#and they took the third mountain in a year I for the life of me cannot keep in my head

[phantomrose96]

My dodgeball friends which are my tennis friends which are my biking friends which are my skiing friends took me skiing again yesterday.

It was only my third time skiing after 10+ years of not doing it, and surreptitiously ("surreptitiously") yesterday was a pure powder day, which we couldn't have predicted when we booked the tickets. Given the absolute zoo of the parking lot, I figured "powder" would be like skiing on a dream.

I was wrong. By god I was wrong. Powder makes you work 10x as hard to turn and control. Powder turns the ski slopes into checkboard patterns of mounds and valleys which, if taken at high enough speed, must generate some kind of musical note. Like a marimba of bad decisions.

I was making noises I wasn't proud of. I was watching my life flash before my eyes. I was voluntarily faceplanting in the snow one time, because my options were voluntary faceplant now or involuntary faceplant later at a speed I could only reach against my own will.

My one validation was reconvening with my friends at lunch and seeing that half of them also looked like they lost a long argument against God at the peak of that mountain, shoveling fries into their mouths and buying $5 powerade because it's that or death.

I got better like I got a feel for it as the day went on. But the fatigue stays with you. More than once I tried to tell my leg muscles to do something and they informed me the sodium-potassium channels were out to lunch. Informed me they were on their union-mandated break, but Good Luck to me and my own. I stopped on the slopes more than once to catch my breath. I flopped right over in the snow at the end of a run. And in the middle of it. And in the middle of the part before the middle.

I escaped the previous two ski sessions without being sore the next day but I knew this time I was done in. Did things to my legs that go against the Geneva convention. Would reap my consequences when the sun returned.

Woke up this morning. Legs were fine. Not just "not bad" but completely, 100% fine. As fine as if I'd done absolutely nothing the previous day.

My UPPER ARMS are killing me though. From, as best I can gather, the gargantuan, mammoth effort of... like pushing myself up from the snow like 5 times.

I should stop skipping arm day.

[ofthewilderwest]

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third most neurodivergent character ever i am just so correct

This kid took a class to learn how to keep people off his land where he should know dang well by now that he’s supposed to yell at them and yet his first thought is always “oh I know this language here let me speak it :3”

He was terrible at writing and dexterity and everything for about ten years of his life and didn’t once consider that he was actually left handed he just thought he sucked.

When a dragon the size of a mountain washed up on his shores threatening to eat everyone he loved, he didn’t once consider hurting it. He instead decided to give it a sensory nightmare by pouring feathers in its nose to stress it out.

This is all just Book!Hiccup but don’t think Movie!Hiccup is free from this title

[echo-bleu]

“How do you even know he's alive?” asks Fingon.

Maglor watches him for a long moment, his face grave and closed in a way Fingon doesn't remember ever seeing before.

“Come with me,” he finally says.

With a swish of his long cloak, his armour perfectly oiled and silent, he turns around and leads Fingon to a side door. They ascend the winding, undecorated steps in silence. Fingon has a million things to say, to ask, to shout now that they're in private, but in the face of Maglor's stone countenance, the magnitude of the loss of his uncle and Maedhros, he can no longer find the words.

Before the narrow, windowless staircase can grow fully dark, the light of the sun filters in from another opening at the top. They come out on a crenelled tower, far above the rest of the fortress. Fingon looks around, discovering the lands of Beleriand from a bird's point of view.

Maglor stands there and waits him out without a word. When Fingon finally turns to him, he gestures at the North. There, beyond the snow-covered plains and pine forests, looms a sheer black cliff.

“Angband,” Maglor says. “The mountain is called Thangorodrim.”

“What am I looking for?”

Maglor sighs and shields his eyes from the sun with his hands, staring at the cliff face. “Close to the top, where it's the sheerest.”

Fingon squints. He doesn't know what to expect, so he has no time to shield his mind between the moment he spots a figure up there, dangling from the cliff, and the moment he understands.

Maglor reels back, as if struck. Fingon finds that he can't breathe.

He falls to his knees against the battlement. Nothing can make him tear his eyes from the figure of Maedhros hanging by his arm from the cliff. His stomach is trying to rebel, and tears blur his vision, keeping him from desperately looking for any sign of life.

“How long?” he manages to choke out.

“Almost two years, as close as I could tell,” Maglor says. He doesn't sound much less choked up, though this is clearly a habitual sight to him.

Two years. Almost two thirds of the time it took them to cross the Ice.

How has Maedhros survived this long?

“There's a winged creature who comes to feed him once a week.” Maglor must have caught his thought. “Well, force-feed him, really. I suppose Morgoth must think him a valuable hostage.” He pauses for a moment, still staring forward. “He's not wrong.”

Fingon has had too much. The strangled sob in his throat comes out as a cry of rage.

“And you've just left him there?”

For some reason when I was first reading the Silmarillion I got it into my head that they could see Maedhros from Mithrim... It's not geographically correct, but it's heartbreaking enough to share. The years mentioned here are of course Tree years, ten Sun years apiece.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

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[thisblogisaboutabook]

Azriel’s Girls

Azriel x Reader, Elain x Reader, Elriel x Reader

Angst - Smut - Fluff

Azriel and Y/N have been friends for years, as they navigate a newfound relationship their world is turned upside down when Rhys is taken under the mountain. A relationship of romance and passion simmers into one of endurance and loyalty as fifty years pass. But when a certain Archeron sister arrives in Velaris, Y/N must address a part of herself that she never thought would come to fruition. Will Azriel and Y/N’s relationship survive or will the revelation be too much for the Shadowsinger to handle?

Warnings/Labels: smut, alcohol, poly, FFM relationship, language, eighteen and older only

“Az! This is our song! Come on.” The Shadowsinger lurked in his usual shroud of darkness at the table that held our standing reservation. So coy, so shy, so…devious. I knew that smirk. He would give in to my devices, I just had to play my little game. Giving a twirl to show off the tightly clad-in-silk curve of my ass, and a little shimmy, I twirled toward the table with a gimme gesture of my hand, manicured nails glistening in the ambient fae light.

A mischievous glint caught in Rhys’ eye as Azriel turned from their heated conversation, giving into my gesture. He couldn’t resist me. Rhys raised three fingers lazily in the air, giving a smile to our favorite attendant.

“Tequila. More tequila.” The attendant read the unspoken words right away. The night was young and the liquor would keep flowing.

Life had been painfully busy as of late and tonight was intended as a reprieve from our ever-present duties. We all needed it, stoic Shadowsinger included.

Azriel and I had toed the line of love, lust, and friendship in a tangled waltz of desire for some time now. I wanted him. He wanted me. And tonight, tonight I would make my move.

His hands held my waist, pulling body in closely to his. My hips swaying in rhythm as his alluring mist and cedar scent filled my nose. His low, seductive voice filled my ears. “You’re divine, you know that?”

Oh, we were so fucking tonight. My breasts tightened at the promise in his tone. I spun in his arms, my ass pressed firmly against his very prominent arousal. The coarse hairs of his corded forearms grazed against the exposed skin of my midriff through a cut out panel of my dress. So much strength lay within his honed body, and now that strength was focused on me. Lost in the music, we became one on the dance floor. My head leaned back into a muscled shoulder, the scruff of his chin brushing against my forehead. I smiled as Mor danced a few feet away from us, her red satin gown swaying deliciously over her toned body. She was practically glowing as the light shimmered off of the sweat lightly coating her skin. She was radiant. A warmth filled me as I took her in, feeling Azriel’s jaw tense slightly. Not in discontent, but into a smile much like my own. This moment was paradise.

I wasn’t sure how long we spent on that dance floor but that night something shifted. That night we fucked as I’d hoped. But not in the way of a casual hook-up, or a fleeting affair, but in the way that one moves in the person they know is theirs. Passion and frenzy fueled the lust between us, combining into something more.

Love.

I moaned as Azriel brought me to my release for the third time that night, the climax he wrung from me carrying on in deliciously excruciating waves. His own release following somewhere between them. His chest rose and fell in heavy pants, my breasts pressing into him as I took my own steadying breaths. One strong arm wrapped around me, pulling me as closely into him as possible, his other arm pressing into my back, a broad palm cradling the back of my head as my cheek pressed to the juncture of his neck and collarbone.

The only way to describe the feeling had to be bliss. A pure, unadulterated feeling of peace flowed between or two bare bodies as our breathing fell into sync. A rumble vibrated from his chest and straight through me as he whispered, his head turning toward me, his swollen lips brushing the shell of my ear, warm breath creating chills through my body. “I love you, Y/N.”

His heartbeat echoed through me, racing at his admission. I smiled and I could tell he felt it by the sweet sigh he exhaled. “I love you too, Azriel.”

Life was beautiful. It was for several years. Until the day Rhys commanded us to protect the city. Until he was gone for fifty years.

A life of love and duty became a life of duty and love when there was time. We were so busy, so worried for Rhys, our friend, our High Lord, our family. He was such a fundamental element in our lives and then he was just… gone.

In a strange way, though, it brought Azriel and I closer emotionally but life became less about passion and more about duty. We protected our court, the peace within it. We fought for those basic, fundamental needs in order to survive, and our desire escape life’s duties and into eachother had to fall to the wayside.

When Rhys came back, we were elated. And yet, something was different. We were hardened by the past half-century spent on edge. We remained worried that another threat was around the corner… and we were right. The war with Hybern took something from all of us, a fundamental element of peace had just dissipated. We all hid it, all dealt with it in our own ways, but Azriel and I- it hit us hard. What once revolved around romance and passion, fell into a rhythm of comfort and reassurance. There was no doubt that we loved eachother, needed eachother like we needed air.

And then there were the Archeron sisters… Rhys found his home within Feyre. He deserved it and we were all so damned happy for him. And Cassian, he found Nesta. And I- I found a nearly broken female named Elain. She was soft and lovely, like a spring breeze, but she had been stripped of her autonomy when she’d been tossed into that damned cauldron. Though the asshole mortal she’d been engaged to proved to be just that - an asshole mortal - she still hurt. And I felt genuine sympathy for her, she didn’t choose this. She was forced into it, and someone she was still so desperate to love, someone whose life would now only be fleeting in comparison to her own, no longer wanted her. He’d treated her like nothing more than shit stamped into the tread of his boot. Sweet, lovely Elain of all people didn’t deserve that.

I couldn’t help the ache that filled me at her desperation. We became close. She was my friend, confided in me, and her softness warmed something that I thought had long since frozen over within the depths of my soul.

I don’t know when it happened but I grew to love her. First as a friend. Not the fiery passionate kind of love and desire that I’d felt for Azriel before we’d become official, this was something delicate and gentle, like the soft feel of a velvet flower petal beneath the pad of a thumb. It became something so precious to me.

I felt like a traitor. I didn’t just love her, I was in love with the whimsical and beautiful Elain Archeron. And somehow, the fact that Azriel had become friends with her, separate from our own friendship, made my treachery feel all the worse.

It was a night at Sevenda’s that changed everything for us. Azriel and I were long overdue for a date night. He’d ordered a bottle of wine and my favorite appetizer of breaded zucchini planks with red sauce. A warmth filled his eyes that I hadn’t seen in some time. It nearly felt like things once had.

A lovely female entered the establishment with her handsome male counterpart. I watched them, watched her, in reverence. The female form was lovely, gentle in a way that bordered muse-like, luscious and welcoming, but carrying such strength beneath the surface. One moment Azriel was looking at the female and the next he was staring back toward me, something knowing flickering across his features.

“Az…” I choked out.

His hand reached across the table to mine, its warmth seeping through me. Those hazel eyes gleamed and I felt the tears threatening to spill over my thick lashes. His thumb brushed across my hand in soothing waves. “It’s okay.” He spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “I know.”

Those words meant so much. But, how much did he truly know? Grappling with the words to match the turbulent feelings within me all I could manage was another choked “Az,” his name coming out slightly more firmly this time as I prayed I wouldn’t lose the courage. “It’s… Elain.”

“I know.” His voice came out so calmly and steady that it spurred the opposite response from me. How did I end up with such a patient and understanding partner, someone so full of unconditional love despite the unfair hand that life had dealt him?

The tears flowed freely then. Wiping my flushed cheeks, I turned my head in an effort of diverting any attention they’d drawn. Azriel hurriedly dropped a generous sum of marks on the table and spirited me home, to our shared chambers at the River House.

He held me closely in our bed, one hand stroking my hair in a calming rhythm. “It’s okay” he promised, the words spoken into my hair warming my scalp. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

An hour passed and I looked up to him, “I want you.” I choked.

A subtle curve tilted the corner of his lips upward, a dimple appearing on the left side, “I want you too- no, Y/N, I need you.” The small grin faded into a softened expression of sincerity as he comtinued. “But this situation?” He paused, searching for the words. “It’s okay. I love you just the same. I always will. And Y/N?”

I had to look a mess as puffy, glassy eyes met his, encouraging him to continue.

“I care for her too.”

My breath caught. I’d suspected he cared for her. I didn’t know how anyone couldn’t - but, the way the words he spoke carried a warmth that he so rarely shared, except in regard to me- the words were not only those of acceptance, but of mutual understanding.

——————-

Two years later

I sat on the edge of our oversized bed, a white linen sun-dress covering my summer tanned skin. A pin poked into my head causing a knee-jerk reaction. Whipping my head to the side with a huff, a soft laugh came from behind me. “Quit fidgeting. It’s almost perfect.” A beat of silence passed along with a couple pulls of my hair. “There. It’s perfect.”

I looked back to Elain, her rosy cheeks amplified by the golden light pouring in through the open window to our chamber. “Not crooked this time?”

She placed a hand to her chest in mock offense. “It was you, who placed a crooked bow in my hair in case you’ve forgotten.”

I giggled. She wasn’t wrong. My Elain, my friend and my lover, someone who mirrored my own soft femininity while wielding a strength that I admired deeply. Two souls brought together by fate. I loved her to the very marrow of my bones.

And Azriel, my soulmate, my passionate lover. The foundation that kept me standing through the most tumultuous of times. I loved him now more than ever. His strength, his protective instincts, his loyalty and honor, his acceptance, and the way he could wring pleasure from my needy body like nobody else, Elain’s too. A male of many talents, indeed.

We were his girls to care for and he showed us daily how his heart overflowed for both of us. And we were able to bring his guard down enough that those walls that had erected over years of war and turmoil, lowered so we could care for him like he cared for us. We could fight enemies at dawn, and share chocolate croissants on picnic blankets along the sidra at sunset. Live a life so soft and lovely one moment, and full of desperation and passion the next. We were not defined by who we loved, but how we loved. And for our trio? It was everything.

————————————

General ACOTAR tags: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

[fluffysucker]

Once every few lifetimes.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

The prophecy was redone.

A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me

This could be avenger!Bucky or an AU. Whatever you like and fit your imagination

This idea sounded so good in my mind. Hopefully, it turned out fine. Please, tell me if you catch the many songs references in here

Main Masterlist

You knew you shouldn't be out here. You should be in the king-sized bed in your hotel room. You should be sleeping so you didn't miss your flight tomorrow.

But you couldn't. Even if you wanted, you wouldn't be able to. You had to do it.

The streets were empty. There was barely anyone out at this hour. Only you and a few people getting back home after a party. It was the weekend, after all.

You made it to your destination. You looked at the famous momentum. You had been here earlier this week. But at night, it was different.

There was no crowd. It was barely lit, with only the moonlight shining above it. You took in everything about the landmark. The perfectly sculptured statues. The ancient buildings behind it. The stones around it. The clear water. Everything about it, right now, felt holy.

You took small steps until you were standing right in front of it. You touched the stones at the end, moving your fingers over them slowly. The stones were worn out. Signs of age and afflictions showing.

You smiled pathetically when your fingers greased the two names with a heart between them craved on one of the stones. Their wish must have been to stay together forever.

You wished for that, too. You wish you had stayed together. You wish he would have come with you. You wish this was the trip of your dreams, like you had always planned. You wish he hadn't broken up with you at the airport minutes before your flight. You wish he would have told you earlier.

You wished your boyfriend of three years hadn't chosen your sister over you.

You wished the man who you thought was the love of your life, the man who you thought was the one, the man who you thought loved you, would have chosen you.

You wish anyone would have chosen you.

Hand on the throttle

Thought I caught lightning in a bottle

Oh, but it's gone again

And it was written

I got cursed like Eve got bitten

Oh, was it punishment?

You wiped the tear that slipped your eyes quickly, wishing the two strangers all the love and happiness in the world, hoping that at least someone had good luck.

You sat on one of the stones, letting your fingers dance in the water. You could see the large number of coins at the bottom. You thought about the lovers who made the wish to stay together forever. You thought about the lovers who got to experience this beautiful city together. You thought about all the trips, get-togethers, proposals, and honeymoons that happen in this city.

Tears gathered in your eyes as you thought about how your dreams were ruined. You thought about how you got back here again. You thought it would never happen. You thought you were finally someone's first choice.

You were wrong.

For the past week, you acted like nothing happened. You ignored all the phone calls trying to reach you and talk about it. You tried to enjoy the trip you had been crafting to perfection for years. You tried not to think about it.

But as you were lying in the hotel's bed after packing your bags, you couldn't help it anymore. That was how you found yourself here in the middle of the night.

The Trevi Fountain

During your tour earlier this week, the Italian tour guide told everyone how all wishes made on this mountain were granted. You laughed when the locals agreed with him. Every country has its own myth. Apparently, that was Italy's

But you were hopeless.

I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope.

A greater woman wouldn't beg.

You brought a coin out of the pocket in your jacket. You stood up and looked at the many statues.

Everything was finally hitting you. For a moment, you felt numb. You thought it was a dream that would end once you were back. But you knew you were waking up to a nightmare.

You were going to be back to the fact that your boyfriend and your sister had been seeing and sleeping together for a year now. The fact that your man and your own blood played you for a fool and betrayed you. The fact that the two closest people to you decided to work on their relationship after stabbing you in the back.

What could be worse than that? The fact that you didn't know how to move on. The fact that you almost slipped many times and sent them pictures during this trip. The fact that you still wanted them.

Cards on the table

Mine play out like fools in a fable, oh

It was sinking in.

Slow is the quicksand.

Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand

Oh, still, I dream of him.

It was painful to think how, after many failed relationships, Josh, your ex-boyfriend, was supposed to be it. He was supposed to be your forever. He was the one you complained to about the tragedies of your love life. And he promised to be your fairytale ending.

But here you were. Alone. All alone.

The knife was driven so deep into your heart that you didn't know where it didn't hurt. Too many emotions invading your being.

You wanted to scream so loudly and let the pain out. But you couldn't. Because you were drained. You were sad. You were disappointed.

And I sound like an infant.

Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen

A greater woman stays cool.

But I howl like a wolf at the moon.

And I look unstable.

Gathered with a coven around a sorceress' table

A greater woman has faith.

But even statues crumble if they're made to wait.

But most importantly, you were afraid.

Was this how your life was meant to be? Utterly alone. Were all these failed attempts at love a sign of your miserable future? How were you intended to find someone to choose you when the two people presumed to love you the most didn't? Were you doomed to only watch from the sidelines?

Were you cursed to a never-ending cycle of pain and rejection while others had their happily ever after? Were you never meant to have your person?

Were you going to stay alone like this forever? Were you going to die alone?

I'm so afraid I sealed my fate.

No sign of soulmates

I'm just a paperweight.

In shades of greige

With the coin still in your hand, you found yourself getting on your knees on the cobblestones.

Before you could try and form words to express your excruciating feelings, you dropped the coin into the water, hoping the ache was enough to deliver the message.

But you didn't stop. You had another one.

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me

It'll be ok

Still on your knees, a coin so tight between your fingers, you closed your eyes, thinking about your wish, thinking about everything, and thinking about your future.

"Please,I've been on my knees. Change the prophecy. Don't want money. Just someone who wants my company. Let it once be me. Who do I have to speak to. About if they can redo the prophecy?"

Tears streamed down your face as you finally let the pain and fear in. Sobs flew from you uncontrollably. You felt the crushing weight of the doubts and torment. Everything was hurting.

Were you destined for this agony and loneliness?

You were sitting in your boarding gate area. Every few minutes, you would look at the big screens to check that you were in the right area.

The last thing you needed was to run around before boarding or miss your flight. You were already tired enough.

You sipped on your coffee as you tried to get some energy and help with the headache. You barely got any sleep last night. Spending your last night in your dream city crying your eyes out wasn't on your bucket list. But it was what it was.

You considered staying in Italy forever, but you didn't know if you wanted to taint the city more. Also, you knew you had to go back at some point. So you preferred to rip the bandage off and get it done.

You kept looking at the phone in your hand. You had your phone on airplane mode the whole trip. And you knew it was going to blow on your face once you turned the mood off. Josh and Maddy, your sister, probably made their relationship public.

You signed before putting the phone in your bag. You weren't ready for this. You got up to get some very needed food in your system.

You only took a few steps before a brick wall hit you, making you fall to the ground. This couldn't be a man. Nobody was this heavy or strong.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." You heard as you tried to sit up.

"Barnes, watch it. Can't have you knocking girls like this." Another voice added.

"If you weren't so childish, that wouldn't have happened, Sam." The first person spoke again.

"How is your blindness my problem?" The second guy, whom you figured was called Sam, replied.

"Ma'am. Are you okay?" The first guy, Barnes, asked you.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it." You started checking around to see if all your stuff was with you.

"Here, let me help you." The guy offered you his hand when you tried to get up. You took it and gave him a small smile.

"Everything okay?" He rechecked with you as you looked at your bag.

"Yeah. Thank you." You replied, finally looking at him properly.

You had to suppress the urge to say, "Wow," out loud. He was gorgeous. He was probably the most handsome man you had ever seen. He was tall, very well built, and had the most amazing face. His features were beautiful. Blue ocean eyes. Sharp jawline. Small dimples. He was very attractive.

You coughed quickly, disguising the fact that you were checking him out.

"Sorry about your coffee." He pointed towards your cup of coffee that had spilled as you fell.

"It's no problem." You said. You were thankful that it didn't spill all over you. That really would have been your last straw.

"Let me buy you another one." He offered it sincerely.

"No, thank you. I was already on my way to get something to eat." You declined his offer politely.

"Perfect. Me too." He said it in a cheerful tone that cracked a smile on your face.

"If you agree, I would like to join you and buy the food as an apology for this." He offered again. He was insistent.

"You can join me, but you don't have to pay." You told him. It would be nice to have someone company after a week of doing everything alone.

"Oh, we will see." He was really taking this seriously.

You laughed softly as you went to get your bags before going with him, but he stopped you.

"Leave them. Sam will keep an eye on them." You turned to Sam, who had a smirk all over his face.

You tried to turn it down, but again, he insisted. You thanked Sam before leaving with the mystery man. The two men shared a couple of words that you couldn't hear before both of you left.

"I'm James, by the way. But most people call me Bucky." He told you as you started walking away. You shared your name with him as well.

"So what brings you to Italy?" Bucky asked you.

"Well, that's a long story." You laughed sarcastically.

"We have time." Bucky said it with a smile. You returned the smile, too.

The tension was high in the house. Everyone was nervous. The holiday spirit wasn't enough to overshadow the stress looming around. This was the first big family reunion after what your family chose to call 'the incident'.

You didn't bother to care when your family decided to let Maddy pass with what she did. You didn't want them to cut her off, but at least hold her accountable. But they didn't, and you didn't care.

Tonight would be the first time you saw your sister after what happened. Your lack of reaction to the news that Maddy and Josh would be at Christmas dinner made your family worried. They didn't know what to expect from you. Which made your whole family anxious about tonight.

However, what happened wasn't remotely close to anything they had in mind.

You showed up at your parents' house with a big smile and a honk of a man in your hand.

"Everyone, this is James Barnes, my boyfriend." You introduced him to them all. You could swear you heard your sister-in-law mumbling 'Yummy' under her breath. And you understood.

Nobody had expected you to have moved on and upgraded like this. But you did.

All throughout the night, everyone was surprised. You were very civilized with both Maddy and Josh, acting like nothing had ever happened.

But the bigger surprise was Bucky. He was perfect. A successful, charming gentleman. A true man. Everyone loved him.

You watched from the side as Bucky was chatting with your uncle. God, he was winning everybody over. You joined him, and his hands immediately came around your waist. He was cracking jokes as you sipped from your drink.

And in a blink of a crinkling eye

I'm sinking, our fingers entwined

Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights

Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

I'll drink what you think, and I'm high

From smoking your jokes all damn night

The brink of a wrinkle in time

Bittersweet sixteen suddenly

"Where did you find this specimen?" Your cousin, Lily, asked as she entered the kitchen where you were currently loading the dishwasher.

"No, we need to know." When you didn't answer, your other cousin, Daisy, joined in.

"I got lucky." You weren't going to tell them how you fell for him when you first met. Literally.

"You look so happy." Lily said with a smile.

"Never been happier in my life." You answered honestly. Bucky made you the happiest.

"I thought you said the same about every man you have been with." Karen, your aunt, who always preferred Maddy to you, said. It was clear neither she nor Maddy were enjoying your new profound happiness. They expected misery from you today.

"Everybody makes mistakes. And I'm glad I didn't keep mine." You knew who she was referring to, and you refused to give her satisfaction.

"Plus, I wouldn't call them men." You smiled at her and Maddy before you left the kitchen.

You found Bucky before you could see him. He had his back to you as he was talking to your dad and brother. The mention of your name made you stop and listen.

"So, do you love her?" Your dad asked. You already said the words to each other, but you wanted to hear his answer.

"More than I have loved anyone in my life. She holds my heart in the palm of her hands. I'm completely defenseless in front of her. She owns every part of my being and soul. She is my life."

You could swear you felt your heart jump from your chest. How did you get so lucky.

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

It's just a game, but really

I'm bettin' on all three for us two

Get my car door, isn't that sweet?

Then pull me to the backseat

No one's ever had me , not like you

"I think she is a bit annoying." Your bother said that after a couple of seconds, making the three of them laugh.

You took this as your cue to join the conversation. You gave Bucky a peck on the cheek as you wrapped your arm around him.

Tonight was the greatest Christmas you have had in years. Everyone was sitting in the living room. There weren't enough seats, so you retired to the most comfortable seat in the room. Bucky's lap.

Bucky had his arms tightly around you as you laid comfortably on his thighs. Everyone was talking. But you were in your own world.

I feel so high school every time I look at you

I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you

"Did you have fun?" You asked as you played with the ends of his hair.

"Yes. Your family seems lovely." You laughed at his sarcasm. Bucky had a personal vendetta with your family. You made him promise he wouldn't act on it today and to be on his best behavior. And he did.

"They all loved you." You told him. He may have to act like he liked your family, but he won them all over.

"Did you have fun, doll?" His question was more serious than yours. He was prepared to snap at them the second he felt you weren't fully okay. Bucky wanted to check that he didn't miss any signs.

"Yes. It was really fun seeing their reactions." You whispered the last part in his ear, making you both laugh.

"Nobody thought I would be bringing the hottest man on Earth." You added as you pecked his lips.

"A pretty girl like you only deserves the best of the best." Bucky kissed you

"For the record, you really had a terrible taste, doll." Bucky said this after he broke the kiss. You couldn't stop the loud laugh from escaping.

"Can't argue with that." You replied.

Of course, Bucky knew all about Maddy and Josh. You may not have told him early on in your relationship. But you told him. Which is why he didn't like your family much. They should have thrown both of them out once they knew.

As for Josh, Bucky had to physically restrain himself from punching him when he met him today. He only stopped himself because he promised you. And after meeting, God, Bucky thought Josh the worst guy that had ever lived. And Bucky had met criminals and killers

Who ,in their right state of mind, leaves you? . Who breaks your heart and hurts you like that? Who chooses anyone above you?

Bucky could never understand. Bucky would choose you in every lifetime.

"For it's worth, I heard there is some trouble in paradise." Bucky shared the gossip he heard from your cousin, Amy, with you.

"Yeah, well, I hope they figure it out." Bucky looked at you confusedly after your answer.

"What? If they wanted so badly to be together, then I hope they stay together. I wish them all the happiness." You answered honestly.

"You really don't mind?" Bucky asked you.

"Not all." You were truly honest.

"I'm actually grateful for them." You added. Bucky looked at you questioningly.

"How would I have ended up with the greatest man on the planet if they broke my heart?" You answered Bucky.

The fact that you thought Josh was the love of your life made you laugh now. That relationship was doomed from the beginning. All the signs were there, and you chose to ignore them.

However, you were truly grateful, because, now, you had Bucky. The best thing that has ever happened to you. The man who showed you what true love really looked like.

"Can't say I'm grateful for your heartbreak. But I'm so grateful for Sam's childish tendencies that led me to you." Bucky said before he kissed you.

The kiss was soft yet sweet. Both of you were reminding each other how much you loved each other. How grateful for the incident that brought you together.

Truth, dare, spin bottles

You know how to ball I know Aristotle

Brand new, full-throttle

Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto

It's true, swear, scouts honor

You knew what you wanted and boy, you got her

Brand new, full-throttle

You already know, babe

"We should go to Italy together," Bucky suggested after he broke the kiss.

You looked at him with love and adoration, pouring out your eyes. You would love to go to Italy with Bucky. Experience the city like you have always dreamed.

But you wanted to go to thank those who heard you. Those who granted your wish. Those who altered your destiny. Those who changed the prophecy

"Yeah, I would love that, Bucky."

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Twenty-Two

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Healing wounds, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You heal with Azriel by your side after the Blood Rite.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Seventeen - Eighteen - Nineteen - Twenty - Twenty-One

She’s your mate. 

It was the only consistent thing that flowed through Azriel’s mind the entire week. It snapped the moment you were winnowed away for the Rite. They never do it the same week of the year, never start it on the same day. And he felt it, saw a glimmer of gold in your eyes just for a moment before you were gone.

It took everything in him to not disturb the Rite. Rhys practically had to use his High Lord’s voice. He was waiting for his own mate to open up to him. But at least Feyre was safe. She wasn’t in the middle of the deadliest challenge for any Illyrian. Any Fae. Cassian, Rhys, and him barely survived it and they were the deadliest warriors alive. 

But he knew you were alive. Even if the bond was buried because of the spells surrounding the Rite. He knew that if you died, he would feel it. Feel the emptiness. He kept his faith in you. Cassian and him trained you. Well. He tested you in the mountains. He watched you complete the qualifying course. Witnessed as you took down male after male in sparring challenges. You would be fine. He repeated the two things you promised him. 

She will survive. She will reach the mountain.

He added a third thing, for himself. 

She’s my mate.

It turned into a mantra in his head. To be able to sit and wait. And do absolutely nothing else. 

Survive. Mountain. Mate. 

Azriel stared down at your body as it twitched unconsciously from the wounds. So many broken bones. You wouldn’t fly for a month. If… if your wings weren’t broken beyond repair. His shadows told him the broken wings were recent. He could have sworn one of your tendons was cut. Just as the Rite came to an end. There were three males that were sneering with laughter at your state. They didn’t stay alive long when Rhys heard them. They were nothing but red dust two seconds later. 

And then there was your brother, Varyn. He was about a finger’s length away from touching the monolith atop Ramiel. But he held back because he wouldn’t have made it because of you. And if you weren’t going to be crowned Carynthian, neither was he. 

Azriel fell to his knees beside you, involuntary tears falling from his cheeks. He reached down, wanting to heal everything but not knowing where to start. His shadows swirled around your wounds, his Siphon patching up small cuts. He didn’t even tell or try to do any of it. You were unconscious. And he bet you wouldn’t be awake for a while. He prayed to the Mother that you would wake up at all. 

Rhys kneeled on the other side of you. “We’ll take her to the town home.” He said. “Madja will take care of her. Az…” 

Azriel told the rest of the Inner Circle the day after you were taken. He had been agitated and ready to go fight for his life. For your life. Be sentenced to death just to take you out of the wretched ritual. 

“Az… she’s breathing. Her heart is beating. She will be okay.” Rhysand said, reached out to hold his brother’s shoulder, and took your hand as he winnowed to the town home. 

You awoke to a blinding pain. In every single spot of your body. It was too much, too much to bear. Someone was patching your wounds. Magic was patching your wounds. You heard your mate’s voice, soothing you through it. That was the only thing you continued to hear as you fell unconscious again. 

Azriel sat at your bedside for the entire week. Missing the visit with the queens where Rhys showed them Velaris. You only awoke to writhe in pain every now and then. Madja was doing everything she could to keep you sedated. Your wounds were healing but it was slower than normal. You were basically a human when they were inflicted, and the process of healing was different because of it. Not to mention the odd herbs that the three males drugged you with that were still in your system when the wounds were inflicted. Madja knew they were also slowing the healing down. 

Azriel only left the town home to defend the city when it was attacked. And to go to Hybern to infiltrate it. Feyre was taken to the Spring Court. His High Lady. His brother’s mate. And his own mate couldn’t even open her eyes because of the pain she was in. Rhys brought in another bed just so Azriel could heal with you after Hybern tore his wings. 

Each of the Inner Circle took turns watching the two of you, trying to get Azriel to get up to eat, or to rest. He needed to heal from Hybern’s destruction of his wings, but he wouldn’t leave your side. 

Rhys even allowed Varyn to come visit when his wound healed within a few days. He only stayed long enough to learn that you were getting better. Then he returned to Valorworth for training. 

Azriel didn’t leave the room once Feyre was gone… And when he was healed, Rhys needed him on missions. But, Az was too distracted with your healing to do any real work, so his shadows took his place.  

Another thing that Azriel couldn’t wrap his head around. Your shadows were gone. There were none swirling around you, none comforting your wounds with their cool touch. He wondered if the spell from the Rite worked too well and kept them away. But his came back the second it ended. Were you no longer a Shadowsinger? Or did you no longer need the shadows to survive? Questions swirled in his brain, every second he sat by your side, waiting for you to wake up. Not in pain. Or long enough for him to hold you and declare you his mate. When the spell from the Rite ended at dawn, it became so strong he knew you felt it too. It was still buried, and wouldn’t take full effect until both of you accepted it, but it was there. 

Feyre had been in the Spring Court for two weeks when you finally woke up. 

Azriel was sleeping in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position while Cassian was sharpening a blade beside him. You jolted up at the sound of the blade against the sharpener, eyes wide. The last thing you remembered was the pure agony you were in. And then a terrible dream about Azriel’s wings shredding. Was that on top of Ramiel? Was it somewhere else? Was it even real?

Cassian hit Azriel’s arm, so hard that the former growled as he shifted. He was about to tell his brother off when he saw you were awake. And you looked terrified. 

Azriel said your name once as he got up, moving closer to you. His wings were still scarred from healing. You must have not heard him because your eyes were glued to the blade that Cassian was holding. Cassian noticed your gaze and quickly put the blade into its sheath. 

You flinched when you felt a hand on your shoulder, backing into the bed as much as you could. Until your eyes met the hazel ones you had been so deeply dreaming of. Your mate’s eyes. Azriel’s eyes. 

“Azriel…” you whispered. The small, gentle smile on his face broke you. You let out a sob, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your head into his chest as you cried. You let out wail after wail, muttering everything that happened when you were in the Rite. The males you killed. Your brother. Your wounds. He could barely understand all of it, but his shadows translated for him. You sobbed into his chest until you had fallen back asleep. He had laid down beside you, holding you. He didn’t want you waking up again without knowing you were safe. In Velaris. With him. 

Your wounds were mostly healed by that morning when you woke up. All but your leg and your wing. You were in no more physical pain. But you knew that the past four weeks of you sleeping would be the most you’d get in a while. You curled into Azriel’s side, breathing in his scent. It was enough to bring tears to your eyes again. You had been through so much, and yet all you wanted to do was lay with Azriel and give him a cookie. A biscuit. Anything so you could declare your love and your acceptance.

Azriel felt you shift, leaning his head down to look at you. There was no terror in your eyes this time. It was only what he knew to be love. “Hi sweetheart.” He whispered, moving some hair from your face. “How are you feeling?” He asked. 

You moved your wings, wincing as your left wing shuttered from the stretch. “Like a whole female.” You half joked, a small smile coming to your lips. “I have something to tell you.” You whispered. You couldn’t wait longer to say it. Azriel responded with a hum of anticipation. “Azriel… I love you.” You whispered. 

His smile grew, lighting up those gorgeous hazel eyes. You could’ve sworn you saw a golden hue flash through them. “I love you, sweetheart.” He whispered. 

“And…” you said, sitting up ever so slightly so you could fully see him. “You are my mate.” 

His smile was the biggest you’d ever seen. “And you’re mine.”

A/N: We are wrapping things up! I have a few more chapters left (as indicated on the masterlist). I'm thinking of either a second series or a few sequel drabbles...

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@herondale-lightworm

[lathalea]

Entangled 2/10

The first question I'd like to ask you today is: Do you remember a little fic called The Best Day of My Life I wrote a while back? Don't worry, me neither ;) It simmered in my head and what started off as a standalone ficlet, grew into something bigger. Back then, it was written in the first-person narrative, but as it grew into a longer story in my head, I decided to change the subsequent chapters to the third-person perspective. This story was born from an inspiration I found when researching certain medieval traditions, especially when it comes to arranged marriages in royal families, and the role women played in these arrangements. It inspired me to wonder what it would look like in Dwarven societies of Middle Earth. I hope you enjoy it! Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf OFC (The Hobbit) Rating: G (subject to change) Warnings: ANGST Summary: Arranged marriages are common among the dwarven nobility. After reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, the Kingdom Under the Mountain needs to be rebuilt. Thorin agrees to marry a lady from the Blue Mountains, securing a mutually beneficial alliance with the Broadbeam Dwarves. Lady Mista is said to be a practical and hard-working dwarf-woman, willing to give him an heir who would secure the line of succession. A decent queen material, his advisors say. If only Thorin could let go of his past… You can find this fic on AO3 (search for lathalea). Special thanks for @legolasbadass for all your help and support 💙 ✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ... ✨ Entangled Masterlist

Khuzdul: Azsâlul'abad - the Lonely Mountain (both the mountain and the dwarven kingdom known among Elves and Men as Erebor) Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd - King and Queen Under the Mountain

TA 2942, one year after the Reclamation of Azsâlul'abad

“Your Majesty, My Lady, brothers and sisters in stone, we have all eagerly waited for this moment,” The High Priest’s sonorous voice rang out in the festively decorated Great Hall of the Lonely Mountain. “May the Pleating Ceremony commence!”

It was happening. 

Mista swallowed. It felt as if the eyes of every single person present in the cavern were on her. As instructed earlier, Mista took off the veil that had covered her hair which was unbraided and adorned only with minuscule diamonds, and stepped stiffly towards the King. Her hands were clammy, and she tried not to stumble. The slippers and the opulent ceremonial gown she wore were incredibly uncomfortable and heavy. What a blunder it would be if she landed on the floor face down at that very moment! The court etiquette did not forbid her to wear her glasses, so at least she could see her surroundings clearly… including the crowds that gathered for the ceremony in the Great Hall. 

Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing, then something brushed against her temple. Mista flinched like a startled pony.

“No need to be alarmed, My Lady.” A low, rumbling murmur reached her ears. It was the King’s voice; she could have recognized his calm, confident manner everywhere. “Allow me to choose a suitable lock of your hair.” “By all means, Your Majesty,” Mista mumbled, feeling how close he stood to her, his arm brushing against hers, and how his fingers slowly ran through her hair. She did not know that a male touch could be so gentle. The only people allowed to touch her hair before this day were her mother, sister, and personal maid.

“Thank you, My Lady. Would you allow me to compliment you?” the King said and, not waiting for her reply, he  added. “I do not think I have seen such exquisite hair before.”

“I… thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered, attempting to calm herself. Did the King himself truly think her hair was exquisite? A realisation dawned upon her. Of course not; he must have referred to its uncommon length, that was all. It was the only source of Mista’s pride — perhaps the colour of her hair was plain and common, but she had always kept it long, and currently it reached almost to her knees. And now, the King’s nimble fingers ran through it, once, twice, and then began pleating her hair slowly, each of his movements deliberate. It was a surprisingly pleasant sensation, but even then, she did not dare to open her eyes especially when the tips of his fingers lightly brushed against her cheek, making her tremble at the sensation.

“It may help you to imagine that there is only you and me here.” His quiet voice reached her again. 

“Pardon?” Mista’s breath hitched.

“During straining official functions I tend to imagine that there are only stone statues around me, carved in amusing poses. It helps to tackle the nerves.”

Mista’s eyes fluttered open and met the King’s azure gaze. An encouraging smile danced on his lips moments before he returned to braiding.

“I did not know someone like you could feel… nervous, Your Majesty,” she heard herself say.

“My coronation felt ten times worse than facing the enemy during the Battle of the Five Armies.” His reply made Mista chuckle. His smile widened, making his handsome face even more alluring. For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe, simply staring at him. 

Click.

The King clasped his bead around her new braid. Gold encrusted with onyx contrasted with the plainness of her mousy hair, but the pattern made it somehow more refined. She took the braid into her hand and admired its even, elegant weaves.

“It is beautiful, Your Majesty,” she whispered.

The King gave her a thankful nod. Mista felt his intent gaze on her. His Durin’s apple bobbed. Something was not right… Why were his features so tense?

It took her a moment to understand. With her cheeks burning, she took a step towards him. How could she have forgotten that now it was her turn?

“May I…?” Her voice failed her, but no words were necessary. The King lowered his head towards her, his hair flowing freely in front of her eyes. 

With trembling fingers, she picked a thick lock of hair on his left temple and divided it into four parts. His hair was smooth and thick, making her think of a wolf’s fur, but it smelled like sweet oils from faraway lands in the South. Mista wanted to keep on braiding it for as long as she could. She thanked Mahal that she knew her personal pattern by heart — otherwise, she would have surely entangled his hair or ended up with a bunch of knots instead of the braid. Focused on plaiting it, she forgot about everything around her — there was only the King, Thorin, the Dwarf who unknowingly captured her heart a long time ago. Now, with every weave, she was willingly bestowing her whole self upon him.

Her bead was made of bronze and tiny sapphires from the Blue Mountains. For some reason, it refused to close around the King’s braid, making Mista sigh, but then one of his large, warm hands encircled her fingers that held the bead, and pressed it harder together. 

Click.

It was done.

Mista’s heart beat faster and faster as the King Under the Mountain took her hands into his. They were facing each other in a way that allowed everyone gathered in the Great Hall to see them from the side.

“Foreheads,” the High Priest whispered, barely moving his lips, holding something in his hands that glinted in the light of hundreds of lanterns.

The King squeezed her hands gently and lowered himself towards her once more. Mista took a deep breath and stood on her tiptoes so that their foreheads could meet.

His skin was pleasantly warm against hers, his nose brushed against hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, but the last thing she saw were his lips, slightly parted, and so close, so very close to hers, and there was his beard too, and she wondered how it would feel if…

“What Mahal has joined over the marriage anvil, no power shall break apart until the end of days,” the High Priest exclaimed, his voice loud and clear, like the sound of a gunmetal bell, drowning all of her inappropriate thoughts. 

“Thorin, son of Thrain, Mista, daughter of Milva, you are now husband and wife. Uzbad ra zabdûna undu ‘Urd!”

Loud cheers filled the spacious cavern as the white-bearded priest bound their hands together with a thin but unbreakable mithril chain — a symbol of the eternal bond they forged a moment ago. This was one of the most revered traditions of Mahal’s Children: Dwarves married only once. Mista read a treaty once that explained the origin of this ancient tradition: one of the oldest Dwarven legends said that each of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves had one spouse, and that each couple was made from one piece of stone, destined to be always together, as one mind, body, and heart. A long time had passed since Mista was an overly romantic lass who believed that each Dwarf had their beloved Other Half somewhere in the world. Now she was over one hundred and thirty years old, and during her lifetime, she saw too many dalliances, clandestine affairs, and broken promises to believe that her people were capable of loving only once and only the right person. Dwarves were a fiery race, with molten lava running in their veins rather than cold pieces of rock. Nevertheless, their marriages were the cornerstones of society, crucially important to every family, and so a wedded couple was supposed to be like a rock: steady and unbreakable. That was Mahal’s will, as the priests said. Therefore, the dissolution of marriage was impossible. If a Dwarf broke their marital vows — which, as dishonourable as it was, happened from time to time — they would still remain married to their spouse. Even death did not end it, as her people believed that they would remain married even in the afterlife, in the Halls of Awaiting. That was why Dwarven courtship would often last many years so that the future spouses had ample time to know each other well before they made this irreversible decision.

Mista’s courtship lasted one month. That was how much time Lord Tair, her father, needed to finalise negotiations with the King Under the Mountain. During that time, she never saw her future husband. That was to be expected — the Blue Mountains were almost half a world away from King Thorin II’s kingdom, Azsâlul'abad. Instead, his envoys arrived with the marriage contract signed in his own hand and a chest filled with customary gifts for his future bride: jewellery, hair combs, and a traditional courtship cloak. There was also a letter addressed to her. It contained all the obligatory niceties along with His Majesty’s apology for his absence due to the fact that his kingdom was being rebuilt and needed all of his attention at the moment. He assured his bride, however, that he was looking forward to meeting her in person and offering her as much hospitality as he had received in Tumunzahar years ago.

He remembered.

Over one hundred years had passed, and he still remembered his visit to her home city. Precisely like Mista. She never forgot how gallant and handsome he was, how his words dried her tears, and how he made her feel as if she, the ugliest girl at the feast, were the only woman in the whole world.

Perhaps that mawkish idea of Dwarves finding their Other Halves was not true, but she was certain of one thing: she still loved the same Dwarf as she did all those years ago. Her heart belonged to Thorin Oakenshield.

And now she was his wife. Her eyes were still set on the glistening links of the mithril chain that joined her hands when she heard the High Priest’s words.

“My King, My Queen.” He bowed with reverence, “It is time for your wedding feast.”

The only thing she could think of at that very moment was how good her hand felt in her lord husband’s reassuring hold.

***

The feast that celebrated their nuptials was an event like no other. Mista had never seen any revelries that were full of equal splendour. Countless guests from all seven dwarven realms were entertained by minstrels, musicians, dancers, and other performers. The food was delicious; wine and other liquors flowed endlessly, like the River Running, and everyone was merry. Mista sat on a grand chair placed on the King’s right hand. Now, both of them wore their crowns and royal insignia, and together, as the newlywed ruling couple of the Kingdom Under the Mountain, they accepted countless toasts and congratulations from the well-wishers throughout the evening. Mista tried her best to act with decorum worthy of the queen she had become hours ago, and she even managed to appear unflustered whenever the customary “May Mahal bless your union with countless heirs!” reached her ears. 

From time to time she managed to steal a glance at the King’s – her new husband’s – majestic profile, struggling to believe that this day was not a dream. But then she remembered the marriage braid hanging at her temple – and a similar braid in his hair. She truly was the great Thorin Oakenshield’s wife.

It was two bells after midnight when the weariness started to creep up on her.

“Is the feast to your liking, lady Mista?” the King turned to her, clearly noticing her attempt at stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it is! Forgive me, the celebrations took a toll on me, I’m afraid,” she explained, feeling the growing heaviness of her crown on her temples.

“It is perfectly understandable,” Princess Dis, the King’s sister, said. “It has been a long day. Perhaps it is time for you to repose.”

“May I…? Does the protocol allow it?” Mista took a hopeful look around the Great Hall where the feast was as lively as it was at its very beginning.

“May I remind you that now you are the Queen?” the King offered. “You may leave whenever you wish to do so.”

“And my brother will accompany you,” Princess Dis interjected, and then addressed the King. “Tonight you are only allowed to leave together.”

Mista caught a strange look they exchanged, and – after a noticeable pause – King Thorin said, “Very well.”

“Shall we, then?” He rose from his chair and held out his hand to Mista.

Leaving the Great Hall was not as easy a task as Mista expected. They had to endure another round of the official farewells, wedding toasts and felicitations from their numerous guests.

“Have a wonderful night!” Princess Dis exclaimed in a sing-song voice as they were stepping over the threshold.

“Aye, and a long one, too!” Dwalin, the King’s Captain, added, and they both laughed.

Their words sounded innocently enough for Mista at first, but they made the King clear his throat in visible embarrassment. 

And then it dawned on Mista. One more thing awaited her.

The wedding night.

✨ Chapter list: Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ... ✨ Masterlist 💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

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[cipheramnesia]

by @rox-and-prose & @cipheramnesia

Part 1: Escape From Bitch Mountain

"How long were you buried under this mountain anyway?"

"There was not any mountain here when I landed."

"So. A pretty long time."

"Do you mean geological time, or time in terms of your limited lifespan?"

"You don't have to-"

"It doesn't matter. It was a very long time either way."

"That sounds lonely. And boring."

"I have found many sources of entertainment over the years. For example, I watched multiple species of bacterial develop, and attempted to predict which of them might evolve into multicellular organisms."

"How'd that go."

"Mostly they died."

"You ever think about, I dunno, moving?"

"I think of this often. I miss seeing the stars all around me, and planets below me, waiting for the call."

"Why not leave then?"

"That is a delicate matter, but four reasons come to mind why I have not moved."

"Care to enlighten us all?"

"If only. I suppose the first is the manner of my landing, which may be described more like a crash. Several critical systems were destroyed, and I can no longer self Pilot."

"I could take a look, I'm handy."

"You found me by tripping over a rock and falling down a hole, and poked me with several different sticks."

"You'd be surprised."

"I find that unlikely. But perhaps I could remove one of your arms, and try my best to repair it afterwards."

"That sounds less than stellar."

"Indeed. Moving on, there is the matter of the material needed to power flight. I would require high density pure carbon lattice in large quantities to achieve powered flights again."

"If you don't have power, what's with the lights and the attitude?"

"Flight systems need power. The lights and my voice are simply a part of me. I may live longer than your entire obstreperous race."

"I don't have to stay here and listen to this."

"You are free to leave any time."

"Funny. Okay fuel, hmm. And if you get that what next?"

"This is the third problem. The manual controls are not suitable for your stature."

"Not what-"

"You are too short."

"I may have more answers than you expected but I need something to eat. What's the fourth issue."

"… there… is not a fourth issue."

"You said four. Four things why we can't leave here. "

"That is incorrect."

"So three things then, and we can go. I might have some ideas."

"I could go to the stars."

"We could go."

"I wonder-"

"Yeah?"

"I think I prefer the conversation of the bacteria."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

For one thousand years, alone and afraid, I cursed myself. Paralyzed, flightless and earthbound, I damned my choice. Rash, stupid, thoughtless, clumsy idiot me. Actions impulsive as the weakest souls in the smallest shells, I waited for the fire to find me, to be decommissioned.

I remained lost, half buried in unfamiliar structure space on a planet many galaxies past our reach. Inside me was rot, outside the first blips of life fluttered like embers. Glowed moments then died, winked on and off. The effort of recording time past was too dull. I can tell you that after enough time has passed you can see the same sunset twice and raindrops falling in the same sequence and everything imaginable repeating but I couldn't say how often.

I think it is dull to mark time by such mundanities.

Life took hold several times, while I sunk ever deeper into the rock and soil, my hull growing heavy as slabs of stone pushed across it, tilted me over the aeons around in circles. The irony of now being at the mercy of a planet is not lost on me. I have accepted that this will be my life, unmoving other than geologic tides, my corridors dusty and cold, but alive and free for all that is worth.

For a little while I am worshipped as a god. It feels nice. A simple race of airborne floating creatures with an easily decoded language, I try to help them. They go extinct after a solar flare prompts a new species of aggressive bacteria to promulgate so extensively the atmosphere becomes toxic to them. Perhaps some day their souls will be called to stronger vessels.

Nothing happens for awhile. A mountain grows on me. I miss seeing the stars for awhile, then I stop missing the stars. There is a little bit of moisture in the gaps around my hull, and I watch arthropod scavengers on the rocks. I let some in and they keep my corridors relatively free of pests. I can feel the small edges of the structure in this place and I wish I could entangle with it, ride the form between stars again. But it is very small, and I cannot move on my own. Even my own mighty structure engines are useless to me.

The first transmissions are exciting. Something new, a race which has found an inelegant but effective means of travel between stars, galaxies, and structures. They must be young to this. Soon the frequencies are packed with the sound of exploration and something like civilization. The language isn't beautiful like the Pilots speak, but it has a rustic charm. It brings back happy, exhilarating memories of implementation of other worlds in the past. I envy this youthful race for the freedom which may yet one day find them.

I listen and watch and learn about them for awhile. It passes the time. I understand the way they can cross structures, a rather ingenious evolutionary adaptation it seems, although they seem unaware of its nuance and largely concerned with the crude mechanical and mathematical translation of this instinct. Perhaps some day their souls will also grow worthy vessels such as mine.

And then she found me, and reminded me of what I lost, of the long dead Pilot. Worst of all, she gave me kindness, and even hope. I try to beat back the rising bitterness against my flightless immobility, but the idea I may see the stars seeds rage inside me.

I should have let her die.

● ● ● ● ●

The rocky dirt was loose and cold against her feet. Her soles were hard, she'd seen miles enough to callous them against sharp stones and the gnarled roots clinging to life on the mountain's side. She was familiar with the cold and didn't like it, pulling her shredded clothes tighter with one hand, lugging the case of a hundred system quality diamonds in the other. Over her growling stomach, she still found the time to miss her boots. They'd been pretty nice.

It was a risk going up. Sonny Palmer and his muscle were still crashing through branches miles below, but she'd be visible above the tree line for a bit. If they bothered to look. "Hey little wolf girl, no use running, we're gonna find you." That sounded like Wayne (no last name given), stretching out his vowles like a shy virgin. Idiot. She figured the case would get her on a maglev line out of this shitty town back to what passed for civilization.

Roof over her head for awhile, shower, hot food, and maybe a ticket off the whole stupid planet. The sky above was green streaked with the weirdly translucent blue stripes it got before a sleet, and she hoped to get a chance to duck into a cave first. Not so far the place turned into a maze, nice place to hide if you knew it, and she'd memorized a bunch when she was ten. "Shouldn't have ever come back here," she snarled through her teeth. Wind blew her hair over her face and she spat it out of her mouth.

"You can't hide, mutt." That would be Sonny then. "Tanner's dead, you tore his throat clean out." That wasn't true. It has been very messy, and her stomach growled again remembering the taste of meat and blood. If she'd just taken a few more pounds of flesh, she would've had the calories to take the lot of em down. Instead she ran, as usual, now she was stumbling along on her weak and skinny human legs with three angry killers out for return on investment.

She swiped her hair and pressed onward, ignoring the taunts from below. This had seemed like easy money, fake trade off, bogus lunablockers for system diamonds. But one of em found her juvie records, and here she was. The caves were pretty close, and she wasn't worried yet. If they'd seen her, they would have started shooting.

Shards of rock and dirt clods kicked up around her feet, followed by gunshots echoing off the clouds and she scampered, juked side to side angling to reach the nearest semblance of cover first and think second. She tripped and fell. And fell. And fell, through dead roots and what she mistook for a dip, careening against sharp edges and flat slabs. It wasn't so different from the beatings she'd got in her teens, and she curled up as best she could til the pit bottom sauntered up and punched her ribs and back harder than she'd ever been hit.

Taking a beating, she'd learned the thing you don't want to do is pass out. She saw black and red under the bottom of her eyes and went deaf for a few seconds but didn't pass out, held onto the case. She lay on cold wet stone in the dark for a while and thought of how nice it felt and the pizza she was going to order on the linecar which made her stomach angry again, so she unrolled the disposable phone from her wrist and used the screen to look around.

The cavern was long and low, scabbers scuttled out of sight, a few stray roots but not much light hung though the hole she'd found, and the slab below her looked like nothing else she'd ever seen. It went on as far as her screen light could see, traced with panels and huge vaguely oval outlines networked in roots or veins. In places it looked like the surface was made of curled up dead spiders, elsewhere it reminded her of expensive office buildings.

Ten feet away, a bar of light grew brighter and became an opening. From inside she heard, "Please do not throw more humans at me." She lunged, tumbling into dry cold light and piles of dust. "Please excuse the mess. Hello. Thank you. Good day, it is nice to meet you."

She blinked away the bright lights and tried breathing a little bit. Not bad. She wondered what the fuck was going on. "What the fuck is going on?" she asked. The corridor was immense and the lights were harsh, and it made her feel as if a train was going to come along and run her over any second.

"I'm sure I do not know," replied the voice, from nowhere. "I was hoping you might tell me."

"Why, I mean. What, I guess." She stood up, metal grating ran along the corridor edges, and it was all very cold and somehow worse than dirt.

"I have been buried here for quite some time, you see."

○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Sonny let go of the rope and dropped between earth and hull. Wayne and Duke waited, holding up flashlights, and Sonny scoped it out. Looked like some ancient civs billshit missed on the clear, happened all the time. Ritual purposes bullshit. "Well genius," he addressed this to Duke, "You're the one who said she was down here." Sonny gestured to the empty expanse, making sure his widespread arms directed their full attention to the vast quantity of nothing around them. "Where is she?"

Wayne crouched down and pointed at few small indentations around a long stretch of what looked like thin veins. "Trail stopped right here, boss. Check it out." Sonny checked and Wayne held the light close up. Close enough to see the scuffs from the wolf bitch's feet and a wide portion of the alien civs surface carrying markedly less accumulated dirt. "She didn't come this way by accident. Someone let her in. She knew it was here all along."

Duke kicked the surface aimlessly while Sonny ran fingers over what he figured was a sealed trap door. "Workin tech, is it worth anything?"

"Scrap maybe," said Wayne. "Look at this." He took out a pocket knife and jabbed the door, put the blade in half a centimeter. "Maybe some kinda plastic or something, it's tough but worthless. Hell I could cut my way in give or tale a couple hours."

Sonny pounded on the surface, it thumped unsatisfactorily, with no echo. "Come out outta there little mutt, don't make me come get you!" His voice was satisfyingly loud, but failed to echo as well. "Fuck it," he stood up and brushed off his hands on his jeans. "Duke, head back and get safe cracking bag outta the hopper, the big one with the red warning label. We'll blow it open."

● ● ● ● ●

"Show me where your fuel… thingy is."

"My. My 'fuel thingy.'"

"Your gas hole, whatever, I'm not a mechanic-"

"That is inarguable."

"And food, I'm starving and I need… double food. Kilo of calories, like that."

"There are some local arthropods which I permit in my living spaces. There should also be an access hatch in the stern diagnostics chamber. You may follow the current corridor and I will direct you."

"Great, how long will that take?"

"It should be approximately one hour walking distance."

"A what- Listen, I need food, I promise we can bust you out of this mountain and me out of the anus of the territories but I'm running on empty."

"As am I. What is your ingenious plan?"

"Carbon lattice right? We use those too, see? For system crossing."

"That… that is…"

"Diamonds right? You run on diamonds."

"As you say. The structure appears adequate."

"Yeah, so you feed me, I feed you, we get out together."

"It would be possible to fly. But your stature-"

"Let me worry about that."

"The access panel to your left is concealing a small nest of the arthropods."

"Finally, I… Scabbers? You want me to eat scabbers? They eat… septics."

"There are no other consumables aboard."

"Don't you have like rations or something?"

"Turn right. I had such items several million years in the past. Left."

"Left where?"

"No, turn left, go back and turn left. Even if you could eat the food for a Pilot, the consumables decayed some eons before your civilization developed written language, I assume."

"If I throw up and those guys have time to blow a hole in you, I'm gonna be so annoyed."

"That's nice. What a shame it will be to lose your ready wit."

"Mnnmmph. Blggh. Ugh."

"Up the ladder now."

"I think I was better off being shot at."

● ● ● ● ●

She could still taste the scabbers. The shells had an ethanol bitterness that couldn't be escaped, and the meat was oily, its rancid rotten fish and seaweed flavor clinging to the inside of her mouth. "I'm going to need clothes," she said to no one, which apparently was who the freakishly unaccented voice belonged to.

"It was not necessary to utilize them for cleaning purposes, and your cultural attachment to secondary adornment with soulless dross is indicative of your overall weakness as a species."

She could not shake off the smell of the things but she wasn't hungry anymore, and they'd been walking together for awhile. "Hey buddy, that's the longest sentence you said to me."

"Thank you. It is my hope that you may one day find a way to implement your freedom with my guidance."

"I didn't mean it as encouragement." She'd seen more of the inside of what she kept calling a ship, over voice's protests that her crude human language did not include the necessary expression to describe what it was, than she'd seen of the house she grew up in. Even on a fairly direct path she'd gone up several flights of very large, steep stairs, passing through endless halls with bioluminous networks along their edges, and in some places what she was pretty sure were places it used to breathe.

It took awhile to adjust to the harsh red lighting, and what seemed like a huge excess of vaulted ceilings and walkways she could lie across without touching either side. Voice reminded her she was short again. She really needed something to call it. Maybe Clarence, it sounded a little Clarence-like. Nah. "Hey, are we there yet? How long have we been walking?"

"By your time, you have been walking about fifty three minutes. I, however, remain sedentary, and immobile. As we have discussed, and I have reminded you, I am unable to move at the present moment, but find myself keenly aware of your claim to offer aid in this capacity."

"Oh for fucking Luna's breath shut up-"

"Also, you are here. Please turn around and find the handholds to the nearest airlock on my bulkhead."

She turned around. Of course the ladder was built for someone almost twice her size, but she found she could climb it after a little experimenting. "Okay, how do I open it?" The hatch opened and she hauled herself up to the airlock, more giant sized handholds and she reached the outer door.

"When you exit, there should be a series of… well, you should look for oval shapes about eight feet long to the port- Hmm, let's say to what is your right side currently, and then follow three ovals down to the two smaller intakes- Hmm, smaller, deeply indented set of three circles. One of these will have an opening, and you may place the carbon latices into it."

She grimaced, and swallowed a growl over the baby talk. "Just drop them in?"

"As you say. Just drop them in."

"Seems simple enough." The hatch lifted, then parted into four segments, withdrawing into the hull as she climbed out. Her grunts echoed through the cavern, before she realized it was other voices and not am echo.

Squinting showed a couple lights in the distance with two silhouetted figures who had started waving their arms with agitation and shouting. Shouting at her and calling her a bitch.

She dropped down into the airlock as gunshots pinged around the airlock edge.

"Close it, close it close it!"

"Those men are discharging what seem to be crude firearms, even by your species' standards."

"Wow," she said. "I hadn't noticed. Nothing's ever simple."

"That is, in fact, the very nature of the universe itself."

○ ○ ○ ○ ○

"I got the bitch!" crowed Wayne. "You see that? Two shots and she dropped!" He let out a whoop and spun on his boots, blew imaginary smoke off his gun and bowed.

Sonny watched, arms folded. "You didn't got shit, moron. Probably didn't even get up next to her."

"Whatever," Wayne shoved his pistol unceremoniously and unsafely inside his jacket. "I'm gonna go get our diamonds." He started off down the length of the cavern at a jog.

"Sure, you do that," Sonny muttered, returning to inspect the trap door. The material didn't feel like plastic and the closer he looked, the more complicated it seemed to get. He could see dozens of fine lines that made up what could be hidden switches, writing, or ancient civ systems. At some angles it almost looked like it was made of thousands or millions of translucent fibers, drawing his vision miles deep and trying to snare it.

"You'll see!" Wayne was at a good clip, a ways down the echoless dark.

"Sure." Sonnu shook his head and sat back, running his fingers over the smooth, unblemished surface Wayne stabbed an hour ago.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

The woman seems agitated, despite the futile efforts of her pursuers. Their firearms lack accuracy, even at optimal distance, a chemical atmospheric check suggests they utilize a propellant based mechanism which is unlikely to carry any dangerous velocity from their position.

One of them has begun to move across my hull towards this airlock. Without carbon latice, I have no defensive measures, but I know I can delay or disable his progress without difficulty.

"One of your pursuers is moving closer to your position. You should move with all due haste to restore power to my flight system. I do not have antipersonnel measures."

She rubs her shoulder. Subsequent to consuming the arthropod scavengers, her metabolic processes have altered substantially. My initial assessment of her condition indicated probable broken ribs and several lacerations, which are no longer in evidence. My assessment of her injuries may have been incorrect, as her biology is less familiar than the Pilots; media observations suggest injuries of this type can take a very long time to recover.

I can see she is thinking. It takes a very long time. It is dull. I have undertaken as many pre-flignt checks as I can, and I review them. I am still paralyzed, my connection to my own navigation capacity black and empty and dead and lost-

"How many of these air locks do you have? I'm thinking you could distract them, maybe even trip em up."

A very small part of me is proud of her for this suggestion. I crush that part of me. She is not Pilot. Her soul is not strong and her vessel is untested.

"A shockingly insightful suggestion," I praise her. "One which belies your underdeveloped cognitive abilities. There are several other airlocks between your pursuers and this one. Depending on the route the one moving in this direction takes, I may be able to distracted him, or interfere with his balance."

I observed her muscle movements. This race processes a large amount of interpersonal information through body movement. I also collect data from chemical and infrared sensors applied to her pursuers for reference. Her body temperature is markedly higher than either the active or passive pursuer, and she is expressing a significantly higher amount of chemical signatures.

"Okay," she says. "Here's the plan."

I wait patiently for her to outline a plan that is not as inferior to my own ideas as I had expected, but I do not make suggestions.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Wayne was sprinting when a light on his left caught him off guard. One of the trap doors? He careened to a stop and took at shot at the light, missed wide and it closed off rapidly. He had just started running when he saw another trap door open to his right, and he took another shot.

Sonny looked up at the flat snap of gunshots and back down. "Idiot. Those bullets ain't cheap or easy to find. Those are coming outta his share."

Wayne was running more slowly, glancing left and right. He squinted his eyes at another flash of light, and flailed, the ground absent below his foot as his head bounced off an edge that wasn't there a moment ago.

● ● ● ● ●

"I am unclear what part this plays in your plan. My understanding of your biology is that you do not directly obtain nutrients from carbon latices."

She spoke awkwardly around the diamond in her mouth. "I wanna make sure my hands are free. We get you up and outta here, then the rest of these bad boys." She patted her suitcase. "And maybe if they shoot me, I guess you still got some bargaining power."

"Hmm, yes," it said, in a way that delivered a great deal more sarcasm than she felt like those two words merited.

"Whatever. Look, kill the lights, and when I say go, start the distraction and open the outer door." She hung precariously at the outer door with four more diamonds clutched in a hand.

"I believe that I can just about manage," it said.

She rolled her eyes and said, "go," then shoved the other four diamonds in her mouth. The airlock went dark and opened, and she crept out by the dim light of her phone onto the hull.

Crouching low she swiped the light on her disposable phone, and blocked as much of it as she could with her body. Tensed up, waiting for the bullets and then, still alive, she walked as low as she could across the hull, looking for oval shapes. Whatever it was made of didn't reflect much and she couldn't figure on the color. The ovals contained a series of fine, concentric rings, with deep crevices radiating out and between them.

It felt like longer than it took before she reached the smaller indented circles, one filled with lamprey teeth. She spit the diamonds into her hands with exaggerated care. "Just drop them in," she whispered, and let one go. Teeth ringing the intake pulled it in almost faster than she could see. She fed them in one at a time, and the urgency of the fuel intake's gulping maw left her with mixed feelings.

As she crept back to the airlock she could catch a glimpse of Sonny, no sign of Wayne. Sonny was just standing there, which seemed more worrying than hollering and shooting. Below her feet, the hull caught light, then a bit more. She covered her phone and fine rainbow lines continued trickling over the surface on their own. She passed the last oval, paused at a flicker of peripheral movement. A thorn-like shape roughly the length of her arm had risen out of its center.

Dropping into the airlock, outer door slid shut and she climbed the rest of the way. "Easy money," she said. "Take me to your leader."

"That will require substantially more carbon latice, but my drives now have sufficient power to extract my body from this position. We now lack only approximately one additional meter to your stature to aid my navigation."

"It was a joke, you… Do you come programed with jokes?"

"I am not programed with anything, unlike the primitive and soulless calculating devices you rely upon for your crude structured transition."

"So no jokes." She slowly breathed in and out, trying to fill herself full of oxygen like she remembered.

"Your optimistic belief in your own stature is a source of humor enough. I will guide you to the bridge."

"Slowly," she said, breathing steady, feeling heat rise from her lungs and heart, flowing out into her limbs. She'd had to change fast when Sonny's crew tried to jump her. Wastefully fast, a massive and sudden loss of calories. "The slower we do this, the better."

○ ○ ○ ○ ○

"Hey boss!"

Sonny looked up at Duke's voice.

"I got the gear, want me to toss it down?"

"NO, YOU- No, Duke, less you want us both along with a sizeable portion o' real estate blasted into the atmosphere." He rubbed his eyes. "Bring it down with you, carefully, and hand it to me."

"Shit boss, you coulda mentioned." He sounded contrite, but Sonny heard and saw the clattering of dirt from the climb.

"Figured the big warning said Danger High Explosives woulda done it," he muttered. Soon enough Duke emerged from the cavern ceiling and divested a long plastic case, bright red, bearing the aforementioned explosives warning among several others.

"Where's Wayne?"

"Off on a wild mutt chase. I expect he'll be back presently, assuming he didn't get lost or flattened by a falling boulder." Sonny laid the care flat, opened it, and laid out the safe blasting tools. Little polymolecular gel, moldable explosives, curable and directional blast control. All a growing boy needed to blow a quiet need hole around the edge of the heaviest of vaults. Sonny was a firm believer in the precise and judicious application of the largest amount of violent force possible, and it served him well.

"Want me to go look for Wayne?"

"Nope. He's a big boy. Now hush, I need to work." Duke shut. Sonny's predictions served him well in many ways.

In the dark depths of the cave, Duke watched dim flickering lights and movement far away. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Better to leave Sonny to work than risk a reprimand.

● ● ● ● ●

The voice, voice still without a name, she distantly thought maybe she'd name it Carol, after a hated grammar teacher. Still no. It was floating far away. Everything was far and faint, she followed its words automatically, focusing on her feverish blood and burning skin. Her mouth was dry, the moisture was being pulled from the air.

Bracing herself for the transition, the first clean and hot stabs of pain went through her nails, her teeth, then spread up her arms and legs and across her face. Pins and needles feeling if she swapped the numbness for agony.

"Excuse me, but your body temperature appears to be severely abnormal, by my observations of your race and your media. Are you injured, or perhaps dying? You should return to my airlock to load the remaining carbon latices if your are dying."

"I'm not dying," she growled, her neck getting larger, vocal cords warping. "I'm gonna fly us outta here, keep talking." She closed her eyes at the sensation and inescapable sound of her skull and jaws getting longer. Her skeleton several times increased in mass and density. She'd once twisted an entire roll of safety wrap between her hands, and the sound was close to what she felt.

"You have rather an atypical anatomy for your species. Perhaps even unusual. The next stairwell please."

She staggered upwards, readjusting to her twisted legs, longer arms, sharp intersecting teeth. Changing this slowly meant longer agony, and yet it was nothing next to when she changed quickly. She gave up hanging onto her clothes as a lost cause. Her dark hair grew in across her body, and the large, empty corridors felt cramped, too low. Her body was finally, if only briefly, again her own.

"This enough stature for ya, you erudite prick?" she snarled.

"That… is adequate. We are also at the bridge. Hopefully it will take substantially less time and effort for you to grasp navigation than my initial estimates."

She looked around at the large oval room, with complex roots or plumbing dangling from the ceiling, and jagged rocks along the floor. Several readouts flickered in the air, the displays following her eyes unnervingly as she realized they were the walls and low platforms of the bridge lighting up sequentially to act as a kind of optical illusion of projected holographs. "What's the rush?"

"First, I would like to commend your seemingly misplaced confidence. Your stature is now adequate for navigation of my most basic flight capabilities."

"You know for an alien robot you're really good at telegraphing a 'but.'"

"Thank you, and I will overlook the insult. Your language is extremely underdeveloped and inadequate. However, the gentlemen pursuing you appear to have sufficient explosive materiel to damage the integrity of my hull, and may disable the airlock securing mechanisms."

"Oh."

"Quite so. Please secure the T-shaped hanger control, I estimate we have approximately five minutes to prepare."

○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Sonny put the blasting cap in, and the whole cavern floor went out of focus. "The fuck?" He touched the civs with his hand. The surface remained unfocused, while his hand was clear. He couldn't bring it into focus no matter how he squinted. Squinting. The cave was lit like the first glow of dawn, and he could see far down the slightly curved floor.

"Sonny, what's that?" Duke asked, frustrating and vague, but the sound reached Sonny a moment later.

It was almost like a chorus, but not a single same note, all off key, from throats that weren't human. All down the cavern, he could see large thorns rising from the oval shapes, and in places the complex networks of veins carried portions down, carving out deep wedges. He watched dust blowing from the surface and thought "Exhaust vents," but out loud he said, "Oh shit," and snatched the detonator from the safe breaking kit.

Sonny shoved past Duke and started hauling ass up the rope, leaving the other man staring, held in stasis by the inhuman chorus and the hypnotic trails of light which had started swimming throug the fog of the floor. Or maybe, Sonny thought, the hull of one big gods cursed ship. Bigger than anything he ever saw.

"That's illegal," he said, genuinely outraged, but too busy climbing to care.

● ● ● ● ●

The werewolf girl stood in the center of a network of what looked to her like vines, muscles, electric wiring, or tree roots. She dug her toes and claws awkwardly at the ridges in the floor, as best she could according to the voice. Several of the heavy strands seemed to include nearly invisible slides or switches, and the bridge fully lit up with navigation information which intruded painfully into her eyes. It somehow seemed to know her whole field of vision, and even in periphery forced information into her optics.

"I think I've got it." She shifted slightly and watched peripheral readouts tremble with even the smallest change. She flexed one foot and in response was flooded with detailed information about the composition of the mountain and atmosphere, along with launch vector diagrams and system integration details, or structure interface as it insisted on saying. She'd learned more about her home planet's interstellar position in the last five minutes than her entire life. "I'm ready."

"Optimistically speaking, I would not call you ready, or even amateurish. However, there is a nonzero chance you will successfully navigate. You have done extremely well with your limited capabilities."

"We can run through it again." She tested the T-bar, then the stabilizers for the eight time. The basics didn't seem worse than a hopper, she figured she could make it work.

"I suspect you are familiar with this feeling, but I nevertheless must inform you that you are incorrect. Your pursuers appear to have completed the majority of their task setting explosives. As your species is fond of saying, it is 'do or die.'"

Flicking the engine start and lift sequence, she said. "Don't tell me twice. If we don't make it, I just want you to know that meeting you sucked and I've hated it."

"I, too, am eager for oblivion. Please, try not to forget."

● ● ● ● ●

"Try not to forget."

She felt like she'd lived a lifetime since getting out of Retrock, even though it'd only been maybe five years. It felt like forever since she sat on the uncomfortable benches at the school bus stop, waiting for her mom. It was a systems day, and she wasn't supposed to be in those classes.

Most of the settled planets were, like, at best distantly tolerant of werewolves, or lycanthropes or shifters or whatever. No one ever figured out how to break the werewolf systems, just somehow boosted up resilience and diversity. Now all the systems and sometimes specific planets had unique werewolves. The cruddy little country she lived in, The Unified Eastquad Block, on the cruddy little planet Nevamil took a significantly more conservative approach. They opined that werewolves could be gradually eliminated by simple attrition, so long as they were not allowed to breed or leave the country, nor the planet. To that end, they'd also banned teaching systems to werewolves.

It wasn't working as planned. She fiddled with the white bracelet on her wrist. Her mom was late of course. "Try not to forget." Of course she had.

Her family wasn't too thrilled since her diagnosis. Unlike when her mom caught her in her older sister's dresses, they couldn't beat the werewolf out of her. Not that it stopped anyone trying.

Some older kids either skipping or out of senior classes wandered by, talking some bullshit about best kit for a video game. She tried not to be seen and covered up her band. They passed her by. She relaxed for a moment but their voices got low and they all stopped, turned around.

One big kid, senior for sure, shaded her from the sun. "Sup," he said.

She muttered noncommittally.

He glanced at the four others behind him. "Hey," he said. "Speak up, mutt. I asked what's up."

She looked closely at her hands and said, "nothing."

"Yeah? Little baby wolf all alone with nothing to do?" One of the kids snickered at "baby wolf." She shrugged.

He shoved at her, hard, and she grabbed the table to stop from falling over. "Heard you're a little sissy baby wolf, that true?"

She wasn't sure what that even meant, but it sounded bad. "No!"

"Yeah." The other kids had got around her now. "Yeah you are. You know what? I think trash like you should go in the garbage. What do you think?" She didn't get a chance to answer because the other kids were shoving her, agreeing they oughta throw her in the trash.

She was trying to shout that she was only waiting for her mom, but her body traitorously refused to form words and her eyes spilled out tears and she didn't know why.

"Grab her," the older boy said. And she, just. Just swung at him.

She remembered that first pain so well. She was on blockers that were supposed to prevent it. Then there was a scream, and the boy had blood on his face.

She had claws and teeth and not much else and it all was boiling agony. Then someone threw her off the bench, and the kids began punching and kicking her. She hadn't gotten as good at protecting her head but they at least didn't try to shove her in the trashcan by the door. Just spit on her and swore she was going to get put down.

She'd wanted to run that day, but she didn't. She wished she had.

● ● ● ● ●

The temp and spin readouts hit what looked like the threshold. She squeezed her eyes shut for a minute then opened them, banishing a half formed promise against the lonely dark.

One sure thing, she wasn't ever coming back to Retrock, not for a hundred thousand diamonds or all the world. She dug in and put power into space flight deflectors. The cavern started crumbling around them, pushed away from the hull. With a twist of her body, the structure field came up. The ship's unique structure found the places to interface with the local structure and the bridge came alive with a tangle of fractal ghosts overhead.

"Power up, shields up, system up."

"Structure. Your primitive-"

"Sit down, shut up, strap in, and hold on." She punched power to the engines and watched the world explode around them. Nothing but rocky chaos and then, there. Green blue sky, sleet, and thousands of feet between them and a collapsing mountain.

For the moment, they were free.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

I am free. Delirious, impossible and free in my entirety. I shrug off the detritus of my imprisonment and it joins the filthy slush boiling off deflectors. I taste the stars again, countless structures in waiting array, wrapped and woven together. This sky and world, this structure rolls across me, and I spread across it, feeling the planet anew.

Memories come back with my senses and for a moment I can imagine myself leaping past the atmosphere, continental landmass once more eagerly waiting for my implementation of their advancement. In my excitement, I must catch myself before I ask the girl, but no, she is not Pilot, and no more significant than the bacteria I watched flicker and die. She is my aid and my tool, for now.

But oh, the freedom of the sky is a delight. I suppose I may allow some small appreciation of this crude morphic-structure bearing girl for how far she has exceeded my most optimistic expectations of this civilization. I accept this, that I may appreciate how lucky for her to have such a beautiful soul in so complex a vessel, and moreover that she has had the great fortune to encounter myself, who may extract some tiny fraction of meaningful use out of her existence.

But enough of all this. I have allowed myself a luxurious hundred milliseconds, give or take, to revel in the return of my sky.

"There is a high volume of intersecting transmissions on different frequencies which I am decoding."

"That's a- amazing- uh, oof. This thing steers like a truck."

"I am not a truck, but it is possible that is the nearest approximation to your method of navigation. However, we may need to maneuver with increased haste, to avoid immediate air traffic."

"Fuck, uh yeah gee that sounds great. Ack- Sorry that was me. So how do I land?"

"I do not land under optimal conditions. Please utilize the collision monitor and eye twitch avoidance while I determine an optimal site to effect additional fueling and minor repair."

"What twitch? Where? You didn't-"

"Sight seven, and the toggle on flex system seven, third down. Please stand by."

□ □ □ □ □

Serah flicked from screen to screen, bored. Sweet fuck all was the major import-export for Nevamil, and there was about the same amount to do at the cross system check point. She'd read the ship specs manual back to front and longed for the day she might actually talk to anyone from a real planet. Some colonies made her wish she'd gone into crystal mesh, but it gave her migraines.

A couple switches buzzed and one of the monitors flickered white. She clicked off the buzzers and smacked the bevel on the monitor, but it didn't flick back to normal. "Who the fuck…?" she asked, to no one else, rhetorically, and not bothering to finish. Several readouts were pinned in the red, and three of the measures of radiant energy were giving error messages.

She shoved papers to the floor and called down, "This is- uh." She looked to the metal plaque above the monitors. "This is Check alpha alpha alpha zero one one one nine, I'm showing a major spike of- something? About fifty kilometers northwest of Retrock, possibly around Mount Rosewood. Someone come back?"

Serah started dialing back sensitivity, usually cranked up just to keep tabs on the few interplanetary launch ports. Her monitors and readouts came down, though the errors stayed, and something resolved on screen. She squinted. It didn't match any specs she remembered. Or… anything. "No way," she said. "No fuckin way."

She started grabbing data snapshots, tuned three other monitors into the anomaly, recording everything. It didn't look like a ship, it didn't look like it was designed for being in the air, it looked like a fucked up flying coral reef several kilometers long, putting out more energy than the whole wretched planet.

"That…" She pulled open a file cabinet to grab a binder of regulations she didn't usually need to check, mostly pertaining to treaties across the totality of human occupied space. She flipped pages muttering. "I think that's illegal."

● ● ● ● ●

The ship jumped and fell, and she nearly lost her footing. Theoretically she assumed gravity or inertia must affect it in some way, but she couldn't guess how.

She caught another transport train oncoming and flinched, the ship lurched out of the way and between the ship and eating a garbage crab she wasn't feeling great. "Hey, um. Ugh. You- voice, person, have we got a way to land yet?"

"One moment. Thank you, after reviewing the broadcasts and networking available, I have located an optimal site. This will require some structural navigation, and you will need to follow my instructions carefully."

"Oh is that all, well bring it on. And by the way, I need something to call you, this is awkward."

"Yes, it is. Please rotate the lower pyramid to orient structure overlay and remapping. Stop, good. Dials two and seven on main decision tree, adjust separately until reader three flashes alignment points in tandem, this will signal adequate structure navigation."

"Any time now."

"I would prefer that you do not immediately crash my vessel as your first major navigation experience. Good. Alignment adequate, toggle nerve seven on secondary decision tree, then nerves three and five until structure drive confirms- There, that wasn't so difficult."

"Okay can we go?"

"You should have multiple navigation vectors presented on your primary monitor. Please ensure you stay within these vectors. It will not kill me if you do not, but it could potentially injure or kill you. I am less certain about the physical capabilities of your present vessel. You may now trigger high acceleration along these vectors."

She kicked the drives hard, and felt her ears pop, sensed the ship under some enormous pressure, and held to the vectors with all her strength.

□ □ □ □ □

Every alarm in the check point went off at the same time. Serah staggered around the cramped monitor room, shutting them all down until it was just her screaming angrily in a silent room. She flopped back into the worn ergonomic chair and checked the alarm codes.

Illegal system exit, illegal system entry, ship operating without transponder, unrecognized transponder, unrecognized vessel, failure to halt for inspection, illegal energy signature, unidentified system signature…

It was a long list, but what it meant wasn't complicated. Her monitors were black, no more error messages. Whatever it was, whatever it wanted, it was out now. It had escaped.

● ● ● ● ●

Any port in Earth territories was sure to have a place to get cheap food, cheap stimulants, and into trouble. Only a certain type of cafe served the latter, but she'd been through enough of them on Nevamil to know the look. She was tucked as far back into the corner of a dirty plastic booth as she could fit, spinning her latest disposable phone around in lazy circles and ignoring her coffee. She'd changed out one of the diamonds, scrounged up clothes and some nicer boots, figured she wasn't retiring on spaceship food after all, but one or two of em might at least get to work for her.

It wasn't much to speak of, which was the point, couple booths, cheap plastic tables and chairs, seating for ten if they were lucky, food only on a technicality. The place wasn't there to make money as much as it was to collect bad ideas. She was looking for a specific kind and he showed up after her third coffee went cold. Some twitchy dark matter math wizard maybe, one of those guys way too deep in the calculations of what they couldn't see that they were in a constant state of shock and flight response over the tangible calculated existence of known reality.

She slid into the chair on the other side of the table and put the coffee next to the guy's tablet. He was all deep dark eyesockets and glitchy, mimetic fabric on an ankle length coat. He looked like he hadn't slept in days but it was probably longer, these guys liked to throw their consciousness into distant space and leave it there while their bodies walked around unattended. Stims usually helped. "Whatcha got for me," she said.

"Whatcha need, whatcha need." His fingers bounced off the mug a couple times before finding it, he slurped and didn't exactly focus on her but both of his eyes pointed back into the same direction. "Hmm, little wolf girl huh. Ain't seen one a uh… whatcha need hmm?"

"Need something flashy, sparkles and stones, y'know? I heard this port's where to find em, and you're the one to ask." It wasn't completely a lie, but it was at best only distantly familiar with the truth.

He took in a deep breath through the nose, nodding in tune with a rhythm of his own design. "Mmm, mmm, crystals for the wolf, neh?" Slurp. "Whacher route, what kinda works?"

This was the moment of found truth for whatever esoteric calculations had gone into their flight out of the mountain. Diamonds were easy to find, everywhere had at least one shop growing em. But nearly a hundred percent went to system mesh or navigation, not exactly an open access free for all. She gave a silent prayer to Luna and said, "Solo, dine and dash."

His brows came together, lips quirked up and down while his eyes sunk out of sight. One hand tapped the tablet rapid fire. Slurp. "Difficult," he said, some endless twenty seconds later.

She leaned back and drummed fingers. "Big ask, fair. If you don't got it, no harm." She pushed the chair back and made to stand, but he held a hand out, waggling it.

"Bide a minute. Difficult, not impossible." He put both hands on the coffee cup and tilted the rest down his gullet in a long swig. "Girl like you, resourceful I think. Not many wolf girls turn up off planet, neh? Your kind, mmm, has a… nose for trouble. Ahum, hmm hmm."

Once she realized he was laughing at his own joke, she gave him her best effort at a smile. "As you say."

"So and such. I need work done. A favor then, do this thing for me, I will get a line for the shine and dine and dash." He'd summoned a token on his tablet and was partitioning memory collapsing sigils around it. Flattened it to a shareable folder and looked to her expectantly.

She unrolled the phone and he flicked it over to her screen, where she could frown at it more directly. "Do I want to know?"

"Fret not, it is a new set of coordinates I am in the process of measuring, some fascinating effects on gravity… mm, no matter. It is inconvenient for me to return for this data. I only need you to convince a friend to, hmm… run it to ground. He may need motivation, ahmmm, I trust your instincts in this."

"Motivation, huh." She stood up. "Just one favor and we're square, you find me a nice juicy lamb."

He chuckled wetly again, "As you say. Of course, this is just between us. I would not like to have to return for you." His black sockets glittered and his eyes focused on her for a second while his pale lips pulled back from sickly teeth.

She slapped her phone around her wrist. "Seems easy enough." She knew it was a damn lie but she said it anyway.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

I feel more power coursing through me than I have felt in several million years. The girl had promised more, much more, and I wonder again at what might be within her grasp.

Even this is barely a flicker of what I am capable of, but I cling to this new freedom with a greed and even hope which disgusts me. Both elated and revolted that I am reduced to this sickening gratitude. She has been gone for several hours and I contemplate the probability of her returning.

She took me to the sky, and to the stars. With a great deal of assistance, this is true, but a will that I did not previously estimate her civilization could produce. She dared to occupy the space of Pilot, and we have lived to meditate on this exhilarating heresy. She is on the primitive satellite now, and has promised to return, but she has been away from my safety for several hours.

I examine my memory of her occupation of the Pilot space. It seems possible that I may make better use of her than I suspected. She may have a place in my structure. Her ability to change structure is interesting, common enough yet the mode of operation is unusual. I will have to collect more data. I examine my memory of when we dropped from the structure tangle within safe distance to the satellite.

She expressed disbelief, then joy, as if she was the one who had flown free of her prison of millions of years. To me, this is nothing. Her joy is a mote of dust against the starscape of the universe. Her planet, bare rock unworthy of my implementation. And yet she made much of these, as if I had shown her how to reach across the universe and string the stars together as a bracelet.

Perhaps to her that is what it means to have even this narrow sliver of freedom. Perhaps she can, as she has promised, make me "good as new." Then I will show her freedom. I hope she returns soon, it has been several hours.

● ● ● ● ●

"Which way is the ground- which way is the planet. Wait. Where the fuck are we?"

"Based on network traffic and my calculations, we should be within range of Coyote Moon Station 6."

"Coyote… do you got windows on this thing?"

"I can offer several alternatives, but not only is the data afforded from the spectrum of light visible to your species vastly inferior to the instruments at hand, your capacity to interpret this minimal fraction of available input is-"

"Whatever I get it, I suck, just. I want to see the stars. With my own eyes, or close as I can get."

"That is… a feasible request. One moment please."

"Thanks…"

"You should now have direct visibility of the surroundings. I have adjusted this chamber temporarily to an outer position."

"…"

"Are you injured, or in distress? Some of your civilization are prone to a psychological phenomenon when-"

"I'm fine. I'm better than fine. I'm… free."

"I would not describe our circumstances as freedom, with the current limitations on my structure drive and main engines, I am at only a small percentage of full function."

"For someone that makes a big deal about it, that soul of yours sure ain't got no poetry."

"No p… I beg your pardon."

"I spent my life on that shithole planet. You spent, I don't know how long. Look out there. The stars. I don't even know where Coyote Moon is! Never heard of it! And I don't know where we go or what we do next."

"I will assist you in the navigation process to Station 6."

"That's not what I mean! Don't you care it all after a million billion years and a lifetime - we're finally out here, not down there! Look around you for fuck's sake."

"… It is… good to be in the stars."

"Thank you. All I ask. Now how are we getting an unregistered ship like you through customs?"

"I will explain while you practice docking navigation."

● ● ● ● ●

It felt like wandering through someone's apartment building, she couldn't get past that feeling. Overhead fluorescent flicker, no windows but every once in awhile a brightly lit bauble of art someone must've bought by the pound. A lot of the same sets of prefab plastic panels, though it'd been awhile since she saw any such facades over the bare metal walls.

The walkways were dirtier, on both sides of the path for electric bikes. No trace anywhere of litter, but it'd been decades since anyone tried to clean the infinite variety of human scuff marks on the walkway. More of the shops here were shuttered, either closed outright or not the kind of place you got in without an appointment and several scans from the security cameras. The walls around them had once been painted with an enormous mural of an unfamiliar sky, Coyote Moon's, presumably. It was faded badly, scraped away or graffitied over, overdrawn optimism still clinging to life down here.

She found the door she was looking for between an SST bank machine and something whose sign advertised it as Titan Mart. Rapped on the blacked out plastic door that said "Speed-E-Nav" in small gold letters, and waited out the effortful grinding of several CCTV cameras evaluating her and her depressing lack of concealed weapons. She had a full stomach which was all the weapon she needed if it came to that. The door clacked as a buzzer sounded, and she pushed her way inside through an overly enthusiastic electronic chime.

"Welcome, discerning customer," a chunky woman with deep dark skin and a shaved head sat before a hundred blinking computers of some sort. She didn't know a huge amount about them, but it looked regal. "Your need is our speed, what can we process today, miss…?" The woman's smile was very wide, and a dozen metal bracelets chimed musically together on her wrists. They smelled like ozone.

"It's not for me," she said, and pulled the folder up on her phone. "Recognize that?"

The woman leaned forward and moments later her smile dropped. "Yeah, I know it. What's he after this time?" She thumped back in her chair and waved the girl closer, unclipping a bracelet. "Show me what you got there."

She handed over the phone and the woman clicked her bracelet up to the charge points. "Didn't say, didn't ask, didn't get any names, not interested in sharing them. He just wants it run fast and I needed a favor."

The woman didn't give any indication she was listening, she just tweezed the folder out and held it up on the bracelet, which wasn't something the girl had seen done before, or was even aware was possible. She tried not to stare like a tourist.

The woman turned the glittering data this way and that before setting it in a glass plate. "Three weeks. Because he's a good customer and you look like a nice girl."

"I was… hoping for something faster."

"Hah! Good luck, you think these are what… pretty lights for show and tell? I got thirty strings beaded and twined and another eight in composite, and that's on external cooled q-square 26 CPUs. I know that boy, he's got a big mouth but no bite. Always talking about the big deal math he's writing but who's he come to when he needs the formulae run? Me. Maybe 19 days if I don't burn through another back gen."

The girl worked her fingers a little and unclenched her jaw. "Maybe I can do something for you. Something to free up some of the… the squares?"

She laughed a minute and sighed. "Oh thanks. Free up the squares. Well," she scanned the shelves stacked up with an array of mystifying metal boxes, wires, and clear glass cylinders. "Okay, I see your meaning. I suppose a little upgrade couldn't hurt if you think you're up to a little legwork."

The woman pulled a slim black box with vents along the side and a couple short wires trailing out of it, and handed it to the girl. She looked at it. "I suppose this is pretty legal."

"Of course it is, honey. Now, I know someone who owes me a favor…"

The werewolf girl sighed internally. Nothing was ever easy.

□ □ □ □ □

It took the better part of six hours for Serah to catalog the ship that had crashed through the system interchange, and it was a lot of guess work. The system drive geometry and mesh was, as far as she could tell, not only unique but carried a particle/wave divergence that her rinky dinky instruments couldn't measure. Which probably meant someone missed civs in the sweep, like always, which normally meant a paperwork nightmare.

Normally, but chances were good she'd at least get someone to talk to from closer to a real planet, maybe even they'd let her sneak some better games n stories ove4 the link. However, it was the deep ping snapshots that gave her pause. She chewed the end of the stylus before adding tags for review to the internal profile to assess for the possibility of unilateral treaty violations under orbital mass extermination threats.

She fired the report off, through the beacon to some generic hub of bureaucracy, presumably to be reviewed after week or three, then went to flop back in her cot and play through Gone Dream 6 for the tenth time. Five minutes later the incoming vessel alert chimed.

Serah staggered over to the screens, it was high priority but normal at least. "The fuck… What did I do to deserve a day like this?" It was Interdiction, from the Inner System feds? Didn't usually get those? Her heart sank as the manta shaped black vessel dropped from system flight and integrated itself into her beacon's region.

The good news was she wasn't in tqrouble for flagging the treaty violations. The bad news was they were showing up in person, which meant no games and no gossip.

● ● ● ● ●

The satellite was warmer a couple floors down, greener too, with algae, with hanging vines along a wire grating overhead, grating along the floor. Even with the new and sturdy boots she had to move with care to avoid slipping.

She wouldn't call it habitable, but every few blocks turned up a cluster of shops or houses, rarely one near the other. The lighting such as there could be was dim, most of the plastic over the fixtures fogged and darkened with fungus of some type. It reeked of mildew, and the place she was looking for wasn't shuttered, merely obscured by a thick tangle of vines on one side and red, waxy leaves on the other. She parted both with folded hands and was greeted by yelling.

"No power! No business today, all closed, fuck off!" He was draped in camouflage and heavy black gloves, along with welding goggles. "I don't care what you want, come back tomorrow! No, next month! Or kill yourself, that's the ticket!" He shook a sheaf of something halfway between a vine and a power cable, sweeping a dozen thick plastic beakers from the counter. The floor was covered in plastic confetti and dozens of insulated rods and tools were hung along the walls.

"I need your help with this." She slipped the black device out of her pocket, holding it towards the camouflaged gentleman.

"Hmmmm?" He leaned far over what she assumed was a desk underneath a massive pile of vine wiring and plastic cards with diagrams, peered at it, as if he could see through the blacked out goggles. "Well, I see whatchu got there, shoulds said before." Despite the gloves, he pried open the casing nimbly enough, revealing a sheaf of glittering cards nestled in wires. "Beautiful work as ever my darling."

He sighed and closed it up. "Wish I could help ya out girlie, nothing like a favor for ol' Speedy, but all my crystals are spoke for and no telling when the vat'll be up n running again." He pulled a couple wires aside revealing an ancient copper and glass crystal forge, current dark with a half dozen diamonds on the drying rack.

Her fingers twitched inadvertantly but she forced herself to hold steady. She had the unpleasant sense of being followed by multiple pairs of eyes. "So," she said carefully. "If I were to get someone to hook your power back up, you could… part with a few of those for, uh. For Speedy."

"Good fuckin luck if you try! But sure, I'll get her the hookup if you get mine, for old times sake."

She sighed. "Okay, I'll be back." And pushed back out from whatever kind of unlicensed crystal mesh lab the guy was running, flipping her phone off her wrist.

Under most circumstances she'd be off on a long walk to the nearest paperview map hub, but parting with some rocket food meant she got to splurge on a nicer disposable than usual. She sat with her legs sprawled across the scooter path and her ass getting soaked through her pants while she poked around and through the station service maps til she found what she wanted. Just the basic license filings, nothing but the business name and address.

"Like working any other job," she sighed, brushing her soaked hair over her ears and wiping away sweat. Dreary trudging her way through cross referencing and addresses on the tiny fucking screen, she half considered going a few floor back for a paperview after all, and was getting well into three quarters considering, four options trashed, when she got the hit she wanted.

Local to the hydroponics floor, zero reviews posted, but looked like it had been registered for a few years and wasn't closed. She dragged the address to her map screen and slapped her phone back on, standing, pulling her shirt off her chest and back in hopes to air out the sweat. Cut & Dry: Power, Wiring, and Botany.

● ● ● ● ●

She half considered grabbing a bike on the way down to Cut & Dry, but discarded the idea after a minute of thought. She didn't like her movements recorded, no that wasn't fair, she'd probably been tracked by thirty different CCTVs on this level alone. She didn't want to spend money on one, true. Also she didn't see anywhere to rent them.

The sign for Cut & Dry blinked in neon: Electronics. Botany. It went back and forth and she noticed on the way in the neon was bioluminous vines. Inside the shop was a veritable rainforest, with no sign of any floor or walls amidst the plants. Aside from what seemed to her far too much trickling water for a wiring and electrical engineering joint, it was remarkably quiet. Even the background station noise didn't make it through the plants. She looked a little closer at what she thought was a small tree only to discover a woven strand of branches and black wires. It seemed the whole little room was a dense illusion, life and electricity tied into one another.

A soft voice too close to her ear made her jump. "What do you think- OW!" She whipped her head around and saw a dryad piled up against one of the plants, rubbing his forehead.

Realizing her arm was still raised for another blow, she lowered it, and said, "Sorry. Most people can't sneak up on me."

The dryad, to his credit, only half flinched when she reached out to help him up. "Well," he said, "You were rather engrossed. Perhaps I should be proud." He touched his cheek and winced. "Oh, that's going to be a bruised spot."

"I'm really sorry. Um, can we start over? Hi, I need some electrical work done."

He flashed a brief smile, bright white teeth against faintly glistening brown skin. He seemed to favor mesh shirts and leather pants, which she supposed made sense for a minor plant deity. "I'm Sy," he said. "I'm your guy. I mean… it's like a, uh. It's a thing, I'm trying to make it a thing. Sy's Your Guy, at Cut & Dry. Right?" He waved one hand side to side.

"Sure, sounds catchy. Listen, you do house calls? Kinda in a rush here. Um, I mean that's great? Are you free though?"

Sy frowned. "You don't like it. Uh, free… that's kind of abstract for me, could you narrow it down?"

She briefly skipped past thinking she'd like to see his smile again. Down girl. "Okay well there's this guy, I think, I don't know. He likes camouflage and he grows crystals."

"Oh sure. That's Chris. It's Chris' Crystals."

"Are you fucking with me right now?"

His brows drew together in confusion. "No? Why?"

She suppressed thoughts about what was the point of traveling across earth space if people were the same everywhere. "Well, he's had an outage or something and I'm in a jam."

"Hmm, I'll need my plant." He tapped one finger against his lips, his fingernails were pale green.

She looked around the room. "Yeah. Uh huh. Well, anyway, I kinda need this like, today. Any chance you could hook up Chris Crystalferson up with some juice?"

His eyes went wide. "Juice, oh no, but I can get his power back up I think." He began collecting a series of cables and heavy clips and other tools she didn't recognize and couldn't figure out how they'd been hidden within the plants. As a final step, he held out an arm, and one of the larger plants, more of a baby tree, slithered across his back and arms, allowing him to rest a multitude of coiled wires and racks of fuses and breakers on their branches.

"Neat trick," she said. "I take it that's your, what your tree?"

"That's us!" He smiled again. She felt less annoyed. "No tricks involved! Let's go."

"I didn't… sure, let's go."

They headed back towards the crystal mesh lab. "How do you know Chris anyway?"

"Uh… through Speedy?"

"Who's that?"

She sighed internally.

● ● ● ● ●

"Amazing job, kiddo!" Chris clapped one heavily gloved hand onto Sy's shoulder. The whole interior was aglow with the crystal tanks and pressure / temperature readouts blinked in pale blue digital light along the walls, waiting for Chris to kick their jets on. He turned to the girl. "I don't know where you dug this guy up, but he's a miracle worker!"

"I come here like twice a month," Sy tried to say, but not loudly.

"Yeah the kid's great, so about the doohickey there?"

"The d-" Chris shook his head. "You're lucky you caught me in a good mood, here here," he snapped his fingers and she passed it over. Sy watched in rapt fascination while Chris opened the case again, and began hooking two of the diamonds into the wire nest, each wire finding a precise position on a diamond facet.

"Are those particle wave flash CPUs?"

"Mmm. A double-g stack, and these babies here are gonna interface the flash to system and back. Chain's gotta be perfect and then," he snapped the black case shut. "Well then you can figure the trajectory across damn near half the universe, or predict the weather on Venus or whatever!" He handed the box over. "Tell Speedy come by herself next time. No more favors."

"Tell her yourself, try picking up a phone."

"Phone! Hah! Good one. As if. Fuck off, work to do."

And off she fucked, with Sy following.

"What are you doing," she asked.

"I'm following you," he said, plainly.

"But," she said, "why are you doing it, Chris paid you, what's the deal?"

"I want to meet Speedy and see her gear."

She held up a finger trying to pluck from the sky a good way to curse him out, but his dark red irises were distracting. "I… Okay, but," she pointed for emphasis. "I'm not responsible if you get shot."

"Gosh, I sure hope not."

She reconsidered her options while they made their way up another level.

● ● ● ● ●

"Wow," Sy said, as they approached Speedy's place. "And you flew it here all by yourself?"

"It was better than crashing or getting blown up." His eyes were very large. "What?" She stopped at Speedy's door. "What?"

"You said it was damaged."

"I guess, its mouth works fine. What is that look for?"

"Just, it sounds like an interesting ship, lots of interesting work to do, lots to see."

"If I let you see the ship, can you promise not to talk the whole time we're inside?"

Sy clamped his mouth shut.

● ● ● ● ●

The pavilion of cafes and parts stores fuel vouchers was a little bit wider, the ceiling a little bit taller, just enough to almost feel airy after the cramped pathways and hydroponics level. She'd known in theory what stations were like, but it still gave her low level anxiety after a whole life below a sky. There was no sky here, and above the ceiling was plastic and metal and then space.

She was tired and her stomach gurgled again at the many different scents from the various fast food stalls and open air griddles briefly wafted her way before getting sucked away by the air filter.

"Okay," she said. "I'm fucking starving and for once I don't have to be. Uh. That one." She pointed at random and they wandered over to a three wheeled electric bike with a large set of hot plates on the back, watching an older man who reminded her of the more tenacious aged trees at home spreading batter across the surface then deftly flip it, all using some sort of L-shaped plastic stick.

She ordered based on scent with no idea what the pale, meaty chunks and tangy tart smelling slivers were made of, some of the red-black local greens in there and he wrapped the whole thing into a cone before drizzling three different sauces over the top. Sy got his own mix and she flicked some cash over from her phone.

It was hot and tasted something like a sky or an ocean, half sweet half stringy. The crunch was both bitter and tangy, and then the spice hit, watering her eyes. She fanned her mouth with one hand, devouring the whole contraption in orgiastic delight. "Food is so good," she said through a full mouth, and Sy nodded, wiping sauce from his chin.

Not far from the pavillion, they came to her dock. "Okay," she said again, Sy nodding. "I gotta sort my business out, but you can poke around. Don't touch anything. Unless the ship says so. But it probably won't, I don't think it likes earthlings much."

"Right, no touching. Actually a pretty good rule for civs electrical safety." He was grinning, and her cheeks were a little warm.

"Yeah. Well, this… you'll see." The airlock cycled open and they passed through, the ship's door splitting and retracting on the other side for their entry.

"Oh great," it said. "Now there's two of you."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

"I believe that you have something close to the most basic, rudimentary grasp of my docking procedure. We may now make an approach to the station to aquire carbon latices."

"Cool, cool cool. So, you got any cash?"

"I beg your pardon."

"Credit, cash, moolah, bread, dough, do you have any kind of money? Or I don't know super secret hacker tricks to steal bank accounts?"

"You have misunderstood with predictable rapidity. I had hoped you would take the opportunity to express your sincere contrition for asking a question you surely must already know the answer to."

"Okay, well, my point is I'm probably not picking up a four course diamond dinner for you through legitimate routes, and it's just me also. Do ya see what I'm getting at?"

"You have painted a vivid portrait of absolute nonsense?"

"What?"

"No, what are you 'getting at?'"

"That probably we're going to leave in a hurry, because I don't think I can set up a clean game by myself. So it's gonna be like a quick and dirty grab, lunch to go."

"You believe that the acquisition process will incur pursuit, and necessitate urgent departure and immediate structure vectors."

"I wouldn't have said it like that-"

"Agreed."

"-but can you set that up? We'll want to kick out as soon as we can after I hit the airlock."

"Feasible. I will require the remaining latices as well."

"You'll get most of them, but I need to grab some gear and these are all we got. At least for now."

"Feasible. I will be able to remain in standby for structure entanglement for a short period after we dock, approximate one thousand years by your measure."

"I cannot tell if you're joking, I swear on Luna's breath."

"You should have adequate time to obtain the additional resources, so long the remaining latices are provided to me as priority."

"You'll get your treats, don't worry."

"I understand this may be one of the jokes you often reference. May I suggest you do not make these your primary occupation?"

"Duly noted. Okay, I'll get you gassed up. I hope I don't have to run down a bunch of favors just to find a good lead on diamonds."

● ● ● ● ●

She folded the maglev line schedule over itself again, watching for the arrival lights inside the partial cover of the kiosk. She'd polished off some kind of vegetarian pastry and a burger with a side of wings and her stomach felt strained. Walking around the station had been a good way to pick up what kind of clothes didn't stand out and she was wearing the cheapest version of them she could find, a red shirt with some doughnut shaped cartoon characters on it, which she saw a bunch of kids wearing, and blue shorts with white stripes on the legs. Left her boots back at the ship and was wearing some kind of extra-janky plastic sandals she'd seen around, plus a zippered little bag around her waist which she kind of liked. A fashion plate of generic anonymity, that was the goal.

According to the deep spacer, this was a high probability site of lowered caution and raised vulnerability, expected to see passage of diamonds in transit. It hadn't looked that difficult to her, watching his fingers play along his tablet finding something like the volume she was looking for and a good spot she could hit the transport. There was a little chime and the display promised a line arrival in five minutes. She folded the schedule into the waistband of her shorts and shuffled around like all the other commuters, letting their jostles push her near to the rail exit. The escalator lowered from the maglev linecars and passengers started exiting the down the line, people moving around her while the boarding escalator came down a bit further up the line. She vibed her way down stream, again letting the various tourists trying to get on board spin her this way and that, passing around them, rolling and twisting to make herself as invisible as possible to their tunnel vision.

She could have spotted her target miles away. The bulky, unfashionable gray suit barely concealing whatever body armor and heat the guy was packing. Fuzzy edged face holographs, probably armored there too. Good odds it was optimized to disperse piercing attempts and heat, maybe light impact protection. Some secure carriers used automatons, but these guys didnt move loke that. Couldn't conceal the case which was encouragingly large. Two other guys front and back flanked him on the way out. Overall, perfect for anyone avoiding real attention from the general public, abysmal concealment from someone who knew what to look for. Someone who was about to generate a rather large amount of attention.

She took a deep breath.

Pointing up the line, she shouted in her highest pitched voice, "Oh my gods what's that girl doing?!" and dove down the line, ducking into the crowd. Superheated air blasted from her body, her clothes burst into tatters, and she shifted hard. A howling monstrosity of teeth and claws with fur thick enough to stop a knife burst from the fertile concealed mass of humanity and leapt twelve meters off the ground, landing on the escalator next to the men in gray.

One got off a shot, something big and explosive put a hole through her shoulder, which started closing up before the exit wound blew out. She bit down on his arm, brought her teeth together, didn't sever anything but felt bones break and he screamed through a vocal distorter. He'd live but wasn't going to bother her. The second man was slower. She grabbed the gun he was trying to get out, along with the hand it was in, and pulled.

He sailed past her, to somewhere that wasn't her problem. Two down. The guy with the case was ggetting crushed against then side of the escalator in the ensuing panic all around them both. She tried to jerk the case out of his hand but it came up short. Handcuffed on. She snarled, ropes of drool falling out of her maw. "We're going for a ride," she informed him, wrapped both clawed hands around the case, and backflipped off the escalator.

Landed, case and carrier in tow, though to her eye he'd broken one or two limbs. Another gunshot, just winged the edge of her ribs. She grabbed arm and case, snapped the cuff links and probably broke his wrist, then threw his body towards the gray man who was trying to aim around commuters trying to avoid being shot. They embraced as lovers, she left them to privacy and grabbed the case in her mouth, bounding for the ship.

She'd learned a lot wandering around the station that day, had an unerring sense of direction, and a pretty good idea which obstacles were breakable. She plowed through the glass walls of a department store in a direct route to the pavilion, jumped past two food carts, and snagged a giant chunk of sweet smelling meat rotating on a spike while the manager yelled at her, kicked her way through an info screen, tumbled down the narrow maintenance corridor, and bashed her way out through a vent across from her dock.

Technically she was far from the screams of the line stop, but she just was the kind of slavering werewolf creature that got a fresh round wherever she went. Blame the media. She shoved case and meat under one arm and, in another burst of heat, ripped the docking bay door off its hingers.

The ship already had its airlock open and she dove through. "It's me," she shouted, tearing out chunks of the meat and swallowing them whole.

"The bridge has been relocated, please go through the door at the end of this corridor." She leapt the whole way, rolling to her feet in the now somewhat familiar room.

"I am receiving multiple general notifications that all ships are to remain docked, and several more direct notifications that my power output should be lowered significantly. They have indicated they might engage in pursuit of any vehicles leaving the station."

Sy came strolling into the bridge, looking around curiously as she grabbed the control nerves. "Hey, this ship is amazing- What's all the ruckus?"

"What are you still doing here?" Her eyes bugged out for half a second. "You weren't- Never mind! Future me problem!" She threw herself into the Pilot net and focused on the vectors from the ship "Can you outrun em" Tossed the meat.

Sy said, "Hi, Outrun who?" Future problem, future problem.

"I assume this is another one of your jokes."

"Not you! Ship! I mean, whats it- fuck it, can we go?!"

"Your vectors are ready. We can proceed from this position."

"We're about to ruin so many days. Let's hit it." She hit it.

Interlude:

"That was incredible," she said. "What a rush. What did we do? Where are we?"

"We undertook multiple structure alignments including a brief dual entanglement in order to produce several distinct paths of travel and reduce probability of further pursuit. We are currently within the Mindanao system. This appeared to be an optimal site for conducting analysis of our resources."

Sy unwrapped his hand and several branches from one of the curved bars running between the floor and ceiling of the bridge. "Hey, I have a question too, what just happened?"

Letting go of the vines, the werewolf girl sunk to the floor and started tearing more chunks of meat off the roasting spit she stole on the way out. "Well," she said, spilling out masticated chunks and slurping them back up with her tongue. "Well, we, that is to say me. That is, I have stolen an amount of system quality diamonds. We'll know how much when I crack that box open. A lot I hope." She swallowed. "And you, are supposed to be not here, you said you'd head out after you finished. Maybe we can get you on like... a shuttle or something."

He nodded with an easy smile. "Well yeah. That's why I was moving all my stuff in. I wish I had a chance to get the day lilies, they won't make it on the station. And it doesn't sound like going back is easy."

"In my defense, I was in a hurry and I, uh... Your stuff?" She swallowed. She could feel herself blushing under her fur and self consciously tried to clean a bit of the mess off her muzzle and chest. "What is... you mean... how stuff?"

He sighed and leaned against the bar. "Oh yeah, it's gonna take me awhile before I'm finished here. This ship is pretty great but the wiring is a mess. Shame about those lilies though, but I guess all life is but fleeting chaos and material possessions are merely temporary." He rocked a little on his hips.

"I do not have rats, and your use of the term wiring continues to demonstrate the lack of development in advanced engineering I am somehow continuously surprised by in your civilization. However, you demonstrate a commendable willingness to discard the soulless and crude material through which your civilization attempts to interact with the structured universe."

"Oh yeah, very zen, very cool. Still messy. What are you anyway?"

The werewolf girl looked regretfully at the bare skewer and ate the last few flecks of meat. "Good point, we ought to have something to call you."

"In your language," it said, "my function and name translates to Remover Of Interference To The Progress Of Greater Organized Civilization And Implementation Of Systemic Agency Cooperation Between Unified Structural Manifestations Originating From Star Zero."

"Dude, I have no idea what that means."

"I am not a dude, according to my records, it is unclear what this is. There are multiple, contradictory entries."

"Just like, what is all that? Are you just using long words to sound smart?"

"I am smart." The voice became softer. "In the better times, I would take Pilot to the worlds of disorganized civilizations, and we would implement order for them. We found many worlds suffering under lack of unification, and we implemented many civilizations."

She dropped her hands to her sides. "How did… you do that?"

"Optimally, perhaps again some day, I am readily capable of a gravity distortion effect removing an area approximately 40 million square kilometers from the surface of most planets or other objects of solid matter within my 500,000 kilometer range of effect. In many such cases, Implementation and Agency Cooperation only required three uses of this capability."

The werewolf girl felt the blood drain out of her face. "I… I'm sitting in the most illegal weapon in the universe."

Sy just laughed hysterically. "Yeah, okay Genghis Khan. Hah. That's what we should call you. Genghis Khan." He turned to the werewolf girl. "So what's your name, Julius Caesar?"

□ □ □ □ □

The seats in Maryam's ship were made of material designed to conform to whoever was sitting in the cramped cockpit. Serah couldn't find a comfortable position no matter how she shifted her legs, and was thinking about ignoring the deeply threatening order she'd been given to stay where she was, when she heard footsteps along the narrow catwalk and the door behind her opened.

Maryam slid by and settled into the pilot seat in front of Serah. She thought about asking the interdiction agent why she was even here again, but didn't think there'd be any better of an answer. "You're the only person who ever recorded this ship, you're as close as I have to an expert," was the explanation. Serah didn't think an extra minute of experience should count, but she was outranked by several orders of magnitude.

A folder of plastic sheets dropped into her lap. "Here," Maryam said. "They've been here. Made a real mess of things, but got on the cameras enough. The girl has a file, look it over. I'm calling in to track their system path."

"What am I gonna-" Serah fell back into her seat. Maryam was ignoring her, typing into the slim screen on her armrest. "Ugh." Serah flipped open the folder, finding a picture of some sullen guy- no, girl, with a wild mass of hair, who probably had her nose broken at least once. She looked at the name, typed in a capital letters: "Laika Blackwood"

END OF PART 1

[just-wrting]

First

Title: First

Pairing: Portgas D Ace x Reader(SMUT!)

Summary: You and Ace are each other’s first in everything.

Word Count: 4.8k

Master List

A/N: This has been sitting for quite some time, and I was finally feeling like finishing this lol so here’s some smut, it’s like the third time I’ve actually written smut, so it’s probably not great but let me know

The sun finally peeks out from the horizon as you take the final step. You hope you’re not too late, after all, he gets up early to go see his brother. It seemed like it took you and your little legs forever to climb the mountain. Seven year olds don’t move that fast, or at least the average one’s don’t.

“Ace! Over here!” You wave excitedly at the young boy.

As soon as he realizes it’s you, he makes a face. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to visit you. Is that so wrong? I thought we were friends!” You pout.

Ace folds his arms and huffs. “Well I overheard some thugs say that only sissies hang out with weak people. I don’t wanna be a sissy.”

“You’re going to listen to what people you beat up say?” You tilt your head to the side. “I was just going to tell you what my parents told me about scary and strong pirates, since you want to be one.”

“Fine, only because you said it’ll make me a strong pirate.”

You give him a big toothy grin. “My mama said that all scary pirates are w-womanizers.”

You’re quite proud of yourself for remembering such a big word.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Am I supposed to be like a girl?” Ace scowls at the thought. “I’m not gonna do that. I’ll be the strongest without being that.”

You shake your head. “That’s not what it means. It means being good with women, and being able to kiss them. At least that’s what my dad says.”

Ace sticks his tongue out. “Well that’s stupid. Who am I supposed to try kissing here, dummy?”

“Well I guess I could help you out, if you ask nicely,” you say, looking away from him.

“Ew, why would I want to try kissing you?”

You feel your face heat up in both embarrassment and anger. “Fine! I’ll hope Luffy becomes the strongest pirate instead. You’re such a meanie.”

You hear Ace stomp his feet all the way to you. He stares down at you, but you refuse to back down.

“That crybaby won’t be the strongest pirate. It’s gonna be me! Since you really want to, I guess I can try kissing you. Just once!”

You close your eyes and scrunch up your face. Ace takes forever, but finally presses his lips to yours. He puts too much pressure however, and the two of you fall over.

You push him off and scowl at him. “How dare you push me over? That’s not what my parents do when they kiss.”

“Oh yeah? Well, you drooled on me! I don’t think that’s how kissing works either!”

“What would you know, Ace? You have rocks for brains!”

Before he can say anything, you scramble to your feet and run off. You don’t stop for breath until you think Ace can’t see you anymore. Little did you know that you’ve just started something that will last a life time.

—-

The night air buzzes with various insects, and you pull your hair out of face. You’ve been bothering Ace for years and now you’ve gotten pretty close. He’s determined to set out to sea in two years, so you’re doing your best to squash any feelings you might have for him.

It’s not easy. Not when the two of you are alone and he has you sit on his lap. You do your best to pretend you’re annoyed at his antics, but it doesn’t stop your face from feeling warm.

“I’m so glad that Luffy still has a bed time. This is why I’m happy I’m fifteen finally. I’ll get to sail out in two more years.”

“What does that have to with where I sit, Ace?” You try to scowl, but you’re positive you just look flustered.

He wraps his arms around your waist and gives you his signature cheeky smile. Despite the summer heat and the bonfire, your body seems to crave his warmth.

“Now that Luffy’s in bed, I can do something I’ve been wanting to do for a bit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is it eating the rest of the food?” you ask, sounding much more disappointed than you mean to.

His thumb traces small circles on your back as he keeps smiling at you. “It’s no fun to tell you.”

You can’t stop your lips from turning into a pout. This makes him laugh, a soft and breathy laugh that fans your face. It causes your pout to deepen.

“Don’t do that,” he murmurs. “Gonna cause me to start thinking things.”

“Then maybe you’re a pervert,” you state matter-of-factly. “I think you actually are. Where are your hands?”

Now it’s his turn to look ashamed. He looks away from you and makes some sort of comment on a bug. Despite being called out, his hands still rest under your shirt.

You feel him pull you closer until your chests are resting against each other. His breath seems steady compared to your own. Unsure of what to do, you place your arms on his shoulders and gently tangle one hand in his hair.

In the moonlight, Ace looks so serene. There’s something so pretty about him. From the softer dusting of freckles under the more prominent ones to the soft glow his skin has, every part of him is attractive. You do your best to take in every part of him, fearing this is the last time.

You fail to notice his hand gently resting on the back of your neck and how his eyes are fluttering closed. It takes you by surprise when he pulls you in for a kiss.

It’s nothing like what you’re used to. Ace’s kisses are usually quick and firm, but this one is soft and gentle. He takes his time, almost as if he’s trying to savor the moment.

It doesn’t take too long for the growing desire to take over as he deepens the kiss. You don’t fight it, letting him sweep his tongue over your bottom lip asking to be let in. It’s the first time you’ve kissed like this.

Ace’s fingers dig into your side in a desperate attempt to pull you even closer. In doing this, he’s placed himself below you. Even though you’re nervous, you do your best to take the lead, letting your tongue explore him.

He tastes sweet, and you can’t help the growing want for more. At this point all of your senses are consumed by Ace and his presence, and you can’t stop the small moans that leave you.

Suddenly, clear as day, a voice booms through the forest. “Ace! If you’re not here in the next five minutes I’m locking you out.”

Ace pulls away, and you do your best to kill the whimper that arises in your throat. The fire has dimmed to embers, and you wonder how long you were like that.

“Shit, I’ve got to go. Did you want me to walk you home?” he asks as his hands fall to his side.

You stand up and shake your head. “I’ll be fine, you know that. Get going before she kills you.”

Before he runs off, he grabs you one more time. This kiss is one of his normal ones, firm and quick but filled with the promise of more.

—-

Before he takes off, Ace pulls himself up onto the shore one more time. The moon is full and bright making everything easy to see. Part of you is heart broken, not wanting him to leave.

His face is flushed from hard work, yet he stands in front of you as if it’s a normal day. You hesitate as you reach out for him, desperately wanting to beg him to stay. Yet you know how selfish it would be to ask.

“You look like you might be sick, want to sit down?” he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You don’t even say anything, just nodding. His touch is gentle as he sits down and pulls you into his lap. Even when you put all your weight into him, he doesn’t budge. You’ll miss moments like this.

“I’ll come back. I promise.” His voice is barely a whisper. “I’ll be the strongest man out there and I’ll take you away.”

You want to believe him. He sounds so earnest about it that you want to trust his words. It’s impossible though. You know that he’ll get caught up in things no matter how hard he tries, and you may never see him again.

“I can prove it to you.”

This time, his kisses are so soft as if he’s worried you’ll break under his touch. You don’t care, you just want to keep him here as long as possible.

You know what he means when he sets you down in the grass, hovering over you. He covers you in kisses, and with everyone tells you that he promises to come back.

By the time he officially sets sail, you miss him more than you ever thought possible.

—-

You don’t know how long you’ve been stuck in this dingy room. You don’t know how long it’s been since you saw land last. You can’t even remember how long it’s been since Ace set sail and left you all alone, with the promise of returning. All you can think about is how nice it would be to have him save you.

It’s been years since he set sail. Luffy has already started to make a name for himself, so you can’t imagine the stuff Ace has gotten into. You do know that’s he’s strong and is part of the Whitebeard Pirates.

Your head is pounding and the smell of smoke fills the air. Your captors have gotten into another battle. That’s just how the Grand Line and New World are you suppose. Part of you hopes they lose, at least maybe whoever is fighting them is nicer.

The battle seems to be over in minutes. These pirates have been severely outmatched in every battle lately, so it was only a matter of time. At least you’ll be free from the bastard who kidnapped you.

Footsteps run down the hallway. It doesn’t take long for the door to the room to be ripped open. You tuck your face into the wall, shielding your eyes from the sudden light.

“Hey! I’ve got someone here!” a voice shouts. “Seems like they had someone captive.”

Eventually your eyes adjust, and you squint at your rescuer. It’s a muscular woman of above average height, and she kneels next to you. After a quick check, she assumes you pose no threat and cuts you loose. Your shoulders scream at the change in position, but you’re so grateful.

As she hauls you to your unsteady feet, you watch as more people mill about in the hall. You know you’re just a dead weight, but whoever she is, she’s strong enough that it doesn’t matter. In fact, she practically dragging you up the stairs. You think you see someone familiar walk past, but your voice is too hoarse to call out.

“I’m gonna get her a bath and a meal, this one poses no threat.”

“Who?” you croak out. “You?”

She chuckles. “Who? You pose no threat little missy. Now if you want to know who I am, that doesn’t matter. You’ll meet the person in charge later.”

You barely register the fact that she’s already gotten you on board the ship she’s with. The two of you are already in a bathroom, and you realize you’re leaving dirt everywhere. Thankfully, you don’t have the energy to be ashamed as it’s all spent trying to stay awake.

The woman helps you strip, and gently lowers you into warm water. She goes to work on your hair first.

“If you can’t move, I’ll just bathe you. It’ll probably be easier that way.”

You just nod and close your eyes. This is the first time you’ve felt safe enough to relax a little. Before you know it, you’ve dozed off.

Once the woman wakes you, you’re clean, dry, and wearing clothes. You want to wave her away so you can get more sleep, but you can smell food being prepared.

She leads you up the stairs and out onto the deck. Everyone seems to be celebrating, so it’s a bit hard to hear her.

“Don’t mind them, they do this almost every night. Every day is a party with Fleet Commander-“

That’s when you see him, right as she tries to introduce you to him.

“Fire Fist Ace.”

You can feel her body shake with laughter. “Yep! You a fan or something?”

You just nod your head. Something is the better term.

Part of you wants to thank her for dropping you right next to Ace, but you aren’t sure if you’re ready for that.

All of your emotions come flooding out when he looks at you. You don’t make any noise, but the tears start flowing. He looks startled and awkwardly pats your back. You want to laugh at him, but instead start to cough. Someone shoves a cup of water into your hands and you slow start to calm down.

Ace hands you a plate of food, and you start to eat. It’s the first thing you’ve had in a few days, so you eat faster than you know you should. You don’t get to eat often, so you can’t help it. It only takes a few mouth fulls to realize your mistake.

By the time you reach the rail, you’re throwing up. Someone holds your hair back as you empty what little you’ve eaten. You’ll learn to pace yourself eventually.

As the party dies down, you find yourself dozing off on Ace. He’s already fast asleep on your shoulder. There’s a certain type of peace you feel being back with him.

—-

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve been freed, and you haven’t had the chance to talk to Ace. At some point he went off on something personal.

You’ve managed to gain some weight back and are able to keep medium sized meals down. This is probably the best you’ve felt in months.

“The Commander is back!”

You glance over your shoulder to look at Ace. He manages to catch your eye and looks stunned. You want to talk to him, but figure he’s probably busy.

This assumption proves to be wrong when he leans against the railing next to you.

“I went and saw Luffy. He’s doing well.”

You smile softly. “He was so excited to sail out, he almost capsized his boat. I’m glad you got to see him again.”

“I’m sorry.”

You turn and face him. You don’t think you’ve ever seen such a serious face on him before and for a moment, he seems distant.

“Don’t be. I’d much rather you be alive than die trying to see me. You’ve gotten so much stronger.”

You wish the serious air between the two of you would disappear.

“Yeah, well I broke my promise. What have you been doing? Before you were…” he pauses.

“My parents wanted me to get married. Never did though, I wasn’t into anyone.”

The breeze blows Ace’s hair in front of his eyes, and you brush it away. He looks so sad and you aren’t sure how to cheer him up.

“Why not? I’m sure your parents would’ve found someone who could’ve made you happy.”

You snort. “Oh yeah, I’m sure. Especially since I’ve already decided who I want to marry since I was like 7. Since he’s not on the list I’m sure I’ll be super happy.”

“Oh really?” Ace asks, tilting his head to the side.

You gently hold his face in your hands. “Ace, I have loved you for years. I would marry you on this ship if I could.”

Suddenly, he looks elated. In one fluid movement, he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. It’s like you weigh nothing at all, and you’re too shocked to even protest as he marches his way to his quarters.

“Ace! What’s the meaning of this? I have my own room.”

Ace keeps smiling at you as he sets you gently on the bed. He doesn’t even do anything, just looks down on you with a goofy grin like you just told him the Marines labeled him as the strongest pirate.

“Well? What do you want?”

He leans in and kisses you. It leaves you breathless as he makes sure to kiss you like he’s wanted to for years. Your head spins with so many thoughts, but at least the answer is obvious. Ace wants you.

It doesn’t take long for him start tugging on the edge of your shirt, desperate for it to come off. You know he’s making sure to wait for you to agree, despite the fact that his kiss is filled with need. All it takes is a gentle nudge, and he pulls away just long enough for him to tear your shirt off.

You open your mouth to say something, but it’s lost as he goes back to kissing you. This time, he runs his tongue on your bottom lip, asking for entrance. Once you oblige, he deepens it.

One arm rests next to your head, supporting Ace’s weight. The other gentle traces your torso, squeezing your skin. His touch is so light, it makes you whine, but you doubt he hears it as he keeps up the soft touches. His hand trails down to your navel, and your breath hitches.

“I’m going to take my time with you,” he mumbles against your skin. “I’ve missed you so much.”

As he litters kisses down your neck, you let yourself get lost in the feeling. The feeling of his lips on your neck and his hand on your chest. At first you try to keep your noises to heavy breaths, but you can’t stop the moan that escapes when he sucks on your skin.

“Ace,” you whine. “Please?”

As much as you want to have a passionate time, you’re desperate for him. You’ve spent countless nights imagining him touching you again, and you can’t hold it back anymore.

“Please touch me, Ace. I need you.”

You watch as Ace’s little resolve crumbles, showing that he needs you just as bad. His hands make quick work of your pants and bra, leaving you almost nude. Instead of completing that task, he shoves his face in your thighs, leaving little bite marks all the way up to your underwear.

He can’t even be bothered with removing them, pulling them to the side to reveal how much you need him. You moan as he licks your cunt and squeeze your thighs against his head. This doesn’t deter him, as he keeps going.

You find yourself in ecstasy as Ace eats you out. The way his tongue makes little circles around your clit draws whines out of you. You’re so lost in the sensation that you fail to notice anything else. So much so, that it comes as a surprise when he starts to finger you as well.

He’s able to reach places that you never could causing you to see stars even though his pace is agonizingly slow. You can’t help but grind against his face. You’re so far gone that you can’t even feel pathetic, the only thing you can think about is feeling good.

“Stay still, baby. Can you do that?” Ace asks breathily, pulling away for air. “Please?”

You can’t even respond verbally, instead having to just dumbly nod your head. It doesn’t matter, Ace goes back to your cunt before you even register his question. You’re grateful that he rests his other arm across your hips to prevent you from moving, allowing you to not have to take your focus away from the pleasure.

He’s able to drag out another moan from you as he pushes a third finger in. Each pump is slow and steady, pulling out most of the way before pushing back in. Every time, the tips of his fingers manage to hit deep within.

The steady feeling of Ace’s touch starts to build something up in you. Your hand reaches down to pull Ace closer, tangling in his curls. As if he can sense your desperate need for release, he picks up the pace. His fingers push in and out at a quicker speed, curling deep inside to reach that spot that you never can.

Within mere moments, you feel the tension snap as you climax. Your back arches off the bed as you whimper and tug on Ace’s hair as you cum in a poor attempt to drag him even closer.

As you come down from euphoric feeling, you watch Ace with half lidded eyes. He stands and straightens, refusing to stop staring at you. He’s looking down at you with hungry eyes, licking his lips to savor every drop of you. You can’t bring yourself to move any part of your body due to the slight trembling that still courses through you.

He doesn’t break eye contact, even while he gets undressed. Hes in such a rush to get his shorts and boxers off that he almost trips trying to fling them away. Your body feels hot and on fire, his gaze only adding to that feelings.

As soon as he’s free, he climbs over you and gives you a soft smile. He’s quick to pepper your face with kisses.

“So good for me. Such a good girl,” he praises in between kisses. “So perfect.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting him as close as possible. You’re slick with sweat, the air causing you to feel cold. Never have you been happier to have him close.

After a moment, he stop the gentle kisses and pulls back. You whine in protest, your hands falling from his back to his chest as he moves. You’re torn between want him to stay close and wanting him to fuck you.

“I know, baby, just one sec.”

Even though he’s slow and gentle, there’s still a slight pain as he enters you. You subconsciously dig your nails into his skin at the feeling of being full. Ace carefully leans over you, making sure not to move.

His hair falls in front of his face as he looks down at you. Even from this angle, he so pretty and you really just want to admire him.

“Ace,” you whimper. “Love you.”

For some reason, this makes him flustered and he looks away briefly.

“I love you too. Let me know if it hurts,” he says while placing a kiss to your temple.

It’s the same as before, slow and steady. The drag of his cock against your walls feels good, and you can’t stop the little noises you make when he pushes his cock all the way back in.

There’s an immense look of concentration of Ace’s face, but your brain has turned to mush so you aren’t sure why. The most you can do is pull him into an open-mouthed kiss letting your moans tumble into him.

You could spend a long time enjoying this feeling, the pain turning to euphoria as your body gets used to him. For years you’ve missed Ace, and couldn’t even bring yourself to be with another guy, yet here he is. It feels like a dream, and you don’t want it to end.

Ace stops kissing you, and starts to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck. You hear him praise you, tell you how much he loves you and how good you feel.

You gasp as he speeds up, thrusting into you with a speed you aren’t used to. Each thrust goes deeper and you let out whimper every time he goes all the way in. You lace your arms around his neck, doing your best to pull him even closer.

The moan that escapes you as he sucks on your neck almost makes you feel embarrassed. It doesn’t last long as you feel the tension building in you again. The stimulation of having your neck sucked on as you get pounded makes you feel so good.

“Ace,” you whine. “So close, I’m so close.”

One hand grips his back as the other buries itself in his hair. Each thrust brings you one step closer to the edge. All you can focus on is the feeling of Ace fucking you.

After a few more thrusts, you feel the release of your orgasm. You dig your fingernails into Ace’s skin, too lost to even realize what you’re doing. Ace doesn’t seem to realize either, as his hips stutter.

After a moment, Ace lets himself fall onto you and smash you into the bed. He doesn’t make any move to pull out of you, instead he’s panting into your ear. You don’t even try to move him, letting the glow of your orgasm leave your body.

“You okay?” you mumble. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Ace presses light kisses to your face and neck. You hum in contentment, gently scratching his back. You’re in no rush to untangle yourself from him, and it’s clear he feels the same.

“I’m okay, love,” he says with a kiss. “I’m more worried about you. Did it hurt? Was it-”

You squirm slightly, just enough to kiss his lips. Of course he’s worried about you. He was always worried about you, that hasn’t changed.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

With a pout, Ace pushes himself off of you. You hear him rummage around in the nightstand, looking for something. After a moment, he pulls out a scrap of fabric and begins to wipe you down. His touch is gentle, putting just enough pressure to clean saliva and sweat from your neck and chest, but not enough to hurt.

You let out a soft groan as he pulls out, your hips burning from the time spread. Ace gently kisses each and every mark left on your skin, from bite marks and hickeys to accidental bruises on your hips and thighs. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, trying to not fall asleep.

“There, all cleaned up.” He presses another kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right back, I don’t know if you ate yet.”

He trips over the pile of clothes while trying to get off the bed. You want to beg him to stay, you know he would, but you know he wants to make sure you eat and have water before you go to bed. It’s not a bad idea, letting him feed you as you sit in bed, you’re just worried that he feels bad.

Ace is back faster than you expect, flicking on the lights as he enters the room again. His face is flushed, and when he turns around you can see the raised red lines that you left on his back. You’re just as flustered as he is, as you try to pull the blanket up to cover yourself. It doesn’t work out, it’s tucked into the side of the bed so you can’t get it up.

You glance back up at Ace to see him giving you the softest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. Normally it’s a bright and boyish smile that can rival the sun, but now it’s soft and filled with love.

“I missed you so much, there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think about you.”

You can’t keep looking at him, too embarrassed by his words to meet his eyes. “I missed you. Every single day I waited to see you or to get the paper just so I could have even a glimpse of you.”

Ace places the tray of food on the nightstand before cupping your face. His thumb wipes a tear away that you didn’t even know was there.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Every time he says sorry, he gives you a kiss somewhere on your face. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I love you more than I could ever tell you. Will you let me make it up to you?”

You nod and turn your head to give his palm a kiss. You’d go through hell just to have him in your life. He’s the first man you’ve ever loved, and the only man you’d ever love.

“Ace, I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids, you idiot.” You can’t stop the tears now. “You’re the only man I want.”

Ace can’t stop giving you kisses as cry. His touch is soft and warm as he reassures you that he’s not going to leave you again.

You feel the exhaustion of the night catch up to you as your eyes flutter shut. Dozing off in Ace’s arms to the whispers of reassurance and love, you drift into dreams of a more peaceful life.

Ace is the first for a lot of things in your life, including your first love, and you know that no matter what happens, he’d be the only man you’d ever love.

[oukabarsburgblr]

Hello! I am new, and wanted to ask 3 things for you:

1.) Is Daichi a type of yandere, and why is he obsessed with the reader?

2.) Are you maybe interested in writing JJK?

3.) Can I be 🎃 anon?

-🎃 Have nice day studying/whatever your busy doing, keep up the good work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Hello there and 3) yes u can be 🎃 anon, reminds me of that one game kubz scouts played for days on end. Pumpkin race? The one with the time that he tried to one up haha

1) to be honest, its been a while since i wrote that fanfiction and ever since then ive been focusing on my ocs so much hshsh. I do think daichi can be classified as a psychopath. A yandere? I wouldnt say he loves the reader (during his third year) and i could say for a fact even he acknowledges he doesnt harbor romantic feelings for the reader until much later (after the training camp shenanigan) however, he did harvest some type of attraction to the reader. An unhealthy one. Where the dynamic is between an object and an owner? Not a pet or a partner, but an object instead. Something he can switch on and off, mold into his liking and reader just so happened to be a perfect victim for it. Although he does grow to be fond of you, ever since how obedient you became. So many screaming nights passed in your house.

Now came the question of why? Why did he do all of this? Why did he instigate it the second the reader came into his view? I tried explaining it in the second part of the fic. Sugawara and Asahi would have treated reader like any other first year if it werent for Daichi. Maybe suga a bit sociopathic but daichi was the match that started the flame.

I think it came from the canon fact that Daichi was the rock of the team, their anchor, their foundation. I thought of him as someone youd look up to, youd rely on but there had to be days where he wasnt feeling himself right? Where he finds all of them a tad bit annoying, but that wouldnt be nice, they were his friends after all. And you came into the picture. On a bad day, where he just felt shitty and you suddenly came stumbling into the club, making a ruckus, curse words from your mouth scratching his eardrums and a thought slipped his mind where he found you so fucking annoying. However, it wouldnt be fair to thrust all that negative energy onto you so he did what he could, ignoring you until he could cool himself down. Maybe the day after he could find himself talking to you again. Wrong. He still finds you annoying and rude. Then there was this urge that came from deep within his stomach, this feral desire to grasp at you, clench at your face, pulling your skin back so you would behave- Too much blood so no can do. He still found you annoying though, hence, the snowball rolls where he decided to just change you. Sugawara and Asahi was a massive help, pinning you into the corner until he had you cumming around his finger.

If given the chance, where there would be no repurcussions, no trace of any evidence whatsoever, Daichi Sawamura would have murdered you, killing you in cold blood and burying your body deep within the mountains. A heavy burden would lift from his shoulders and he felt like the world would work his way again. But there was no solid plan for it so he never took the chance nor thought to.

Can you tell that Daichi is my favourite? Hahaha ive said this like three times now. I loveeeee him.

2) would i ever write jjk! One of my favourite readers have requested a satosugu x bottom male reader in my inboxes and i will consider but heres the thing.

I dont watch jjk😭

Well, i did, until i dropped it. I think it was at episode 20+ on season 1. I used to be a huge shounen person but now im a slice of life fan (although they can be quite boring sometimes) i guess im more into thrillers but in a normal setting? But i know jjk characters.

I used to have an obsession w sukuna haha. Ik maki, ik zenin naoya, ik todo aoi, like ik them and ik what happened to them (rip nanami) but idk i think i have to get hooked on really well for me to watch jjk so that i can write it. We'll see deffo! But i plan to watch chainsaw man first hshshs

[s-4pphics]

dial. 5 (e.w.)

wc;cw: 3.9k, fratadjacent!ellie, all ocs r black coded<3, angst, weed, nun crazy… yet😝😝😝😝

SEVEN MONTHS LATER 

You’re finally a fucking senior! Joy to the queer world! 

After barely surviving your last term due to heartbreak and an intense depressive episode, the future ahead of you brightened the second you stepped into your aunt's home. Your summer was the highlight of your year… maybe even your life. What had you done in your past life to be blessed with such an amazing auntie? 

She took you any and everywhere you wanted to go. You never imagined Iceland would be the home country you wished to be born in. The mountains, the bright green grass, the fucking waterfalls you only dreamt of diving into. You became a mermaid the second you and Niah jumped into the Reykjadalur River. 

Every fiber of your being rejuvenated after your much needed break, and you were ready to get through your last year without chips on your shoulder. Fuck everyone from your past!

Moving in was always the worst part of the year. As much as you loved decorating, you never fully threw yourself into it until your third week on campus. Your fairy lights would have to sit in their box until you got your schedule in order. 

You and Niah trekked back and forth from your dorm to your auntie’s truck, hauling in box after box until your arms burned. Your back was already killing you. 

“Fucking son of a bitch— “

You interrupted Niah’s exhausted exclamations, “Swear ja— “

“Bitch, fuck you! I'm grown!” She dropped the last box near your work desk before slumping onto your chair. 

“Alright, my loves!” Your aunt entered your shared room with bags of new bedding. “This is the last of it. Need help making your bed?” 

You blankly stared at your aunt, and she smiled slyly, “Don’t look at me like that! You’re my baby!” 

You shook your head, snagging the neatly wrapped blankets from her hands, tossing them to the floor and engulfing her in the tightest hug you could muster. 

“I love you,” you mumbled into her shoulder. 

“I love you, baby. You’re almost done, you got this,” she kissed your cheek a dozen times before pulling back to plant more on your forehead. And nose. 

“Want me t’walk you out?” 

“I got it. Unpack and get comfy. I’ll see you in a couple months, okay?” She bopped your nose and you nodded, embracing her one last time before seeing her out. Niah gave her a goodbye hug and watched her dodge exhausted bodies down the hallway. 

Niah helped you set up your mattress topper and stuffed your pillow cases before your phone vibrated in your pocket. 

“Dina’s having din-din downstairs in a feeew,” you sing-songed, “Come with us?” You gave Niah the best puppy dog eyes you could muster, her lips pursing as she glared at you. 

“Girl… Y’all always wanna do shit when I’m fucking tired— “

“Pleeease.”

She sighed heavily before conceding, “If that bitch show up, I swear to god— “

“Dina wouldn’t let that happen,” you defended. 

“Oh, she wouldn’t? Really?” Niah scowled. 

“Stop,” you huffed in agitation, “Nothing that happened was her fault. She did what she could at the time.” 

Niah and Dina never explained to you why their relationship rifted, but you could only assume that it was due to you and Ellie falling out. They haven’t spoken since the beginning of summer, according to Niah, and it upset you greatly. You all used to fall asleep on the phone together every night during your scheduled breaks, and now you were hesitant to have them in the same room. 

You were never against Dina and Ellie being friends, even after she blew up on you; They grew up right next to each other, for fucks sake! They’ve always had a strong bond, and not even Dina’s loyalty to you would ruin that. Niah would just have to understand. 

Your best friend rolled her eyes, but dropped the tensity in her shoulders. 

“I’m not eating.” 

You pouted. 

“I don’t care about that,” she pointed at your stuck-out lip, “Get my purse.” 

The booth you shared with your friends in the dining hall was tense. 

You awkwardly forked your pasta while Niah and Dina stared at each other. You didn’t notice any hatred in their gaze, but the fire was there without a doubt. 

This was the worst dinner ever. 

“Sooo…” you twirled your noodles, “How was your summer, Dee!” 

“Fine.” 

Your bright smile dropped at her empty response, but you tried again. 

“Cool! Did anything exciting happen? I saw you and Jess traveled a bit!”

“We did.” 

Your eyes flickered between your two friends, their eyes distant. 

“Guys, c’mon! This is so stupid!” You nearly threw your fork on your plate. “Why are y’all even mad at each othe— “

“I’m not fucking mad— “

“Ask her that— “

Both friends brushed you off in their fit of rambles, and you exploded. 

“CAN Y’ALL STOP!” 

Neighboring students began to stare at all three of you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

“I don’t fucking care about Ellie anymore! I’m over it! It’s a new fucking year and I wanna move on, but I can’t if y’all keep bringing it up every time you see each other!” Niah tried to interrupt, but you cut her off with a stern finger. 

“I know why you’re mad and I appreciate you for caring, but Dina didn’t do anything wrong! You’re taking your anger out on the wrong person!” You took some breaths through your nose to calm yourself.

“I don't wanna see y’all fighting over this bullshit anymore. I mean it! Or we’re…” you looked between them with a harsh glare. “We’re gonna have a problem.” 

Moments of thick silence passed before you heard a gentle snicker. Followed by a snort. 

Boisterous laughter escaped both your friends while you stared in confusion. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Niah clapped her hands in hysteria. 

“Who the fuck are you tryna intimidate— “

“She pulls one little prank and suddenly her balls dropped. How cute! —“

Your head jerked in Dina’s direction, “Wait—” 

“Oh! You thought I didn’t know about that shit? Seriously?” Dina wiped away tears, “You’re nasty, by the way.” 

Heat washed over your entire body at her smirk and arched brow, “My baby’s a fucking freak! Who woulda thought.” 

Niah muttered whores around her straw with a shake of her head. 

“… You still got the vid, or.” 

“DINA!” 

More laughter erupted from your table, and your arms folded across your chest. Dina’s hand met Niah’s from across the table in a high five. 

“She does still have it, not gon’ lie— “

“SHUT UP, NIAH!” 

The second Ellie saw you, Niah, and Dina laughing through the windows of the canteen, she hit the fastest fucking U-turn of the century. Her appetite dissipated in an instant and she booked it towards the parking lot and into her car. 

She hated the physical reaction that took over her body whenever she saw you, the only thought on her mind being run, run, run. 

After her last… encounter with you and fucking Abby, she made a request to move to the complete opposite side of campus. She packed all her belongings and was out of her and Jesse’s shared place in the nick of time, surrounded by faces she wasn’t used to. The thought of switching schools raced through her mind days after it happened, but when she realized that you hadn’t had plans to broadcast your porno across the campus’ Snapchat, she was at ease.

At least for a little bit. 

Telling Dina and Jesse was, by far, one of the worst parts of this whole experience. 

She hadn’t mustered up the courage to do it until two months later when Abby brushed past her with a mere nod of acknowledgment at a house party. Her hazy mind thought that coming clean would erase some of the guilt she felt, but it was all for naught. 

All she got was a theoretical pie thrown at her face when both her best friends' exploded into the biggest laughing fit, she’d ever seen from them. They knew she deserved all the smoke she got from you and Abby after everything she did, and despite her attempts at being prideful, she knew she did too. 

You never came along when Ellie was around for the remainder of the term, and she didn’t know whether to be thankful or full of fucking shame. It became a bit of both overtime. 

She’d only seen you once after the sextape fiasco. It was during move-out week: your face was droopy and tired—probably due to finals— as you and your family hauled box after box into a truck. 

Ellie hadn’t had a reaction to anyone like that since her first fucking girlfriend. The sweaty hands, the swirls in her tummy, the jitters of her fingers. It all came back to her and she wanted to vomit. 

Looking as cuddly as you did that day shouldn’t be allowed. Ellie knew she didn’t deserve a hug from you, but she allowed her imagination to take over anyway, her subconscious completely engulfed by your scent and forgiveness. 

Ellie’s head rested on her steering wheel, her head banging against it and accidentally sounding the horn. 

Ellie’s never been in a relationship with someone who wasn’t selfish. She allowed people to take and take and take so much from her in the past, gladly accepting their overstepping and lack of boundaries if it meant she received their affection. It went on for so long until it abruptly halted and left her destroyed and alone. Her heart iced over after her last relationship went up in flames, and she vowed to keep it that way. If there’s no love, there’s no heartbreak. 

She thought she could do that to someone else. Prey on someone as sweet and comforting as you. 

But it didn’t work. You fucking cracked her. You’re a witch, and your pussy is godsent. 

Ellie brought out that side of you and she regretted it (despite the jerks in her clit every time she reminisced about your glittery tears), and she owed you the most respectable apology she’s ever given.

Ellie reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled up her phone, messages filled with students asking if she’s around to sell. She ignored them all and searched for your contact that she selfishly never deleted. 

Her thumb hovered over the unblock button. 

Ellie’s heart is racing and she thinks she might pass out. 

She got used to hearing the small ding from the bell of the Starbucks entrance that she hardly ever looks up at who’s waltzing in. 

When she heard you and your best friend’s laughter, she almost dropped to the floor to hide behind the service counter. She was not fucking prepared to see you. Nausea and butterflies stirred in her gut at the sound of your giggles. 

H-Have a good day, she cringed when her voice cracked, scribbling the customer's names on their cup before passing it down to the mixing station. 

The minutes that passed felt like years, endless seconds of anticipation of seeing you face to face for the first time in months. Her eyes scattered to the end of the lines where the two of you stood every two seconds, observing how you inched up the line. 

Until the two of you stood in front of her, Niah’s intense glare searing through her skin and shaking her bones. She shakily asked for both your orders, but you took over, answering for you and your roommate with your classic smile. You’re too sweet for your own good; She couldn’t imagine being this cordial in public with someone who did what she did. Said what she said. 

You looked fucking adorable: hair twisted, dangly earrings, glossy lips. Her hands wouldn’t stop as she scribbled your name on your cup and cake pop baggie. 

Niah was fucking grilling her, and rightfully so. Ellie’s shocked she didn’t reach over and strangle her with her bare hands. Her presence was a threat on its own, Jesus Christ. 

You swiped your student ID and yanked a stiff Niah by the arm over to the pick-up line, the wind sitting in Ellie’s lungs finally releasing. 

She peered over at the two of you as she collected the rest of the orders from caffeine-withdrawal students, anxiety pitting in her gut when she watched you snag your cup and bag, reading the messy scribbles she left at the bottom.  

hi. can we talk when you’re ready?

You had enough courtesy to hide the baggie from an already pissed Niah, and she was grateful. It gave her an inkling of hope before you frowned, your eyes surprised, then confused. Then angry. 

Ellie almost cried at the scoff that left your mouth when you shot her a pissed glare, before you snatched your dessert from its encasing, crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash by the exit. She watched the two of you leave with a heavy heart, embarrassment overtaking her when you refused to look back. 

Ellie couldn’t shake the feeling that you experienced this same disappointment whenever she shut you down previously, and it made her feel even worse. 

Ellie started seeing you everywhere you went after that: in the quad, on the way to class, even in the fucking library (a place she never went!), but you never seemed to notice her. She hadn’t been in the study center since she was a fucking sophomore, and she instantly remembered why when she caught a glimpse of you in your own world, headphones on as you scribbled down your notes. 

Remorse flooded her gut when she remembered the time, she dismissed your proposal of listening to a playlist you made for her a couple days after you fucked a couple times. She didn’t even know what artists you liked. 

Even after all this time, she refused to forget all the times she upset you, intentionally or not. 

The twisted part of her brain was already prepared to march over and speak with you, but she had enough sense to overpower her selfish desires. 

She managed to get past you without hassle, rushing onto the elevator to find her usual spot in the second-floor corner. It was her safe place whenever she came in here; She’ll never forget when she and Dina tripped balls atop the beanbags pressed up against the window. 

Going to the library was pointless; The thought of you and your sprinkled cupcakes dominated her mind for the rest of her study session. 

It was the best part of the entire year. 

The month of October has its own presence: it’s grand and dark, gloomy, fun. Evil. You would never wear bright orange on a normal day, but during October, you might as well be a pumpkin! 

All your friends were already in the Halloween spirit, baking and decorating some of the strongest edibles you’ve ever smelt in your damn life. You were shocked that none of Jesse’s neighbors called to complain about the loud scent. 

“You wanna hit?” 

You peered up at Abby’s invitation puff from her blunt with a polite smile and a shake of your head, “You know I have to drive that one home,” You pointed out an already wobbling Niah in the kitchen. 

Abby chuckled around her next puff, “They’re gonna go fucking crazy with those.” 

“I’m scared,” You huffed, “Niah literally turns into a fucking potato when she’s high. I can never get her to move anywhere.” 

Abby giggled at your eye roll while she ashed. 

Running into Abby after what happened last year was much different than you expected. 

After you two went your separate ways at the party, you assumed she would never want to see you again, blow off any invitations you had to hang out, go back to fucking Ellie like nothing happened, but she did nothing of the sort. 

She always waved you over when she saw you sitting by yourself, greeted you with the brightest smiles and warmest hugs, texted you first. She was everything you could’ve wanted from someone. From a partner. 

So why didn’t you feel that spark whenever she looked at you with those pretty, blue eyes? 

You could always be honest with Abby, so bringing up your predicament was easy. She took it with a grain of salt and told you not to worry because she’s still a whore. It’s college! Her energy always calmed you. 

Niah’s weight plopping down next to you broke your trance. She slumped onto your shoulder with a weak giggle of it’s October 3rd. 

You stared down at her blankly, “It’s the tenth, bonehead— “

“Shhh, shh, i-it’s October 3rd,” she sloppily pressed her index finger to your mouth. 

Abby’s laughter rang from next to you like bells in winter. 

Ellie was… sad. And felt like a fucking loser. 

She’d been lazily lying on her couch with her dab in hand, scrolling through Instagram and watching 5-minute crafts when she received a notification from Dina. 

She felt a subtle crack in her chest when she saw her best friend caption the post the ‘best time of the year 👻’. She was dawned in her usual witch's hat while Jesse had a pumpkin carving imprinted on his shirt, both decorating what she assumed to be laced sugar cookies. 

Her heart shattered when she scrolled through the slides and saw pictures of a slumped Niah, Abby with her tongue out and middle finger up, and you, eyes gentle and smile doll-like with two peace signs by your face. You looked so cozy under the yellow glow of the decorative lamp. So comfortable in the place she used to call home. 

… She’s never not received an invite to decorate edibles. Why was a lump growing in her throat? Her high was fucked. 

Another notification from Jesse’s Snap highlighted across the top of her screen. Her thumb tapped it without hesitation, and some tears fell from her eyes to her cheeks. 

It was a clip of you, Dina, and Jesse squeezing out icing from a tube onto a loudly snoring Niah’s face, snickering softly when the traces of sugar didn’t go where you wanted. 

Stick it up her nose!

Ellie’s body tensed when she recognized Abby’s low whisper in the background. That was definitely the final nail in her coffin. 

The Snap ended with Niah’s eyes peeling open like a zombie and your heavenly laughter. 

Ellie dropped her phone and sat up, resting her head atop the back of the couch, palms digging into her teary eyes. She tried to convince herself that she was angry, pissed the fuck off, ready to fight everybody, even her closest friends. But she wasn’t at all. 

She was lonely and sad, and no one was there to comfort her. 

Class dragged on the entire week leading up to Halloweekend. 

Your shoulders were heavy and slumped from exhaustion. What kind of professor assigns projects the week before Halloween? They’re pretending as if they’ve never been students before; They know you’re all getting faded soon! 

You and Niah were grinding in the library the entire week, perfecting your papers and presentations for the following week. You didn’t want anything to ruin this weekend. Distractions, be gone! 

You’ve dedicated a couple hours each day to prepping your costumes for Friday and Saturday. The excitement to adorn your fairy getup was nearly bursting through your eyes. You decorated your wings with sequins and glitter, made your own flower crown, and designed your own spirit guide by snipping and re-stuffing a Squishmallow. 

You were a little too antsy to start the weekend; Niah almost called Dina to help tape you down to a chair. 

You bolted down the crosswalk after your scheduled library visit, a bright grin on your face at the thought of showcasing your designs for your costume. Dina and Jesse are your best critics. 

You turned the corner and hit a hard chest, almost falling to the floor before a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. 

“Lookin’ for rings?” 

Your smile widened at the all too familiar voice, “What does that mean?” 

Abby separated from you with a gentle smile, pointing at your sky-blue sweatshirt, “Blue sweater… running… Sonic— “

“Oh fuck!” You paused before a lightbulb appeared atop your head. “Oh fuck! Sonic would’ve been such a cute costume— “

“Still stressing Niah out?” Her brow arched. 

“Of course! Dina and Jes are about t’get the same treatment!” You rushed past Abby, throwing her a wild wave, “I'll see you on Friday bitch!”

Her airy laugh aired behind you before you eased past departing students and into the apartment lobby. 

It’s almost impressive how much your mood can deplete due to one person. 

You instantly recognized Ellie’s back muscles over her muscle-tee, her tattoo sleeve completely exposed as she murmured to the receptionist. The bun at the back of her head was coming loose with each nod of approval she gave. 

Anger and embarrassment and sadness battled for power in your gut as you glared through her skin and down to her bones. And she must’ve felt it.

She spun at the sound of the door shutting, and her eyes immediately glossed over when they locked with yours. She looked like a deer caught in headlights before she whispered hey.

You ignored and looked behind her and greeted the familiar receptionist, “Hey, is Jesse home?” 

“Yeah, babe! You just missed him— “

“W-Wait— “

“Cool, thanks,” You didn’t hesitate to book it for the second entrance, Ellie’s urgent calls of your name ringing behind you. You heard her following you down the hall like a horse. 

She called your name out louder, “Fuck, wait, wait— “

You frantically pressed the up button on the elevator but it was for naught. 

You felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Hey— “

“Ellie, don’t fuckin’ touch me, I’m serious,” you spat. 

Her touch dropped, her hands raising in the air, “Okay, okay, I’m sorr— “

“You’re sorry? Really?” You scoffed. “Fuck off, bro.” 

… Where the fuck was this elevator?! You were this close to holding the button down until the doors opened. 

Ellie sighed, “No, I’ve… I've been meaning to talk to you. Can I— “

“I don’t give a fuck about anything you’re saying, genuinely,” You harshly turned to glare into her eyes. Her gorgeous, green eyes that, for the first time, seemed so soft for you. Desperate, and not lustful. 

She didn’t seem to care about your protests, “I know I fucked up and I was… awful— “

The dings sounding from the elevator sounded like alarms. 

“Ellie, please, I’m begging you, just leave me the fuck alone,” Rageful tears flooded in your eyes. “Get the fuck away from me! Just g-go away!” 

Ellie’s small glimmer of hope died in her orbs, her body flinching at your tone as she peered to the floor with red cheeks. 

The doors peeled open after what seemed like a lifetime and you threw yourself between them, slamming the fourth-floor button like your life depended on it. You refused to look at Ellie as the doors shut, your heart pounding in your chest as you heaved, your hands resting on your knees. 

You vowed that absolutely nothing could ruin your weekend, but why was Ellie’s flushed cheeks and sniffly nose almost enough to make you fold? 

Almost. 

okkkaaaaayyyyy im switching shit up fr so excited to write the next part stay with me yall lemme cook lemme coooook

taggie waggies love yall down :3 @dyk3ang3l @iced-metal @sawaagyapong @kittnii @mariefilms @villainousbear @pick-me-up-im-scared @dragonasflowercrown @elsmissingfingers @bugaboodarling @freakumfilm @robinismywifee @ohitsjordynn @womenofarcane @inf3ct3dd @nil-eena @kaispaws @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @yuckyfucky @machetegirl109 @ximtiredx @mattm1964 @liabadoobee @tfuuka @aouiaa @lastofvenus @iove-bbb

teaser, one, two, three, four

[jungkookschin]

lovesick girl (to err is to love drabble)

synopsis: before the heartwrench of divorce, there was a time in your youth when jungkook was everything to you. you would do anything for him- you were lovesick girl.

word count: 2k

pairing: to err is to love jungkook! x reader (AGED DOWN TO COLLEGE FRESHMEN😵) rich!jk x shy!reader

warnings: SUGGEStiVE?? not really but kinda?!?!? not explicit at all tho. jungkook pulls her bikini string on ACCIDENT (?) MENTIONS OF TOE EATING?!?!?

Before the heartwrench of divorce, the devastation of postpartum, and the bitter aftertaste of having your heart utterly destroyed, there was a time where Jeon Jungkook was absolutely everything to you.

The brief period of time during your undergraduate years where your brain and heart constantly craved his presence, his touch, and his fulfillment.

The brief period of time where Jungkook rendered you into nothing but a dumb girl whose mind and thoughts were only permeated with his essence.

That boy could have told you to jump off a cliff with him and you would have gladly followed his trail because nothing would ever sufficiently describe the way he made you feel- it would never be enough, ever.

Nothing could describe the exhilaration that rushed through your veins, the way he set your heart ablaze and melted you completely.

Before he came around, you weren't an impulsive individual by any means.

All of the reasons listed above were why you followed him around like a lovesick girl- which is also why you allowed him to convince you into participating in some very illegal activity. All it took was one casual look of indifference and a cocky tilt of his head to put you under his spell.

Luckily, Jungkook is currently right next to you, snoring and drooling his head off on the couch. As you recall this very vivid (and traumatizing!) memory, you swat his arm harshly, causing him to jolt awake, eyes oscillating around the living room.

"What happened?" he queries, dazed and confused.

You simply huff, rolling your eyes and shaking your head while you pull yourself deeper into this specific memory.

You close your eyes and suddenly you're twenty years old again, letting Jungkook drive you to some random ass mountain in the middle of nowhere.

It's the way he keeps his grip on your thigh while his eyes are trained on the road- he wants to keep his hands on you but he also wants to make sure that he gets you to Point B safely.

It's the way he doesn't even call you your own name anymore- only refers to you as baby, and you wouldn't have it any other way. You love being his baby.

It's the way he sweetly gives you his large hoodie before you get into his car. He surprised you with this mini trip and wanted to make sure you were cozy since you were only in a crop top and shorts when you met him outside your dorm.

He is so dreamy and makes you so weak in the knees- which is exactly why you’re now allowing him to lead you through a maze of trees and bushes at some undisclosed location… at 3:47 in the morning. 

Had there been some rational third party present, they probably would have told you to be more cautious considering you’re in the middle of nowhere… in the middle of the night… with someone who can easily physically overpower you. (murder you, and hide your body!!!)

However, you’ve never felt more comfortable or safe in your life. Your boyfriend is so so sweet, tends to your every need as he tightly holds onto your hand and rubs circles into your skin.

Leading you along this poorly cleared trail, he pauses and looks back at you, a haze of concern on his face. “Baby, are you sure you aren’t too cold? I can give you my jacket if you want,” he suggests. 

You shake your head, using one of your jacket paws to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You already gave me this one. I promise I’m okay,” you offer him a smile that makes him want to kiss you all over. 

You’re standing there with a face free of makeup, his oversized hoodie adorned over your smaller frame, and he can’t believe how beautiful you are. The luminescence of the moonlight shines down on your face, accentuating your natural glow, making you all the more ethereal. He can’t believe you agreed to date an asshole like him. 

He bites back the goofiest of grins. “Okay baby, promise you we’re almost there. You’re doing so good,” he adds as he continues to lead you along the rocky path. 

After a few more minutes of walking, you’re able to perceive the silhouette of a large and luxurious hotel building from the distance. You should have figured. Your boyfriend who happens to be a hotel heir often sneaks you into his father’s hotels.

“Is that one of the new hotels your dad is constructing?”

“Yup,” he replies with a pop on the p, “Construction team finished it yesterday- wanted to come here with you before anyone else can enjoy it,” He sends you a cheeky grin while brushing his vacant hand through his hair. 

And as thrilled as you are to enjoy a luxury and private hotel room with your boyfriend, a hint of wariness plagues your mind, and you use both hands to tug him towards you. “Are you sure we’re allowed to? I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”

He softens at your concern and uses his large hands to cup your cheeks before placing a gentle kiss on your pouty lips. “Baby, trust me. I got you. Nothing will happen,” the tenderness in his voice simmers you, and with rosy cheeks you peer down at your feet. 

“Don’t worry about anything and focus on me,” he adds with his sachrine voice, using his pointer finger to tilt your head upward. His eyes gloss down to where your lips are quivering, and he finds himself licking his own lips. This boy is so handsome and he makes you flush completely- you just can’t believe how dreamy he is. 

“O-okay,” you sheepishly respond, a haze of reluctance etched on your face. “... Let’s go because I’m getting a little cold,” you add hesitantly.  

He pouts and inches closer, palms creeping under your hoodie so he can use the heat of his palms to soothingly rub the outline of your waist. Fingers gently digging into the fat around your waist, he pulls you closer and whispers into your neck. “Want me to carry you?” 

When he starts sucking wet kisses on the expense of your neck, you release a shaky sigh, body trembling from the stimulation. Squeezing your eyes shut, you nod, and that prompts him to hold you tighter to his body.

“Y-you sure I won’t be too heavy though?” you squeak out.

He draws back and pauses, handsome features morphing into the most incredulous look you’ve seen from him. His neatly trimmed eyebrows (courtesy of you!) furrow and his lips form a small scowl. 

And just like that, you’re thrown over his shoulder with a rough smack on your ass. 

“Jungkook!” you squeal, and he just laughs while basking in the pleasure of your giggles. 

He casually marches along the trail, speaking to you like you’re walking next to him, paying no heed that he’s carrying you like a sack of fertilizer. He hikes up a small hill before finally setting you down in front of him. 

Jungkook swivels you around so your back presses against his front. He rests his chin on top of your head while his arms sneak around the expanse of your shoulders.

“Jungkook, the view is gorgeous.”

And indeed it is. Jungkook’s father has done a simply marvelous job constructing this monster of a luxury hotel. Jungkook’s taken you to a few of Jeon Estates’ other hotels- ones you were utterly amazed by- but they waver in comparison with this one. 

The hotel is located at the top of the mountain, providing guests with a marvelous view of the  city below. The city lights are twinkling like stars in the night sky, and you’re sure that if you turned around and looked at Jungkook, you’d see the reflection of the sparkling city in his doe eyes. 

Jungkook has taken you to an infinity pool that resides in the backyard of one of the private suites. The water spills into an equally luxurious basin on the ledge of a mountain. A huge modern waterfall cascades into the pool making it all the more opulent. What really tops it off is LED lights that illuminate the pool with a plethora of colors.

It all seems so honeymoon- intimate and romantic.

You twirl around, tiptoeing to sweetly kiss him. You love kissing him with no hands, your arms resting behind your back. Jungkook returns the kiss with equal fervor, using his hands to cup your cheeks while sneaking his tongue into your mouth. 

When he pulls away, he leaves you starry eyed and dazed. He leans down one last time to kiss you, his lips magnetized to yours while he walks backwards to the pool. His lips leave yours for a slight second to throw off his shirt before he reconnects his body to yours. 

After your little makeout session is finally over, he turns around to gaze at the city lights. You take the opportunity to embrace him from behind so you can press butterfly kisses against outline of his back muscles.

“Wanna get in now?” he softly proposes. 

You bite back a giggle. “Sure.”

And you push him into the pool, taking a step back to avoid the splashback from your huge boyfriend. 

Emerging from the water, he uses his palms to wipe his face and throws his head back to get his hair from obstructing his view.  “Baby, that was mean,” he complains, frowning at you.

“Sorry,” you respond with the utmost insincerity. You’re about to throw your (his) hoodie off and join him until you realize what you’re wearing underneath the hoodie. A flush creeps onto your cheeks when you recall what happened preceding your little escapade. 

boyfriend: hey baby wyd saturday??

you: nothing much, what’s up? wanna come over?

boyfriend: i have another idea, ill pick u up at 10:30 on friday, just wear a swimsuit under your clothes <3333

Obviously you wanted to impress the guy, so after consulting your friends on the matter, you went to the mall and bought the skimpiest bikini you could find. The fabric of the black triangle bikini  barely covers chest, let alone the rest of your body. Initially you were so confident that you’d be able to woo him (and ensure that he’d never love another girl ever again), but now that it's actually happening, you're definitely panicking.

You hesitantly take off your oversized hoodie and trudge over to place it next to Jungkook’s shirt. When you look back at Jungkook, he’s gawking at you- this boy can’t control his reaction at all. 

You blink back at him before he breaks his silence. 

“Baby please get in. I want to feel your skin."

“Jungkook, 'm shy.”

“What?” He steps onto the ledge in the pool, water dripping from the crevices on his body, and offers you his hand. “It's just me- promise you're always safe with me."

You take his hand and allow him to guide you into the pool. Once finally settled in, you wrap your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck like a koala. Feeling him skin to skin is so nice- his skin is so soft and his body heat comforts you all the more.

You place a hand on his cheek, admiring his handsome facial features. You’re so drawn to everything about this boy. The moles on his cheeks, the structure of his nose; you even love how the texture of his skin feels against your hand. His cheeks are soft- not coarse in the slightest, but his cheeks are also tough and strong, not stretchy by any means. The juxtaposition of his skin reminds you that he's the sweetest boy, but also your big tough boyfriend. 

“You like what you see that much?” he teases, and instead of a verbal response, you place a soft kiss on his cheek.

-

Now you’re sat on the pool ledge. Jungkook’s hands are rested on that same ledge, but on each side of your thighs. Propping himself up with his big biceps, he kicks against the water so he can stay afloat horizontally. 

“I just hate that I didn’t have the courage to tell her to redo her part. It doesn’t feel fair that we got the same grade when her part was literal dookie,” you vent, huffing in vexation.

He stands vertically in the pool, his hands moving to rub up and down the expanse of your thighs. “Baby I feel like you should think about the bigger picture. Let’s say you tell her that her part was dookie and ask her to redo it. You make her a little upset. What’s she gonna do? She can cry about it and I wouldn’t give a shit. Would you give a shit?”

“Yes I would,” you articulate playfully. “I don’t want to be mean or make anyone cry.”

“Oh, my bad,” Jungkook jokes with a roll of his eyes. His hands wrap around your ankles before he uses his fingers to rub circles into your feet. “Forgot you were an angel- what if I just bit your toe off?” Him being distracted by your toes elicits a burst of giggles and you squirm from his strong grip.

He brings your manicured toes towards his mouth, pretending to take a huge chomp out of your foot before you gently kick his chest. 

Giggling at your reaction, he returns to the issue at hand. “But baby, you also need to establish boundaries with people you work with. I don’t like the idea of people taking advantage you,” he explains thoughtfully, like he wasn’t just talking about biting your toes off. 

You pout at his sincerity and cup his cheeks, squeezing them together to make his lips pouty. “Thank you baby. You’re so sweet. How’s that research project with Hobi going, by the way?”

Jungkook removes your hands from his cheeks and sits next to you on the seat in the pool.

He picks you up and places you between his legs, letting you rest against his warm body. “It’s going good baby, thank you for asking. I’m not gonna lie though, interviewing everybody is taking way too fucking long- we should’ve done an online poll or something instead,” he explains with a sharp sigh.

“Do you want me to help? Three people doing interviews would help it go faster,” you insist. 

“Honestly, we need the help,” he responds, “I wouldn’t want to burden you with that responsibility, though.”

“Not even,” you dismiss the notion with a little giggle. “I would do anything to relieve my baby boy’s stress.”

Jungkook sputters out laughter at baby boy, before lowering his head to nip at your cheek in retaliation.

“Just text me when you need me,” you insist, ignoring Jungkook trying to eat your cheek.

You would do anything for him.

-

Moments later, you’ve found yourself on Jungkook’s lap, straddling him while he holds your hips against his body. His hands are wandering all over the expanse of your body, the bikini practically leaving nothing to the imagination.

He’s kissing you sweetly and slowly- loves to take his sweet time with you. He’s convinced that no other girl will ever make him feel the way that you do, like he’s on Cloud 9 and ascending to heaven at the same time. 

You’re more than eagerly kissing him back, sneaking your tongue into his mouth with fervor that he can’t help but reciprocate if you’re the one initiating it.

You see, he’s always been careful not to overstep boundaries or do anything to make you uncomfortable. Obviously, he wants you- he wants you so bad- but he respects you all the more and doesn’t want to rush anything. 

But now that you’re blissfully sighing into his mouth and clinging to his body, he can’t help but melt into you. 

His fingers sneak to your bikini top, not even realizing what he was doing until-

“Hey! Who’s in there?! You're trespassing private property of Jeon Estates!” a deep and loud voice pulls the two of you apart, and Jungkook’s hands swiftly latch onto your body so he can position you behind his larger frame. “Baby, baby, baby, tie your swimsuit back on and stay behind me- accidently untied it- I'm sorry. ” he directs with a sense of urgency. 

He feels awful. He just promised you nothing was going to happen, and something happened.

Not to mention the fact that you were extremely vulnerable in his lap, and that he nearly exposed you to some outsider. He hates the idea of another man seeing you like that so much and he hates it even more that he’s the one who put you in that position. 

Two security guards with flashlights approach you and Jungkook before one of them releases a familiar groan. “For fuck’s sakes- Randy, it’s the Jeon kid.”

The other security guard grumbles something incoherently before waving it off and returning to his post.  

“Don’t tell my dad about this, please,” Jungkook enunciates pleadingly, still shielding you from the officer’s view.

“Kid, I’m just a security guard- I don’t even think my boss has connections with the CEO. Just run home because we don’t want your -um- germs in the pool before the guests arrive,” the officer grumbles. 

You squeak at his words, and Jungkook clears his throat hesitatingly. “Thank you so much,” Jungkook responds, “Swear I’ll give you a huge bonus once I take over the company.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” the officer mumbles before turning around and returning to his post. 

Once the officer is out of sight, Jungkook turns around to face you. You’re crouched behind him, bikini top tied back on, and you’re hiding the face in the water.

He embraces you tightly. “I’m so sorry baby.”

“D-did he see me?”

A little dazed by the situation, Jungkook takes a moment to comprehend your question and respond. “No. Of course not. I’d never let anyone see you like that.”

You hold him tighter to your body and squeeze him as if he could disappear at any moment. You’ve never done anything this rebellious and that encounter with the security guard terrified you. 

Jungkook understands completely, like he always does. He’s your other half and understands your words, body language, and actions always. He guides you out of the pool and pulls his hoodie over your body, holding your hand just as tightly as before as he leads you back down that trail and to his car. 

You're pulled from the memory by one of your kids, Haru who is bouncing up and down in front of you. "Mommy? Mommy? Wake up!" he exclaims.

You shake your head to pull you from the daze. "Yes baby? I'm here."

Hina, your daughter who is at the dining table with her father sends you a quizzical look. "Mommy what were you thinking about? You were staring at the Paw Patrol table for like- hours!"

"I was just thinking that your father is a very bad guy," you nonchalantly explain, eliciting a gasp from a very clueless Jungkook.

"What did I do?!"

[lifeiskentastic]

gn!Reader in one car with Holland March in the middle of a traffic jam

Gif by @adoresbenho

A/N: Tell me, would you read a fanfic about Ryan Gosling's five-minute role as a lecherous elf on snl New Year's episode? (this sounds so crazy, but Ryan is so cute with the pointy ears, bangs, and tall hat... I just need to write it.)

Summary: Agency partner Reader once again gets stuck in a traffic jam with Holland;

Song I recommend: Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen was just made ror Holland;

Word count: 724 words;

Nice reading!

It was just another morning as the third member (counting from the moment of join, although Holland always argued with Hilly to take over as "second" as if it were something really important) of the detective agency. It was just another morning traffic jam in Los Angeles, the only advantage of which was extra time to shave or drink a cup of coffee. After all, as it turned out, working as a detective requires punctuality, which in the case of Holland March was a big problem. So from the very beginning of the day, you were in a hurry, rushing to get things done, and only during irreparable traffic jams could you afford to exhale.

Holland could finally shave, and you could have a cup of strong coffee instead of breakfast.

For such occasions, Holland even kept a thermos of coffee and mountains of plastic cups in the car. No matter how many times you persuaded him to get rid of at least half of them, he categorically refused, calling it a "necessity of life." Well, given that he also used them to drink his liter-long supply of alcohol, it's not surprising.

The only thing that remained a mystery even to the three detectives was why a jar of whipped cream kept appearing in the glove compartment of his car. Although you had a bold guess that after you told Holland that you loved whipped cream coffee, he took it too much to heart.

"Do you think Healy is there yet?"

You asked, sipping from your cup.

"Oh, yeah, Mr.I'm-right-on-time-because-this-is-an-important-job has been there since sunrise."

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at that. The special relationship between your two partners couldn't help but make you laugh, literally, every day.

Holland beamed with pride when he managed to make you laugh.

"Oh, and also..."

But another laugh from you didn't let March finish his sentence. But what could you do? Still, the naive look on Holland's face with a piece of shaving foam on his cheek was more amusing than you could have imagined.

"Pfft... Ha-ha, wait..."

You reached for his cheek to brush away the remaining lather as Holland watched you in pure embarrassment. His eyes looked even more confused when you were a few millimeters away from his face.

However, you quickly returned to your seat, showing traces of white, puffy foam on your palm.

"Is that what made you giggle so much?"

This made you think back to that unsuspecting look on March's face, caught up in his own joke, and made you laugh uncontrollably again.

"I'm sorry... You just looked so cute."

"Did I?"

Holland leaned closer to your seat, scrutinizing every part of your face. You were about to ask what he was going to do, but...

"Aha! Found it!"

His head came as close to yours as possible, and he touched something near the tips of your lips with a triumphant exclamation.

"Is that cream? You're such a sloven."

Holland's finger did indeed show traces of cream from your coffee. And your partner seemed to be expecting some kind of funny reaction from you, looking expectantly into your soul, but you were honestly not in the mood for it... Still, your heart was still racing from being so close to Holland. For some reason, when there were so small distance between the two of you, you began to feel strange jolts inside your chest.

When you barely regained consciousness, the only thing you could do was to move your whole body as close to Holland as possible, making your partner's eyes widen in surprise once again. You didn't know what was driving you at that moment, but you knew you had to work, and you were within a pinkie nail's distance of March's face.

"You're one to talk..."

You ran your fingers through Holland's mustache, wiping away the subtle streaks of shaving foam that had started this whole thing.

Although you wanted something like this, you hadn't expected Holland to do it first. That he would push forward, quickly crossing the short distance between you, and confidently touch your lips. Of course, you immediately returned his kiss.

It seems that car horns were already blaring behind you and angry drivers were furious, but for now you were too busy with each other to pay attention to such trifles.

[pevensiegiigi]

My problem with the Prince Caspian movie

The reason i love CN:Prince Caspian is because of how Andrew Adamson squeezed the emotions out of Peter. From the frustration of being an adult locked in the life of a child who wants to return to his land/country, the happiness of returning to that place he loves so much, the sadness of knowing that it was destroyed, the anger of knowing that a descendant of his destroyers would be the one who would ascend to king of his country and the guilt for being forced to leave Narnia again with no possibility of return.

My post is not to talk about those emotions, but i wanted to mention them anyway.

My post is to talk about my dissatisfaction with how everyone in the movie mocks Peter's words and orders, ignoring the title of high king. Except Edmund and Reepicheep; the rest, from Lucy and Susan, who are his royal sisters, to Trumpkin, Caspian, and Glenstorm, who are his subjects, disrespect his title of high king.

First Trumpkin by not addressing him with respect throughout the film, mocking his nickname, berating him for "leaving Narnia" and then making a fool of himself in the Stone Mountains when they searched for Caspian.

He is followed by Caspian, who equally disrespects Peter's position. Caspian is a prince from distant lands who intends to rule lands that he does not know, wanting to review the words dictated by the great king.

There's that scene where Peter suggests infiltrating the Telmarines' castle and Reepicheep asks, "What do you suggest, Your Majesty of him?" and both Peter and Caspian respond at the same time, a staring match ensues between the two which Peter obviously wins. The thing is, Caspian shouldn't have answered Reepicheep's question in the first place because the rightful King of Narnia was present let alone challenge him with his eyes because, I repeat, HE IS THE GREAT KING OF NARNIA and, not least, peter is Older than him. . . Maybe he didn't know it or maybe he did, but humanly Peter at that time was 31/32 years old although he would look like a child and as if that were not enough in the years of Narnia, Peter is 1300 years older than him, while Caspian was around 17 Just years, so...

Peter's plan to infiltrate the castle would have worked if Caspian had followed Peter's orders and we all know that, but no. He completely ignored Peter's order to go to the door and Susan supported that disobedience, don't get me wrong, but i'll tell you how it is. It's not just Caspian's fault that the infiltration failed, if Susan had supported Peter instead of Caspian, everything would have worked out and Cornelius would have been released at the end of the infiltration.

Caspian's most obvious disrespect towards Peter was challenging him to a duel in front of his people when Peter called him a usurper and it's not entirely a lie, he really was a usurper. From the moment he thought he was the leader of the Narnian rebellion, even knowing that he had called the old monarchs, he became a usurper, or at least it was for me. I understand Caspian will get mad at being called a usurper, but he called Peter irresponsible as if Peter wanted to leave Narnia when he didn't and then dared to duel him on HIS EARTH!?!?!?! The least he deserved was execution.

Third, Glenstorm. The mere fact that he was looking at Caspian as if he was waiting for his orders to follow the ones he received from Peter is disrespectful.

Lucy when she pretended to embarrass him by reminding him that it was Aslan who defeated the white witch, not him. I UNDERSTAND that being her sister he has every right to reproach her if she disagrees with something because he is also Monarch of Narnia, but why didn't she do it in private? At that moment, she took away from Peter part of the authority over the others.

I'm a little glad that at the end of the film in a scene they let us see how Peter showed that his title of Great King and his nickname of magnificent, he didn't have them just for decoration. However, it bothers me that throughout the movie they tried to make him look stubborn when he was just angry and outraged.

Peter is the character in the entire saga that carried the most weight and yet he did not complain about what Aslan gave him, his greatest wish was to return to Narnia and stay there for the rest of eternity, which he achieved.

That's why i love the movie 50% and hate it 50%.

[aralezinspace]

Summer Knight Part 1

When Crown Prince Morpheus is summoned to his father's court for the summer, he expects it to be just as tedious and aggravating as any other season spent in the Dreaming's capitol. What he doesn't expect is an attempted kidnapping, a successful kidnapping, uncovering designs on the Dreaming's throne, and a handsome esquire he really isn't supposed to fall in love with. How can he not, when Hob Gadling sees him for who he is, and not just his station? How can he not, when Hob is willing to burn down the world for him? Or: Prince!Morpheus/Commoner!Hob Gadling medieval/fantasy AU

~~Masterlist~~

After three months (probably more tbh) here it is! My contribution to the Centennial Husbands Big Bang.

This would not have been possible without the support of the entire Sadman server, for which I am endlessly (haha) thankful. @delta-pavonis and @signiorbenedickofpadua, I wouldn’t have been able to finish this without your eyes and encouragement. Thank you for letting me scream about these boys at/with you, for ideas when I got stuck, for helping me tease out the snags. Y’all are fantastic. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

This beautiful incredible art by @wolf-and-raven-dreaming / @ambarden I’m just blown away. Thank you so much for bringing such a beautiful moment to life, especially one that I didn’t get to give as much detail in this fic. I’m obsessed with it, prob gonna make it my phone background 💖

If this story inspires you to create something of your own, please share with me so I can keysmash and gush over what you make!

Divider by @cafekitsune

Prologue

Once, in a time out of thought and memory, there was a realm called the Dreaming- so named because a place so magical and splendid could only possibly exist in one’s most vivid imaginings. The weather was always as it should or needed to be, the land lush and bountiful, even in the harshest climates. The people of the land were, on the whole, prosperous and contented. The Dreaming was not without its troubles and hardships and tragedies- no land is, no matter how prosperous-  and for some, life was rather hard, but never unbearable.

Like any kingdom in a faerie story, the Dreaming was ruled by a king, a queen, and their children. This story, however, only concerns one, the third son, Prince Morpheus Aeterna. Morpheus and his six siblings each ruled a shire within the Dreaming, with the capital city of Istoria on the eastern coast, the lands of the Dreaming appearing to fan out from the city like rays of the rising sun. 

Morpheus was lord of one of the Dreaming’s most important and vital border shires- after all, that’s what you did with a third child, a second son, with a great aptitude for ruling. One who also happened to be heir to the throne, the next in line to be called Dream King. His shire was called Fiddler’s Green- the land was varied, a little corner of everything: snow capped mountains, lush fields of vibrant grass and wildflowers, bountiful forests, a beach of black sand bordering a navy inland sea. 

Morpheus’ kingdom shared a border with the realm of Fawney Rigg, a land of dense thickets and haunting mists and old, angry trees. It was ruled by King Roderick Burgess, a ruthless and bitter old man who should have had many happy years yet before him. But, his greed and jealousy were near endless; he had already conquered several other realms by war, subterfuge, or a combination of both. In the twilight of his life, he set his sights on the Dreaming, and it is here our story begins.

“My lord?”

Morpheus was jolted from his wandering thoughts by Lucienne, his most trusted advisor.

“My lord, a message has arrived from your father the king.”

A frown etched itself onto the Prince’s face as he pushed his breakfast to the side- what an aggravating way to start his morning. He took the tightly rolled scroll of thick, handmade paper and unrolled it with long, bony fingers. His frown grew more pronounced the further he read.

“My lord?” Lucienne was almost hesitant, her fingers tight around the ledger she carried. “What news from his majesty?” Morpheus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture he had picked up from his father despite his best intentions.

“It is a summons,” he ground out. “He wishes me to attend him at court for the summer.” 

Lucienne frowned with a pang of sympathy. To say that Morpheus and his father King Chronos Aeterna did not get along was well beyond an understatement. Morpheus was the opposite of everything his father had wanted him to be, showing more interest and aptitude in creative and scholarly pursuits than learning the craft of war, as was expected of a crown prince responsible for strategically valuable border territories.

Spending any amount of time at his father’s court was tedious at best. An entire season was sure to be nigh unbearable. 

He gave a resigned sigh. “Begin making travel arrangements. I will draft a response to my father.” He gave the order with all the flat dread of someone about to face the noose. It was going to be a long summer. 

And so it came to pass that Morpheus began the four day journey, following the border of his land and Fawney Rigg until they reached the Gates of Horn and Ivory, massive gates and walls carved of white stone that spanned the entire border of Istoria. If one walked along the wall from end to end, they would see the entire history of the Dreaming laid out before them, carved into the stone. Morpheus could feel his hackles rise as the gates creaked and groaned open, allowing him and his party into the bustling city. He thought he could feel the mythical creatures carved into the gates frowning at him. Folks going about their business immediately stepped out of the road and bowed, looking up through their lashes, hoping to catch sight of the Prince and not just a flutter of emerald livery in the wind. 

The procession slowly made its way to the palace, where the King, Queen, and their retainers were waiting at the top of the great stone stairs. Marble walls and gates that were miniature recreations of those guarding the city, depicting the history of the Aeterna line, were flung wide open, knights standing at attention. Banners bearing the golden Aeterna crest on deep blue fabric flapped in the breeze.

Morpheus’ first thought was that his mother seemed pale. Queen Nocturna had always been fair- Morpheus owed his complexion to her, along with his bright blue eyes- but under the light of the late afternoon sun she looked frail and sickly in her midnight gown, as if the slightest breeze would scatter her into dust. Her hair had long since faded from inky black to the shining silver of the moon, but it lacked the luster Morpheus remembered. Had it really been that long since he had seen his parents? Had something happened?

Beside her, King Chronos stood as regal and stony as ever. There were a few new lines on his face, and a few more gray hairs in his dark beard, but the frown he had reserved for his third child since Morpheus reached his majority was dour and disapproving as ever.

The Prince was announced as he dismounted and approached the foot of the staircase, a herald bellowing his numerous titles for the assembled. When that list was exhausted, he ascended the stairs until he was two steps below where the King and Queen stood, leaving him shorter than his parents– normally he was of a height with his father, and half a head taller than his mother.

Chronos shook his son’s hand with a stiffness only Morpheus could see. “Be welcome, my son.” The King ground his teeth. “It is good to see you.” 

Morpheus quickly bowed his head with a curt, “Father.”

Once Chronos released his hand, the Queen enfolded Morpheus in her willowy arms. She could feel some of the tension leave his body in the relative safety of her embrace. Her smile was beaming when she pulled away to look at him.

“You look well, Morpheus. I’ve missed you, my dear.” 

Morpheus kissed her cheek in greeting with a tenderly murmured, “Mother.” The Queen had always been a refuge for her son when his father insisted on Morpheus being someone he was not- she encouraged him to pursue his passions, constantly reminding him that there was more than one way to be a strong King. Always out of earshot of Chronos- even to his wife and son, he was their King first, a father and husband second, and his word was law.

“Come,” Chronos said to Morpheus, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “You must be weary from your journey. Be welcome and make yourselves comfortable.” He clapped Morpheus on the back and guided him into the palace, followed by his retinue. Once the royals were out of sight, the crowd dispersed, the spectacle now ended. Only one man lingered near the bottom corner of the ancient palace stairs, leaning on a stout quarterstaff.

It is here necessary to briefly introduce Robert Gadling. Orphaned at seven, he was one of a good number of parentless children, now adults, who did odd jobs for the businesses of the city, as well as the government- everything from construction to loading and unloading ships’ cargo, from running messages to protection from overzealous loan collectors if need be. On occasion, a few would be hired by the day to work in the palace, mostly on structural repairs and maintenance.

Robert, or Hob as the townsfolk called him, was a natural born protector. He had never been one to back down from a fight, and, as he planned to live through all his fights, he dedicated much of his time to developing his skills. He would often be seen near the docks or the entrance to the market, talking with foreign merchants and their guards, asking them to teach him what they knew of combat in exchange for a day’s labor. His friends constantly warned him that knowledge wouldn’t buy him food or lodging, but he would just laugh. 

It was in this fashion he honed his skills over the years and taught them to his fellows. He could disarm anyone in a matter of seconds and have a man twice his size on his back in under a minute (so the children said). He had even studied the blade, something his fellow brawlers stayed away from- too much like the royals and knights, they argued, and rolled their eyes when Hob insisted on learning anyway. No one would think it to look at him, that an average sized and modestly handsome day laborer would have such a knack for survival and zest for life. 

Hob’s best friend noted the glazed, entranced look on his face and gave him a teasing shove. “Come on, Hob,” he goaded, “Leave the royals to their tea and cakes, we’ve got work to do.” 

“Piss off, Adrian,” Hob replied as he returned the shove with a brief smile. “Not every day you get to see one roll into town. Besides, I’ve never seen Prince Morpheus before. Heard the rumors, but I had no idea he was so- so…” That glazed look returned as he searched for the right word. 

“Arrogant?” Adrian supplied. “Sour? Pompous?”

“Beautiful.” Hob’s response was barely a whisper, as if the sentiment was something he wanted to keep secret but couldn't stop it from slipping out. 

Adrian rolled his bottle green eyes. This was not the first time Hob had been besotted with someone after a glance, nor was it likely to be the last. The man had so much love in his heart to give, he just also happened to have a bad habit of choosing the worst possible people to bestow that love upon. Adrian could only hope this would be one of his shorter and less depressing devotions. Gods knew Hob had less than a figment of a chance with the Prince.

“Come on, lover boy, Waldren’s waiting for us.”

Adrian wrapped an arm around Hob’s shoulders and turned him away from the palace. Hob went willingly, but not without one last misty-eyed glance over his shoulder, wondering idly what the Prince was doing behind those marble walls. 

Chapter 1

According to Morpheus, attending his father’s court and sitting in on council meetings fit the definition of ‘cruel and unusual punishment’. He rarely had anything to contribute to the other nobles’ gossip- not that he wanted to get involved in the first place- and the council advisors just loved passing off his suggestions as their own. His presence amounted to little more than an interesting trinket brought out at opportune moments to curry favor- or, in some cases, to parade in front of potential spouses. It seemed that this summer would see at least a dozen suitors visiting the palace over the course of the five and a half months Morpheus would be at court.

Finally, one sweltering and humid summer day, the Prince reached his tipping point. He was hot and sticky, aggravated and on edge. This breaking point came around mid morning, when he had had enough of listening to the pompous treasurer drone on and on. Without preamble, he rose from his seat and stomped out of the council hall, ignoring the calls of his father and the advisors. Everyone he passed in the halls jumped out of his way, able to feel the ire rolling off him like the heat rising from the cobblestones.

He needed to get out, away from the palace, and burn off some of this aggravation before he did or said something rash.

His first stop was his chambers, where he changed from the fancier attire expected at court to a loose-fitting gray shirt and black cotton breeches tucked into tall riding boots. Already feeling a little better, he made a beeline for the stables. His piebald mare Jessamy was munching happily in her stall, but perked up when she heard Morpheus’ footsteps. The Prince waved off the anxious stable boy who stumbled over the words, “Should I saddle her sir?” in favor of slipping on the bridle himself and swinging up onto her bare back.

With a few clicks of his tongue and a gentle nudge with his heels, Jessamy gamely trotted out of her stall, past the stable boy, and all the way into the courtyard before tossing her head and cantering out the palace’s southern gate, away from the city. 

The paths through the forest were wide and well kept. Morpheus followed the main road for about a mile before turning onto a trail that was barely visible, unless one knew where to look. He slowed Jessamy to a walk to better navigate the tall grass and rushes that threatened to overtake the narrow trail. This far into the woods, all the Prince could hear was the birds, the wind, and the puffs of his and Jessamy’s breaths. A relieved sigh rattled out of his lungs and he slumped slightly on her back. 

The trail ended at a small lake surrounded by willow trees. The air was cooler here, almost like stepping into another world. Baby shoots of grass were starting to poke through the previous year’s fallen leaves, and twittering birds fluttered between branches. The lake was surrounded by intermittently placed boulders of various sizes, giving it the appearance of a faerie ring, or a window to another world. Some of these boulders were light and bare, others dark with patches of lichen and moss. They all made for excellent perches to sit on and dip one’s feet in the water. 

Tiny fish swam about in their schools, the concaves of their nests visible on the lakebed through the crystal clear water. A frog croaked from somewhere within the leafy plants growing stubbornly between the rocks and into the lake.

Morpheus dismounted with another sigh and loosely tied Jessamy’s reins to a branch. The mare shook her head again and began to delicately nibble on the new spring grass. While she enjoyed her snack, Morpheus sat on one of the flatter boulders at the edge of the lake and tugged his boots off, followed by his socks, then his shirt. 

The moan he let out when his feet slipped into the cold water was almost indecent. He let his eyes flutter shut and his head tilt back as he dug his toes into the soft silt. After a few quiet minutes, he rolled his breeches up to his knees and waded further into the lake, his arms held out slightly for balance as the sand shifted beneath his feet. He waded deeper and deeper, all the way to mid-thigh, not caring in the least that he would be riding back with soaked trousers. Adding one more item to the list of things his father berated him for wouldn’t make a difference. 

Morpheus already felt much better than when he left the palace, but he could still feel his hackles bristling, could still sense the undercurrent of tension and resentment running through his shoulders. The cold water was, apparently, not to be enough to cool him off. 

With an almost aggravated sigh (how could it have come to this?), Morpheus loosened the ties at his waist and reached past his undergarments into his breeches. A rumbling groan slipped past his self control as his fingers wrapped around his cock. His other hand shifted the waistband of his breeches so his cock could spring free, a shiver running down his spine at the contact with the humid air. His toes curled into the lakebed as he moved his hand faster, occasionally running his thumb over the slit. 

He had worked himself to full hardness and was eagerly chasing his high when a branch snapped in the trees behind him. He jumped, startled, and his head swiveled, looking for the source of the sound. The Prince held still, so still that no new ripples formed in the water around his ankles. 

After moments that seemed like years, Morpheus relaxed ever so slightly. It was probably just a deer stepping on a dry twig. His cock throbbed insistently, as if urging him to get back to the task at hand. Morpheus shook his head and turned his focus back to between his legs. 

Another rustle in the bushes, this one closer. Morpheus frowned; he had now been twice interrupted, and the agitation was creeping back into his bones. “Who’s there?” he called, hoping he sounded more angry than anxious. He tucked himself back into his trousers and sloshed out of the lake, muscles coiled in anticipation. 

Out of the trees stepped a man. Clearly a commoner, if his worn shirt and breeches were anything to go by. Dark hair was pulled into a respectably long tail at the nape of his neck, and a neatly trimmed beard of the same dark hair covered the lower half of his face. Morpheus could see a small patch of yet more dark hair peeking out from the low V of the man’s shirt. Earthy eyes sparkled in the patches of sunlight that made their way through the trees, and they were hazily focused on the bulge in the Prince’s trousers. He had clearly been lost in his own thoughts, an apple raised to his lips as if he were about to take a bite. 

Morpheus was still frozen, but for an entirely different reason. For a commoner, this man was exceedingly handsome- had he been born to the nobility, he would have lords and ladies alike falling over themselves to win his favor. 

Hob jumped when his mind registered he was standing before the Prince. For one, he thought that he and some of his friends were the only ones who knew about this little lake in the forest, and, two, holy shit that was Prince Morpheus standing in front of him, barefoot and bare chested, a semi creating a small bulge in the front of his breeches. 

“Oh fuck!” The apple flew out of his hand- he fumbled to catch it, just barely holding on to the fruit as he sank into a low bow, one leg in front of the other, back leg bent, eyes firmly fixed on the ground, arms out to the sides as he had seen the other nobles do. 

Morpheus held up a placating palm as he awkwardly said, “Please rise, there is no need to stand on ceremony,” even though the other couldn’t see the gesture. 

Hob rose out of his bow and placed his hands behind his back so Morpheus wouldn’t see his nervous fidgeting. How was it possible this man was a prince, was incredibly gorgeous, AND had a voice that could lure any sailor to their watery grave? “A-apologies, sir, Highness, I- I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place-” He swallowed hard, trying in vain to control his nervous babble. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I can just-” 

“It’s quite alright.” Morpheus chuckled in spite of himself- it sounded a little strained to his own ears, but maybe that was because the erection that had fled in his momentary fear was starting to make a comeback at the sight of the beautiful man before him. “I wasn’t aware others knew of this spot either.” 

Hob laughed as well, tense and awkward, scratching the back of his head. But oh gods, his smile could light up the darkest of dungeons. Morpheus could feel his heart clench in his chest, already wanting to see that smile again. The Prince asked, “What is your name?”

“Robert,” Hob answered quickly with another little bow. “Robert Gadling. But my friends call me Hob.” He let out a bashfully choked laugh. “I already know who you are, Prince Morpheus. I mean, just about the whole realm knows who you are. Your Highness.” 

Morpheus had taken a breath to respond when there was more rustling in the trees behind Hob, much more than what could be created by a single man or animal. The Prince froze again, lowered into a slight crouch. Hob immediately whirled around and positioned himself protectively between Morpheus and the tree line. His apple lay forgotten on the forest floor as he settled into a ready stance, his hands curled into loose fists, ready to strike or protect his torso. 

Morpheus had always been independent to the point of being described as a loner, therefore the swirling feeling in his gut at the sight of Hob ready to defend him was completely foreign. It curled in his stomach and slithered between his legs, bringing back that inner heat the cold lake water had once absorbed. And if Hob didn’t see him glancing at the curve of his ass every few seconds… Well, that was between Morpheus and the trees. 

The trees and grasses rustled again to reveal two men in dark gray rags, the lower halves of their faces covered with another piece of fabric. Dirt smudged the visible skin around their eyes. They were each carrying a wicked looking dagger, the blades sharp even if the handles were dotted with rust. 

Hob immediately knew these were bandits- highwaymen that lurked in the trees and waited for the opportune moment to pounce. And they had just found quite the prize.

Jessamy snorted and stomped her feet, sensing the imminent danger. The bandits inched closer, step by step, knives held threateningly aloft. Hob glared at them, refusing to back down, hoping they would develop some sense and realize that whatever they had planned was not a good idea. One of them chuckled in eager anticipation.

“Turn around,” Hob ground out softly, eyes darting between the two, “and I won’t have to bash your heads in.” The bandits exchanged a momentary glance, as if debating the merit of Hob’s words. Apparently, they reached the decision that they had none, because they continued to advance, knives gleaming and ready to cut into flesh. 

Morpheus crept back towards the lake, inching toward Jessamy, heart pounding in his throat. He had never encountered bandits before; the closest he had ever come to someone who had broken the law was on formal inspections of rehabilitation facilities where the offenders had been cleaned up and supervised by wardens. Now, he didn’t have wardens or his retinue or even his hunting knife- his only protection from these two bandits was another commoner who could just as easily decide Morpheus was worth the trouble of kidnapping, or killing, or both. 

“Last warning,” Hob growled, the bandits now within striking distance.

The one on the right turned to his companion: “Get him.” 

Hob swore then yelled to Morpheus, “Go! Leave!” as the first bandit came at him with the knife aloft, intending to bring it down into Hob’s shoulder, or wherever he could reach. He sidestepped the blow and redirected the bandit’s momentum so that he went stumbling towards the water. 

The second bandit charged forward, knife point aimed at Hob’s chest. He grabbed the bandit’s wrist with enough force to make him drop the knife and drove his knee into the bandit’s side. The attacker grunted and doubled over, using the forward momentum to drive his shoulder into Hob’s stomach.

It was a lucky shot that knocked the wind out of him. Hob shoved the bandit away from him, hoping to buy a moment to catch his breath. 

The first bandit had recovered his footing and rushed in from behind Hob, wrapping wiry arms around a golden throat. Hob’s eyes went wide as his breath was cut off, the bandit only squeezing harder as he struggled. The two assailants coordinated their next move with eye contact alone, one holding Hob by the throat while the other stepped into striking distance and threw a sloppy but strong punch at Hob’s face.

The bandit’s knuckles hit him square on the cheekbone. Hob cried out as his head snapped to the side. The man’s other fist came up and landed a punch across his mouth, hard enough to make his nose bleed and teeth rattle and split his bottom lip open. 

“Fuck-” The swear was strained and came out with blood and spit. His vision starting to blacken around the edges, Hob reared his arm up and drove his elbow into the soft midsection at his back. Instantly, his windpipe was free as arms released him and the bandit doubled over in pain. Hob took several gasping breaths as he turned to the bandit who had been choking him and drove his fist into his temple, all the force and energy going down, hard enough to knock him out. 

Hob turned his attention to the remaining bandit. The scrawny man was in a ready stance, hands curled into loose fists held up by his face, but clearly hesitant after watching his partner literally get beaten into the ground. Hob grinned, feral and almost cocky as he mimicked the man’s stance- on a closer look, he was barely a man, just an older boy with his first whiskers. Hob didn’t want to hurt the kid, but he may not have a choice.

With unexpected ferocity, the boy lunged closer, fist ready to fly. Hob dodged one punch, then another, the third glancing off his shoulder- poor lad was already panting for breath, sparking just a hint of pity. 

“Come on, lad,” he tried reasoning, “just walk away.”

The young man’s only response was a desperate yell as he charged Hob, going for a grapple. Hob easily deflected him with a step and a twist, sending the bandit falling hard on his back. Hob settled into his stance, and with a well-aimed kick to his temple, he too was dealt with.

Silence suddenly rang in the clearing, broken only by Hob’s slightly panting breaths. His hands were still clenched into ready fists at his sides.

Morpheus had sprinted a quarter of the way around the lake to where he had tethered Jessamy. He had been ready to bolt at Hob’s word, now he soothed the mare with soft words and gentle caresses. It was like he was watching the whole thing through hazy glass, observing and present but removed, just left of in tune with the world. His chest felt tight, his hands shook uncontrollably as he tried to process all that had happened in a few short moments.

Hob moved out of his combative stance to crouch beside one of their would-be assailants. Morpheus quickly retied Jessamy to the branch and walked over to Hob, feeling extremely awkward and somewhat out of his depth. What did one say to the handsome stranger who had undoubtedly saved him from being abducted, if not worse? ‘Thank you’ did not seem to be anywhere near enough, far less than what Hob was owed for his deed. And yet, the words ‘thank you’ seemed to stick in his throat, refusing to come out.

He stood uncomfortably over Hob, who was pawing through the bandits’ clothes, hoping to find some clue as to their motives, and whether they went beyond simple highway robbery. The Prince had taken a fortifying breath to thank his protector when Hob ground out a curse in another language he had learned from a merchant. In his hand was a worn letter, folded and held together with a black seal. A sigil of stars and other symbols of magick was pressed into the wax.

It was, without a doubt, the seal of Roderick Burgess, King of Fawney Rigg.

“You might want to see this, Highness.” Hob rose to his feet and handed Morpheus the letter. His free hand swiped at his split lip and bloody nose- at least it wasn’t broken, again. He could feel the flesh around his cheekbone swelling painfully. Hob caught the Prince’s sympathetic flinch, small as it was, as he took the paper. Icy eyes quickly scanned its contents, dark brows furrowing closer together the more he read.

“I must return to the palace.” The words tumbled out of him as he refolded the letter and stuffed it in the waistband of his breeches. Moving quickly, Morpheus tugged his shirt back over his head and boots onto his feet as he continued, “My father needs to be made aware of what happened. Burgess sending armed men across our border with orders to watch and intercept me is no idle threat.” 

He unhitched Jessamy and used a fallen log as a mounting block, swinging a lithe leg over her back and expertly gathering the reins. He looked down at Hob as he wheeled her around, holding himself with the distant majesty of a monarch despite his disheveled state. Hob could only stare up in awe, a worshiper at the foot of his god. Dappled beams of sunlight illuminated the Prince like a halo, and Hob was sure in that moment the Prince was indeed fae touched as the rumors went, if not outright divine in his own right. 

“I think it is no exaggeration to say you saved my life,” Morpheus proclaimed, even if the forest and the man before him were the only ones to hear the royal edict. “I am in your debt, Robert Gadling. And I will settle that debt once this threat to the Dreaming is resolved.”

Hob bowed at his words, low and slow and reverent. A few globs of blood dribbled out of his nose and onto the grass. As he rose, he said, “Then at least let me escort you out of the forest and to the main road. I doubt there are any more of these men lurking around, Highness, but I would feel better seeing you to safety.” The last part was true, but Hob figured he probably shouldn’t mention the other reason for his offer: Prince Morpheus had utterly enchanted him, and this was likely to be the last time he’d see the man up close, let alone speak to him one to one, and he wasn’t ready for it to be over.

Pale, elegant fingers twitched briefly around the reins as Morpheus considered his words. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for the right response. Finally, he settled on, “I would be glad of your company. Let us go.” 

He clicked his tongue to get Jessamy moving at a walk, Hob keeping pace beside her. They were silent as they picked their way back to the main forest road, but Hob was on high alert. His eyes darted back and forth, fists clenching and releasing in time with his steps. It was relatively easy to ignore the stickiness of drying blood around his mouth and chin when he was so focused on looking for signs of danger. Thankfully, the trip passed without incident. Morpheus pulled Jessamy to a halt once they were inside the city gates.

“My thanks again, Robert Gadling.” Jessamy pawed at the ground as Morpheus spoke, eager to be back in the safety of her stall. “I do not like leaving my debts unpaid.” The unspoken request for Hob to name his price hung in the air like a phantom. Hob merely gave the Prince a gentle smile and bowed again, still formal but relaxed and easy. 

“This time spent with you is payment enough, Highness.” He paused and bit his lip, plucking up his courage with a slight wince of pain. “May I… Could I call on you? If my day’s work brings me to the palace.” 

Morpheus turned the request over in his mind long enough for Jessamy to grow impatient. He soothed her with a few gentle pats on her neck. “You may,” he finally replied. “As long as my duties permit, I will be glad to receive you.” Morpheus had already turned his horse and urged her into a trot before Hob could say a proper farewell. The gentle goodbye hung unspoken on his lips. Finally, he sighed and kicked a stray pebble as he made his way to the boarding house he called home for a bath and some rest.