really am,” You nodded, trying to let his words soothe you. You pressed your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “Everything here is new to me too. They do things here differently than any other place I’ve been.”

“Yeah, it’s like a cult,” You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled. 

“I’m not sure about that. I do know that things are simpler here,” You felt his heartbeat quicken, “I always wanted the white picket fence, the two kids, a boy and girl, and a doting wife. She wouldn’t be bogged down by the stresses of modern life, I would take care of her … we’d be happy-”

You pushed away from him, tears pricking your eyes, “Steve, you can’t be serious,” You took a few more steps back. 

Steve sighed, “I wasn’t sure before. Bucky made it sound like a crazy fantasy but now that I’ve seen Nat and … now that I’ve talked to Tony…” 

You kept walking backward, your heart was now racing, “You kept saying she and her. Not me … I’m not the wife you want, am I?”

Steve stepped forward now. There was pain in his eyes like he didn’t want to hurt me but he had to keep pushing himself further, “You could be, pumpkin,” He tried to be endearing but his voice was weak. 

As soon as your back touched the door, you turned and yanked it open. You took off down the hallway and you cursed the fact that you let Steve by this crazy house. You looked back to see Steve standing at the top of the stairs as you hurried down them, “Y/N, please don’t make this hard!” Steve tried to plead. 

“Fuck you, Steve!” You shouted back, practically throwing yourself at the door. As you turned the lock, it didn’t budge, “Edith, open the door!”

“Only Mr. Rogers has command of my controls, Mrs. Rogers.”

Your face fell completely as tears streamed down your cheeks.

You felt him behind as you continued to pull at the doorknob, “Steve, I’m begging you …” He placed his hands on your hips, leaning down to whisper into your ear. 

“I promise it won’t hurt one bit, pumpkin.”

+

When Steve awoke a week later, he was dreading the day. It had been a week since Tony started working on you and Steve was nervous to see the final product of the reprogramming. He’d spent the week emailing your friends, family, and associates, making excuses about your whereabouts and your new change of career. 

Whatever problems he ran into, there was nothing that money couldn’t solve. 

As he made his way down the stairs that morning, he smelt something unusual. Steve had never woken to the smell of bacon and he had certainly never heard you humming sweet songs before. He saw the back of you first as he walked into the kitchen, knowing you were whisking away at some mixture in a bowl. 

Steve moved cautiously but you easily picked up on his movements. Part of Steve was surprised to see that you were still you. He hadn’t seen such a happy look on your face since the two of you had been engaged, “Hey, honey bear,” You greeted him and Steve could now see you were whisking pancakes, “Did you sleep well?”

Steve moved closer and you heard yourself say, “Don’t be shy, I’m making those pancakes you like from our favorite brunch spot.” 

“I didn’t think … how did you …”

You guessed what he was thinking easily, “I did a bunch of research and I found the recipe online. I hope I can make them just like you like them,” You set down the bowl, walking over to peck his lips. Your lips still felt the same which comforted Steve, “Why don’t you sit down at the table? I’ll bring them to you!”

“Oh,” Steve perked up, “I can help you. Where’s the recipe?”

“No need. Let me take care of you, please,” You searched his eyes for permission, “It’s the first day of our new life together and I just want to show you how much I love you.”

Steve nodded and you pecked his lips again. You smiled, knowing how much telling him that you loved him had please him. 

In the little breakfast nook, there was already a table full of food, the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows and illuminating the feast. Steve estimated that you had probably been cooking for hours at that point. A glass of orange juice as well, a cup of hot coffee was and today’s newspaper was waiting for him at the head of the table. 

You were completely focused on following the recipe, having measured everything precisely and you were now making perfect circles of batter in the frying pan. 

Steve watched your dress swing from side to side as you moved your hips, humming to some classical song. He had just realized that you’d chosen a blue dress, his favorite color, and you were wearing your hair just like he preferred. When you brought the tray of pancakes over to the table, you had an excited but expectant look on your face. You were probably as nervous as Steve was earlier. 

As you placed them in front of Steve, you stepped back and folded your hands over your apron, 

“You aren’t going to sit down?” Steve asked, grabbing his fork. 

“Would you like me to sit down?” You asked, a pleasant look on your face. 

“Yes, please,” Steve emphasized the seat beside him. He had a look of surprise on his face as if he hadn’t expected you to ask that. You maneuvered into the seat, neatly flattening your dress as you made yourself comfortable. 

You looked back at Steve, still expectant, “You don’t want to eat?”

“Of course, if that’s what you’d like, my love,” You started to fill your plate with scrambled eggs and pieces of fruit from the bowl you prepared. Even as you spooned the food into your mouth, the taste not registering in your mouth, you watched him. You made sure to push the syrup closer to him as you waited. 

When his fork finally picked up the food, your eyes were wide. 

“It takes just like the pancakes at Orla’s,” Steve complimented and you felt your heart race. You touched your chest, your cheeks feeling warm, as happiness flooded you, “They’re delicious, Y/N.”

“I’m so glad,” You beamed, “Eat more, please. Would you like a muffin? Sausage? I can blend you up a fresh smoothie.”

Steve placed a hand over yours, trying to stop you from ranting, “No, everything is perfect.”

And Steve meant it. 

When Steve finished his plate, you brought it to the sink despite his wishes to help you with dishes. When you came back to the table, you leaned in for what Steve thought was another peck on the lips. He was surprised when you deepened the kiss, resting your hands on the armrest as you leaned into him. 

When you pulled away, you weren’t even breathless, “You look very handsome this morning, Steve,” You told him, adoration in your eyes as you memorized every feature of his strong face, “Would you let me have the honor of pleasing you?”

“I’m already feeling pleased,” Steve grinned not expecting your hand to run down his chest and then over his boxers, “.... oh.”

“Please?” You pouted, feeling him through the fabric. He grew harder against your grasp and, by his pupils, you could tell he liked it, “Just let me touch it. Please, Steve?”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding as he was left speechless. You reached into his boxers, grabbing his member which made Steve melt back into his chair. You freed it from its confinement, leaning down to let a trail of your spit coat the sensitive tip, “Just like that, Y/N,” You up and down his shaft, twisting and rubbing your thumb over the tip. 

You moved down to kneel in front of him, “I wanna taste it, Steve. I wanna taste you so bad,” You moaned, moving your mouth closer to him. 

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” You smiled before tasting the tip with your tongue, “Good girl. Oh, you’re an angel.”

You took him all the way into his mouth, your tongue trailing down his shaft as you went deeper. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue creating a swirling motion. Despite your eyes watering, you kept perfect eye contact, trying to show him how much you were enjoying the privilege. 

When your mouth tired, you used your hand to continue the work though Steve didn’t seem to mind at all. When you felt he was close, you slowed your motions, “Steve, please cum inside of me?” You begged, your hand still stroking his cock.

He nodded eagerly, knowing you hadn’t taken your birth control for an entire week. You got up from the ground, lifting your dress skirt as you climbed on top of him. Your eyes were locked on each other as you slid your panties to the side, sliding down on his cock. He was already close, you knew that, and you were desperate to feel his warmth. 

“You want me to put a baby in you?” Steve grunted as you began to ride him. He grabbed a hold of the back of your neck, pulling you further into him. Your forehead pressed to his, your moans and pants began to mold together. 

“Please!” You moaned. 

“You want me to make you a Mommy, huh?”

“Please! Yes, please! I want you to make me a Mommy, Steve,” You smiled, the idea only filling your virtually empty mind with happiness. You'd try your best to be a wonderful mother and wife. “Oh, thank you-”

As you felt his warmth fill your insides, it was confirmation that you had pleased your husband properly. He slowly let you go so you could feel every inch that you just took.

“Jesus Christ,” He swore, panting as he leaned back in the chair, “This was the heaven on earth they were talking about.”

Steve could only imagine what came with lunch and dinner.

Suddenly the sun outside caught your attention, “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

+

hope you enjoyed! 

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (February 9/2021) - New Lands, Sapnap’s Visit

It wouldn’t be the Dream SMP without emotional whiplash, now would it?

As tensions between Puffy and Ponk have escalated, Karl takes Sapnap and George with him on a journey to a new land to live in, starting a brand new country to house his library. 

What was at first a fun time building the library quickly turned serious, as Sapnap decided that now was the time to pay Dream a visit.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Tubbo

Jack Manifold

Ranboo

Captain Puffy

Foolish Gamers

Karl Jacobs

Sapnap

Badboyhalo

---

- Ponk is angry at Puffy’s arson from yesterday. He asks Niki for advice on what to do. She says she would burn a house down in revenge.

- He also speaks with Foolish.

- Ponk destroy’s Puffy’s mushroom house, leaving her homeless again.

- Ponk also gets a tour from Warden Sam of the prison. Not to visit, just to be shown the mechanics. 

- He tries to run up the guards’ spiral staircase but when Sam attacks him, he backs down. Sam is irritated at this.

- Ponk and Sam have an argument about tridents.

- Later, Sam tells Ponk that every friendship goes through fights occasionally, and he forgives Ponk. 

- Ponk continues on his Valentines’ Day plans.

- Ranboo accidentally kills Jjjjjjjjeffrey with sweeping edge. Mr. Krabs adds insult to injury.

- Tubbo does an abstract bit.

- Ranboo kills several more pets. He is not having a good day.

- Puffy finds out about the destruction. She’s upset.

- Realistically, she should get retaliation, but she doesn’t know if she should even bother.

- Foolish comes over to where her house used to be, and Puffy says she knows about Foolish’s involvement earlier. She thanks her son for trying to save her house.

Foolish says he was too late, but Puffy replies that it only mattered that he tried.

- Karl comes online with plans to move his library. Sapnap arrives as well and Karl tells him that he has nothing to his name on the server except the library. 

The llamas in Party Park have begun to unionize, and though cleaning up L’manhole would be the responsible thing to do, they are definitely not going to do that.

- George comes online as Karl dismantles the library.

- They start walking down the path to look for an area to build their new country.

Sapnap: “We lost our best friend recently. He’s in prison.”

Sapnap also notices that the Community House has been rebuilt, but...it’s not the same.

- George performs a special ceremony at Spawn.

- They set off, heading out past Spawn in that direction.

- Sapnap gets concerned that they’re heading out so far. He doesn’t want to get too far from the prison.

- They make it to the flower forest biome past Alyssa’s Barn.

- Karl decides on a nice little cliffside to build the library in. He sets down a rule for the other two: a flower that is picked up must be placed down again.

- Sapnap is the protector, as resident tough guy.

- Captain Puffy visits the Temple of Undying to admire Foolish’s building. Foolish helps cheer her up.

- Sapnap reveals that he’s brought Beckerson and Mars with him. They can be the country’s most prized possessions. The oldest pets on the server.

- They plant and grow the first red-spotted mushroom. Karl deems it sacred and unbreakable.

- They repurpose Alyssa’s Barn for mushroom growing.

- They shelter from the rain under the sacred mushroom.

- They start building. 

- Bad magics his way over to help with the building. Karl explains that the mushroom is sacred. Bad compares their country to a fungal growth.

- As they’re building, Karl tells Bad that in a perfect world, everyone on the SMP would join this country. There’s no duel citizenship. Everyone can join (barring Skeppy)

Bad is appreciative of the invitation.

- They continue building. Foolish arrives to assist!

- A pillager raid comes through and Sapnap kills them. As he does so, a white horse wanders by. Sapnap declares it their special horse. It can be their Horsecretary.

- The building continues!

- Dream joins VC and viewer wars break out between Sapnap and Foolish as Dream encourages everyone to try and get their viewer counts to be equal.

- Foolish heads back to his beautiful, stunning, gorgeous summer house to show on his stream.

- Sapnap gets a bright idea to go to the prison and visit Dream.

- Sam joins the call and Sapnap tells him he’s trying to get through the prison portal. 

- Sam asks if Sapnap actually wants to visit Dream, and Sapnap says yes...

-

--- SAPNAP’S PRISON VISIT --- 

-

- Sapnap tries to get into the prison and asks Awesam to let him visit Dream. 

- Awesam agrees. Sapnap isn’t sure if he was ready, or if this is the optimal time, but he ends up going through.

- Sam asks the questions.

This is Sapnap’s first time visiting.

His residence is in a new place that he and Karl are creating.

He believes Dream is deserving of being locked up. 

Sapnap: “We used to be best friends...”

Sam: “’Used to be?’”

Sapnap: “Yeah, I dunno...where we stand anymore, it’s kinda...yeah.”

Sam: “What does that mean?”

Sapnap: “Well, I dunno...I don’t know if he’s the same anymore. I don’t know if he’s the Dream -- my Dream anymore. My best friend.”

- Sapnap reviews the waivers

- They start making their way through the prison. Sapnap is nervous.

- Sapnap signs the other two waivers.

- They reach the lava wall.

Sam: “Good luck getting him to talk.”

Sapnap: “What do you mean? ...Is he not talkative”

Sam: “Something like that.”

- Dream’s cell walls are spotted in crying obsidian.

Sam: “And Sapnap?”

Sapnap: “Yeah?”

Sam: “I hope that you’re the one.”

- Sapnap enters the cell.

“...Hello? Dream? ....You okay?”

- Dream is silent, holding the clock. He hands Sapnap a book that says: “I am not talking.”

- His clock is now labelled “DO NOT BURN”

Dream: “you took so long.”

Sapnap: “You hurt a lot of people, but...you hurt specifically me...took me a little bit to decide to come and see you...”

Sapnap: “You’re better than this.”

- Dream looks at his clock, turning away from Sapnap.

Sapnap: “Once upon a time, we were best friends. If you’re gonna talk to anyone, you can talk to me.”

- Dream turns back to Sapnap, now holding the clock in his offhand while he writes in the book.

Dream: “im on strike”

- Sapnap asks what for, then if Dream is okay.

- Sapnap asks why the cell looks so run-down, with the crying obsidian dripping everywhere.

“it was a security measure.” [The crying obsidian]

“ill get out one day.”

- Sapnap insists that Dream has to stay locked up. 

Sapnap: “I love you man, but you gotta stay here...this is where you belong for now.”

- Dream hands him the book.

“i spend days i broke the lectern i was making a portal and he did this.”

- Sapnap says that he can’t try and escape. He misses Dream, Sapnap says that they can be friends, that he can come and visit, that George can come and visit, but he has to stay here. 

“Please don’t try and escape.”

- Dream runs over and throws the clock in the lava. Sapnap is worried that he’ll make Awesam mad and make things worse for himself.

“eventually.”

“eventually.”

“eventually.”

“eventually.”

- Sapnap repeatedly tells him no.

Sapnap: “If you try and break out early...you know, you only have one life left, okay? And...I don’t think it’s gonna be Tommy. It’s not gonna be Techno, Dream...If you break out of this prison, it’s gonna be me who takes your final life. And it’s not because I have any resentment towards you or anything --”

Dream moves towards the lava but stops.

“-- But it’s because this is where you need to be, Dream.”

Dream’s head turns towards Sapnap and he takes another step towards the lava.

“You have to stay here, okay? We can still be friends, I can come and visit you, but you need to stay here.”

Dream moves back to the back of the cell.

“can you pass a message”

“he stopped visiting”

- Sapnap asks who

“ranboo”

- Sapnap asks what message

“:)”

- Sapnap says he’ll pass along the message.

“thank you”

- Sapnap asks if, if he passes along the message, Dream will behave. If he’ll stop acting up and throwing his clocks away.

Dream finally speaks, though it’s barely a whisper.

"Yes.”

- Sapnap says he’ll visit Dream more, and asks if he wants George to visit as well. Dream hands him the book again.

“yes and tell the warden i need a new clock”

- Dream signs the book.

“thank you for visiting me” is the final message.

- Sapnap says he’s ready to leave. Sam tells him to stand in the water.

Sapnap and Dream stand in the water together and they die by the potion together.

- Sapnap tells Sam that he spoke, and that he said he’d be better. That he needs a new clock. Sam is exasperated.

- Sapnap asks how long it’s been since he spoke to someone else. Sam says it’s been quite a while.

- When’s the last time he saw someone?

- The last person to visit him was Ranboo.

- Sam asks if he told Sapnap anything else. Sapnap says no.

- Sam kills Sapnap with Warden’s Will, sending him to Spawn.

- Sapnap comes back to the prison. Sam lets him through the portal.

- Sam explains that he just thought it was strange that Dream would talk to Sapnap, and had to “make sure.” Sapnap says it’s fine and leaves the prison with his things.

- Ranboo joined the game.

- Sapnap whispers to Ranboo that he wants to talk. They meet at the Community House.

Sapnap tells him about the prison visit, saying that Dream doesn’t seem the same. He doesn’t even talk now. He tells Ranboo that he was told that Ranboo was the last person to visit. He asks if Ranboo remembers anything about his visit, anything off.

Ranboo, of course, doesn’t remember much.

- Sapnap gives Ranboo the message: 

:)

- Ranboo freezes and goes silent, then runs away into the Nether. Sapnap is confused.

- Just as Sapnap is ending stream, Ranboo sends a message in game chat written in Enderman.

Doomed are those who try to run, for it always catches up eventually :)

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

Bad also mentioned that he has an upcoming lore stream that he’s scheduling, though it involves a particular person whose schedule makes them difficult to get a hold of for it.

[finnishcrimestory]

Anni Törn

Anni Törn, 29 years old, was healthy, well educated young woman from Savonlinna. She had always loved writing about her life, so she did it in a form of diaries and her blog. Her blog surrounded a lot around her active lifestyle, and she had plans to compete in figure competitions. She loved to travel and experience different cultures, so she volunteered in Tanzania, where she apparently helped local orphans and visited schools. When she returned to Finland she started to study BBA in Mikkeli, but left to be an au pair in The Hague, Netherlands during the same fall. In 2017 Törn moved to Rovaniemi with her sister, because she started an internship in a local insurance company. After the internship ended, Törn applied for a job from the same company, but this time in Mikkeli. The man who interviewed her was 33 year old Jukka Hyttinen.

In March 2018 Anni got the job and moved to Mikkeli. She did not particularly like moving and living in Mikkeli, but she was satisfied with it since it was very close to her hometown Savonlinna. Törn’s boss was the same man who interviewed her, Hyttinen. They grew close and very soon they started dating. According to Hyttinen, they had good chemistry between them and the relationship moved ahead fast. Very soon they stopped using protection and tried to conceive. Törn’s family liked Hyttinen, even though Törn’s mother was a bit confused because the relationship moved forward so fast. Törn’s family described Hyttinen to be polite person who dressed neatly and was ambitious.

Törn and Hyttinen did not live together immediately, but they had plans on getting a house together where they could build a life. In summer 2018 they carried out with this plan and purchased a house from Mikkeli. During this time Törn also revealed to her family that she was pregnant. According to Törn’s mother, she was happy and thriving. The pregnancy was very happy news for Törn, and her friends were glad she had found such a good man for herself.

On 21st of July 2018 Törn and Hyttinen were invited to a birthday party. Hyttinen was quite new to all the guests present, but they welcomed him well. Törn of course did not drink any alcohol during the night, but Hyttinen drank even for her behalf. The host of the party also noticed how much Hyttinen drank, and according to him it was over 20 servings. After 12 am people started to leave from the party and the people left were Törn, Hyttinen, the one who’s birthday they were celebrating and his girlfriend. At some point the topic of the conversation changed and they started to discuss Törn’s ex boyfriend. Hyttinen got very upset because of this and asked if they could change the subject. However Hyttinen himself continued talking about the ex. Törn tried to make Hyttinen change the subject by talking about other things, but Hyttinen did not stop. According to people present, Hyttinen’s behaviour changed and he was very angry and uncomfortable. The situation escalated and Törn yelled at Hyttinen and slapped him. After this Törn was going to leave the party and suggested that Hyttinen should walk back home, not come with her car. Hyttinen however managed to get into the car and they left together. 

On the next day Törn’s family got worried when they couldn’t reach her with a phone. Törn’s brother, Antti called Hyttinen who told that he is in Joensuu and couldn’t tell where Törn was. Hyttinen had fled the argument from last night to his hometown in Joensuu. Antti described the call as follows: “When Hyttinen called me and told Anni was missing, I knew he had done something to her, because I’ve been living in a world where I’ve witnessed horrible things to happen for so long. I wen’t to Joensuu and started to search for Anni.”

Antti and Törn’s mother made a missing persons report on a Sunday night approximately at 10:30 pm. Törn’s mother also called some hospitals and asked if Törn would be there. Antti searched for her from her previous apartment in Mikkeli, Hyttinen’s previous apartment in Savonlinna and from Joensuu where he met Hyttinen. He had been asking about Törn and noticed a bruise on Hyttinen’s hand, which had been bandaged. After this, Antti informed police of everything and they decided to search Hyttinen’s apartment and interrogate him.

Antti also wrote a post on Facebook about Törn’s disappearance. He wrote: “Anni Törn has gone missing on the night between Saturday and Sunday. Anybody who knows something of her movements, could you please contact me. And Anni, if you see this, my dear sister contact me. I’m dying of worry.”

When the police talked to Hyttinen, he told that on Sunday Törn had a meeting with a man who had been serving time in a prison. He apparently referred to Törn’s ex boyfriend who was currently in prison. The police contacted the prison and found out that the man in question was not on a furlough or anything, so he couldn’t not have been meeting with Törn. The police searched Hyttinen’s apartment but didn’t find anything. However they noticed that the shower curtain was missing from there. Törn was never late or missed her work shifts, so the police decided to wait til Monday to see if she would go to work. This didn’t happen so she was declared missing. 

The police interrogated Hyttinen who told them about the argument and that Törn had woken him up during the night and told him that he had to leave. Hyttinen told that he had done that and left the apartment. He also told that Törn had started to show aggression towards him after she got pregnant. The police looked into Hyttinen’s movements and he indeed had left the apartment during that night. When they were searching his car, they found grass from his car’s bumper. This was suspicious to the police.

When the police talked to the friend from the party, they had told that Hyttinen had called them on Sunday. He had told that he and Törn had became reconciled right away after they arrived home. He told that he however couldn’t sleep, and that was the reason he had left the apartment. 

Törn’s brother Antti took part in the search very closely since the beginning. He used social media, volunteered as a searcher and gathered other searchers as well. He noticed contradictions in the things Hyttinen told and sensed that things are not like Hyttinen has told. Antti had visited Hyttinen’s apartment and noticed weird blood marks in the staircase. Antti called Hyttinen and tried to find out about the blood. This is what Antti told about the call: “If something has happened, tell me now. I’ve thought of you being a person who has backbone, so I hope there is enough man in you to be honest with things.” Hyttinen had answered that he knows more than he has told. 

When 4 days had passed of Törn’s disappearance, the police started to investigate it as a manslaughter and Hyttinen became their main suspect. On 26th of July 2018 Hyttinen called the main inspector of the case and asked if they could talk. Hyttinen was brought to police station, and while he was there, crime scene insvestigators investigated his apartment. Hyttinen’s bathroom was very clean and they could find clear remnants of detergent, which meant that during the cleaning, detergent had been used with large amounts. Even though the bathroom was cleaned very well, the police found Törn’s blood from there. 

(In the picture above, you can see police arresting Hyttinen.)

Again Hyttinen told about the argument which had continued in the apartment. In the middle of the argument Hyttinen had wanted to take a shower, but Törn had prevented him of doing that. Hyttinen claimed that Törn had been kicking and hitting him. Hyttinen confessed that he had hit Törn. First once, then twice and in the result of the third hit, Törn had collapsed on the floor and lost consciousness. After that Hyttinen had called his friend and told that Törn is not alive anymore. Hyttinen had packed Törn in his car and driven to Joensuu. During the drive, Hyttinen had dropped Törn’s body off of a bridge. 

The police searched the waters but they did not discover the body. The police started to suspect what Hyttinen had told so they contacted the friend to who Hyttinen had called after killing Törn. He told that Hyttinen had revealed that he will bury Törn in his parent’s property in Joensuu. During the interrogation, Hyttinen told the police that he had buried Törn in his parents property. The police started the investigation there, and very quickly a sniffer dog found the grave. According to the coroner, Törn had big bruises and sores in her head and legs. Törn had been laying on the bathroom floor, while she had been hit in the head and choked. Bruising from Törn’s body revealed that she had been kicked, hit and that she had been hit with a triangle shaped object. All this abuse had resulted to Törn getting a brain damage that resulted to her death.

Hyttinen didn’t really comment of the abuse, but according to some sources he had told that he hit Törn three times which killed her, and to other sources he remembered holding her down. He had tried to stop the blood from flowing with a towel, which he later threw away alongside with the shower curtain. At one point Hyttinen told that he had dropped strawberries on the floor, which was why he had cleaned there so well. 

The trial

During the trial, Hyttinen only confessed on the abuse, but all the evidence from the body told otherwise. Törn had suffered hard and long lasting abuse and she couldn’t have defended herself. Hyttinen tried to defend himself by telling that he does not remember the situation so well, but he did remember things that suited him some way. The court was not happy about this, and were able to find out that Hyttinen had continued the abuse even after noticing that Törn wasn’t conscious anymore. Hyttinen told that Törn as well had been violent, but the police weren’t able to find any evidence from his body to back this up. Törn’s family had never seen Törn to act violently, and they don’t believe that she was violent towards Hyttinen. Törn’s mother told that Törn was that type of person who always tried to avoid conflict and not take part in arguments. 

Hyttinen was sentenced to 9 years and 10 months to prison for manslaughter and violation of the grave. He complained to the court of appeals but the sentence stayed the same.

After

Törn’s funeral was on 1st of September 2018, where her loved ones ate her bravura, cheesecake. Törn’s sister Riitta wished that people would remember Anni for something else than just a victim of manslaughter. She described Anni to be brave, who was not afraid to make her dreams come true. Anni was very close to her family, especially her brother Antti and they were in contact daily. People said that if Anni ever got any problems in her life, she would always tell Antti first. Anni was people loving, cheerful and bright woman. When reading articles of her and the case, I got the general image of her being very kind and lovely person. I truly hope her loved ones can find peace in their lives, and keep Anni’s legacy alive.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Resolve

We did it folks, this is follows right after Escalation and marks the end of the Rumor has it series! I hope it can live up to all of your expectations! If you want to listen to a song that could very well be Jiang Cheng’s character song for this story, please listen here. This fic is 10k long, so I suggest you read it on AO3 here. Thank you all so much <3<3

Jiang Cheng is reasonably sure he lost consciousness a few times on the flight back to the Cloud Recesses, but despite Lan Wangji’s clear wish he didn’t give him the satisfaction of dropping off the sword. Jiang Cheng would rather die standing up than fulfilling that particular wish.

Jiang Cheng is also sure that Lan Wangji planned to land at the end of the staircase that leads up to the Cloud Recesses and make Jiang Cheng walk all the way up there—something that Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have been able to do—but one look back at him must convince Lan Wangji that Jiang Cheng is really in no condition to do that.

His urge to see him prosecuted and sentenced to death while Jiang Cheng is still aware must be really strong.

Jiang Cheng is almost pathetically grateful that they are flying straight up to the Cloud Recesses, because even though he would never admit it—at least not out loud and definitely not to Lan Wangji—it lets him keep at least a little bit of dignity.

Like this, at least, he only drops to his knees once he steps off the sword. Jiang Cheng grits his teeth when he sees the satisfied look on Lan Wangji’s face, but his legs won’t carry him and despite the dagger still lodged in his shoulder, he lost a significant amount of blood by now.

Standing just doesn’t seem like a good idea at the moment.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says, worry colouring his tone, but when he wants to step forward, Lan Wangji keeps him away with a hand to his arm.

Jiang Cheng wonders what Lan Wangji thinks he will do to his brother, but given that Lan Wangji seems intent on getting him killed today, he can guess at the picture Lan Wangji has of him.

“And what now?” Jiang Cheng snarls when Lan Wangji simply stares down at him, but he can’t keep the pain completely out of his voice.

The dagger in his shoulder really hurts like a bitch.

“And now we will decide what to do with you,” Lan Wangji calmly says and Jiang Cheng can’t help the snort that escapes him.

Yeah, right. As if Lan Wangji hasn’t made his mind up already.

“How can you still be amused by this?” Wei Wuxian wants to know and Jiang Cheng wonders just when his brother stopped being able to read him.

“Come on, Wei Wuxian, you’re usually smarter than that. There’s nothing to ‘decide on’,” Jiang Cheng tells him and he feels a sick sense of validation when Sect Leader Yao steps into the courtyard behind him.

“That’s right,” he sneers and Jiang Cheng has to grid his teeth so that he doesn’t straight up jump at the other Sect Leader. “With what we saw you do today, there is not much wriggle room for you.”

“And doesn’t that make you happy,” Jiang Cheng says, but he doesn’t even deign to look at the other man.

He is very, very sick of Sect Leader Yao right now.

“I can’t deny that it’s kind of satisfying to see you like this,” Sect Leader Yao freely admits and Jiang Cheng works his jaw at that. “It will certainly bring justice to my late right hand,” he then adds, and now that Jiang Cheng can’t let stand.

“If it brings so much justice to him, why don’t you tell me his name? Why don’t you tell me why it took you ten goddamn years to want to bring justice to him?” he demands to know but before Sect Leader Yao can flounder for an answer, Lan Wangji speaks up.

“Enough. Everyone will be able to bring their grievances with Sect Leader Jiang to me today,” he says and Jiang Cheng resigns himself to a long and arduous farce.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lan Qiren suddenly asks, having stepped into the courtyard without their notice and Lan Wangji turns towards him, bowing slightly.

“Sect Leader Jiang has been caught in the act of killing two innocent people. He will be held accountable for that, today.”

“And everything else, it seems,” Jiang Cheng drily adds when Lan Qiren turns towards him. “Everyone is here, after all,” he tacks on with a nod backwards to where Sect Leader Yao stands.

A lot of the other smaller Sect Leaders have gathered there as well and it’s only then that it really hits Jiang Cheng just how well planned this was for them all to be already here. Jiang Cheng knows that he should feel betrayed that Lan Wangji and especially Wei Wuxian plotted against him like that, but all he can feel is anger for Xie Xifeng and her wife.

If Lan Wangji had time to plan this, then he probably had the time to save her. Instead Jiang Cheng is left with two dead bodies on his conscience. 

“Wangji, what are you doing?” Lan Qiren wants to know, but Lan Wangji meets his gaze evenly.

“What is right,” he gives back, sounding so goddamn certain that Jiang Cheng would love to tell him the truth just to see him shaken to the core, but he keeps his mouth shut.

He did not save all of his people from abusive and horrible situations to just throw them back into it.

Jiang Cheng would never do that to them.

Lan Qiren stares at Lan Wangji for a moment longer, before he simply turns around and stalks away. Jiang Cheng gets the distinct impression that he wants to run—which he never thought possible—but Lan Qiren adapted a pretty quick stride.

Jiang Cheng distantly wonders if he’s going to get Lan Xichen, and if Lan Xichen would end his seclusion for this, but despite Lan Xichen’s earlier words, Jiang Cheng doesn’t count on it.

It’s easy to take a stand against his own brother when it’s in an abstract situation. It’s much more difficult to do when the case actually arises, Jiang Cheng knows that from experience.

Jiang Cheng turns away from the retreating back of Lan Qiren and his eyes fall on Wei Wuxian. He seems pained by the proceedings but it just leaves a hollow feeling in Jiang Cheng when Wei Wuxian still doesn’t speak out.

He clearly believes every last word everyone says about Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng didn’t know it was possible to feel that betrayed.

Jiang Cheng wonders if this is how Wei Wuxian felt before he died and if this is the punishment Jiang Cheng deserves for not helping his brother back then.

It does seem kind of just, if Jiang Cheng looks at it like that. It doesn’t make it any easier to bear, though.

“Sect Leader Yao, if you would,” Lan Wangji suddenly says and Sect Leader Yao steps up, chest puffed up like a peacock and Jiang Cheng has to fight the sudden urge to throw the dagger from his shoulder at him.

“Jiang Wanyin killed my right hand man,” he declares and then proceeds to list off a few other names.

Names, Jiang Cheng very well recognizes, because all of these people are living a happy and safe life in his own Sect now. Jiang Cheng never quite realized that so many of Sect Leader Yao’s people hated their life enough to turn to demonic cultivation but when Jiang Cheng looks at the smarmy smile on his face, he finds that it does make sense.

Once Sect Leader Yao is done, Sect Leader Ouyang steps forward. It goes on like this, for longer than Jiang Cheng cares to take note of, and he can’t deny the warmth ball of pride in his own stomach when he hears just how many people he truly saved. It’s easy to forget sometimes, when they are all wearing purple.

There are a few names he doesn’t recognize—and two he failed to save that he remembers very well—but overall, Jiang Cheng can put a face to every name.

He can’t help but to smile at it, knowing that he did right by all of these people, and of course that is when Wei Wuxian chimes in again.

Jiang Cheng should have known.

“Are you proud of what you have done?” Wei Wuxian demands to know and he sounds incredulous, but Jiang Cheng simply smiles at him, too.

“Yes, I am,” Jiang Cheng easily gives back, because all these names just mentioned are the legacy he built over countless years.

He is more than alright to die for all of them.

“He will show no remorse,” Lan Wangji says to Wei Wuxian, who has to turn away from Jiang Cheng at that.

“Because there is nothing to regret,” Jiang Cheng adds, damn well knowing how it must sound to them, and then he settles back on his heels.

His shoulder is still throbbing, he’s still steadily losing blood, but he knows that it won’t be much longer now. Lan Wangji will sentence him and then it will be over rather quickly, at least Jiang Cheng hopes for that.

Jiang Cheng is okay with that, because even keeping himself upright is getting harder by the minute now.

“We have heard all the accusations,” Lan Wangji says, and suddenly his voice carries. “And there is one disciple of the Lan Sect to be added to the list. Lan Zhi,” Lan Wangji says and hate curls in Jiang Cheng’s gut.

How dare Lan Wangji.

“Oh, now you remember him?” he seethes because what he really wants to do is lunge for Lan Wangji.

How dare he speak that name. 

“He was a patient, kind young man and Jiang Wanyin killed him when he strayed from the right path.”

Jiang Cheng has another scathing remark on his tongue when suddenly Lan Xichen steps into the courtyard.

“Do not speak of Lan Zhi, and especially not to Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen says and walks over to Jiang Cheng, taking a stand besides him.

Lan Qiren is not far off and despite everything, Jiang Cheng has to close his eyes in relief.

He truly underestimated how it would feel like to have someone on his side.

“Brother,” Lan Wangji whispers, bowing his head in what Jiang Cheng thinks is not at all appropriate, but Lan Xichen silences him.

“Do you even really remember Lan Zhi? Do you still remember how unhappy he was? How burdened he became here? Do you remember that it was your oversight who even enabled him to turn towards darker paths?” Lan Xichen wants to know and Lan Wangji looks with big eyes at him.

“Brother, what are you doing? You’re in seclusion.”

“I am not. Not anymore,” Lan Xichen replies, Lan Qiren’s approving nod underlining his words.

“You would break your seclusion for him?” Lan Wangji asks, and Jiang Cheng would laugh at how incredulous he sounds if he weren’t so sure that his shoulder would not thank him for it.

“Zewu-Jun,” Wei Wuxian says, and Lan Xichen silences him with a single look.

“You are attending in the capacity as the Chief Cultivator’s husband. You do not have a voice here,” Lan Xichen frostily tells Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow in surprise.

He has never really heard Lan Xichen being angry—hadn’t really thought that he was capable of that, if he’s being honest—but it’s a welcome surprise right now.

Once he’s sure that Wei Wuxian knows his place, Lan Xichen turns his attention back to Lan Wangji, who seems like he considers strangling his own brother, but doesn’t dare to make a move.

“Wangji, how can you forsake justice like this? Are you really so blinded by your hate for Jiang Wanyin? So much that you would see an innocent man accused and sentenced?”

“Innocent,” Lan Wangji repeats, his voice as disgusted as Jiang Cheng has ever heard it, and looks Jiang Cheng up and down once. “Did you even look at him? He’s bathed in the blood of the true innocents he killed.”

“Half of that blood is actually mine,” Jiang Cheng speaks up, because his shoulder is still sluggishly bleeding.

It seems like Lan Xichen only notices the dagger in his shoulder now, because he falls to his knees besides Jiang Cheng, hands hovering helplessly over the dagger.

“Wangji, why did you not immediately call a healer?” Lan Xichen wants to know, but Jiang Cheng scoffs at that.

“Please. As if he’d waste any resources on a dead man.”

Lan Xichen freezes at his words, and Jiang Cheng realizes that Lan Xichen never truly contemplated what Jiang Cheng’s sentence would be.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says without looking away from Jiang Cheng, but his voice is noticeably colder. “What sentence are you aiming for?”

Jiang Cheng forces a smile on his face, even though he damn well knows what Lan Wangji’s answer will be, but Lan Xichen doesn’t seem to take it that well.

His hands are shaking.

“He killed countless innocents. The only sentence can be death,” Lan Wangji calmly replies, and Jiang Cheng takes a little bit of pleasure in the nervous shuffling from Wei Wuxian.

He doesn’t seem all too happy with that decision, and Jiang Cheng very vindictively finds himself hoping that it will haunt him for a long time.

Lan Xichen lets out a long, measured breath, and Jiang Cheng has to admit that he admires the resolve in Lan Xichen.

“No,” Lan Xichen says and turns back around to face Lan Wangji.

“That will not be his sentence.”

“When he is found guilty, it will be,” Lan Wangji replies, outwardly calm, but Jiang Cheng sees the almost nervous twitch of his hand.

“If, Chief Cultivator, not when,” Lan Xichen coldly reminds Lan Wangji and then turns towards Lan Qiren. “Please get a healer,” he says to his uncle, who immediately leaves.

Jiang Cheng almost wants to tell him to stop—he still doesn’t see himself getting out of this, since he is as unwilling as ever to tell Lan Wangji the truth—but he doesn’t stop him.

It really does hurt like a bitch and it would probably help with his light-headedness if the bleeding was stopped.

There is an almost uncomfortable silence in the wake of Lan Qiren’s departure, and to Jiang Cheng’s surprise it’s Lan Wangji who breaks it first.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks Lan Xichen, who shakes his head at Lan Wangji.

“I could ask you the same, Wangji,” he gives back. “You don’t even have proof and yet you already condemned a man to death.”

“Proof is there,” Lan Wangji replies and nods towards Jiang Cheng. “The dagger. The blood. The bodies.”

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth, because it would probably not do him any favours if he yelled at Lan Wangji, but he must notice the tension in his jaw, because Lan Wangji narrows his eyes at him, almost daring Jiang Cheng to forget about his manners.

Jiang Cheng will not give him that satisfaction on top of everything else.

“Is that really enough to condemn someone?” Lan Xichen asks. “You don’t know what happened. The circumstances could be different.”

“With all due respect, Zewu-Jun,” Sect Leader Yao pipes up and Jiang Cheng almost admires him for how daring he is, “but the circumstances don’t leave much to interpretation. He was the only one with them. They are dead now and he is drenched in their blood.”

“Of course that must mean I killed them,” Jiang Cheng agrees, voice saccharine sweet. “Especially since my words don’t count for much, right?”

“So if you found me in the clearing, your rabbits dead around me, their blood on me, you would assume I did it?” Lan Xichen demands to know of Lan Wangji, who immediately shakes his head.

“Of course not. Brother is different,” he explains and Jiang Cheng nods slightly.

He always knew it had nothing to do with proof or circumstances but everything to do with who he is as a person, and yet it still stings.

Especially since Wei Wuxian continues to stay quiet.

“Then at least admit that you’re not doing this for justice but out of a deep dislike for Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Xichen snaps and Lan Wangji seems as taken aback by that outburst as Jiang Cheng feels. “This has nothing to do with righteousness, Wangji, and I demand you stop this.”

“It’s not only my decision,” Lan Wangji replies, pointing at the other gathered Sect Leaders. “They all have grievances with Jiang Wanyin, and they should be heard.”

“Heard and appropriately dealt with,” Lan Xichen urges, but Jiang Cheng can tell that he’s losing faith that he will be able to convince his brother to stop this. “But not this.”

“Exactly this,” Lan Wangji decides with a nod and Lan Xichen turns desperate eyes on Jiang Cheng.

He can’t offer him more than a one shouldered shrug, because he will not throw his people in front of these undeserving people, and so his only option is to stay silent. His only option is to die.

“Wanyin,” Lan Xichen whispers, clearly begging him to speak up, to set this right, but Jiang Cheng can be stubborn on the best of days.

And this is so far from a good day.

“No,” Jiang Cheng decides and it seems like Lan Xichen wants to argue his decision, when Lan Qiren comes back, a man with a bag behind him.

“Lan Yimu will have a look at that shoulder now,” Lan Qiren decides, and he levels Lan Wangji with a look so severe even Wei Wuxian doesn’t dare to pipe up or even move.

Lan Qiren really hasn’t lost his touch since their student days, Jiang Cheng thinks and then grits his teeth against the pain, when light fingers probe around his injury.

“Can you still feel your fingers?” Lan Yimu asks him and Jiang Cheng wriggles them in reply. “That’s good,” the healer decides.

Jiang Cheng knows what’s coming next and he braces himself before Lan Yimu even speaks again.

“I’m going to take the dagger out now,” he warns Jiang Cheng, barely a second before he removes the blade from his shoulder.

Jiang Cheng bites down on a pained noise, keeps it trapped in his throat because he will not show weakness here. He has more pride than that.

He startles slightly when a hand is put to his uninjured shoulder, pouring spiritual energy into him, and Jiang Cheng is even more surprised when he looks up and sees that it’s Lan Qiren who is the one passing his energy to him.

“You have to speak up,” Lan Qiren urges him, effectively distracting Jiang Cheng from the pain in his shoulder, even though it gets better when Lan Yimu puts a numbing paste on the wound.

“No,” Jiang Cheng replies, and Lan Qiren seems to sense that his decision is final, because he doesn’t try again, even though he seems unhappy with his decision.

“It wouldn’t matter what I say anyway,” Jiang Cheng tacks on, trying to soften his words. “Xiuying won’t let them into Lotus Pier and they won’t believe without proof. Might not even believe it with proof.”

Lan Qiren clicks his tongue in apparent displeasure but he doesn’t argue Jiang Cheng’s words.

“You shouldn’t move your arm too much for the next couple of weeks,” Lan Yimu advises him, just as he’s tying off the bandage and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“That won’t be a problem,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says, because he doubts he’ll even make it until tomorrow.

Really, for all that Jiang Cheng enjoys the receding levels of pain, it’s a waste of a perfectly good healing cream.

Lan Yimu shares a look with Lan Qiren, before he bows his head low to Jiang Cheng again.

“He was my cousin. Thank you for saving him,” Lan Yimu then whispers and Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare at him.

Jiang Xiuying never spoke of the family he might have left behind, and Jiang Cheng never dared to ask, but of course there must still be people left who remember Jiang Xiuying from before, other than Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen.

“He is living well,” Jiang Cheng lowly gives back, even forces a small smile on his face because Jiang Xiuying is living well, and the only regret Jiang Cheng has is that he won’t see him come into his full potential.

Jiang Xiuying will make a great Sect Leader, no matter the circumstances of how he got there.

“That is enough now,” Lan Wangji interrupts them, clearly displeased that it takes so much time, and the dread settles in Jiang Cheng’s stomach again.

It was a nice reprieve, he has to admit that, but of course it couldn’t last forever.

“Wei Wuxian, how can you allow this?” Lan Xichen suddenly asks and Jiang Cheng’s head snaps up. “He is your brother. You should know him better.”

“Sixteen years are a long time, Zewu-Jun,” Wei Wuxian replies. “A lot can change in that time. People can change.”

“But not this fundamentally,” Lan Xichen keeps arguing even though Jiang Cheng knows it’s futile.

“Don’t waste your breath, Lan Xichen,” Jiang Cheng advises. “He can’t admit that the rumours might be fake,” Jiang Cheng says, not taking his eyes off Wei Wuxian, who is turning a worryingly shade of white.

“What? Why not?” Lan Xichen wants to know and Jiang Cheng huffs out a humourless laugh.

“Because if they are not true then that means I never hated him, or what he turned into. If these rumours are not true, and I never hated him, then I must have turned against him because it was the right thing to do for me at that time. And wouldn’t that be worse than me simply hating him?” Jiang Cheng wants to know, despite how much he still hates to hurt his brother like this, and the look on Wei Wuxian’s face tells him all he needs to know.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t like to broadcast it, but he does know how to read the people closest to him.

“Shut up,” Wei Wuxian chokes out, but even from the distance Jiang Cheng can see the tears in his eyes. “You hate what I did!”

“Because of the repercussions it had for us, yes,” Jiang Cheng easily replies, because he came to terms with that a long time ago. “I never hated you. Certainly not enough to kill people who followed your path.”

“And yet you’re doing that,” Lan Wangji interjects, smoothly stepping to the side to put himself between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng.

“You can’t protect him from everything,” Jiang Cheng says, slightly raising his cuffed hands. “No matter how hard you try, there are some things no one can protect him from.”

He turns his gaze to Lan Xichen with his last words, willing him to understand that this is simply how it is supposed to go, but it seems stubbornness runs in both Lan brothers.

“No,” Lan Xichen decides and turns back to Lan Wangji. “You said he killed two innocent people. If that is true, they should hold resentment. Enough for you to summon them.”

“You want me to play Inquiry,” Lan Wangji states and Lan Xichen nods.

“Ask them what really happened. You’re not going to believe Jiang Wanyin, but maybe you will believe them.”

“They won’t come,” Jiang Cheng says with a small shake of his head.

It was a good idea, but given how they died they shouldn’t hold any resentment. Tan Chunhua might, since her death was an entirely too tragic accident, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t count on it.

“We have to try,” Lan Xichen replies, just as Lan Qiren leans down, seemingly trying to steady himself, since he’s still passing spiritual energy to Jiang Cheng, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t sense any weakness in him.

“I called onto the other Sects,” Lan Qiren whispers to him and Jiang Cheng has to suppress a white hot flash of fury at those words.

“No,” he bites out. “You leave them out of this!”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t want Jiang Xiuying to have to come back here and take a stand. He doesn’t want Jin Ling to see his last remaining family go.

They both deserve better.

“It’s done,” Lan Qiren informs him and for the first time since this all started Jiang Cheng feels the urge to fight against his cuffs.

He doesn’t want the people he loves to suffer unnecessarily, and it will be bad enough once they hear about this already, Jiang Cheng knows it. They don’t have to witness it as well.

“We’re not at their place of death,” Lan Wangji muses, effectively dragging Jiang Cheng out of his own thoughts. “Without their names I can’t call upon them.”

“Xie Xifeng and Tan Chunhua, which you would know if you had tried to help them,” Jiang Cheng informs him—rather smugly, really—and he watches with satisfaction as a sliver of doubt appears on Wei Wuxian’s face.

Jiang Cheng knows it’s wrong, but he hopes it will accompany him for the rest of his life; always at the back of his head that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as they seemed. That maybe Jiang Cheng wasn’t the monster everyone made him turn to believe.

Lan Wangji doesn’t outwardly react as he gets his guqin out and settles behind it. He plays a few notes, before he sits and waits and when nothing happens, he plays the same sequence again.

But again, nothing happens.

“Try it again,” Lan Xichen demands but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“They won’t come. They didn’t die full of resentment. There won’t be anything for you to summon,” he tells Lan Wangji, but it’s Sect Leader Yao who speaks up.

“How can you be so sure? Did you destroy their spirits, too? Taking even the chance of reincarnation from them?” he demands to know and Jiang Cheng can’t even be bothered to turn his head around to him.

“Sect Leader Yao, if you know of a way to shatter a spirit on purpose in the moment of their death, please do enlighten us. You must really be a master in disguise if that is the case,” Jiang Cheng taunts over his shoulder, because Sect Leader Yao should know better than this.

But then again, it’s Sect Leader Yao. What did Jiang Cheng expect, really.

“If they won’t come, nothing can be proven. The absence of their spirits cannot be taken as a sign in favour of Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji decides and Jiang Cheng almost finds it hilarious how Lan Wangji is bending himself backwards, trying to slander Jiang Cheng’s name.

“This is not justice,” Lan Qiren suddenly speaks up, his hand still a steady weight on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “If it can’t be taken as a sign in favour of Jiang Wanyin, then it can’t be used to condemn him further, either.”

This doesn’t seem to sit well with Lan Wangji at all, because Jiang Cheng actually sees him working his jaw, and Jiang Cheng will take his small pleasures where he can get them.

He won’t have much chances for any bigger ones, after all.

“Maybe Sect Leader Yao should tell you the name of his right hand man, so you can try to summon his spirit,” Jiang Cheng tosses out there, just to see Sect Leader Yao flounder really, and he’s not disappointed when there’s a very telling silence behind him. “He’s calling for justice for him ten years after his disappearance, he must have meant a great deal to Sect Leader Yao. Surely Sect Leader Yao remembers his name?” Jiang Cheng adds when nothing comes forth.

Lan Xichen sends him a reprimanding look, but Jiang Cheng simply shrugs. Taunting Sect Leader Yao won’t change the outcome of this anyway, but it does amuse Jiang Cheng, even in a situation as dire as this, and so he simply can’t pass this opportunity up.

Sect Leader Yao continues to be suspiciously quiet, and in the end it’s Lan Wangji who saves him some face.

“We will try Lan Zhi,” Lan Wangji decides and like every time when that name is used anger boils in Jiang Cheng’s veins.

He wants to snap at Lan Wangji, wants to tell him that he doesn’t deserve to use that name, but instead he closes his eyes and wills himself to be silent.

This round of inquiry is bound to be as successful as the one before and Jiang Xiuying is not here to be hurt by the sound of his old name.

Rationally, there is nothing Jiang Cheng should even get angry about. Still, he can’t help it.

“Why would you, Wangji?” Lan Xichen asks. “Did you truly not—,”

“Enough,” Jiang Cheng snaps, interrupting Lan Xichen before he can expose Jiang Xiuying. “Enough. Don’t drag this out any longer.”

Lan Qiren’s hand on his shoulder tightens, but Jiang Cheng is tired.

Lan Wangji has his mind made up—Jiang Cheng wonders why no one else can see it—and he doubts there is anything that will make him change his opinion of Jiang Cheng.

“He is asking for his sentence himself,” Sect Leader Yao crows in victory, as if it would mean that Jiang Cheng admitted to every single accusation. “We should give it to him.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian suddenly says, but Jiang Cheng does not want to hear from his brother at this moment.

“Yes, you should,” Jiang Cheng bites out, forcing a smirk on his face, but before anyone can so much as move a muscle Zidian sparks to life on Jiang Cheng’s finger.

“He’s attacking!” Sect Leader Yao screams, already diving for safety behind the other Sect Leaders, but Jiang Cheng is staring at his finger in confusion.

“I’m not,” he shouts, because if he really wanted to attack any of them, he would have done so earlier, and then he watches as Zidian detaches itself from his finger and moves through the air.

Jiang Cheng follows its path with his gaze and his eyes go wide when he sees Jin Ling flying over the Cloud Recesses.

“No,” Jiang Cheng breathes out as he watches how Jin Ling expertly yields Zidian, drawing it in a graceful arch over his head before he viciously brings it down on the protective barrier surrounding the Cloud Recesses.

It splinters after one hit, and Jiang Cheng is unsure if that is because Jin Ling is truly that angry or if Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren did something.

It doesn’t matter in the end, because the barrier crumbles and Jin Ling doesn’t waste any time descending into the courtyard, stepping down from Suihua right next to Jiang Cheng.

“I hope you forgive me this trespassing, Zewu-Jun, but the disciples at the front gate wouldn’t allow us to come in. A mistake, surely, but really rather bothersome, given what is happening here,” Jin Ling smoothly says but Jiang Cheng can hear the faint tremor in his voice.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Lan Xichen immediately gives back, probably smiling with how light his voice sounds, but Jiang Cheng can’t tear his eyes away from Jin Ling.

He had been resigned to never see him again, and despite the fact that he is happy to see him one last time—not to mention how proud he is of him—Jiang Cheng really wishes he would be anywhere but here.

Jiang Cheng is just about to speak when Zidian is transferred back to his finger.

“I hope you forgive me, too, jiu-jiu, I know it is still yours, but this was an emergency,” Jin Ling says to him, not taking his eyes of Lan Wangji and clearly daring him to do anything right now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jiang Cheng softly says, because he thought he had been very clear in his instructions.

Jin Ling was supposed to be at Lotus Pier where Jiang Xiuying would need his help. He shouldn’t be here, watching Jiang Cheng die.

“Xiuying was very adamant,” Jin Ling easily gives back and as if on cue, Jiang Xiuying marches into the courtyard.

“I hope you will forgive us for being late, Chief Cultivator,” he sweetly says and Jiang Cheng has to admire him simply for the bite he puts into those words. “We were delayed at the front gate, but luckily we made it in time to this public trial that you surely wouldn’t dare hold without the Big Sects present.”

“You are not a Sect Leader,” is the first thing Lan Wangji says to Jiang Xiuying and Jiang Cheng immediately sees red.

“Do not speak to him,” Jiang Cheng hisses, raising up on his knees, Zidian sparking on his finger in response to his anger and Jiang Cheng is going to send it out, wound on his shoulder be damned.

“How dare you,” Lan Wangji says, and he clearly only waited for this, because Bichen is drawn and pointed at him in an instant.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen tries, tries to calm everyone down, but his brother clearly doesn’t listen to him since he advances on Jiang Cheng without hesitation and it only takes Jiang Cheng a moment to understand that Lan Wangji is going to strike him down without remorse.

When Zidian lashes out, Jiang Cheng thinks for a split second that he lost control of his own spiritual tool but then Jiang Xiuying steps in front of him, arms outstretched and sending Zidian at Lan Wangji with natural ease.

Lan Wangji deflects the hit with Bichen, but the end of Zidian curls in an astonishing display of control and manages to flick Lan Wangji on the cheek, instantly drawing blood.

Jiang Cheng knew Jiang Xiuying would be magnificent with Zidian.

“Do not dare to touch him,” Jiang Xiuying seethes at Lan Wangji, calling Zidian back to his hand, where it continues to spark, picking up on the anger in Jiang Xiuying.

Lan Wangji seems to have half a mind to turn his sword against Jiang Xiuying next, but after a lengthy staring battle Lan Wangji sheathes Bichen and gets back to his original place, a clearly distressed Wei Wuxian immediately at his side and fussing over him.

Jiang Xiuying watches his retreat with hawk eyes, clearly not daring to take his gaze off him until he is a good distance away and then he turns his look onto Zidian, now finally dormant on his finger.

He takes a few seconds before he turns around to Jiang Cheng, a question clear in his eyes and Jiang Cheng shrugs through his embarrassment.

Jiang Cheng has transferred power over Zidian to Jiang Xiuying years ago, because just like Jin Ling, he simply wanted to keep him safe. Unlike with Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng might have forgot to mention it to Jiang Xiuying.

Who doesn’t seem to take it as well as Jiang Cheng had hoped.

“We’ll  talk about this when we get home,” Jiang Xiuying threatens and Jiang Cheng is unable to keep his mouth shut.

“If,” he corrects, because Lan Wangji now seems more murderous than ever.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t like his chances, not even with Jiang Xiuying and Jin Ling here now.

“When,” Jiang Xiuying hisses and then stalks away, putting his back to Lan Wangji in a clearly disrespectful move.

It’s only now that Jiang Cheng realizes that Jiang Xiuying didn’t come alone. He walks over to a bunch of Yunmeng disciples and when Jiang Cheng recognizes them, he goes cold.

Of course Jiang Cheng knows that Jiang Xiuying would never force any of the people Jiang Cheng saved to show up here—their intention of telling the truth more than made clear by their actions—so these must be the ones that are alright with having their new identity revealed, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t have to like it.

“This is not a public event,” Jiang Cheng desperately says. “Disciples are not allowed here,” he goes on, turning back around to Lan Wangji. “I’m requesting you send them away.”

“Since you are being accused of a crime, you lost the right to call yourself Sect Leader,” Jiang Xiuying states. “I am acting Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang and I have every right to be here,” Jiang Xiuying bites out at Jiang Cheng and there is nothing Jiang Cheng can do to change that right now.

But the rest of his people shouldn’t be here.

“I am a newly appointed Sect Leader,” Jiang Xiuying says. “You cannot expect me to travel without due safety precautions.”

Jiang Cheng wants to strangle him for putting himself into this situation, but Jiang Xiuying looks at him like he expects it, his gaze steady and unwavering, and Jiang Cheng sinks back onto his heels, turning an imploring gaze on Lan Wangji.

“They stay,” Lan Wangji says, probably just to be contrary, even as he swipes the blood from his cheek. “There have been enough interruptions already.”

As if on cue one more interruption appears.

“Ah, am I late?” Nie Huaisang sheepishly asks from behind his fan. “I came as fast as I could, but—,” he trails off and shrugs. “Oh, good, Jiang Wanyin is still alive,” he then says when his eyes fall on Jiang Cheng and he positions himself far away from Lan Xichen. “Don’t let yourself be distracted, please do go on,” he expectantly says, when all eyes continue to stay on him, and Jiang Cheng wonders just what exactly he is up to this time.

“You have good people,” Lan Qiren suddenly whispers to Jiang Cheng and even though Jiang Cheng wants to do nothing more than wholeheartedly agree, he fears that their presence here will only make things harder on them.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes fall on Jin Ling, and it’s only then that he realizes how pale and shaken he seems and Jiang Cheng understands suddenly that Jin Ling pushed himself to fly as fast as he could to Lotus Pier, explaining everything to Jiang Xiuying, before they made their way here. Jin Ling probably didn’t rest since he flew off at the house.

And it must be like this, because if Lan Qiren only called for help when he fetched the healer, they are way too early.

“I wish I didn’t,” Jiang Cheng almost belatedly whispers but Lan Qiren only squeezes his shoulder.

“Your actions against the Chief Cultivator will be excused this once,” Lan Wangji says, voice icy and Jiang Xiuying mockingly bows to him. “It will not be enough to derail this trial. Let’s continue,” Lan Wangji declares and Jiang Cheng can’t believe how blind he truly is.

He is looking straight at Jiang Xiuying but he doesn’t seem to recognize him at all. Jiang Cheng honestly suspects that Lan Wangji is so dead set on killing him today that he doesn’t allow even the slightest doubt and so he conveniently tunes the nagging voice out.

It’s the only thing that makes sense, because otherwise Lan Wangji is just stupidly oblivious.

“Now, the accusations have been presented. Since Jiang Wanyin refuses to speak and there is no proof in his favour, who stands against Jiang Wanyin?” Lan Wangji asks and it’s worded incredibly biased towards Jiang Cheng’s guilt.

Predictably, Sect Leader Yao is the first one to speak up.

“The Yao Sect stands against Jiang Wanyin,” he declares, chest proudly puffed up and Sect Leader Ouyang steps up next.

“Baling Ouyang stands against Jiang Wanyin,” he agrees, and after that it’s just a flood of the smaller Sects declaring their stand against Jiang Cheng.

When the last one falls silent, Jin Ling doesn’t hesitate to speak up.

“Lanling Jin stands with Jiang Wanyin,” he declares, to the surprise of no one and Jiang Xiuying nods his agreement.

“Yunmeng Jiang stands with Jiang Wanyin,” he says, daring Lan Wangji with his eyes to disagree.

Everyone turns towards Nie Huaisang next.

“What do you want me to say? I don’t know, I really don’t know what to do,” Nie Huaisang says, rather predictably, Jiang Cheng thinks and Zidian sparks on his finger again.

It’s clearly reacting to Jiang Xiuying’s anger, since he’s glaring daggers at Nie Huaisang.

“For once in your life, do the right thing and say the truth,” Jiang Xiuying snaps at Nie Huaisang who looks at him over his fan, before he snaps it shut.

Gone is the headshaker and Jiang Cheng can hear Lan Xichen take a shaky breath at the reminder that Nie Huaisang is not as innocent as he seems.

“Fine,” Nie Huaisang says, his voice suddenly strong and clear. “You’re making a grave mistake, Lan Wangji,” Nie Huaisang tells him. “Qinghe Nie stands with Jiang Wanyin.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t seem surprised by these turns of events, but he also doesn’t seem to be happy about it. Once Nie Huaisang falls silent Lan Wangji turns expectant eyes on Lan Xichen, clearly expecting him to back Lan Wangji as well, now that all the smaller Sects do, despite Lan Xichen’s earlier show of support towards Jiang Cheng.

Lan Xichen’s vote will decide this, Jiang Cheng suddenly realizes, because if one of the Great Sects sides with the smaller ones, they outweigh the other three Great Sects and Jiang Cheng has a split second to doubt Lan Xichen.

He feels bad for it, even before Lan Xichen squares his shoulder.

“Gusu Lan stands with Jiang Wanyin,” he loudly declares without hesitation or doubt and Sect Leader Yao gasps in outrage as a hush falls over the crowd.

“Brother,” Lan Wangji says, clearly displeased with that, but Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“No. He is innocent of the charges you brought against him and Gusu Lan will not allow you to kill an innocent man. We stand with him,” he reiterates, underlined by Lan Qiren nodding.

Wei Wuxian has been oddly quiet; strangely enough his gaze is fixed upon Nie Huaisang and it’s not long before he speaks.

“Why do you stand with him?” he asks and Nie Huaisang flicks his fan open again.

“Because he is innocent and I have something to make up for,” Nie Huaisang says with a little nod of his head and Jiang Cheng is reminded of the conversation they had just before everything went to shit.

If this is how Nie Huaisang wants to make up for killing Mo Xuanyu then he should probably think again, Jiang Cheng bitterly thinks, even though he is aware that there is no way that Nie Huaisang can make up for a lost life at all.

“I see,” Wei Wuxian mutters and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“You don’t see anything,” he tells him and then forces himself to his feet, shrugging Lan Qiren’s hand off in the process. “Now that this is decided, can I leave?” he asks, raising his still cuffed hands in a clear demand to be released, but Lan Wangji doesn’t move.

“Just because some people don’t find you guilty it doesn’t mean that you’re absolved. The Chief Cultivator stands against Jiang Wanyin.”

“The Chief Cultivator is supposed to be an unbiased voice. His job is to mediate between the Sects and balance the scales,” Jin Ling says, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t think he has ever heard him speak this frostily to someone before. “You’re not supposed to take sides.”

“The accusations regarding our lost disciple have to come from Gusu Lan,” Lan Xichen chimes in and Jiang Cheng is beyond grateful that he doesn’t use Jiang Xiuying’s old name. “You have nothing to bring against him, since he didn’t slight you personally.”

Lan Wangji’s grip on Bichen tightens and Jiang Cheng wonders just how badly Lan Wangji really wants him dead.

“So you just want to let him leave, knowing that he will kill again?” Wei Wuxian asks and Jiang Cheng can’t help but to jerk with his words.

It still hurts, to know that his own brother doesn’t even believe that he is innocent.

“The trust is broken,” one of the other Sect Leader agrees and they all start to nod.

“We can’t trade with Yunmeng anymore,” someone else says and Jiang Cheng closes his eyes.

Even if he does survive this, the reputation of his Sect will be tarnished, and the lives of his disciples will be unnecessary hard after this.

It’s everything Jiang Cheng never wanted.

When he opens his eyes again, his gaze falls on Jiang Xiuying who is already looking at him.

“Let them speak,” Jiang Xiuying lowly says, just loud enough to reach Jiang Cheng’s ears. “They are here on their own free will.”

Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath, because he suspected as much, but he still didn’t want to drag them into the spotlight like this.

“They shouldn’t have to,” he gives back and by now they have the attention of everyone, Jiang Cheng is more than aware of that.

“But they want to,” Jiang Xiuying replies and then smiles slightly at Jiang Cheng. “It’s not even only for your sake,” he then admits while he glares at Lan Wangji. “It would bring us great pleasure, too.”

Jiang Cheng chuckles at that, despite how everything inside him screams to bundle his people up and bring them far away, to protect them from prying eyes.

“Jiu-jiu, please,” Jin Ling chimes in when Jiang Cheng doesn’t agree to their plan and Jiang Cheng can’t help himself, he reaches out with his still bound hands to tug him closer to himself.

“Let us protect you for once,” Jiang Xiuying whispers, his voice steady and sure, and with Jin Ling’s comforting weight leaning against him Jiang Cheng finds it hard to remember why this is a bad idea.

That changes when his eyes fall on Lan Wangji again, but by then he has already agreed.

“Fine,” he mutters, casting a desperate glance towards his people.

“You are keeping them safe,” Jiang Xiuying promises. “You’re keeping them safe by protecting yourself.”

“I already said fine,” Jiang Cheng snaps, because he never did learn how to deal with the gratitude and love of his people and Jiang Xiuying smirks at him, because he knows exactly what Jiang Cheng is feeling.

He does know him too well, after all.

“We will keep them safe as well,” Lan Xichen suddenly says from right beside Jiang Cheng as he reaches out to undo his cuffs. “We are standing with you.”

“And I thank you for that,” Jiang Cheng says with a small nod before he straightens up. “Alright,” he decides. “Pardon this, Lan Xichen, but let’s stick it to your brother.”

Jin Ling snorts at his words, just as Jiang Xiuying bites back a smile and even Lan Xichen can’t hide the amusement in his eyes.

Jiang Cheng knows he will crash sooner or later; today has been a bit much with everything and the fact that he almost died today will catch up with him once he has a moment to think about it, but right now, with the people he loves behind him, he feels like he could do anything.

And if Jiang Cheng is being honest, the only thing he really wants to be doing right now is to make Lan Wangji and especially Sect Leader Yao eat their own words.

Jiang Xiuying motions for the others to step forward and Jiang Cheng recognizes all of them, of course he does. Even Jiang Sushan is there, Fu Zhihao pressed close to her side and Jiang Cheng itches with the need to send them away immediately.

Fu Zhihao barely healed and she’s still in no condition to be around older males for longer than absolutely necessary. She shouldn’t be here at all.

Jiang Cheng glares at Jiang Xiuying but he simply shrugs. He did say they are all here voluntarily, Jiang Cheng reminds himself. He just hopes it’s true as he turns towards Lan Wangji.

“Regarding the accusations made against me today,” he starts and cuts his glare over to Sect Leader Yao, who has the good grace to shrink back at the venom in that glare, “I have something to say.”

“Speak,” Lan Wangji demands, but he doesn’t sound too sure all of a sudden, doesn’t seem too happy with the proceedings, and Jiang Cheng does rather enjoy the feeling of triumph it brings him.

“I am innocent. I did not kill any demonic cultivators, nor did I torture them.”

His voice rings out in the courtyard because everyone is silent for two seconds, but then chaos erupts. The voices calling him a liar are the kinder ones, and Jiang Cheng shakes his head at them.

“And I have proof,” he continues, raising his voice so that it carries over the others.

Luo Ganting is the first to step forward and Jiang Cheng seethes with anger when Sect Leader Yao doesn’t seem to recognize him instantly.

“My name is Luo Ganting,” he says, turning towards Sect Leader Yao, his face speaking of the disgust he feels for the other man. “And I used to be Sect Leader Yao’s right hand man before Sect Leader Jiang saved me from my certain death.”

Sect Leader Yao gasps dramatically, but Jiang Cheng sees how he goes pale, how he starts to sweat and he knows there won’t be any more accusations from that front.

“I turned towards demonic cultivation when I couldn’t stand to be in Sect Leader Yao’s presence anymore and Sect Leader Jiang saved me. He gave me hope, a home, and a family. I have been with him for ten years now and I regret every year I wasted with Sect Leader Yao before. Jiang Wanyin is innocent.”

Fu Zhihao is the next to step up, Jiang Sushan hovering protectively at her back, but her voice doesn’t shake.

Jiang Cheng is incredibly proud of how far she has come in this short amount of time.

“My name is Fu Zhihao,” she starts and she keeps her eyes on Lan Wangji. “My family married me off to a man thrice my age, who insisted that I be a good wife. My hate for him was so strong that I turned to demonic cultivation without a second thought. I killed him and the child I was carrying but Sect Leader Jiang came to rescue me. I haven’t been with him for long, but even that short amount of time was better than the life I spent before.”

“In case it is unclear,” Jiang Xiuying chimes in, his voice as cutting as the glare he sends at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. “She is the girl you accused Sect Leader Jiang of killing during the last cultivation conference.”

Lan Wangji’s face has turned into stone but Wei Wuxian watches the proceedings with big eyes, his lips parted, the colour drained from his face.

One after one Jiang Cheng’s people step forward, telling everyone present in what ways Jiang Cheng saved their lives. It’s clear by the faces of everyone present just how much they hate this, and Jiang Cheng has to admit that he does too.

He doesn’t like to be reminded how his people suffered before, can feel his eyes burn with the mere memory of it, of how unhappy and desperate they were, and Jiang Cheng has to actively remind himself that they are doing well these days.

It’s all in the past.

When the last person steps back, Jiang Xiuying steps forward and Jiang Cheng itches to pull him back, to shield him from this. But he knows he can’t do that, understands that this is something Jiang Xiuying has to do now and so he simply watches on.

“My name used to be Lan Zhi,” Jiang Xiuying starts with, raising his hand, his white forehead ribbon tightly clenched in it, adding proof to his words.

Jiang Cheng didn’t even know he kept it.

“And I used to be a disciple of Gusu Lan.”

Jiang Cheng does rather enjoy how Lan Wangji goes pale at that and he can’t help the small, satisfied smile on his face. The shock serves Lan Wangji right after he didn’t even recognize Jiang Xiuying.

“I turned towards demonic cultivation in my unhappiness and it was Sect Leader Jiang who showed me a different way. Who listened to me and took me serious, who offered me another life, one not dictated by rules that were suffocating me. He noticed me,” Jiang Xiuying says, clearly aiming to hit low with this, and going by Lan Wangji’s flinch, he managed it well. “He gave me a new name and a new family, and I couldn’t imagine a happier life.”

Jiang Cheng itches to pull Jiang Xiuying close, make sure that this doesn’t affect him more than he lets on, but he forces himself to hold still.

When no one else steps forward, Lan Xichen speaks.

“The accusations brought against Jiang Wanyin are baseless. He is innocent.”

“Then what happened today?” Wei Wuxian suddenly asks and Jiang Cheng jerks with the reminder that there are two people he didn’t manage to save.

Jiang Xiuying seems to sense his distress, because he steps close to Jiang Cheng, a supportive hand on his arm and Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath before he speaks.

“When I entered the house, Tan Chunhua was already dead. Xie Xifeng lost control of her powers and a knife went flying, hitting Tan Chunhua in the neck. When I tried to calm Xie Xifeng down, she lost herself to her grief and in the following outburst of her powers she accidentally turned Tan Chunhua into a puppet. She stabbed me,” he recounts, pointing at the injury in his shoulder. “When Xie Xifeng realized what she had done, she chose death over life and threw herself at Sandu,” Jiang Cheng forces out, the only thing grounding him into the present Jiang Xiuying’s steady hand on his arm.

“You tried to help,” Wei Wuxian whispers, clearly not taking that revelation well, and Jiang Cheng bares his teeth at him.

“Unlike you, who arrived before me and could have done something to prevent this tragedy,” he hotly says and then turns away from Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. “Now if that is all, I wish to return to my own Sect.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t wait for Lan Wangji’s reply to that, and his path away from this farce of a trial leads him straight in front of the smaller Sect Leaders. Jiang Cheng tenses when Lang Hanying steps forward.

“What now?” Jiang Cheng snaps at her, but she bows deeply.

“We apologize for our misconception and blind belief that led to your suffering. Please do understand that we will need some time to reconcile this new information with the image we carried of you for so long.”

“Whatever,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, because he honestly couldn’t care less—all he wants to do right now is go home—but Jiang Xiuying doesn’t seem quite satisfied with it.

“You stood against him before,” he says, a clear challenge in his voice, making sure to look every person straight in the eyes, and Jiang Cheng knows that Jiang Xiuying won’t forget that these people called for Jiang Cheng’s death.

He can hold a grudge better than anyone, Jiang Cheng has found, and he promises to only let Jiang Xiuying deal with Sect Leader Yao now. Let him sweat some more.

“We cannot stand with him, the rift between the Jiang Wanyin we thought we knew and the real one is too great,” Lang Hanying says apologetically and then turns towards Lan Wangji. “But we do not stand against Jiang Wanyin,” she declares and Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he feels vindicated.

It’s a good feeling, he finds.

Jiang Cheng expectantly turns towards Lan Wangji, who seems as if he would rather take the punishment whip again as to say the words everyone is expecting from him now.

But no one steps in, and even Lan Xichen only raises an expectant eyebrow at his brother.

“Lan Wanyin is innocent and cleared of all accusations. Sect Leader Jiang is an honoured Sect Leader and is held in the highest regards,” Lan Wangji does eventually manage to press out and Jiang Cheng wonders just what it cost him to say that.

He can’t find it in himself to feel bad for Lan Wangji.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says unexpectantly and steps forward.

Jiang Xiuying immediately moves between them, and Jiang Cheng knows that he wouldn’t have any qualms using Zidian on Wei Wuxian as well, but Jiang Cheng tugs Jiang Xiuying back.

It’s not worth it. There have been enough meaningless fights today, and it’s simply not worth it.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says again, and this time it’s Jin Ling who intercepts him, just as protective as Jiang Xiuying.

“Don’t you dare speak to him,” Jin Ling hisses. “There is no relation between you at all, not after today, so you should return to your husband’s side.”

It’s said with so much disdain that even Jiang Cheng has to raise an eyebrow in surprise, but when Wei Wuxian doesn’t move, he lets out a sigh.

“You believed this,” Jiang Cheng says, and all of a sudden he feels tired to his bones and yet again it’s only his own stubborn pride that keeps him on his feet and his head raised. “You believed I killed countless people, out of hate for a single person. You wouldn’t listen to reason and you would not give me the benefit of the doubt. There is nothing more to say between us, Wei Wuxian.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t wait to see the effect his words have on Wei Wuxian, turning away from him almost before he finishes speaking, but he hears the pained breath Wei Wuxian takes in the wake of his words, voiced with utter finality.

He knows it’s petty, but Jiang Cheng hopes Wei Wuxian will regret his actions until the day he dies, just like Jiang Cheng still regrets the actions he took sixteen years ago.

“Thank you for your support,” Jiang Cheng says with a small bow when he comes across Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren, who simply nod at him.

“We promised,” Lan Xichen gives back as if it is that easy, as if promises haven’t been broken countless times before. “You will always have a friend and ally in Gusu Lan.”

“Yunmeng Jiang appreciates it,” Jiang Cheng replies and then turns towards Nie Huaisang who is still watching the proceedings with hawk eyes.

“You want the position as Chief Cultivator so badly, you should get rid of the old one,” Jiang Cheng says without preamble and he enjoys the surprised look on Nie Huaisang’s face.

He’s not as unpredictable as he likes to think, especially not since Jiang Cheng saw his true face once, but right now Jiang Cheng is too tired to be angry that Nie Huaisang used his plight to his advantage.

“I’m filing an official complaint against the current holder of the position,” Jiang Cheng informs him. “I accuse him of actively withholding help to Tan Chunhua and Xie Xifeng, causing their death with it. Do with that what you want.”

“I will, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang promises and he seems way too satisfied for Jiang Cheng’s taste.

“That won’t be necessary,” Lan Xichen suddenly says, his eyes still on Lan Wangji who honestly seems shell-shocked by the proceedings today.

Jiang Cheng can’t even pretend to feel bad.

“What do you mean?” Jin Ling wants to know and it’s only then that Lan Xichen turns towards them.

“He broke several rules with his actions. He will be asked to go into seclusion for an as of yet undetermined time to reflect on his behaviour. The position of Chief Cultivator is thus vacant.”

“Do you think he will repent for what he did?” Jiang Xiuying asks and Lan Xichen slightly bows his head.

“My brother has strong opinions. It will take him time to come to terms with the fact that he was blinded by unjustified hate. Time we will give to him.”

Locked away in the jingshi, Lan Xichen doesn’t say out loud, but Jiang Cheng understands him anyway. It doesn’t feel like enough, after all Lan Wangji put him through, especially today, but Jiang Cheng still nods.

“His inactions regarding Tan Chunhua and Xie Xifeng are a different matter. He will be punished for that accordingly, since he used them to manipulate you,” Lan Xichen adds and even though he sounds pained, his voice doesn’t waver.

“That seems acceptable,” Jiang Xiuying says when Jiang Cheng can’t find it in him to answer and Lan Xichen leaves them with one last bow.

Nie Huaisang kept quiet through the exchange, fanning himself or maybe simply hiding, but Jiang Xiuying clearly did not forget about him.

“If you come after us, or Jin Ling, we will destroy you,” Jiang Xiuying promises Nie Huaisang as they walk past him, and Nie Huaisang seems to be smart enough to believe him.

“You shouldn’t aggravate other Sect Leaders,” Jiang Cheng chides him, once they made their way away from them all and Jiang Xiuying huffs.

“He shouldn’t play with my Sect Leader,” he gives back and then stops Jiang Cheng with a light hand to his shoulder. “We came here out of our own will. We took a stand because we wanted to,” he reassures Jiang Cheng who still finds that hard to believe, but who nods anyway. “And I am so giving the title of Sect Leader back to you,” Jiang Xiuying then adds with a dangerous smirk and Jiang Cheng knows there will be several loud and lengthy conversations about this.

“You were stupid, jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling says from Jiang Cheng’s other side, his voice all choked up, and Jiang Cheng can tell that there are more talks in his future on that front as well.

Given that he thought he would never get to see these two people again, Jiang Cheng is rather looking forward to it.

Bonus Jiang Cheng/Jiang Xiuying chapter

{Buy me a kofi}

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 34)

“This looks like the place.”

Yeah, sure does, Daryl thinks to himself as he stops next to Mila in the bright sunlight; surely they’re at the right place. A blind couldn’t even avoid seeing this big block of concrete, even if that poor son of a bitch tried his best to. The beige shopping complex at the other side of the vast parking lot looks hauntingly big and abandoned where it stands. Against the blue sky it looks almost grotesque. 

“Ah. The stronghold of capitalism, as my dear papa called it.” Mila exhales and shakes her head, still with her eyes on the mall. “Bless his soul. And yet, my Russian heritage boils with fury at the sight of this… monstrosity.” 

“Thought ye’ weren’t a commie?”

“Doesn’t have to be a commie just because one believes in equality and a society for everyone-” Mila shrugs. “Not only the riches. Maaaybe a socialist.” Mila blinks at him. “Papa preached about that day in and day out. In the end, we are all equal before death, he used to say. Death doesn’t take into account money, nor power.”

An enormous, weathered billboard on the wall proclaims that the concrete box offers them “plus twenty shops, ten restaurants and a playland”, where exhausted parents can check in their obnoxious offspring; and probably, Daryl thinks, as they start to walk towards the futuristic entrance, lots of walkers. He has consciously avoided malls his entire life. His parents could never afford to take ‘em to one, not even dress for such an occasion. The thought of that many people in one spot made his skin crawl, even at that age. Flashy lights, plastic, glossy surfaces and the feeling of being a fish among hundreds of other fishes, in a bowl that’s too big for them to comprehend. A bowl of upper class brats, nuclear suburban families, teens moving in packs like wolves and retirees clinging desperately to their coupons. Nah, he stayed far away. He bets that Mila must have felt the same overwhelming feeling when she set foot in a mall for the first time. Did they have shopping malls in Russia? He doesn’t ask.

“Ya’ ready to rumble, Jersey?” He prepares his crossbow. 

“Calm down, Dixon.” Mila winks and holds out her arms. “It’s not rush hour.”

They steer the steps over the deserted parking lot. There’s rubbish everywhere, shopping carts and bodies. Here and there, nature has burst through tarmac and tufts of long grass peeks out from underneath. 

“Got a plan for this?”

“Get in and get out, alive.” Daryl replies, while searching the area with his eyes. There’s no movements, nothing. It’s completely deserted. Too deserted. Why? He can come up with two possible scenarios; either it is already raided, or it’s a suicide attempt to get in. If so, how many walkers can it be? “Pretty much.”

“Sounds good to me.” Mila says as they pass a shopping cart. She stops, looks at it, before climbing into it. “Escort me to the entrance. Gotta rest these baddies.” She kicks her legs and leans back, eyes closed, in the hard cart.

He can’t help but grin a little. Fine. After all they are completely alone in the large parking lot-

“Hold on then.” Daryl grabs the red rubber handle and starts pushing the wheeled cart in front of him, then starts running.

Mila laughs, squeezes the metal and he increases the speed; they’re like two kids sneaking out on mischief at night. He has done his fair share of monkey business through the years, not specifically racing with shopping carts in a desolated parking lot; rather stole cars, participated in bar fights and occasionally, burglary. Things he ain’t too proud of, but they very much happened nonetheless, not infrequently in the company of Merle. Though he must admit, as he runs over the cracked asphalt with the squeaking shopping cart in front of him, that this is actually fuckin’ funny. He breaks by digging the heels of his boots into the ground and the cart stops. Mila continues to laugh as she gets out of it, but it tips over with a crash, and Mila tumbles over the ground, laughing even harder. She rolls over on her back, her hair flows out like a halo around her. As he steps over to Mila, a thought pops up in his head; he can’t remember the last time he lowered the guard completely, let loose. Only for a moment, but this short moment of letting go, acting childish, was quite- 

“Help me up, will you?” Mila holds out her hand at him. 

Daryl pulls her up from the ground in a handle. She doesn’t let go, instead intertwines her fingers in his and turns to look at the glass entrance door, barricaded with a big pile of carts. It excludes the main entrance as their way in. Maybe for the best, but it doesn’t bode well for what awaits in there. Whoever created the mountain of debris did it to keep something inside.

“Let’s look if there’s a side door.” He states and pulls at her hand. “Come on.” 

They walk alongside the vast entrance side of the mall and around the corner. They pass garbage, a battered mannequin dressed in a sundress that might have been blue or purple, before the blazing sun turned into a pale, washed out mess. Eventually they notice a metal staircase leading up to a single door, painted in the same blant tone as the wall. From the backpack Mila takes a crowbar and hands it to him. He presses it into the small opening between the door and the doorframe, gives it a push, then another one, and the door opens with a metallic crack.

“After ya’.” He offers. 

Mila takes the lead and disappears into the darkness. Daryl follows, pulls the flashlight from his belt and raises it in front of him. The faint light beam is cut by Mila’s silhouette that leads the way through the dark. The air is trapped, dusty and musty. Even though it is dark, Daryl notices on Mila’s posture that she’s holding her handgun out in front of her, ready for anything. She leads them to a door, opens it and enters a darkened, desolate clothing store. In the glow of the flashlight Daryl sees pristine, filled clothing racks, dusty floor mirrors and tables where clothes are in a mess. They start moving through the store. He passes small cubic changing rooms with white revolving doors, a small seating area with funny looking chairs and a small podium with a disproportionate mannequin, dressed in a sequin dress that could fit a five-year-old but not an adult. On the other side of the store, Mila crosses between the racks towards the checkout desk, holding her own flashlight next to her gun. But the store is empty. 

“Nothing.” Mila says and turns, aiming her light in his direction. “Clear.”

“Ya’ good to go?” He crosses the store, steps over a tipped over jewelry rack and a bunch of beads from a broken necklace. 

They walk out of the store, out into the great corridor. It’s completely different than moving out in nature, where he’s familiar with sounds and vegetation. However many times they’ve been ransacking stores, he’s never been fond of the idea of scouting a mall. It’s no easy job and an absolutely foolish one, being only two to pull if off. For every step they take he regrets it even more, taking her with him. Still, he puts a lot of trust in Mila on this one. She moves accustomed over the shiny floor, with the rifle freely hanging on her shoulder, holding the handgun; much easier to use in close combat. Bodies after walkers are scattered everywhere, probably eliminated by previous looters, or by other walkers who have been eaten at each other for lack of other things to feast on. 

The large corridor soon opens up into a circular area, like a square, with an indoor fountain in the middle. Around the square are coffee shops, cafes, a donut bar and a totally destroyed Burger King restaurant. From the square, escalators run up to the upper floor. 

“I’ll check up there.” Daryl says in a low voice, nodding towards the roof.

Mila, who has already set her sights on a store with ‘ZARA’ written over the entrance, gives him a thumbs up over her shoulder, without slowing down or turning. Yeah, she’ll be fine.

Daryl looks at the escalator and begins to move silently towards the square. Silent as a cat, he climbs the broken escalator, crossbow height in front of him, ready for any kind of surprise; walkers or other looters. But no one’s attacking, nothing’s moving. What meets him when he puts his foot on the second floor is a mess; corpses, debris and chaos. As if many people had fled up the escalators and thought they were safe up here. Well, boy they were wrong. Silently, Daryl scouts the second floor corridor, no flashlight this time. His worn boots stand in stark contrast to towards the white, polished floor; it’s not just his boots, his entire essence is the total opposite of everything he’s surrounded with. And yet, the bewildering of this place somehow makes it more bearable, but the cost of it is another matter. 

He decides that it’s safe to turn on the flashlight, lets it dance around the surroundings as he moves past the shops; a shop with outdoor clothing and hunting gear, a shop with only crockery and other knick-knacks, shoe stores, men’s clothing, women’s clothes, women’s lingerie, more women’s clothing- Suddenly, as the light wanders over a window, something bedazzles him, makes him squint and turns the light down. Still squinting, once again getting used to the dark from being totally bedazzled, he looks at the window, tries to catch a glimpse of the cause. Nah, it’s too dark. He looks up at the store front. A fancy-as-fuck jewelry store. The front shutter has only gone down halfway before it stopped, possibly because of power failure. Once again he peers through the dusty glass window, catches sight of a glass box. It’s inside is covered in some shiny soft fabric he doesn’t know the name of, on which three small gemstone rings rests; the stones must’ve glistened in the light from the flashlight. A single one of those glistening bastards has to be worth a smaller fortune. Daryl squints even more, catches sight of a teeny tiny price tag that makes his eyebrows travel upwards in his forehead. Holy fucking shit. 

“I’ll be damn.” He says faintly to himself, but doesn’t take his eyes off the treasures behind the glass. 

A fleeting thought strikes him, only for a short moment and he quickly shakes it off. He makes his way into the store, does a sweep before stating that it’s empty. Just as he’s about to leave, he hears something. He turns, crossbow raised and notices Mila.

“Fuckin’-” He mutters and lowers the crossbow. “Ya’ scared the crap outta me.”

“Sorry.” She grimaces. “Didn’t think you were the fussy type?”

“Well ya’ kinda good at sneakin’ around.” He scoffs. “Found what ya’ looked for?”

“Yup.” She nods. “Be prepared for the big Juri fashion show when we're back home.” She smiles in the dim light from his flashlight. “You done here?”

“Let’s go.” 

They crouch under the shutter and once again find themselves standing in the upper corridor. Mila steers her steps to the right, towards the store with women’s clothes and lingerie.

“Ya’ not done?” Daryl says. 

“I haven’t gotten something for myself in fucking ages.” Mila turns on the spot and gives him a gaze he doesn’t know how to interpret. “Come on, we’re in a dead mall. There’s millions of stuff here for free. Might as well- you know.” 

She turns and walks into the store, gun and flashlight raised in front of her. Reluctantly Daryl follows her, swearing inside his head. Is she going to drag him around this goddamn mall all day or what? Apparently an apocalypse, the goddamn end of the world, ain’t enough to stop her from strolling around in stores. When he catches sight of her, Mila has already grabbed at least ten pieces of clothing, moving between the racks. 

“Great, there you are.” She says and slips out of her backpack, that she throws over the store at him. “Hold on to that for me.”

“Ya’ ain’t goin’ to try all of ‘em, right?” Daryl says admonitory, he doesn’t intend to linger in this place longer than necessarily. Mila on the other hand looks at him as if she cannot believe her ears. “Goddammit’ Jersey!” 

“Jeez, you are really not much fun to hangout with sometimes.” Mila scoffs and waves her hand at him. “Relax, I’ll be quick.” While continuing to mutter, in russian this time, Mila turns and sweeps into a changing room, where she pulls the dusty curtains together. 

The only thing that can be seen are her boots, which she begins to lace up, while humming on some song he’s unfamiliar with. This shit’s going to take forever, Daryl thinks and throws out his arms, as to get support; well, from who? God almighty himself? Nah. In one hand he’s holding his gun and Mila’s backpack, stuffed with what could be Juri’s entire wardrobe, in the other he’s holding the crossbow and his flashlight. Like a pack mule. He looks up, towards the roof, sighs and puts on the backpack. He catches sight of a chair in front of the row of changing rooms that he crashes down into and once again sighs deeply.

“Relax, Dixon.” Mila says from the other side of the curtain, struggling with some kind of garment. 

“Ya’ impossible, ya’ know that?” Daryl points the flashlight’s light beam at the curtain, which appears deep red in the bright light. Once again she’s saying something completely gibberish in russian. “It better be good.”

“Or else?” Mila chuckles.

The next moment she pulls apart the curtains and stands as if in a spotlight, bare feets, wearing a small floral dress in some kind of crumpled fabric or whatever it’s called, he ain’t no fashion expert. But he has fully functioning eyes, and she’s mighty fine.

“This is weird.” Mila grimaces and nods down at the floral fabric. “I used to wear dresses like this all the time before, well, when the weather allowed it. Can you believe it!” 

Yes and no, Daryl thinks, at the same time as the insecurity, the damn insecurity, arises inside of him; he doesn’t know where to look, his mouth gets dry and feels that he’s starting to get a hard-on. She sighs and turns to look at herself in the mirror on the wall. She’s incredibly pretty, but it’s like she’s a completely different person all of a sudden. As if they’re thrown back in time, before the apocalypse. He’d never had a chance on her back then, that’s clearer than ever when she’s standing in front of him like this, in what apparently was her usual spring and summer attire. Still, it arouses him to the point of him almost exploding.

“Yup, I’m gonna keep it.” Mila says, who hasn’t noticed his inner struggle. “I haven’t owned a dress in years and days.” She turns around and walks over at him. “So?”

“So what?” Daryl replies, shaky.

“Do you like it?” She nudges her bare knee at him. “That’s what the chair’s for. Giving advice. So?”

Even though it is dim, no- dark, in the abandoned store, Daryl tears his eyes from her face and looks down at her kneecap, so that she doesn’t see that he’s blushing. Her subtle, yet appealing way of expressing desire; He no longer experiences anger and frustration in combination with this pleasant feeling of gushing heat throughout his entire body, but it still taunts him that it’s not ‘easy’, that he’s still feeling slightly awkward. Her looking all dressed up pretty doesn’t really make it easier. It’s like being back in a bar, eying dressed up girls with lots of makeup and whatnot, without the slightest courage to go over and talk to them. Merle used to say that the only women worth approaching were the ones they could buy, of course referring to prostitutes or the occasional biker hangaround if he was really lucky. Well, Daryl was never one of those lucky ones. What the heck, he thinks to himself and raises his gaze, it’s Mila. Heaven and hell of his life, his alcoholic, kind, funny, stubborn girl, dress or no dress. Right now that dress needs to get off. He wants to rip it from her body with his teeth, like a lion.

Mila lifts her leg and rests her foot up on his thigh. He puts his hands on her calf, leans in and places his lips on the knee that seconds ago nudged on his teasingly. It has a faint bruise on the kneecap that shifts in blue, green, yellow and purple. As he lingers there with his mouth, his hands caress her lean calf, continuing upwards to her thigh. 

“Come ‘ere.” 

Without hesitating she lowers herself onto him, gazing into his eyes and making it practically impossible to tear his eyes from hers. Even though it’s dark Daryl sees them clearly, like gleaming obsidians. Softly he places a strand of hair behind her ear, brings her head closer to his into a kiss. 

“Take it off.” He declares as he briefly breaks the kiss. At Mila’s faint chuckle, he replies, calmer and steadier than he’d expected: “Would be a shame if it was destroyed.”

She’s not difficult to persuade. Mila easily pulls the dress over her head, straddling him only in her underwear, bra and panties.

“Meaning that… you liked it?” She grins, biting her lower lip. 

The atmosphere is already at a boiling point and she wastes no time to wait for an answer. She returns to kiss him passionately, while threading his vest over his shoulders and dropping it to the floor. With accustomed fingers she starts to unbutton his shirt, while pressing herself towards his throbbing hard-on. They’re abruptly interrupted in their frenzy kissing by a noise; a loud, echoing clink, like a fork hitting tile that sounds like a volcanic eruption throughout the empty mall complex.

“What was that?” Mila exclaims, with her hands still clinging to his shirt, hanging halfway over his shoulders. 

No matter how much Daryl wants to pretend he didn’t hear anything, just so they continue what they’ve just started, nah- he won’t be able to. He sighs, grabs a firm hold of her behind and rises from the chair. Reluctantly, Mila puts her feet down on the floor next to the dress and lets go of him.

“Be right back.” Daryl straightens his shirt and turns around, steers his steps towards the entrance while correcting his hard-on through the jeans. “Son of a-”

As he places his hand on the gun in his belt, he moves silently out from the store. It strikes him that the open areas are brighter than the store, not much but enough for it to be noticeable, making him search for a source of light. He walks over to the railing, overlooking the void with the square and fountain underneath. His gut feeling tells him that something is wrong. Very wrong. He turns his head upwards, expecting to see a big window. He does, more specifically a glass dome, but at the sight of it, he finds the reason for his gut feeling. Crawling over the big glass dome, like worms in a jar, more than dozen walkers lie scattered without any chance of getting up. They must have been people who hid on the roof, then somehow turned into walkers that fell down onto the thick glass, where they’ve been trapped for who knows how long? He looks closely at the glass. A large crack -the source of the screeching noise- is visible in the glass, and hundreds of smaller cracks branches out from the larger crack. How he managed to miss that before is a mystery. Then a loud noise, like sending off a wrecking ball into a crystal chandelier, follows; the glass dome collapses. Glass and walkers rain down into the void and land on the floor, in the fountain, on the railing to the second floor and the escalator. Daryl throws himself away just as a walker lands in the spot he just was in. Rubble and bodies, exploding as they hit the floor, continues to rain down from the dome. He turns around and runs back into the clothing store. Mila, now once again dressed in her regular clothes, adjusts the collar of the leather jacket when he returns.

“We gotta go!” He grabs his vest and crossbow from the floor.  

“What the hell happens?”

“Walkers.” Daryl says shortly. “Fell through the roof.” He turns as soon as he hears another, closer familiar noise. Hissing, scraping, thudding. “They’re comin’. Lets go.”

He grabs the backpack while Mila takes the lead, gun’s lifted, ready for combat. She doesn’t have to wait long before firing the first bullet, then the second. Daryl steps up by her side and makes a quick estimate that there were undoubtedly more walkers on the roof than he imagined; probably inside the mall as well, who woke up from their dead slumber somewhere in the shadows, when the glass dome collapsed.  

“Where did all of these come from?” Mila cries over the gunfire.

“Dunno.” Daryl replies and sends off a well aimed arrow into the head of another walker. “We’ll fend ‘em off then get the hell outta here.” 

Mila nods, raises her gun and- it clicks.

“Oh come on.” Mila tries once again, but nothing happens. “For fuck sake!” 

Malfunctioning guns wasn’t part of the escape plan. The break in gunfire is enough for the walkers to round up against them, forcing them back. While Daryl fends off the walkers with arrows, they move backwards towards the railing. In the corner of his eye Daryl sees the escalators, approximately three or four meter away to their right. Suddenly the hoard bolts at them, forces them to back into the glass banister. Mila loses balance as one of the walkers attacks her with force, she’s pushed against the banister while wrestling the walker, preventing it from biting into her flesh. With a grunt of force, she manages to wrestle the walker and tip it over the banister, but it pulls her with it over the railing. As in slow motion Daryl throws himself towards Mila, just in time to reach over the railing and grab her by the arm of the leather jacket. The sudden thug caused by the prevention of Mila falling makes the walker lose its grip around her and it falls down into the walkers in and around the halfway dried up fountain. Mila clings to Daryl’s arm, dangling like a bait over a pack of carnivores. 

“Hold on!” He cries as he lifts his head towards the walkers approaching him, as he fires the crossbow at them.

“I’m trying!”

He must not let go. It’s a fall of several meters if he drops her. While he’s frantically trying to find a way out of the situation, he hears how Mila with her free hand seems to have solved the problem with her handgun and has started shooting walkers below. His arm cramps and his hand begins to slip over the smooth leather. He can’t let go of the crossbow to adjust his grip or pull her up. But it’s inevitable and he screams out loud when he feels how his cramping hand, covered in sweat, slips from the leather and he loses his grip around her. 

“Nooo!”

He turns around at the same time as he sends off the crossbow through the air on his way, and it hits two of the dead bastards. Daryl’s blood freezes and panic rushes over him like a cold shower as he sees how Mila drops down, feet first, into the snake pit of walkers and disappears. Cold sweat runs down his back and it feels like he’s going to vomit, at the same time the blood starts to boil inside his veins.

“Ya fuckin’- bastards-” He yells and starts to punch down walkers, fists and knuckles, while he, as fast as he can, moves towards the escalators, in which walkers from the ground floor have begun to struggle upwards. ”Jersey?” he screams, almost panicking, while shooting, punching and pushing walkers out of his way. ”Mila?”

He can’t see her anywhere in the hoard. Suddenly he hears gunshots somewhere in the crowd, whereupon Mila becomes visible in the rotten mass. Her lip is cracked, her hair is bushy but otherwise she’s visibly unharmed and she begins to ram through the carnivore. Daryl’s heart, which seems to have stopped completely as soon as he lost the grip of her up at the second floor, begins to beat frantically and he makes his way towards her. At the same time a walker appears behind Mila, preoccupied with the ones in front of her, is about to dig its teeth into her shoulder from the back. Before it gets the chance, Daryl raises the crossbow, aims and puts an arrow into its eye socket, and it collapses behind her. 

“Ya’ alright.” He pants in a cracked voice. Talk about having nine lives or what? The anxiety knot in his chest begins to loosen up, but he can’t let it untie fully, not let himself breathe fully just yet. Not until they’re far away from this place.

“Landed softly.” Mila replies, mildly exhausted from wrestling walkers. “Let’s get outta here! I’ve had enough of the mall for today.”

They begin to run towards the big entrance, towards the light, feints newly awakened walkers who have crawled out of their corners on their way. They stop in front of the tall glass doors when they see the pile of carts on the other side. Fuck, they totally forgot about that.

“We don’t have time for this crap!” Mila says and reaches for her rifle, that has been offered a well needed rest since they were out in the woods earlier. She directs it at the entrance doors, pulls the trigger and shoots. The glass shatters into a million pieces and rains down onto the floor. “Come on!”

They start to climb the unstable construction of shopping carts, then get down on the other side, finding themselves standing in the parking lot, next to the cart they raced in before. They look at eachother, then turn to look at the mall entrance. On the other side of the mountain of carts the walkers stomps around, crashing into the rustling pile of metal. 

“That was-” Mila pants, grasping for words. “The dress made it.” 

“What?” Daryl looks at her, what the heck is she talking about? 

“Yeah I put it in the backpack when you went out to check on the noise.” Mila says, corrects the rifle strap on her shoulder and shrugs. “We both seemed to like it.”

[inkformyblood]

i wish i was only as cruel

Jangobi Week 2021 Prompt #4 Forced to Work Together (Modern!AU, Background other relationships)

Obi-Wan carefully placed his tea down at his desk, the wood highlighted by a chain of rings from all the cups that had come before it, and settled into his seat. His office still felt oppressive to him — inherited quickly from Qui-Gon in the wake of his sudden passing — as it was still fitted with the dark wood and occasional twisted plant that his old teacher had favoured. Obi-Wan had tried to put his own touch on things, but found himself hampered time and time again by the guilt that twisted through his ribs like a living creature, settling to bite at his heart. 

Pausing for a moment, Obi-Wan allowed himself to turn towards the large window set in the centre of the only wall uncovered by bookshelves and disguised filing cabinets. Beneath him, almost hidden through the heavy smog that rose from the twisted roads that could be mistaken for rivers, lay the city of Coruscant, lit in a fire of reds and sickly yellows.

The building, a set of law offices inhabited by every speciality possible, was quiet around him, except for the distant rumble of a trolley passing over one the floors above — the sound filtering down the towering central staircase — and the muted almost bubbling music from Plo Koon’s office two floors down. They had passed each other that morning, the other man smiling at him from behind his brightly patterned mask while his assistant, Wolffe — Obi-Wan had never quite been able to meet his eyes properly — nodded his greetings before readjusting the pile of files in his arms. Obi-Wan had been able to hear their voices, pitched low but he could still hear the note of care twisting through Wolffe’s words, the other man a constant presence at Plo Koon’s side. 

His own assistant, Cody, was one of Wolffe’s half-brothers, proving time and time again that the universe was conspiring against Obi-Wan specifically, and that it truly was a small world for all that Coruscant was filled with people. Obi-Wan was surrounded by the children — the echoes as Jango called them when they let him — of the man he once loved with everything he was. 

Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs of old regrets from his mind, Obi-Wan took a sip of his rapidly cooling tea, letting the slight bitter taste centre him for the day ahead, and turned to the first page of his paperwork. 

⁂

“Tea, sir.”

Obi-Wan startled, eyes dry and aching as he blinked slowly, feeling the final lines of text sear into his eyes as he glanced up. Cody pointed towards the gently steaming cup next to his elbow, his brow creased in familiar worry lines, before shifting his grip on the notepad tucked beneath his arm like a shield. With a gentle smile to try and soothe some of the other man’s worries, Obi-Wan reached for the cup, and paused. 

“Cody?”

“Sir?” Cody didn’t shift nervously from foot to foot, or duck his head to try and get away like some of his half-brothers would when confronted with Obi-Wan’s reproachful stare. He had never acted that way since the first day he walked through Obi-Wan’s office door, and pushed the older lawyer out for a break so Cody could organise his files in peace. But Obi-Wan knew the look on his face — the slightly widened eyes, the mild look of surprise communicated solely through a slightly raised eyebrow — although Obi-Wan had first learned it from Jango. 

The thought sent a pang of grief through his heart, grief for what could have been, and his nails dug into his palms for a moment before he moved past the emotion, letting it flow through him rather than fester in his chest like a wound. “What is going on?”

“If I tell you, it’s an internal matter—” Cody looked like every word was being dragged out of him, the corner of one eye starting to twitch “—would you let us handle it?”

As if on cue, a crash echoed through the half-open door, followed by indistinguishable yells. Obi-Wan was standing in an instant, moving towards the landing as Cody sighed, a far too world-weary sigh for such a young man, and followed him, moving with an almost military-like precision. 

Sound carried through the floors, and on the landings above and below him, Obi-Wan could see the familiar faces of his colleagues peering down, all to a man pretending they weren’t deeply invested in finding out what was going on. Glancing down towards the entrance, Obi-Wan felt his blood run cold. 

Boil and Waxer stood in the glass entryway to the building, hackles raised and arms outstretched to bar the door from the man trying to argue his way inside. Numa, their adopted daughter, was curled into Kix’s arms, her bright blue braids the only part of her that was visible, the man hovering half tucked into a doorway. 

“Boil, Waxer?”

Waxer turned, using the motion to check on Numa as he did so, and caught Obi-Wan’s eye. Next to him, he could sense Cody’s glare lessen, the other man raising a hand to press it into his eyes next to him. Even Cody’s organisation couldn’t account for the force of nature that was Jango Fett. 

“Is Jango here to see me?” Through the glass, Obi-Wan saw Jango freeze, his arms lowering as he pressed them to his side, but couldn’t make out the expression on his face. Was he angry? Remorseful? Obi-Wan still woke from nightmares of their final parting, the rain crashing down on them both as Jango kissed him once — fierce and desperate, his hand leaving bruises on Obi-Wan’s hip — before he walked away from everything they had built together. 

Waxer looked at Cody first, the gesture small but it spoke volumes, before nodding hesitantly. 

Obi-Wan turned to Cody, catching the rapid-fire flashes of guilt and grief flickering over his face before it was tucked away once more. “I’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan reassured him, laying a careful hand on his arm and squeezing. 

“If you’re sure, sir,” Cody said, hesitancy clear in every unspoken word kept in his chest. 

“Let him up. I’ll see him in my office. I’m sure he would appreciate someone showing him the way.”

It was a low blow, but a deserved one as Obi-Wan saw Jango flinch at the reminder through the glass that while he was slowly rebuilding relationships with his sons — those that would let him following the clerical error that led to their existences — he knew nothing about Obi-Wan’s life anymore.

“Tell your brothers thank you, Cody. And I thank you as well for looking out for me,” Obi-Wan murmured, as the crowd began to slowly disperse, assistants corralling their lawyers back into their offices with a careful word or, in the case of Rex and Anakin, hoisting the man over his shoulder and carrying him when subtlety failed to work.

“I know he’s trying, but—” Cody broke off with a frown and a shake of his head.

“He’s here. I can hear him out, at least.”

“Would you like some company, sir?”

Obi-Wan carefully sat back down in his chair, drawing his cup of tea closer to him. He stared at the dark liquid as he thought, breathing in the sweet floral scent. “No, thank you Cody. I believe this is a conversation best had by ourselves.”

Cody’s frown only deepened, too harsh an expression to have found its place on such a young face, and Obi-Wan sighed softly. “I believe Plo Koon was needing some help?”

It was an obvious ploy, but one he knew would work. Given Plo Koon’s involvement in their own case, all of Jango’s sons had a soft spot for the man, although he often had more than enough help in the form of his ‘Wolf Pack’. 

“Sir.”

Cody turned to leave, and tensed. His bulk was blocking most of Obi-Wan’s view of the door, but the atmosphere in the room grew cold. “Buir.”

“Eyayad.”

Jango’s voice was softer than Obi-Wan remembered, tempered by time. Cody’s back stiffened further at the endearment, glancing back over his shoulder at Obi-Wan — worry clear in his eyes — before he marched out of the room. 

Jango’s hair was speckled with grey, and longer than Obi-Wan remembered, curling around his ears. His face was lined and scarred, but his smile was the same — causing Obi-Wan’s stomach to flip reflexively, warmth flooding through him.

“I see you still need to cause an entrance,” he murmured, gesturing for Jango to sit opposite him. The man did so, glancing around the room with equal parts curiosity and apprehension, his gaze never fully landing on Obi-Wan.

“I didn’t want our first meeting back to be like this,” Jango sighed, scrubbing a hand across his eyes, leaning forward for a moment — looking as vulnerable as Obi-Wan had ever seen him, stripped out of his customary dark green court suit — before he settled back in his chair. “I had plans before I, before—” He broke off.

“Before you left shortly after finding out that you had inadvertently fathered hundreds of children?”

“I was a starving student at the time of those “donations”,” Jango snapped, catching himself before he escalated any further. “But that doesn’t excuse me running away.”

“It’s been nearly a decade, Jango,” Obi-Wan said, running a thumb against the faded pattern on his mug, feeling the heat press at his skin. “I thought you were dead. I mourned you.”

“I can’t apologise enough, cyar’ika. I was a coward.” He spat the word with more venom than Obi-Wan had ever heard. “And I will spend the rest of my life trying to correct my mistakes, not just the ones I inflicted on you, but on my children. But, what I came here before is more than that.”

“Oh?”

Obi-Wan sat back in his chair, saw Jango flinch at the appearance of his court persona, before the other man straightened in his chair. They had met in court, a courtship of arguments and battles fought with words, coffee and meals exchanged in the dead of night when neither of them could even see straight anymore. Jango had quit prosecuting when he left, fleeing without a word into the night, but he still knew how to pull on that mask, like an old familiar coat. 

They had been legendary, and Obi-Wan couldn’t hide the grin that slipped out. 

“I’m here because I’m being framed for murder. And you are the only person who can help me, even if you must hate me right now.”

“Jango, I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

Obi-Wan sighed, letting his head drop until his forehead was pressed into the soft leather adorning the top of his desk, breathing in the age old scent of varnish and coffee. “I will help you though. But you have to tell me everything.”

Jango could have carved from marble, but he nodded slowly, hands curled into fists so tight that Obi-Wan wondered if they would break. 

“Okay, cyar’ika. What would you like to know?”

[cyberdva]

Breaking Up With My Girlfriend Prank (GONE WRONG) - C.B. ☆

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Summary: In the midst of the popular Prank War, Colby had the genius idea of pranking his newly announced girlfriend. A prank that would completely backfire on their relationship. Colby would go through thick and thin for his girlfriend, but even his dramatic acting messed something up. Can he fix it?

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Main Masterlist

Colby Brock Masterlist 

Word Count: 2k

Date Uploaded:  4/7/20

Warnings: Mild Swearing and Mentions of Sex

A/N: I have so many Colby ideas lined up…. quarantine work is currently kicking my ass, so I apologize!

 ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ 

 ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ 

“Colby this is your worst idea yet.” Corey had merely walked through the door and was already pounded with chaos. The infamous prank war had been escalating further than planned. It had gotten progressively worse. The ideas these guys had were coming to a point of destruction. Not just the house, some of the pranks had begun to take effect on their relationships. Aaron was frequently locked in his room playing video games rather than hanging out with everyone.  People outside of the five core roommates had been dragged in. Anything for the views they say.

“Well I mean the fans have been requesting it. I’m one-hundred percent sure she won’t mind after I tell her where the cameras are hidden.” Emotions in the Trap House were only invisible barriers. So many times videos were filled with violence, purposely made for entertainment use.

“No wonder the fans wanted it… they all want a chance to date you…” Colby made his way to the staircase and paid no mind to the advice his friend was dealing him. Corey made note of the rabid fangirls that wanted nothing, but Colby for themselves. He was an unstoppable force and sometimes that led him to his own fall. Colby was back in his room, alone. It was oddly quiet. Perfect timing to begin filming..

“What’s up guys? It’s Colby Brock! Today I’m back with another prank. This one might not end too well,” His cheeky grin filled his face, on the inside anxiety ate away at every inch. “As you know, I have a wonderful girlfriend and the prank war is at its peak, so I’m breaking up with her.” A pause for dramatic effect, this needed views so he could win the war. “As a prank.” He extended his hands and put on a big smile. In his mind, Colby convinced himself that this was going to go smoothly.

“I’ve been dating Y/N for a couple months now and I felt it was time for her to get in on the action. I guess it’s an initiation…” Colby fiddled with his rings, he felt that everything around him was cloudy. “Sorry, I’m really nervous about this…” he giggled. His fingers found themselves running through his hair. With pupils wide, there was no denying this had to go horribly wrong. 

“She should be on her way over here in a few minutes. Flabby post-its thrashed their way around as the heading wind of the opened window left more than to be desired. The camera’s microphone crackled. Even the universe somehow knew how utterly stupid this idea had to be. It felt wrong. He could say he cheated on her? Why would he do that? 

‘Fuck.” Colby knew the audio files were now unusable. There was no energy left to redo this, he’s seen Corey and Sam do this so many times and their girlfriends were completely fine… after a while. He was being too hard on himself. His lungs filled with the cold, nightly air. He could do this. It’s just a prank. The window slammed shut as Y/N car slowly pulled into the long driveway. He could do this.

Colby had put too much effort into his emo-like inner monologue that reality even slipped away from himself. He made mere seconds to hide the camera and get into position. The video quality jumped even lower as Colby snatched a stray shirt on the scum-ridden floor. He tried his best to find a second angle, he fumbled with an extra camera and stuffed it on his dresser, underneath a towel. 

“Okay guys, she just got here. I have no idea what I’m going to say, but I hope she forgives me.” Another nervous laugh on cue. He was sweating like he had just come back from the gym. The large front door slammed shut. He received a text…

Y/N: I’m on my way up! I’ve been missing you all day!

“Shit.” The sound of feet hitting the trashed staircase filled his ears. He looked normal, a bit more jumpy than normal, that was all. She was right outside her door, her hands gripping the door handle. With one last look at the cameras Colby flashed his eyes to his window. The weather grew dark and grim. Rain threatened to spill at any given moment. The door was now wide open and closed with a short click.

“Hey Colb… how was your day? Anything eventful happen?” Colby made no emotion, it was not that hard to do. He gave no reply which Y/N thought was odd. She dropped a small bag filled with what would most likely be food. She looked up at him. The silence was sickening.

Her eyes skewered around for possibly a camera. It seemed scarily unusual for something like this to happen. “Are you oka-”

“We need to talk.” His voice was stern as ice. As stern as an icy pond found on a freezing December Sunday. Y/n’s pupils dilated, it wasn’t the friendly greeting she was expecting. Far from it likewise.

“What do you mean? Did I do something wrong…” she plopped down onto his sheer bed. The awkwardness was indescribable. It was the first time the pair were unable to converse. It seemed fake, like a problem that would never arise. Colby rose from the bed, fist clenched. Y/N fell backwards into the mattress.

“It’s not really you. It’s me.” That is the phrase bound to start some sort of trouble. No one really knew what was going on.

Y/N’s face contorted, “I’m sorry. Yesterday we were having sex and today there’s a problem?” She stared down at her sweaty palms, small portions of rage and sorrow were quickly brewing. “Sorry, that sounded really harsh.”

Colby smacked his hands together and a clapping noise echoed, “This is what I’m talking about.” He turned around to hide his smile. This was a situation where even he couldn’t keep his face straight.

Baffled, Y/N sat with a raging passion, “What the fuck do you mean?!” Seriously! I assumed everything was well.” She didn’t know what to do next, honestly. Where to do amongst all of this. 

“We need to break up.” Hell began again. This wasn’t what Y/N was expecting, tears fondled sporadically across her waterline and danced their way down her face like a drunken ABBA member. Her body jolted in a manner that was unthinkable. She left in a flustered hurry, Sam saw her waddling down the stairs and tried to make a headspace to connect the dots. He was interrupted by Colby stomping his way downstairs in sheer panic, equipped with a camera.

“It’s just a prank! Y/N! It was fake!” 

The grand door slammed shut.

++++

“Devyn, has Corey ever pulled this shit with you? Seriously. He seemed so convincing. Do you think he secretly meant it.”

“Knowing Colby, probably not. You’re acting like he’s a stranger. You’ve known him for how long now? Two years?”

“It really wasn’t so thoughtful of him.” The eerie ambience of the phone static paired with the pitch black

“It was a prank. They aren’t meant to be thoughtful Y/N… well semi-excluding Jake’s pizza prank.” She sighed into the phone, “Not wanting to over excite you or sound mean. You’re kind of overrea-” She hung up the phone, Y/N knew she was reacting unlawfully, she just wanted this to leave an impact. I guess it would be better for the video anyways...her phone vibrated. Four missed calls from Colby. 

The rickety door flung open and Y/N stepped outside. She convinced herself no one was watching. If Colby knew where she was he would most likely have a fit. The wind was the same  as it was, whispering secrets into the ears of anyone brave enough to listen. A branch cascaded to the asphalt that bounded the ground into one, swift motion. Y/n popped her heels onto the road. There was silence. A stray shopping bag floated past her ankles. Y/N Thought about how Colby was feeling. Did she really hurt him by leaving? Was he not kidding about what he said? Shit. She felt sad. Cried. If only she knew what was actually going on. Fuck this. Fuck Colby. Y/N stopped in her tracks, “No…” she thought. “Devyn was right. I’m going back” 

After a shitty teen-romcom reenaction Y/N made her way to the brooding boyfriend’s home. Colby sat in his room while Sam poked jokes at him, trying to cheer him up. He abandoned his phone on the stringy carpet and hoped she would get over it. She came back. 

“I hate you, you know?” Her small amount of makeup was splattered down, Colby’s spirits crushed deeper. 

“Just stay the night.. It’s the least I can do.” He begged. He pleaded. The last thing Colby needed was to lose her. 

“You actually think I would drive home after all of this happened, it’s like 12 in the morning.” She re-opened the bag from before and cracked open a soda.

“I’m so sorry. This got way out of hand and I didn’t mean any of it. I love yo-“

“Shut up Colby.”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Part 2? Y/N does a break up prank on Colby? Send me an ask to let me know!

[bobawriteslove]

Helpless (Pro-hero) Kirishima X reader pt. 2

Warning: Intense fluff  That night you laid in bed staring at the ceiling. You began to wonder if (f/n) was right, maybe you should give dating a chance. Experience the ups and downs about being in a relationship, but then again you don't need to rely on someone else to make you happy. Your thoughts kept you awake the majority of the night until you finally crashed around 3 am.  The following morning, your friend's voice echoed throughout your house waking you up. You groaned in irritation as you sat up in your bed rubbing around your bed hair. She opened your door looking directly at your bed. “Oh good (y/n) You’re awake! Get dressed, they're going to be there in an hour!” (F/n) pulled your blankets off your body exposing you to the cold. “Up and at em’ we need to get you all pretty for Mr. Riot!” You sighed getting up from your bed walking to your bathroom to wash up.  The clothes (F/n) picked out for you were surprisingly not as revealing as you had assumed them to be. You got dressed in a pair of dark blue ripped jeans, a white blouse that tied on the end exposing just a bit of your stomach and a pair of brown knee high boots. You hated to admit it but you looked damn good with a little bit of effort. Styling your hair into a half up-half down look curling the ends. You didn't bother with a whole bunch of makeup, just simple eyeliner and gloss. You came out of the bathroom revealing the clothes. (F/N)’s eyes lit up at the sight of you. “Holy shit (Y/n) you look cute--no not cute. Sexy. If I was a guy I’d definitely try to fuck you.” (F/N)’s complement was a bit extreme but you knew she meant well. You actually felt confident in the way you looked. But you’d never tell her that cause you’d never hear the end of it. (F/N) pulled out her phone searching something up. “So from your place its only a 20 minute walk. If we wanna get there earlier than the rest we should head out now.” She grabbed all of your essentials including her own rushing out towards the front door. You followed closely behind her heading towards the mall, evidently by the time you arrived there was around a line wrapping around the building. (F/N) groaned in defeat looking at the time. “They beat us here?! How, there’s no way! They must have camped here all night.” You eyed the crowd of girls whose faces were buried in their mirrors as they prepared for the event. The amount of makeup caked up on their skin made yours crawl and itch. (F/N) dragged her feet towards the back of the never ending line, tears about to spill from her eyes. You reached a hand out grabbing her arm catching her attention. You quickly dragged her out of sight towards the back of the back gate. You pulled back the clipped metal ushering your friend inside. “Okay we’re gonna have a serious talk about this later but for now I.FUCKING.LOVE.YOU!”  Laughing to yourself you went through behind her carefully closing it back up to look complete. You brought her to the back door of the wall and it was busy enough at the right moment for you to sneak inside without catching any attention from the patrons. The two of you walked to the event section, it was relatively empty which allowed you to find a place to rest your legs on the indoor fountain. You were surprisingly tired, meaning you used a lot more of your energy than you anticipated.(F/N) took her place next to you staring at you suspiciously.  “So (y/n), we gonna talk about it?” “Hm, talk about what?” you answered casually as you people watched. “You know what! How did you know about that secret passageway?” “Oh that, well remember when i was trying to buy that new fighting game? I didn't feel like waiting on the line that day and I discovered it when a bunch of boys cut the wire. Guess they didn't feel like waiting either. So when I saw how sad you were it reminded me of where it was and I snuck us inside.”  (F/N) hugged you tightly, practically suffocating you in her chest! “Who's my precious little criminal!” She squealed out. “You went through with it too, that makes you just as guilty as I am!” you said in a gasped voice. “Oh hey I guess you’re right---WHO’S MY PRECIOUS LITTLE PARTNER IN CRIME?” she cooed at you. You rolled your eyes, shrugging her off. You couldn't help but laugh at her nickname for you. “What time are they supposed to be here again?” “I think the flyer said between 2 or 3 o'clock, so they should be arriving any moment now--”  As if on cue the sound of screaming girls echoed through the halls. You covered your ears watching as a sea of girls flooded the entrance to the mall. You and (F/N) stood on the fountain trying to see over the horde that was only growing in size. The only thing visible was a blonde and red fluff among the crowd. (F/N) squealed pointing in their direction. “IT REALLY IS THEM! WE GOTTA GET OVER THERE” You felt a bit more determined now that the odds of getting to them seemed nearly impossible. The crowd began to move towards the staircase, you grabbed your friends wrist again hopping off the fountain rushing to the staff only escalator. It was much faster than the regular stairs that were currently being occupied. The two of you made your way around the crowd, luckily the crowd wasn't too aggressive but it was obvious that no girl wanted to lose their spots in front of the stage. The small staging area upstairs was set up rather nicely but it was meant to keep some kind of order among the girls. The staff only allowed 4 girls at a time to go up on stage to meet the boys, even exchanging the gifts they brought. The lines were moving pretty quickly and it was almost your turn. The wait wasn't bad at all, but it seemed like the girls in front of you didn't feel the same way. They were becoming extremely rowdy as the girls before them took their time carrying on a conversation longer than what was allowed. Soon the girls before you began to shout absurdities towards the girls on the stage which caused them to respond back resulting in an argument. Most of the girls cleared out, backing away to give the girls some space but you and (F/N) stayed put. You weren't  worried about the fight turning physical because that would cause a bigger issue for the rest of you. You worked too hard to lose your spot now. (F/N) stood close by but unfortunately the fight took a turn for the worse. You tried to move out of the way stepping up on the stairs to the stage , the girls fighting pushed and shoved each other even landing a few hits here and there. However you were caught in the crossfire and were pushed off the staging area, you fell towards the crowd of girls at the bottom making the scream, You braced yourself for impact, closing your eyes tightly. The sound of your friends voice and a loud “fuck” echoed in your ears. You felt yourself being engulfed in a tight embrace, you head being tucked into a shoulder and shielded from behind. You and your savior hit the ground rather hard but you didn't get a chance to feel it due to the person cushioning your fall. You looked up and gasped, getting a good look at their face. Bakugo stared down at you grinding his teeth angrily. “Stupid women.” He winced in pain as he stood up turning to face the girls who started the fighting cracking his knuckles. “Listen here you idiots, you pull something like this again and you’ll have to answer to me you got that! AND THAT GOES FOR THE REST OF YOU!” He smashed his fist to his palm activating his quirk. The girls behind the ropes squealed completely ignoring what just happened. He walked off leaving you on the ground as he walked towards the stage. Your eyes followed him as he ascended. Kirishima looked at his friend before hopping off the stage himself walking over to you reaching a hand out. “Are you alright Miss?” It took all your willpower to now gawk at him, he was gorgeous up close but you pushed the thought to the back of your mind grabbing his hand to pull yourself up. He helped you with no effort, his muscle rippling as he assisted you. He scanned over your body for injury as he spoke softly to you. “I'm sorry about him, he’s not too great at consoling a victim but at least you’re safe now. Unless you require medical help?” Your friend watched from behind him giving you the ‘I told you face’ wiggling her eyebrows. You turned back to him giving him a friendly smile which shocked him a bit. “I’m fine, thank you Red Riot.” “Ah--” He gave you one  of his boyish smiles in return rubbing the back of his neck. “You can call me Eijiro okay, What’s your name?”. You suddenly forgot how to speak and fumbled to find your words which made him laugh loudly. “Relax! Breathe, everything's cool.” You took a deep breath with his help finally introducing yourself. 

 “My names (y/n)”  “(Y/N)?” he repeated back to you.  “Yeah.” “That’s beautiful--I mean cool! Anyways, I better be going but um, are you gonna be alright (y/n)?” Your friend signaled over his shoulder for you to pretend to be injured and you shook your head at her. He leaned back into your view and looked at you with genuine concern. “So you’re not okay? “ he questioned. Your eyes snapped back to his concerned red ones. “Oh no! I mean, I’m fine.” “Oh okay, for a second there it looked like you said you were still hurt?” “No I’m okay, thank you for asking!” “Well alright. I’ll see you on stage okay. Try not to fall again”

He escorted you back to the line with your friend who was pretending to be as casual as possible. She looked at you and dramatically threw her arms around your body. “Oh my baby! Are you alright?” you arched your brow at her acting and sighed going along with it. “I’m fine. You can rest easy now.” He nodded leaving you two to talk things out. The girls who started the fight were removed from the mall allowing the two of you to walk up for your turn officially. You watched as your friend ran over to Bakugo wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled away from her body with a blush on his cheeks. “Let go of me, you dumb ass….” “Aww come on, I’m just really grateful that you saved my best friend's life!” she finished kissing his cheek. He continued to pull away from her advances in disgust. “I couldn’t give a rats ass! Let go!”  You and Kirishima watched the scene unfold shaking your head at your friends' antics. You pulled out your phone in which he took it from your hands holding it above your heads. He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you closely. “Here let me do it. I’m taller anyways.” he leaned down closely pressing his head against yours smiling brightly.You blushed but smiled a bit as he snapped the image. The sound of Bakugos groans caught your attention. Your friend continued to grab him by his shirt collar to kiss his cheek as she took her own photo. You held in a laugh, turning your attention to your phone that was in Kirishima's hands. He was busy typing something in before turning it back to you. You looked at the screen in shock. You looked back up at him and he turned his face with a clear blush matching his friends.You saved the number on the screen and tucked your phone into your back pocket. You grabbed your friend's arm pulling her away from Bakugo who wiped the lipstick off his cheek shuddering. The two of you exited off the stage, your friend blew him a goodbye kiss as you dragged her back to the water fountain.  “So?” You heard her say.  “So what?”  “Did you have a moment with him~” (F/N) leaned in closely to your face poking your cheek. “Ah, kinda...you especially had a good time didn’t” “BUT YOU DID HAVE A MOMENT!!! I TOLD YOU” You pulled your phone out scrolling through the contacts showing her the new addition. She screamed wrapping her arms around you bouncing up and down. “I’m so proud of you!!!”  You tapped her arm realizing that this was the moment she would never let you live down. 

[akar0ku]

“Do you think at all before you speak?” Cairn and Gawain, if you feel like it. I know I already sent you one.

“Fallacious”

Gawain had never seen the entirety of the castle in such an exuberant state of celebration. Though parties were by no means a rarity, they were most always reserved affairs. Events for the aristocracy and other such notable people to mingle and flaunt their status. This event was much more akin to the frat parties young recruits would throw in the dungeons. 

Gawain held fast to a neutral expression, not an easy feat considering the rage and disgust roiling within his core. The feeling was not targeted at the party; however, but rather the subject for celebration. He supposed he could let the laymen off easy for celebrating the demise of the water dragon. They hardly knew better and the hidden realities of their world were too complex to try and teach to a species who had long forgotten the past. But Kelvin’s slayer on the other hand.

He definitely had a few words to say to Cairn...That is if he could actually find the man among the throngs of celebrating knights and nobility. Cairn was nowhere to be found in either the ballroom or his quarters. With the easy spots out of the way, Gawain resigned himself checking every room, hall, and stairwell to find him.

After a long and thorough search of the fourth, third, and second floors, Gawain made his way to the smallest of the two towers. Before descending the staircase, Gawain peered down through the center of the spiral. And there was where his search finally ended. There was his long time friend, standing motionless at the bottom and staring at the set of doors opposite of the staircase. Under normal circumstances Gawain may have found the behavior concerning, but now all he could focus on was the barely controlled anger and disappointment for his friends actions.

“Cairn!” He bellowed before he was even half way down, his own voice echoing harshly within the narrow building. Cairn doesn’t move to acknowledge him and now Gawain’s concern is finally starting to override his anger. His descent slows as he reaches the final flight and he comes to a pause on the bottom floor, only a few meters from his friends back..

Cairn doesn’t turn to greet him, only staring steadfast at the doors before him. Gawain approaches Cairn, not quite cautious but still concerned as he circles a wide radius. The look on Cairn’s face is blank, eyes wide as he stares at a fixed spot ahead of him.

Gawain turns to look up at the spot the other man is so fixated on. He scans up and down the doorways expanse but finds nothing out of the ordinary. As he turns back, he opens his mouth to question the odd behavior, but his breath freezes in his lungs when he makes eye contact. Cairn is now staring directly at him, his usual warm dark eyes are now as sharp and cold as an obsidian knife.

Gawain was not a cowardly man by any means. He had fought one on one with green orcs and blood orcs, slayed many a number of frightful beasts, and apprehended some of the most depraved and dangerous criminals. Many times he had put his life on the line, and never once had he feared for it. But now all he could feel was the hammering of his heart against his chest, the roar of blood rushing in his ears, and the adrenaline spike that called for him to fight tooth and nail for his life.

But this couldn’t be right. This was Sir Cairn, his long time friend, his brother in arms. They had always had each other’s back, ever since their trainee days. He absolutely trusted Cairn with his life...but why was he now feeling like this very man could take that life away from him any second?

There was something so disturbingly unnatural in that stare.

“Gawain, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The abrupt shift in tone and instant softening of facial features left Gawain in a state of mental whiplash. “Are you alright?”

Gawain let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. What had that been about? Had he just imagined that? “I...am fine. Just growing tired from the ruckus going on upstairs.”

“Could it be the great Sir Gawain is starting to show his age? Too old to have any fun and in bed by sun down.” Cairn teased in his familiarly upbeat manner, making Gawain question for a moment if that was the case and he was starting to grow senile.

“I’ve plenty of vigor left to keep me going a long while.” Gawain replied curtly, now focusing on the original reason why he was here.. “I’ve searched nearly the whole castle for you. I’ve a mind to beat you senseless on what you’ve done!”

Cairn hummed a confused sound, head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he crossed his arms. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Do not feign ignorance with me. You know exactly what I speak of.”

Cairn sighed and closed his eyes as he nodded in realization. “The water dragon. I probably should have guessed you wouldn't be very happy about that. You do realize though that I had to follow orders?”

“This is not comparable to dealing with some farm pest! What you’ve done, you’ve disrupted the very balance of our world. Did you not think of the repercussions, of the eventual chaos you’ve inevitably brought onto everyone.”

“The dragon threatened our safety!” Cairn snapped. “I was ordered to take care of it. You know I couldn’t refuse a direct order from the prime minister himself.”

“So then are you going to be hunting down the other dragons?”

“Only if they threaten humanity’s safety and I am ordered to do so.”

“When did you grow to be so selfish? Do you not realize that all you’ve done is prolong the inevitable? Do you not realize how your actions will irreparably damage our relations with the other races? Do you think about your actions at all before you go through with them?!”

“Do YOU think at all before you speak?!” Gawain was taken aback by the outburst. Never before had he heard Cairn yell with such force. “What was I supposed to do? Just sit here as the dragon tore through the countryside, killing innocent people? Should I have waited for the others to join it in it’s rampage? Should I have waited for them to fulfill their part in the cycle and just shrug my shoulders as my family and friends die?”

That look was back in his eyes, cold, sharp, and now laced with killer intent. Instinctively, Gawain reached behind him for his morning-star, only to find with blood chilling realization that he hadn’t brought it. This would not be an easy fight if things escalated...and fleetingly he wondered if he would be walking away at all.

“You know this is how it has to be.” Gawain’s voice came low and raspy, hoping that somehow he would get logic through whatever fog had possessed his friend. “If family and friends are your biggest concern, then why not go be with them? Instead of running off on a pointless mission that will only wind up with you dead.”

“You might be fine with sitting back and waiting for the end. But I will not allow us to be sacrificed without a fight.” Gawain shook his head at Cairn’s words. They had known this day was likely coming, Nogueria and Zane had both explained the old legends with them. He had thought Cairn was of the same understanding as he was on the matter.

“What is it that has changed your perspective on this?”

Or had Cairn been harboring such reservations and denial this whole time, Gawain wondered.

A flash of quick movement had Gawain instantly falling into fight mode. He saw both of Cairn’s hands fall to the sword at his hip, one grasping the scabbard and the other the hilt. On instinct, Gawain pressed forward, knowing at this point that his best bet for survival was to be too close for a sword to be effective and rely on grappling his way out of here.

Both men remained in close proximity, staring intently at one another and waiting for the first move.

“Father?” Gawain could feel the color draining from his face as he recognized his son’s voice.

Cairn also took notice of their new visitor, slowly turning to look over his shoulder and also leaving enough of an opening for Gawain to look past him. There; at the base of the stairway, stood his twelve year old son with the uncomfortable look of someone who knew they had interrupted something but weren’t sure exactly what that something was.

“Ganz…” Gawain breathed, his adrenaline now spiking higher as his concerns shifted from self preservation to doing whatever it would take to ensure the safety of his own child.

“Ganz! Look at you, I feel like you’ve grown since the last time I saw you!” Cairn’s shift in mood once again left Gawain with a sense of whiplash and unease.

“I saw you last week. I uh, I don’t think I could grow so notably in such a short amount of time Sir.” Ganz replied sheepishly.

“Ganz, I’ve already told you, you don’t need to call me Sir.” Cairn chided lightheartedly.

Gawain bristled as he watched the taller knight begin to approach Ganz.

“Ah, right Sir. My apologies.” Ganz laughed with nervous innocence.

Cairn let out a breathy chuckle and shook his head. He reached out a hand to ruffle the stocky boy’s blond hair, but was smacked away before he could reach his mark. Cairn recoiled, staring at Gawain with a look of hurt in his eyes. 

Gawain only glared up at him, a protective anger radiating from every point on his body.

“Gawain, what’s gotten into you. You’re acting like I murdered an entire orphanage” Cairn accused, sounding a mixture of hurt, confused, and indignant.

“I will speak with you more on it later.” Gawain gritted between clenched teeth. He had no clue what was going on with his friend's mood swings, but he wasn’t about to linger here with his son and no weapons with which to protect them with just to find out.

Gawain nudged his son back towards the stairs with his elbow, feeling the boy hesitate for only a moment before obeying. He followed after the boy, never once taking his eyes off Cairn until said man eventually exited through one of the doorways.

“Father,” Gawain looked at his son, finding he had paused several steps above him. “What was that about?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” He replied, feeling a slight pull of guilt in his chest when the boy gave him a disappointed look. “What are you doing down here? Where’s your mother?”

“She’s upstairs saying her goodbye’s. She wants to go home but I wanted to find you and ask if perhaps I could stay here with you at the castle for a few days.” Gawain was at a loss for how to answer. Things between him and Cairn had escalated concerningly fast, and no matter what, he couldn’t shake that sense of endangerment he was feeling towards his long time friend right now.

He must have taken too long to think of his answer, since Ganz started back peddling his request and apologizing.

“I’m sorry my boy. Something’s come up that I need to look into.” He couldn’t risk taking his attention off of Cairn right now. Not until he’d figured out what was going on.

“I see…” Ganz mumbled, the look of disappointment on his face pulled at Gawain’s heart but it was better off this way. Father and son made the rest of the trip up the stairs in silence.

When they reached the third floor, Gawain stopped his son from leaving with a hand on his shoulder. That boy stared him at him expectantly, but Gawain only took the moment to take in the site of him. His mind wanders back to Cairn’s words and for a moment he wonders if maybe he was the one who was misguided in blindly swallowing humanity’s fate without question.

“This matter should only take me a few days. Once it’s resolved, I’ll take time off to come home. Will that make it up to you?”

A smile instantly breaks across Ganz’ face and the boy agrees eagerly. It’s the least he can do for the boy at this point.

Gawain watches his son leave until the boy is long out of site. His mind is heavy with the weight of processing everything that is going on and tangential thoughts on how to rectify them. For now, the only place he can think to start is to speak with both of the elven leaders.

Satisfied with his next step, he retreats to his chambers with the intent to write to Nogueira about his impending arrival and to put in his request of personal leave.

---

A/N: While writing this I got the idea to actually try and make this into a multi part series. I have a couple other ideas based around Cairn’s Algandars and in writing this I kinda want to better explore a few thing. This one would probably take place somewhere in the middle of that project so I’ll probably be re-posting this with edits that make it better fit in with the others. Especially where I’ve kinda come to the idea that Cairn and Gawain are both aware of the Gold and Silver dragon cycles but the both of them have different views on it that are kinda not quite wrong or right in their own ways. Also thanks Henry!

[wolf-555-writer]

Still Breathing Part 5

Hope you enjoy this part :)

Special thanks to @kaddistar who helped filling in the gaps and made the story complete with her awesome ideas ;). Thank you so much! :D

Read part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4

Alex Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 2,018

Strolling on the pavement, lit up by street lights, it finally stopped raining. Roads still covered in rain from the downfall as you step in a puddle of water. Blaming yourself for making that stupid, unnecessary joke about a sensitive topic named the DEO.  

“I mean... why? Why did I do that? Who knows what could have happened otherwise tonight... ”

On your way home, walking because it's not that far away, you feel like you're being followed. Looking cautiously over your left shoulder, you identify two shady guys. Sternly eyeing you from a distance. And both carrying weapons? One is wearing brass knuckles while the other has a club attached to his belt. You scoff. These two? Yeah, you can fight them with ease. No problem. 

As you turn your head around again, a couple of other guys are standing in front of you. Waiting and blocking the way. One holds a baseball bat, the other is unarmed and in the middle someone with a beat up, swollen face, also gripping a wooden bat tight. You slightly recognize him, but it costs a lot of effort. It's the DEO Agent you viciously beat up earlier today at DEO headquarters. Trying to protect Alex as it, um- escalated a little. 

“This time I’ll take you down! I will break you”, he howls at you, aggressively signing the bat while you keep your distance.

So… five guys, almost all armed. Can you take them all by yourself? Being slightly injured and unarmed? 

“How about no…”. You don't hesitate and sprint away as fast as you can. Crossing the dangerous street and dodging the moving cars, only concentrated on escaping. The five men initiate their manhunt for you and accelerate fast. A few seconds later you catch the sound of screeching tires and a car honking loudly. Apparently one of them got hit by a grey sedan. Knocked out cold, motionless on the hood of that vehicle. One down, four to go. 

Swiftly evading other pedestrians that you encounter in your flight as you ended up on the pavement at the other side of the road. Going back to where you came from, hoping you will reach Alex’s apartment in time. You perceived your bulky chasers had crashed into some people, hearing them cursing and shouting furiously. Guess they're not that light-footed as you. You have to admit, you're scared. No envision of how this will end. 

“Pick up, pick up!”, hollering at the phone as you had quickly pressed speed dial. You had to call her. To inform her of what’s going on right now. Desperately in need of her help since you’re on the run, attempting to get away from these crooked men. But she’s not picking up, still hearing the phone ring. You cry out again.

“Come on Alex… Just pick up the damn phone!”. She’s sure as hell mad at you, you know that. Is that the reason she’s not answering? You give up. But, no- wait, you can’t. You can’t give up. Not now. You try her again. Still nothing as the call switches to voicemail. You grunt in anger, but decide to leave a message. It’s at least something... Heavily panting as you’ve kept on running, you speak:

“Hey Alex… I’ll make it quick. Um- I’m kind of on the run... as some men want to, eh, attack m-

The call is disrupted. You make an unpleasant landing on your right shoulder and your head smashes onto the concrete. Watching your phone crack on impact because it slipped out of your hand.

“Fuck...”, you growl. One of them catched up, faster than the others, and had thrown you on the wet, dirty pavement since he ambushed you from behind. You slowed them down right?! You should have never made that useless call. Only a block away from Alex. You were almost there...

The others have also reached you while you’re still struck down. Disoriented due to your crash on the sidewalk. They start beating you up pretty bad, for sure using their weapons. Luckily you inflicted some damage, disabling one. You kicked him right between the legs. The perfect spot. Now he’s on the ground next to you, in what seems to be in insufferable pain. Good. However, there are three left, who as of now have you surrounded. It’s too late to escape. You’re trapped, seeing the baseball bat approaching fast. 

It broke a couple of your ribs. Now having difficulty breathing as you’re gasping for oxygen. Hearing the awful, disturbing sound everytime the blunt object smashes you. Curling up from the pain, bringing your knees to your chest. But one still managed to brutally kick you in the stomach with his solid boot. Only makes breathing even harder... The metal brass injuring your face while you desperately try to keep your guard up. The taste of blood dominating in your mouth and feeling excruciating pain in your whole, damn body. Not able to sense where the pain is as it’s everywhere. You can see bystanders watching, too afraid to interfere. However some are on their phone, hopefully calling 911. 

“Why aren’t they doing something?! Help me! Help...”. You try to scream, get these words out, being in a serious miserable state right now. Except no sound is generated. Not that it mattered though, judging by the look on their faces and lack of action from the people observing you. You slowly lose consciousness, unable to keep your heavy eyes open. Pain getting worse and worse by the second. Still breathing and trying to think of happy thoughts...

///

[Flashback]

Heavily panting and sweat pouring out ‘cause you’re running up a great amount of stairs. In pursuit, chasing an alien with fire powers. Alex is in front of you, leading the team of Agents, including you, while you’re all fully packed and geared up. The old staircase is barely lit. So you use the flashlight mounted on your rifle to provide the little light needed to find the correct pathway. You’re almost out of breath as you eventually enter the rooftop of the building through a rusty door. Having passed all eighteen floors... This absolutely qualifies as a killer workout. Feeling sweaty and extremely heated in the uniform you're wearing with a heart rate somewhere around 170 bpm. The bright sunlight blinds you for a short period. Using your arm to cover your eyes, considering you need some time to adjust due to the transitioning from darkness into the light.  

“Stop! Don't move, you're under arrest!”, Alex yells while you see another team of DEO Agents rappelling down from a transport helicopter to provide the needed backup. Except the alien doesn’t obey at all. Was to be expected... Alex reacts, firing her gun, as the alien also fires- um... fire?

“Look out!”, shouting while you quickly sprint towards Alex, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her away as she was almost burnt to a crisp. Sensing the heat radiating from the flames closeby, you both land on the gravelly rooftop. Noticing a curtain of fire had appeared, separating Alex and you from the rest of the DEO team who were still behind. Supergirl is not available at the moment since she and Director J'onzz are busy with another important case. But that’s okay, as of course, you have the situation completely under control... *cough*  

“Great...”, you exclaim as you watch the alien rapidly turning around and flee while jumping to another building nearby. Alex had already freed herself from your tight grip, because your arms were still wrapped around her, and picked herself up from the ground. She doesn’t hesitate. Focused on the fugitive, she sprints towards the building’s edge and leaps. Landing majestically on the other building’s rooftop. Seeing her, you stand up and follow. But abruptly stop at the edge. 

“How the hell do I do this? Don’t look down. Don’t look down...”. You want to continue, assist Alex in the arrest and have her back, but waver. Obviously you had peaked over the edge, following all those eighteen storeys down. Now staring into the depth. Lastly gaze focused on the distant harsh asphalt beneath, located between the two tall buildings. Suddenly gasping for air, unaware you stopped breathing for numerous seconds.      

“How does she do this so easily?”. Apparently Alex doesn’t have any form of fear. “It’s now or never”, you speak to yourself, trying to provide the immensely, well-needed courage. You take some steps back, accelerate, and jump, as powerful as you can. Heartbeat hammering in your chest. Landing on the other building while rolling over your shoulder. You experience a rush of adrenaline bursting through your veins. Seeing them in the distance, you start to race towards the alien and Alex with all the energy left. They clearly have a head-start. Hearing the helicopter blades whirring, you look over your shoulder and see the other DEO team up in the air, tracking you. Petrified every time you jump from rooftop to rooftop, but you do it anyway, not being able to forgive yourself if something happened to Alex. You hop several buildings until there is no way out anymore. Still behind, you notice the alien is now aiming for the black DEO helicopter. Most certainly wants to shoot it down. You have to act right now, or it will crash and explode, costing all the Agents inside their lives.

Slightly panicking now that you feel the pressure of executing this flawlessly. There is no room for error. You look around, focussing, searching if there is something you can throw its way. It doesn’t matter what, as long as it can be used to distract the alien long enough. Turning your head while still running, your eyes lock with a metal object. Probably from an air-ventilation system. Grabbing it while in pursuit, you aim, calculating the perfect speed and trajectory.

“Alex! Duck down!” you scream with your last breath while powerfully swinging your dominant arm. Releasing the metal fragment. Brilliantly spinning through the air towards the runaway.

The alien already had their arms locked on the DEO chopper. Ready to blast flames to set it on fire. Suddenly it gets startled by the piece of metal striking their head painfully as Alex loyally followed your instruction. Slowing your pace down, being completely exhausted and now really out of breath, you see Alex. She has the situation perfectly under control. After she ducked down to evade the flying element, she swiftly jumped on the fugitive. Who as of now is a prisoner since Alex has pinned them down to the ground, easily cuffing the suspect. If you didn’t throw that object, the events could have played out an entirely different way…

Arriving at DEO headquarters, exhausted from the chase and definitely transmitting an awful, stinky scent, you enter the main floor. Stepping inside, you hear a loud clapping sound. Quickly looking up, you notice DEO Agents applauding, including J’onn and Kara who had returned from their mission. Alex walks up to you, probably due to your peculiar expression. 

“W-why are they clapping?”, stuttering as you stare at them in confusion.

“You’re the hero of the day (Y/N)!”, she brightly answers, while you’re still perplexed. 

“But… I-I just did my job. And you were the one that actually captured the fugitive”.

“Yeah… They’re also praising me you know. This is not all for you ”, Alex sarcastically returns, wide grin on her face. “You prevented what could have been a disaster. So you deserve this (Y/N)”, while she placed her hand on your shoulder.

“Come on”, Alex gently moved her hand to your arm and pulls you towards the group of Agents. You don't like to be in the center of attention which your face is currently displaying, skin coloured vibrant red. You just did your job, right? But you obviously can’t complain. This feeling of complete joy and happiness, overflowing your entire body. It feels right. You embrace it. Every second of it. Deeply breathing in this moment of total appreciation as you feel completely wanted, right here, right now.

Continue with part 6

[edogawatranslations]

Danganronpa Kirigiri (3) - Chapter 2, Part 3

Table of Contents | Previous: Chapter 2, Part 2

As we walked, Lico once again brought up a serious topic out of nowhere.

“The two organizations pursuing Rei Mikagami today are a Chinese intelligence agency and a scientific investigative unit of the Russian army.”

These absurd statements no longer caught me off guard; I had fully accepted that the abnormal had become our new normal.

“You’re awfully informed about all this,” I commented.

“It’s my duty to relay you detailed information.” Lico turned around and flashed an innocent smile. “Both organizations have dispatched two unarmed individuals to Japan. Neither group is much of a threat, since they don’t use weapons when active outside of their home countries. The Russians especially; they belong to a team developing supersoldiers, which means they’re more so occult researchers than fighters.”

I quickly scanned the area. From what I could tell, there wasn’t a Russian in sight. The only people around were cheerful women roaming the mall with multiple shopping bags dangling from their arms.

“The three assassins pose the bigger problem,” Lico continued. Despite the grim topic, his expression didn’t change one bit.

Assassins...

We were intruding on their work. To reach Rei Mikagami, we couldn’t simply ignore them and walk on by.

“The first assassin is a woman of unknown nationality who goes by the name of ‘Copycat.’ As you may guess, she specializes in copycat crimes. She disposes of her targets by mimicking the M.O. of a serial killer active in the corresponding country or state, allowing her and her clients to fully escape suspicion, since the victim ends up tossed into the unrelated string of cases. Because of this, her work has mostly been attributed to other killers. Fortunately, this method prevents her from haphazardly killing someone. She acts deliberately and typically refrains from taking offensive measures.”

With the steady stream of information flowing from his mouth, Lico was giving Google a run for its money. His appearance already seemed rather other-worldly, but his information processing capabilities were all the more superhuman.

We rode the escalator one floor up to another women’s clothing department.

The ludicrous conversation continued in the perfectly average location.

“The second assassin is known as ‘Night Flyer.’ He’s rumored to be a Romanian of small build, but nobody has confirmed his identity. His killing style of choice is fairly standard: he approaches and shoots his target with a pistol equipped with a silencer. He’s inclined to be hot-headed, so consider him fairly hostile. Multiple people have witnessed him in the past heading to the nearest airport after completing a hit and flying off in a private jet, hence his nickname.”

“Is he friends with the first assassin you mentioned?”

“No, all of these assassins work alone. They see each other as rivals chasing the same target, so it would be fortunate for us if they took each other out.”

“What do you know about the third?”

“He’s Japanese. He doesn’t go by a particular nickname, but he’s an alumnus of Hope’s Peak Academy: the former Ultimate Rock Climber, Tsurugi Hitomoshi. After graduating, he spent some time abroad and made a name for himself conquering treacherous cliffs. At some point, he turned his climbing into a performance art, scaling historical monuments and buildings such as the Eiffel Tower and Angkor Wat, which caused backlash and eventually led to him being exiled from the climbing community. Only the criminal underworld is aware of his current activities as an assassin; he’s known as someone who can appear anywhere and eliminate anyone with one finger. He can easily bend the barrel of a rifle with one hand. I’ve also heard that he once crushed the heart of a police officer through a bulletproof vest with his bare hands.”

An assassin trained at an elite school. This was one gathering I didn’t want to have any involvement in.

I pitied Rei Mikagami, who had to deal with all these killers chasing after him. I guess prominent detectives were always roped into political schemes or conflicts, almost like how scientists around the world were killed or abducted during World War II for their work on weapons programs.

Someday, even Kyoko might be forced to serve someone for their personal gain. Or perhaps, she already has been...

While walking down the halls, Lico continued the conversation as if casually chatting about the weather.

“By the way, before the two of you arrived, I spotted a woman who fit the description of Copycat entering this department store.”

“Wh-What?” Suddenly sensing bloodlust in the air, I braced myself for action.

Nobody around looked particularly suspicious. Ladies clad in clothes from nearby stores were bustling about, as usual.

“You gotta tell us these things sooner! What did she look like?”

“She had on a coat with a red hood, kind of like Little Red Riding Hood. Blonde hair. She was rolling a small travel suitcase behind her.”

“Sounds like an easy to spot get-up, even from a distance. If we see her, let’s stay on our guard and avoid getting too close.”

“Avoiding her won’t get us any closer to Rei Mikagami,” Kyoko said. “We should follow her. We won’t make any headway without taking risks, right?”

“Yeah, but...”

Forget the possibility that we might have to fly into the face of danger—was this risk worth taking in the first place? We weren’t even sure Rei Mikagami was waiting at the end of this rainbow. None of this was rooted in certainty; it was almost like we were actually making plans to catch a ghost in a mirror.

“Yui,” Lico said, stopping in his tracks.

“Wh-What is it? Do you see one of the assassins?”

Lico pointed at a store in front of us. “There are swimsuits for sale up ahead.”

“Way to go, kid!”

I rushed forward, dragging Kyoko behind me. But my legs suddenly froze up.

Right as I was about to enter the shop, a red hood crossed the path in front of me.

I shot a glance back at Lico to confirm. He responded with a quick nod.

There was no mistaking it; that was Copycat.

We casually started tailing her. Thankfully, we were able to do so discreetly by blending in with the flocks of customers roaming the floor.

The red-hooded figure didn’t seem to have noticed us. Her left hand, which was noticeably white, was dragging a small bag. She wasn’t particularly tall, and her body was fairly slender. Her coat resembled a poncho. Two cat ear-like protrusions stuck out of her hood. Although the hood covered her head, I could see her blonde hair swaying to and fro as she walked.

“For an assassin, she sure sticks out like a sore thumb,” I whispered to Lico. “I didn’t think she’d look so frail and slender.”

“You don’t need strength to kill someone,” Lico replied with an angelic expression on his face.

After we followed after her for a while, she turned into a narrow passageway and went through a door labeled “Employees Only.”

The three of us huddled together beside the door.

“A staircase for employees... Where is she going?” I placed one hand on the door.

“Don’t,” Kyoko said, grabbing my arm. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Do you hear the grim reaper’s footsteps again? Don’t worry, I’m not gonna chase her too far. I wanna at least figure out if she went up or down.”

I slowly pushed the door open.

All of a sudden, a slender arm shot through the doorway and grabbed onto my wrist.

“Eek!”

The arm pulled me through to the dim stair landing on the other side. Standing adjacent to the door was Copycat, who was restraining me from behind. From far beyond the door, I could hear the cold, lifeless muffle of a storewide announcement playing over the PA system.

Why didn’t I listen to Kyoko?

I felt a sharp object pressed against my throat.

While slowly raising both my hands to signal my surrender, I snuck a glance at Copycat. Her face was white, reminiscent of a stunning European lady, and she had on a pair of thick high-index prescription glasses. A thin layer of makeup covered her face, enough to possibly be covering up any freckles. Her furrowed eyebrows and troubled expression seemed to suggest that she was more of the shy, introverted type. Did she have on cat ears because of her nickname, Copycat? Or was it because she was a fan of cosplay?

She started uttering some words in a foreign language and loosened her grip on me.

It was then that Lico burst through the door.

“Yui, are you alright?”

“N-Never better...” I stammered out, giving my best effort to sound composed even as I could no longer freely move my body. “Do you have any idea what she’s saying?”

“She’s asking, ‘Who are you?’”

Lico began conversing with Copycat. I had no clue what language they were speaking, but Copycat’s voice gradually grew calmer. Lico’s disarming smile was super effective.

It was then that I noticed—Kyoko wasn’t here.

“Hey, where’s Kyoko?” I asked, trying to interrupt Lico and Copycat’s chat. However, neither of them paid my words any mind. They were engrossed in their conversation.

Even though I was the hostage here, I felt like chopped liver.

“What are you two even talking about?” I asked.

“She’s asking who my favorite manga artist is,” Lico replied. “Let’s see, I would have to say—”

“You’re really having a friendly chat at a time like this?”

Was Lico successfully persuading her to lower her guard?

No... She was an assassin. And the way things were, she could easily kill me at any moment if she desired. I’d had a run of bad luck recently, but this was my first time being taken hostage by an assassin.

What should I do?

I had no knowledge of self-defense and no weapon by my side.

I thought about praying to God, but at the last second, I changed my mind and decided to pray to Kyoko instead.

Kyoko, please save me!

—Click.

A metallic clinking sound echoed out, causing Lico and the assassin to cut short their discussion. Noticing an abnormality, Copycat turned around, but by then, it was already too late.

Clamped around Copycat’s hand—the free wrist she hadn’t used to restrain me—was one end of a pair of handcuffs. The other end was secured to the handle of her bag.

As if having appeared out of nowhere, standing one step below the landing we were on was Kyoko. She was focused intently on pulling the bag down the stairs.

Copycat let out a yelp and rushed forward in an attempt to grab her bag, and as she reached out towards it, she released her grip on me.

The next moment, the bag began tumbling down the stairs. Copycat, linked to it by the handcuffs, plunged down along with it. The bag must’ve been much heavier than it looked, as the slender and light Little Red Riding Hood with cat ears was swiftly pulled down to the lower landing.

Piercing shrieks filled the air as she fell, but before long, her body slammed against the wall of the landing one floor down. She squirmed on the ground and feebly groaned.

“Yui, are you okay?” Kyoko ran up to where I was standing.

“Y-Yeah, I think so. How did you get over there?”

“I took a different staircase down and made my way up from below.” Kyoko puffed out her chest and placed her hands on her hips to make a sort of superhero pose.

Her quick thinking saved me again. Without her by my side, I would’ve met my demise many times over.

A fountain pen rolled up to my feet. That must’ve been the object Copycat held against my throat.

The three of us regrouped, made our way down the flight of stairs, and surrounded Copycat. She hadn’t lost consciousness, but since her whole body took a beating, she was lying down, unable to move.

I unzipped her bag. Inside were a scrapbook of newspaper clippings about serial killers, a few publications detailing cold cases, and a mountain of Japanese manga and doujinshi. No wonder her bag was so heavy. There were also a couple of passports stuffed inside. I couldn’t tell which one was real, but then again, all of them may have been forged.

There was nothing that resembled a weapon among her possessions. The fountain pen was probably the most dangerous item she had with her.

“She’s the kind of assassin to kill her target only after having conceived of a detailed plan,” Lico explained. “Her goal today was likely only to scout out her mark, so she wasn’t at the final phase of carrying out the hit yet.”

“Thank god she’s type A,” I sighed in relief.

“Would you like me to finish her off?”

“N-No, that’s okay.” I laughed nervously. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Are you sure? As long as she lives, innocent people will continue to die. Don’t forget, she’s an assassin.”

“That has nothing to do with why we came here today. We’re here to track down Rei Mikagami, and nothing more.”

Lico stared at me for a few seconds, but didn’t press the issue any further.

“I can’t find anything about Rei Mikagami in her things,” Kyoko reported, standing next to Copycat’s bag.

“Lico, did you get any information out of her?” I asked.

“She apparently doesn’t know anything about Rei Mikagami’s identity. The reason she came here was because she was informed her mark would appear on the rooftop plaza of this department store at four in the afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you say that sooner?! That’s exactly what we needed to know!”

Rei Mikagami will appear at four!

I checked the clock on my phone.

3:55 PM.

“Shoot, it’s almost time.”

“Shall we head up?” Lico suggested, still magically calm.

The rooftop plaza was located above the ninth floor. I imagined the struggle running up all those stairs, but we’d arrive with time to spare.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I replied. “Kyoko, come on.”

“Give me one second.”

Kyoko crouched down next to Copycat’s body and unfastened the handcuffs.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Retrieving these handcuffs. They’re kind of a memento.”

“Oh, from back then...”

Kyoko stuffed the handcuffs into the pocket of her uniform. So that was where she’d been hiding them all this time.

We abandoned Copycat on the landing and started rushing up the stairs.

Next: Chapter 2, Part 4

[dr-m-r-ma]

I Can’t Anymore...

Genre: drama, angst Rating: PG-13 Group: Monsta X

Summary: The backlash against Wonho’s public relationship with rising actress Mi-young Kim is getting too intense for both of them.

Disclaimer: This is 100% fictional and my own story. It is unrelated to the actual events and real persons of Monsta X and Starship. Mi-young Kim (김미영) is an original character created for this fanfic. Parts will be written in Korean with English translations. I did not major/study in English/Korean, nor was I ever strong in English/Korean grammar, so there will be grammatical mistakes. This fanfic is written in third person and past-tense for ease of writing.

“그러니까… 우리… 시간을 좀 갖자.” (Translation: “That’s why… Let’s… take a break.”)

Mi-young steeled herself as she watched Wonho’s face twist in pain. She slowly pulled her hand out of his, causing him to whimper and tear up. Sighing at his reaction, she caught his tears before they rolled down, and whispered, “너도 힘들잖아.” (Translation: “You’re having a hard time too.”)

Wonho shook his head and gripped her hand tightly, to hold her down and not let her go. As if the shock was too much, he could only whimper – no words seemed to come out and he just continued to shake his head in disagreement.

[ AN HOUR AGO ]

“언니 때문에 오빠 힘든거 몰라요?” (Translation: “Can’t you tell Wonho [oppa] is having a hard time because of you?”)

“연기도 존나 못 하도만…” (Translation: “You fucking suck at acting too…”)

“제발 죽어주세요, 호석오빠는 언니꺼가 아니에요.” (Translation: “Please die, Hoseok-oppa is not yours.”)

Whether it was comments on her now-deleted Instagram or mail sent to the agency or words thrown at her in person, Mi-young felt trapped by the hatred she had been receiving for the last couple of months. It used to be just words and cold stares, but then it grew to random girls following her, spilling juice on her, scratching her arm with sharp nails and pushing her aside.

Now, having been shoved to the ground by a group of girls who quickly ran off after doing the deed, Mi-young had no energy left to argue or fight back. She was used to the whispers, glares, curses, but with the escalated physical attacks, Mi-young felt helpless like a high school school bully victim.

She couldn’t bring up every little incident to Wonho, however, since she knew he was also having a hard time with the hate they were receiving. Heck, she couldn’t tell him anything. The fanbase was divided by a small portion who supported them, majority telling them to break up and another telling Wonho to leave the group before dragging the whole group down. Despite Wonho trying his best to hide his hurt feelings and inner struggle, Mi-young knew how hard he was taking it. She had already seen the tip of the iceberg with the hate comments on the group’s Twitter and Instagram.

He always told her as long as he had her, he could be strong and live through this. Wonho reassured Mi-young that this phase would end and those that didn’t support them would just leave and comments would die down. But when would it really end? Will it really end? Though she had these doubts weighing her mind down, she couldn’t help but continue to comfort Wonho and support him from the shadows. It was definitely draining for her, but she also hated seeing him lose his happy child-like laughter from all the backlash.

That is, until then.

As Mi-young limped up the stairs to Wonho’s place, the emotions piled up against her. What did I do so wrong?! Why do I have to go through this? Is this… worth all of these wounds… and the paranoia that I never had before? She was so overwhelmed that she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She plopped down at the steps, facing the top of the stairs and let the warm tears roll down. It wasn’t often she let herself cry about this, but in that moment, it felt like she could die without letting it out.

Clutching at her sleeve, she covered her mouth with her other hand and heaved quietly as the tears rolled down endlessly. The wave of sadness rushed through, like a dam had broken. Mi-young struggled to keep herself quiet and failed to notice the figure watching her from below.

When she started to wheeze from the constant sobbing, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her. Instantly, she froze. The familiar set of arms, the familiar scent, the familiar breath… How long was he there for?

“미영아…” (Translation: “Mi-young…”) Wonho whispered, “무슨 일이야? 왜 그렇게 슬프게 울어?” (Translation: “What’s wrong? Why are you crying so sadly?”)

His voice cracked, and Mi-young turned her head away even while in his hold. She shook her head, wiping her tears, and tried to calm herself down. She was still sinking in her emotions; she wasn’t sure what she would say in the moment. As she tried to break free and stand up, a spark of pain shot up from her ankle.

“아–!” (Translation: “Ah–!”) She yelped, instinctively holding her ankle.

Wonho frowned and quickly pulled her hand away from her ankle. Mi-young sighed as Wonho gaped at the now swollen ankle. He sputtered, “이거.. 이… 왜… 어떻게 된거야??” (Translation: “This.. it… why… what happened??”)

With no energy to even try to hide it, she simply leaned against the staircase railing and mumbled, “그냥 좀 삐었어.” (Translation: “I just twisted it a little.”)

Wonho gave her a hard stare. “왜 삐었는데?” (Translation: “Why did you twist it?”)

Mi-young matched his stare and the two stared at each other in silence. It looked like in that moment, Wonho was trying to guess the reason, and when his face turned whiter than ever, she guessed he realized. It wasn’t hard to figure out, but she felt bad he found out as his eyes flitted around to the scratch marks around her neck and her arms.

“설…마–” (Translation: “No..way–”) Wonho whispered.

Mi-young cut him off, however, and said in a calm voice. “우리 거리를 좀 두자… 시간을 좀 갖자.” (Translation: “Let’s put some distance between us… Let’s take a break.”) Her eyes rested on Wonho’s face. She could tell he didn’t seem to register her words completely.

Wonho grabbed her hand and he croaked out, “왜그래… 힘든거 알아. 근데 나도 힘들어– 아니다, 그게 아니고, 너만 있으면 난 괜찮아.” (Translation: “Why… I know it’s hard for you. But it’s also hard for me– actually, no, that’s not it, I’m okay as long as you’re with me.”) He gripped her hand tightly, his eyes wide with terror.

It pained Mi-young so much for her to see the expression on his face, but she also had her share of hurt. Squeezing his hand back, Mi-young said, “팬들이 이렇게 싫어하는데… 어떡해… 너도 저번에 그랬잖아, 팬분들 없으면 빈 껍데기라고. 그런 네가 나만 있으면 괜찮을거란건 거짓말이잖아. 나도 너 이렇게 아파하고 슬퍼하는거 계속 못 볼것같아….” (Translation: “What can we do… the fans hate it this much… You said so before, without fans you’re just an empty shell. So you’re lying when you say all you need is me. I also don’t think I can continue seeing you hurt and sad….”)

“아니야, 싫어.” (Translation: “No, I don’t want to.”) Wonho whined. He shook his head, rejecting her words like a small child.

Mi-young gripped his hand strongly and pulled his hand towards her to grab his attention. She lifted her other hand to pull her hair away from her neck, which caused her shirt sleeve to loosely hang and reveal more of her arm. Both her arm and her neck had scratch marks, some skinny fresh ones and some that have already scabbed. Wonho’s eyes widened, and she whispered, “보여주기 싫었는데… 솔직히 악플도 힘들었는데, 이건… 좀 심하잖아…” (Translation: “I didn’t want to show you but… honestly the hate comments were hard, but this… is going too far…”)

He lifted his other hand up to her arm, and his fingers trembled as they reached up to touch the wounds. He cried, “그 사람들은 진짜 팬 아니야. 우리 팬들은 안 그래…!” (Translation: “Those people aren’t real fans. Our fans don’t do those things…!”)

“음… 나도 알아… 근데 좀 거리를 두면… 상황이 더 빨리 가라앉이겠지… 안그래?” (Translation: “Mm… I know… but if we put some distance…the situation will subside faster… don’t you think?”) Mi-young held herself together tightly. Despite her harsh and realistic words, she also didn’t want to leave him like this. Was she being selfish for bringing up her pain? But how much more could she handle before actually breaking? Thus, she continued, “그러니까… 우리… 시간을 좀 갖자.” (Translation: “That’s why… Let’s… take a break.”)

The shock seemed to hit Wonho too hard, and the tears welled over. As Mi-young caught the tears before they fully rolled down, Wonho held tightly and cried, “미안해… 몰라서 미안해… 내 상처만 보여서… 너무 미안해…” (Translation: “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t know… I’m so sorry… I only saw my pain…”)

She bit her lip as her tears also threatened to spill over. Patting his back, Mi-young tried to slip her hand out of his.

Instantly, however, Wonho grabbed her hand back. Taking a deep breath, he managed to stutter out, “ㄱ-그래도 싫어. ㄱㅡ그래..도… 있어주면… 안돼?” (Translation: “I s-still don’t want to. Can’t you… s-still… be with me?”)

She noticed his hands shaking and clammy, but she steeled herself to pull her hand out of his once again. As she placed her hand over his and pulled her other hand out, Mi-young’s heart shattered when his face contorted with pain. She knew how much this would hurt him, but she also knew in the long term, when the fans went back to him, he would recover and all would be well again. She realized the happiness of an idol depended on the group’s accomplishments and his fans, and she didn’t want to be the obstacle between Wonho and his happiness.

Mi-young stood, putting weight on her normal foot to ease the pain off her sprained ankle. She couldn’t bear to look at him directly, but she could see from the corner of her eyes his mouth moving but no words coming out. He could only squeak sounds and the tears continued to stream down his beautiful white face. Before stepping out of the wall he created with his body, Mi-young leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead. She whispered, “이렇게 가서… 나 미워도돼. 미안해.” (Translation: “You can hate me… for leaving like this. I’m sorry.”)

As she limped down the stairs, Wonho cried out, “아니야–! 난 안 헤어질거야!!” (Translation: “No–! I’m not going to break up!!”) His voice cracked but Mi-young continued to walk down.

When she reached the bottom, she glanced back up at him. With his head hanging low and one hand clutching his shirt, his breath hitched and Wonho spoke in a low voice, “아니야… 내가 미안해… 내가 먼저 사귀자고 하고… 지켜준다고 해놓고… 내가…” (Translation: “No… I’m sorry… I asked you out first… and after I said I’d protect you… I…”)

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect myself. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry I can’t continue like this…. Without looking back anymore, Mi-young continued to limp down, covering her ears as Wonho continued to weep at the stairs above.

*** THE END ***

A/n: I think I’m better at writing angst than I am with fluff lol rip also if this ever happens to MX I will rip fans apart – I’ve seen it hurt the late Jonghyun and I hate the fact that Sungmin can’t participate in SuJu anymore. Though I don’t think fans have ever gotten too physical like my fic here, but shit happens… things you think that only happen in dramas happen irl too unfortunately… anyway my schedule is getting a bit busier so I might not be able to write as often. Thank you for the continuous support still! Also idk why the layout is so different on mobile like I clearly have the read-more thing but on mobile the whole thing shows up :| is that just me??

[gaslightwestern]

When Sins Haunt: Pre-Story Drabble #1 Planning a Crime Over Coffee (Jack’s POV)

Context: Technically proceeds this scene. Jack, Martin, and Mae are bantering discussing breaking into a house when Officer O’Brera shows up. [ Dialogue-heavy; canon; 1,300+ words ]

[ Overview | Intro | Page | # | Charlotte | Jack | Warren | Sam | Martin, Mae & Theo | TL ↓ ]

The bell above the café door chimed as another customer entered; faces buried beneath bundles of thick wool. Each time they brought along a gust of frigid air with them. Jack shivered violently, his threadbare brown coat no match for the torture that was January in New York City. Everyone in the vicinity seemed cozy in their overcoats, clustered around circular wooden tables full of baked goods and hot drinks.

“I just ordered my coffee and it’s already cold,” Jack grumbled, taking a small sip from the large white mug in his hands.

Outside the snow was falling steadily, covering the city with another soon-to-be-tarnished white blanket. The red brick tenements that towered around the small café looked almost picturesque—if not for the frozen filth hanging from the iron staircases and the vagrants huddled together in the trash-filled crevices between the buildings. Carriage wheels and countless footsteps mashed the snowflakes into a sea of slush outside, flooding the dirty streets of the Lower East Side with a fresh layer of grime.

Awash in the gray light from the window, Mae and Martin shared a knowing glance, before he raised a thick eyebrow. “It’s cold because you haven’t shut up since we walked in.”

“I wouldn’t have to talk so much if you’d contribute to the conversation instead of making eyes at the waitress.” Jack retorted, before lowering his voice. “We need to figure out how we’re going to break into Captain Marlow’s house.”

“You need to figure that out, not me. I’m just here for the scenery.”

Grinning from ear-to-ear, Martin’s dark gaze returned to the voluptuous brunette who, with balance of a tightrope walker, skillfully weaved her way through the tables despite the trays of dishes and heavy mugs in either hand. In Martin’s defense she had sent more than a couple lingering glances his way. Most of the ladies who catch his eye do.

“We don’t know where he lives,” Mae pointed out, dabbing her lips with a handkerchief having finished her hot cocoa. Maybe he was talking too much. “Isn’t that, you know, the first rule of breaking and entering?”

Jack grimaced, letting the sounds of chairs strapping the floor and chatter sweep over him. The location of the Marlow residence was something Jack had neglected, but he refused to admit it. “No, that’s the second. The first is figuring out when to do it.” His hands were fidgeting and he slipped them under his thighs. “I’m thinking Friday. I overheard him bragging about how he’s planning to take his wife to Delmonico’s.”

Martin snorted. “Since when can he afford Del’s?”

“Marlow’s magically come into some money recently.”

“You’d think he’d want to be more careful about flashing his money about,” Mae said dryly, as she searched through her bag, pulling out the latest from Henry James. Jack made a mental note to borrow the book from her later.

“You’ve mistaken Marlow for a man of intelligence,” Jack grinned.

Mae suddenly gasped. Both Jack and Martin sat up alert until they noticed what, or rather who, she was gawking at. Officer Theo O’Brera was strolling up the street, nodding cordially at passersby while surveying the area. Given his rosy nose and cheeks, he was likely several hours into his sixteen-hour shift. His face lit up upon spotting the trio through the window. Mae hurriedly smoothed the sleek black strands that had escaped her bun behind her ears. Jack vacated the seat by her and sat by Martin instead, who stared openly at the pair.

“You’re both ridiculous.”

Mae ignored Martin and plucked some stray gray cat hairs off her pale green dress. “Jack, did you pick this café and the window seats because you knew Officer O’Brera was on the beat?”

A long pause followed. “Maybe.”

“Jack!”

Another gust of cool air accompanied Theo as the door swung open. Several people eyed him wearily; a few pulled up their collars while others shoved their card games aside. Theo paid them all little heed, instead tipping his cap to his friends. “Good afternoon to you all. Surprised to see you out and about. Keeping warm?”

“Trying to,” Jack replied as Theo unraveled the blue scarf Mae knit him for Christmas. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”

Theo gave him a hard look. Was he going to scold Jack for attempting to lure him from his duties again? The young patrolman acted as though crime would escalate the moment he turned his back on the miscreants lurking in the darker corners.

“Trying and failing.” Theo plopped his own coat on Jack’s shoulders. “You might want to save for a new one, mate. Spring is more than a fair while away.”

Rather than explain how every time he saved up some money it seemed that rent was due, Jack mumbled a quiet thank you. He wrapped the gray wool tightly around him, simultaneously relishing the warmth and attempting to cover his burning cheeks.

“How has your shift been so far?” Mae asked, flashing a smile. Martin rolled his eyes.

“Boring,” he laughed, sitting next to her. “I guess criminals took the day off. Can’t say I blame ‘em. Mostly I’ve just been informing the outdoor poor of better places to stay warm.”

While Mae and Theo discussed the plight of the less fortunate, Jack and Martin eyed one another. Undoubtedly his friend was also thinking about the times patrolmen greeted them with nightsticks, not words, to clear them and other huddled street urchins from their hideouts.

Martin’s lips twisted into a devilish smirk. “When your shift is over you should warm up at Mae’s.”

Mae’s pointy boot swiped Jack’s leg as she delivered a swift kick to Martin’s shin. He gripped the table suddenly, clamping down on his lips and smothering whatever curse words threatened to slip past. While Theo explained how his shift would end too late for that, the two glared daggers at one another. Jack sank further into the coat, knowing his whole face had gone red from repressed laughter.

“Has Captain Marlow ever invited you over to his house?” Martin asked through grit teeth.

Theo gave a nod. “He had a fair number of the lads over for dinner party back in the fall. Why?”

Jack’s back snapped up as though someone had suddenly shoved an iron rod down his spine. “What’s his address?”

Theo’s gray eyes narrowed. “What deviltry are you three up to now?”

A large gulp of cold coffee did a poor job at smothering Jack’s nervous laughter. Although normally included in his investigations, Jack had kept Theo in the dark as he and Marlow both worked out of the Seventh Precinct Station. The possibility of a speck of loyalty between the colleagues left Jack hesitant to reveal his determination to bring down the Captain.

Martin looked at his nails. “He suspects Captain Marlow is involved in an illicit liquor scam.”

“Just tell the whole world, won’t you?” Jack snapped.

Theo’s lips pursed under his thick red mustache. “Wouldn’t put it past him.” Jack’s eyes went wide, but Theo raised a hand. “Not saying the Captain is guilty. I’m just saying he’s the sort.”

“Jack has compiled a compelling trail of evidence,” Mae explained, swiping the notebook from Jack’s tattered coat to show Theo. “All he really needs now is to locate where the alcohol is being stored.”

“You gotta tell me his address.” Jack was unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. “His house would be the easiest place for him to store the boxes. Or at least some of it. If I’m right—and I am—I’ll bet you more officers are involved.” Jack grabbed Theo’s sleeve. “This could be big!”

Theo glanced down at Jack’s hand, then noticed Martin and Mae were staring at him eagerly. He gave a great sigh then began searching through his pockets, pulling out a pen and paper. “I’ll write it down for you.”

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