#he's used to people deflecting and making every excuse under the sun

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

"Eliot, what are you doing?"

Leverage S04E02 The 10 Li'l Grifters Job.

[v1smokewife]

you take my breath away

day 30 of a zosan centric kinktober

The only one keeping Zoro and Sanji apart is Sanji and Zoro is tired of it. (Part One of Two; Day 31 is part two)

authors note: so this one is a set up for a two part story so the "kink" section of this is kinda small but I wanted to set up the conflict. Don't worry though as tomorrow will make up for it thank you <3

There was a cold sort of feeling in the air tonight. It was the kind of cold that went through your bones, but Zoro was feeling a different kind of cold. A longing that couldn’t be sated as easily and it left him feeling empty inside.  

It was a quiet night, but Nami swore a storm was on its way. Most people kept inside but Zoro was outside the kitchen thinking about going in and talking to Sanji. 

His little relationship with Sanji was beginning to eat away at his heart which felt weirdly unexpected. Their relationship, at the beginning, felt very much like a relationship of convenience. They were both men on board a ship looking for company. Neither of them wanted anyone else...but they didn’t exactly want each other. Sanji had to do these mental gymnastics regarding his sexuality and Zoro had become tired of hearing it.  

It hurt...he wouldn’t tell him that but hearing Sanji coming up with every excuse under the sun as to why this doesn’t mean he had an attraction to men. 

Zoro had feelings for Sanji. Zoro only liked men. This constant rejection of him hurt him in ways that he didn’t expect. Zoro never got upset and just got angry, like he wanted to throw things. Tonight was no different. Overthinking things meant he had a fire in his heart and when he had decided enough was enough, he was going right into the kitchen to confront Sanji. 

His steps felt heavier than normal as he approached the door to the kitchen. Then he reached for the kitchen door and pulled it open. The light from inside shined into the darkness outside. 

Sanji was standing there facing away from the door. He was making some sort of light refreshments for later on... probably for the girls. 

Another thing that bothered him. 

“You’re going to have to wait till dinner for more food, Luffy,” Sanji’s voice was dismissive but focusing on what became clearer to Zoro as icing small cakes. Zoro let the door close behind him. 

“We need to talk, cook,”  

Sanji stopped, but only for a moment. They had been meaning to talk for a while. There was always that air of a conversation that hasn’t already happened between them and you could use a knife to cut the dense air between them. Sanji knew it. However, didn’t have the spoons to actually deal with the issue at hand. 

“I don’t have time to talk,” Which is probably why Sanji met Zoro almost at once with hostility, “Unlike you, I don’t just nap and drink all day. I actually try to help with the running of the ship,”  

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Your attitude is starting to really piss me off Sanji...” Zoro approached him with slow deliberation. “It was cute at the beginning of all of this because I would bring you down a peg but you’re just plain annoying now,”  

Sanji scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter, “Why are you so fucking cranky anyway? Didn’t you fit in your 12th nap of the day?” Sanji was only arguing to deflect what the conversation was likely about which Zoro saw through because Sanji always does this. He doesn’t want to talk about the possibility that he might like men, so he deflects. 

“You’re the cranky one. Fucking hell I’m barely in the door, cook, and you’re already at my throat with your shitty goddamn attitude,” It wasn’t working with Zoro. “What we need to talk about is us,” 

“What about us?” And that at once made Sanji nervous, moving around the counter to not get caught in Zoro’s path because he knows what will happen if he is...he’ll prove Zoro right and that isn’t good for him, “There’s no us. Do you think that because we fuck sometimes that there is an us?” 

“Don’t pretend as if you don’t like it,” Zoro felt his blood run hot. Sanji’s attitude sucked and it was starting to piss Zoro of but not how it normally does. No, Zoro normally finds him irritating but in a bratting way. Sanji is downright being hurtful right now. Which is fine. If it doesn’t mean anything to Sanji then it doesn’t but it’s all the other things, he’s doing alongside that are hurtful, “When we will you admit to yourself that you like men Sanji? I don’t care if I don’t mean anything to you but jumping through hoops to justify this to everyone is so unfair and you know it,” 

Sanji was caught. He had been caught in these lies and for a few moments, he didn’t say anything because what could he say? Zoro was right but Sanji was still going to do these mental gymnastics. 

“Just because I have sex with one man... that means nothing. I’m still straight. I couldn’t possibly have any romantic feelings towards any men...” 

Now that just boiled Zoro’s blood. And Sanji made the mistake of trying to move past Zoro to leave the kitchen, but it didn’t quite work out that way when Zoro grabbed Sanji by the wrist and slammed him against the wall. His hand grabbing Sanji’s neck. Not hard but enough to grab his attention...which it did because Sanji was...shocked but he didn’t move as she started at Zoro was surprised looking eyes. 

“You don’t mean that... I know you don’t,” Zoro almost said lowly. He squeezed at Sanji’s neck. This was something he had always wanted to do. Have Sanji by the neck like this. He had just wished it had been in better circumstances. He pressed his leg closer and shock horror to find that Sanji was getting hard from Zoro holding his neck like this, “This...right here is proof,” 

“It... doesn’t prove anything,” Sanji wasn’t being bratty anymore. He was being stubborn because Zoro was annoyed at him.  

“Quit being a fucking brat,”  

It wasn’t expected...nor was it unwelcome but Zoro’s other hand was raised and gave a slap to him. Sanji tried to hold back the delight in his face at the rough treatment that he was being given.  

“You’re pissing me off cook. I don’t even want to waste my time on you anymore,” 

Zoro then held his neck for a few seconds more before...stopping. He let go, then he stood back. 

“Hey! You can’t just-” 

“I don’t want to see you anymore,” 

The words ran in Sanji’s ears. Zoro...didn’t want to see him anymore. Sanji went to open his mouth, but Zoro just looked him. Zoro always had an unreadable expression. That goes for when he was making him do embarrassing things for his amusement or punishing him...but he never expected this. Zoro couldn’t be read, and it left Sanji in a weird spot. 

“But...why?” Sanji was pissed off too. Their relationship was always like this. They said from the start it would have no strings attached. Why now?  

“Because your indecisive ass is pissing me off. One moment you want me to fuck your brains out and the next, you would rather throw yourself at women who don’t care about you,” Zoro said, rather bitterly, standing by the door, “If I don’t mean anything to you, I don’t care. Don’t bullshit me about your interests,” 

“I’m not bullshitting you about anything...” But Sanji was and he knew he was. Why would he admit to himself that he liked men? All men did was hurt him. His father... his brothers, all they did was hurt him and make him feel unwanted. He couldn’t find it in him to trust men in the way he trusted women. He wanted to trust Zoro...he wanted to love Zoro but...things were difficult...they were harder than Zoro would ever realise, “Well, fine...I guess if you don’t want to see me anymore...” 

“Fine. Then that’s it. We aren’t anything anymore. Just allies on a ship,” 

And that right there hurt both of them.  

Without a word, Zoro left the kitchen and disappeared into the night. Regret and longing for Sanji was heavy in his chest but until Sanji learns to love himself for who he is instead of hiding, he had no place in Sanji’s life.  

Even if this hurts him... 

[flowerfeast444]

most ardently || pedro pascal {pt 2}

pedro x oc

chapter summary: pedro throws a wrap party. drunk shenanigans

a/n: no significant warnings but things get hot and heavy if you catch my drift

We finished filming the final scenes for 'August Sun' around five hours ago. As soon as Sean shouted the final cut, tension rolled off my back, and I almost laughed with joy. It's not that I have been miserable the last few months because I haven't. It's just that the thought of never having to work under his critical eye again filled me with great relief.

I know that being the lead in 'August Sun' required a more solemn performance in comparison to my previous work, but have I not proved my talent already? It felt like every take was another audition in which I had to fight for my dignity. Sure, most of my acting experience has been from shooting commercials, but I have been working my way up in recent years; my nomination for best supporting actress in a kid's movie from two years ago sits heavy in my mind. At least my name was out there.

Still, it felt like no one trusted me to be alone on set or make a decision about my character for myself. So, when we finally wrapped, I seriously debated going straight home and drinking enough wine to wash out the grubby feeling in my gut. It became a bit more complicated when Pedro invited everyone to his house for a wrap party. I still could have avoided going, except he asked me personally to be there. It would have been easier if he simply shouted the announcement to the room, but he didn't. Instead, he told me how much he looked forward to seeing me there.

I was, unfortunately, alone outside of my trailer when he told me this, so I couldn't deflect or lean on Allison to avoid him. Like the few times we spoke before, he was kind, but I could see the apprehension through his whole body and his voice. I agreed to come only because I had no excuse otherwise. When I told him, he smiled shyly at the ground before schooling his expression and simply telling me, "see you 'round, Dev".

The way he spoke my nickname so casually irked me for the rest of the day. Who did he think he was? He barely knew me. I'm sure he knew this and only said it to get to me.

An hour into the party, even two Jack and Cokes couldn't help settle my agitation. When I first arrived, I tried my best to make peaceful small talk with the other actors and crew members there, but I felt like I was acting as much as I had been on set the past several months. Allison was there, but she was having fun with the other people from the hair and makeup department, and I didn't want to intrude. Eventually, I gave up, retreating to the other end of the house where I found a cozy library.

The slightly ajar door enticed me as if it were waiting for me to stumble upon it. A single lamp in the far corner illuminated the shelves of books and various trophies lining each wall. The multiple rugs layered on top of one another worked well to absorb the sound of the party, and without further thought, I dropped into the corner of one of the plush leather couches in the center of the room.

I drained the last of my third drink with a content sigh. I closed my eyes for a few moments, rolling out the tension in my neck before pulling my phone out of the pocket of my fur jacket. I had only been scrolling through Instagram for a few minutes when I suddenly heard the party's very own host behind me.

"Finally decide you're too good for us?" He asked smugly. He held two bottles of wine in each hand where he stood, leaning against the doorway.

I rolled my eyes and focused back on my phone. I expected him to blow me off and leave me alone like he usually does; instead, he admitted, "You know when we first met, I thought you were going to be much more lively. Social."

"Did you follow me over here just to say that?"

Pedro smirked and held up the wine. "Wine storage is next door. You sure you didn't come to the library in hopes of catching me alone?"

"God, get over yourself," I muttered softly.

"But seriously- you're not having fun? You know, when I was your age, I was throwing parties in my small-as-shit, shoebox apartment every chance I got," Pedro laughed at the memory as he finally sauntered into the room. He perched on the armrest of the couch opposite me, bottles still clutched in his hands but resting comfortably on his thighs.

"'When I was your age,'" I mocked. "Come on, you're not that much older than me."

"I've got a good ten years on you, at least." He shrugged.

Unsure of how to respond, I stared down into my glass as I swirled it, pretending there was something actually in it.

"Alright, take off that ridiculous jacket and join the rest of us again. I'll get you a refill of whatever you've been drinking, I can pretend you are a gracious guest, and you can pretend that you actually like any of us." Pedro stood and began taking small steps backward until he was almost in the hallway. "Who knows, maybe you might just enjoy your time."

I wanted to deny him or at least make a witty remark, but my words failed me. I kept my jacket on, though. I followed Pedro back to the crowded kitchen and pushed my empty glass on the counter in front of him as soon as we arrived. He side-eyed me but filled it up with red wine without hesitation. I lifted the glass to him, giving him a 'cheers' before taking several large gulps. He shook his head with a smug smile.

A few drinks later and I had lost track of time. I hated to admit that Pedro could be right, but I was laughing more and more as the night wore on. Like always, though, I found Allison to cling to when being social felt too difficult. We sat on the couch and gossiped until I couldn't feel my cheeks from laughing. I'm sure anyone around us thought we were hysterical. I eventually excused myself to the kitchen to procure a shot for each of us, but when I reentered the living room, Allison was headed toward me, purse and keys in hand.

"Sorry babe, I'm about to head out, it's been a long day." She brushed some loose hair behind my ear, smoothing it down with a few more strokes. "I'm so glad you came! We need to go out more often- let your freak flag fly!" With a kiss on my cheek, she all but disappeared before my eyes.

My shoulders dropped. I downed one of the shots and set the other on the coffee table beside me. Looking around for the first time in a while, I understood why Allison left. We were pretty much the only people left. Daisy, the actress that played my sister, was curled up on a chaise lounge, fast asleep. Music still pumped through the speakers, but I decided my time to leave had long since passed.

I clumsily twirled around in search of my phone and purse when I noticed the music lowering to a soft hum.

"Thought you'd have left by now," Pedro said, turning away from the stereo system on the other side of the room.

I found my purse half under the couch and picked it up, showing it to him, "going to now."

"You were able to get an Uber this late?"

"I don't live far, I'll be fine to drive." I shook my head but quickly stilled, trying to quell the dizziness it brought on.

"Honey, if you've had anywhere near what I've had to drink tonight, and I think you have, you're in no shape to drive," he said condescendingly.

"Don't act like you know me. I'm fine."

I tried walking to the door, but Pedro gently pushed on my shoulder, and by the time I processed it, I was back on the couch. I groaned. Pedro laughed.

"Like I said," he landed heavily onto the cushion beside me, "you're not going anywhere. So, kick off your shoes, unbutton your pants, whatever, just get comfortable. Because I will take your keys."

I could be arrogant sometimes, I knew that. I guess this was one of those moments to give in. Let someone else be right.

So I reached down to unzip my boots and pulled them off, chucking them to the floor beside the couch. I felt Pedro's gaze on me and my already flushed cheeks grew hotter. I lost my jacket at some point in the night, so I unbuttoned my pants next, just as he suggested. I maintained eye contact as I did so, watching his eyes darken and his demeanor transform to something more focused. I had only seen a similar look from him when we were in front of a camera, and even then, it was much more practiced and controlled than the man in front of me now.

Though my ego felt satiated, I hungered for more. So, I drew the zipper down slowly, with baited breath. Pedro's eyes danced around my body, but continually rested on the open closure of my pants. Just to see how far I could take it, I moved my hands up and behind my back in search of my bra clasp. I quickly unhooked it and pulled the straps from my shoulders, letting it fall out the bottom of my tank top. When Pedro's breath stopped for a full second, I knew I had him like putty in my hands.

"Comfortable, now?" he asked with a steady, deep voice, leaning closer to me.

I nodded, and before I could fully part my lips to speak, he was kissing me- and Jesus he held back during filming. His tongue prodded mine hungrily, and I felt his hands snake around my waist, grabbing me there just as fiercely. With one particularly rough tug, I swung my left leg over and landed in his lap, tangling my fingers is his hair to help myself balance. We rutted together intensely, his fingers splayed out, digging into the flesh of my hips.

I instinctually let my hands wander down Pedro's chest, my lips twitching to a smirk when I realized his half unbuttoned silk shirt had fallen off one shoulder. As I broke our kiss and reconnected my lips on the nape of his neck, a small whimper escaped him- so quiet, I almost missed it. My hands continued their path lower until they reached the top of his pants, quickly unbuttoning them. His grip finally left my hips, one grabbing my hands, the other holding my back as he maneuvered me to lay on my back with him hovering above me and pinning my hands above my head.

"Devon," he tutted, shaking his head, "who knew you could be such a bad girl."

"Isn't that what you like?" I rolled my hips up into his.

I could see the thoughts rolling behind his eyes, debating what to do with me. He leaned closer, and I could feel his breath on my chin, but he backed away again and, instead, dragged his eyes over my entire body then back up. Making eye contact again, he released my hands and sank back into the opposite side of the couch. I remained in my lounged position and tried to catch my breath.

"Get some sleep. There's a guest room down the hall." Pedro nodded to his left, still maintaining eye contact, "Don't puke on anything."

Without another word, he left me in the living room, music still purring through the speakers and Daisy still passed out across the room. Simply, what the fuck was that.

[0littlestwolf0]

All that matters

Yandere! Percy Jackson

Ship: Yan!Percy Jackson x innocent/fragile reader

Warnings: Violence, over use of powers.

Requested by: @xxscreamingcolorxx

It started off innocently enough. Way too innocent for that matter, maybe that’s what ignited him.

You were just the new kid in the big apple, someone who just moved there because of your parent’s job, and like any teen would have, your mind started wandering off, imaginating all the possibilities, all the movies that could come true before your eyes!

As for him, it was just another year in yet the same school (something he was really grateful for), only the first day and he was already counting the days until he could return to camp, to his friends.

Annabeth.

The name stung him like a bee, scratch it, it felt more like an angry wasp, but he ignored it, she was the closest person he had, who could actually understand him, and hey, he did love her, maybe not in the way she did him but for all he knew that was it for everyone, maybe that’s why people say that friends end up falling in love, more like a ‘next step’ thing than actual love.

Was that even real though? He surely didn’t know, but he was comfortable with what he had, and that was good enough, so he tried to shrug the thoughts away and finished getting ready for his day.

Soon enough he was already in his seat, headphones blasting a playlist he had spent the night downloading from questionable websites, and his head between his hands, doing everything in his willpower not to start a mess.

Naturally he didn’t notice someone new entering the classroom, he tried to stay away from most others, and people didn’t really like him either, much of a troublemaker, they’d say.

His lack of social skills made sure you got a seat on your first day. But he didn’t look up as you seated, his senses did however, perk up at your perfume, some wildflower and another thing he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it reminded him of camp, so he couldn’t help inhaling even deeper, he made the silent decision to start sitting near you.

And it could have been that way, you being your a scent he liked, just another person, but the fates had other plans, as did the first teacher, who didn’t waste a second on explaining the week project to be done in pairs.

His music was gone at this point, and he sighed, he didn’t like working on teams for school. Better yet, he didn’t like ending up with whoever else didn’t have a partner. Just then he felt a finger poking his arm, with a raised brow he turned to see you.

And your breath got stuck in your throat, he was probably one of the cutest boys you had ever seen, yet, his resting face (or so you hoped it was his resting face) looked just a combination between angry and dangerous. But you didn’t listen to your gut and talked “Would- uh... Sorry! I’m new and I was wondering if you’d like to partner up?”

Your voice had to be the sweetest thing, he was already starting to take a liking to you. You see, he isn’t the type of yandere to just get obsessed, it was your scent that drew him to you, yet, your willingness to spend time with him did make him feel better.

“Are you- Yeah, sure” he had to stop himself from pointing you to another person without a partner, not yet believing you’d want to partner up with him. But your enthusiasm changed his mind.

—

Before any of you knew, the day was over and you were waiting for him on your designated spot just outside the school, it didn’t take him long to reach you.

You saw his expression change as he crossed the glass doors, first a schooled glance to the floor, not allowing himself to even look at anybody else, you didn’t understand that, he didn’t look that strong but when you touched his arm you did feel hard muscle, then, why would he avoid trouble so much?

He didn’t seem to see you at first, but he did, trust me on that, he was just afraid of you changing your mind and would very much rather if you just left than the direct confrontation, but he couldn’t understand why, why the idea of you turning your back of him turned him inside out.

But of course you didn’t, you approached him with the sweetest smile on your face and stood right in front of him “Hey!” He couldn’t hold a smile at your voice, you just sounded so eager “Should we go to the library?” Were you always this eager? No, that seemed impossible, maybe you were just happy to be with him, that certainly made his smile bigger

“Uh- I mean- Sure” he was nervous, which made him want to laugh his ass off, sure he could fight gods and monsters but send a pretty girl his way and he’d stutter “I mean, I was actually thinking we could do it on the park” he finally added, the park was a bit far, but if there were any monsters he’d be able to deflect them easily on an open place rather than a dead-quiet-library.

“Yeah! Sounds good to me!” You agreed with a sweet smile and allowed him to lead the way “Just help me with the whole getting back thing, I still don’t really know the city” he nodded eagerly, almost as much as you had before, it was an excuse to spend more time with you.

Now this didn’t concern him as cheating or misleading Annabeth, for he didn’t think you’d like him, you see, he doesn’t seem to find himself as someone most girls, especially girls like you, would feel attracted t him, so even if he felt the this growing killer bees on his stomach every time he saw you, nothing would ever happen.

You walked with him through numerous streets, he took advantage of your lack of knowledge and took you through the long path, he didn’t even notice that he’d done that at first, but you were just so engrossed on your retelling of that X-Men movie, that he wanted to hear you talk like that for hours, suddenly, you stopped, your head held down “I’m sorry, I just get a bit excited sometimes” that sobered him “No, no, it’s okay, please continue, I really want to know what happened to this Logan dude after that”

You blushed but tried to hide it with a laugh, still looking down “It’s okay, I know I can talk a lot, and it might be stressing” you added, it was your attempt to stop yourself from boring the first friend you made on that school, but it made his blood boil, people just didn’t understand you fucked up the world was, fighting every day against monsters, losing friends on the way, and how amazing it was to hear stories from someone like you, someone without the blood that he had in his hands.

“Well, I like it, and I really need more context, so the future isn’t the future then? He just changed it and that’s that?” He understood the story, but sometimes making an easy question was the easiest way to make others talk.

And you went on, you arrived to the park and sat on a desk with him, taking your supplies and started working on the project, you were open, and gave ideas, still never shut any of his, you asked for his opinion every step of the way and used almost every idea he had.

That made him feel warm, you were most likely the first person to trust his ideas and hear him without a scowl or a frown, he couldn’t understand how would anyone shut you down when you talked? Every time you looked down and scratched your arm he noticed you were stopping yourself from over sharing.

Why would anyone hurt you like that? He just wanted names, they didn’t deserve someone like you in their lives, not one bit, they deserved to suffer for making you ashamed of your words. It surprised him, really, that rage boiling inside him, and how soon it’d be gone as soon as you smiled back at him.

And then it happened, a manticore loose in the park, running around and tearing people apart, he saw the moment your instinct kicked in, you could see through the mist.

He took Riptide from his pocket and stood up, but you grabbed his arm and pulled him down, holding a finger to your lips “Don’t” was everything you said, and he gulped, maybe you did care about him a little, his mind started wandering, maybe you felt as connected to him as he did you, he wanted to nod and stay with you under the table, to keep you from danger, but the only way he knew was by killing it.

“Please” you pleased “it’s going to hurt you” he laughed humorlessly, “Not my first rodeo” was all he said as a smirk took over his mouth and winked your way, maybe he also wanted to show off a little.

It was weird, he had never wanted to show off before.

But oh well, the manticore was closing in as soon as it’s nostrils flared up with the demigod scent on him, he needed to stop thinking and start moving, natural talent and years of training in camp made it easy for him, more like a dance than a battle, not that he’d ever been good at dancing, but you get the idea.

A move to the left, an angry manticore to the right, sarcastic comment out about how bad the sun had treated the manticore’s skin and a “you should really get some moisturizer for that crack in your skin” and proceeded to stab it directly on the belly as the manticore jumped.

And he laughed, allowing the rest of adrenaline to leave him, after getting so worked up with thoughts of people hurting your feelings, killing something felt really good. Maybe too good.

He turned to look at you, and his stomach dropped, your throat was being held tightly, lifting you ever so slightly from the floor by an empusai, were monsters working together now?

Of course it would happen to him, out of all demigods in New York.

Now he realized, his blood hadn’t been boiling before, but it was now, burning his very skin from the inside, the empusai giggled and he gave a step closer, then you were struggling again “Now, now, one more move and your pet dies”

Pet? Oh now it was personal, he didn’t understand his blind rage, maybe by an outside point of view, you had reminded him of what light was, even with the ability to see monsters you saw the good in people, that much he realized from your speech about Magneto being just misunderstood.

Maybe you weren’t as innocent as he once thought but you still tried hard enough to make conversation with him, you even tried in your way to keep him safe, and now, everything he’d seen was good and worth saving was being threatened.

It didn’t took him a word, just a small move from his left hand to the side, and now it was the empusai’s blood that boiled, literally, she started crying, he didn’t stop, all the fluids in her body boiled now, and started moving inside her, desfigurating her, she screamed and let you go, he didn’t stop.

You ran to him and he threw Riptide to the ground, instantly feeling the (now lesser) weight of a pen settling on his pocket, with his now free arm he grabbed you by the showlders and held you to him.

“Don’t look” he warned, grabbing now your head and pulling it to his shoulder, one last move of his left hand to the right and the empusai’s blood chocked her to death, streaming down her ears, nostrils and eyes, her mouth forever set on a silent scream as she fell to her knees and finally turned into ichor.

Just then did he allow himself to fully hold you, his arms wrapped tightly around your as your heavy breath tickled the side of his neck, your arms wrapped just as tightly around his waist.

He realized with guilt that you were shaking, you were probably scared of him now “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he repeated in a whisper against your hair, unable to let you go.

“No” you shut him and separated your body from his by merely centimeters, his stomach dropped “I’m okay, you’re okay, that’s all that matters” you said grabbing his face, forcing his wandering eyes to stay still on yours “Survival of the fittest, right?” You joked and he allowed a worried breath to leave his body, you weren’t treating him like a freak.

He nodded and you hugged him again, just as tightly, he still felt you shiver every once in a while.

I’m okay, you’re okay, that’s all that matters,

I’m okay, you’re okay, that’s all that matters,

I’m okay, you’re okay, that’s all that matters.

He repeated in his head over and over like a mantra.

You were too good for this world, and if that evening showed him anything was that monsters were probably going to come for you at some point, and he wouldn’t let them get even a step close.

He promised himself then and there that no one would ever harm you, monster or otherwise. After all, the gods owed him, he could get his way this once.

[imkylotrash]

Black And White (5)

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Summary: You go on the date letting Harry know that there was nothing between the two of you but you’re not ready to forgive Saul so you become petty.  Contains a request given a long time ago regarding sparring partners. I won’t be writing the request because it would give away the entire chapter. 

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @artsyle​ @baueoud​ 

All the way through getting ready for the date, you feel absolutely sick to your stomach. You don’t want to go on a date with someone else but your ego is hurt badly from Saul telling you to go. You wanted him to tell you the opposite, you wanted him to get upset at the mere thought of someone looking at you the way he does. You never expected him to tell you to go. Once again, your phone buzzes letting you know that another message from Saul ticked in. He’s been texting you every five minutes since you left his room but for you his decision to stay away from your room says more than any text message he might send you. 

Once you finish getting ready, you wait another 5 minutes giving Saul time to come stop you but he doesn’t. You try not to feel too hurt but it’s hard not to when your partner won’t even fight for you. Instead you text Harry to let him know that you’re good to go. He texts back the meeting spot and a bunch of inappropriate smileys that you can’t help but laugh at. He’s a little bonkers that one. 

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” you introduce yourself to the stranger waiting for you out on the lawn. He smiles showing all his pearly whites and somehow, you already hate him. He’s too slick knowing he’s objectively pretty and thinking it’ll substitute for an actual personality. You see why Harry would like him though. He’s probably one of the lads always up for a good chat about the ladies. 

“I’m Jared. Can I just say you look absolutely stunning tonight?” he starts and it gives you the creeps. It’s not so much what he said but the way he said it. He’s been with you for two minutes and it feels like he’s already picturing you without your clothes on. 

“Should we get going?” you ask deflecting the question ungracefully. He holds out his arm to lead you through the portal to Solaria. It’s a beautiful restaurant and the food is amazing but you predicted his personality so accurately it’s almost painful. He doesn’t ask you a single question but goes on and on talking about himself and how he always considered himself better than what Alfea could offer which is why he transferred to private tutors right here in Solaria. The wine glass seems to empty quite often in order for you to survive the night. 

“I’ve had a great time tonight.” I bet you have, you think to yourself panicking when he leans down for a kiss. In a moment of complete brain freeze, you decide that a sneeze is the best way to avoid it. 

“Sorry, I should probably get inside.” You hurry away leaving him hanging outside. Rather than going to bed, you head to Harry’s room and knock on the door. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” you ask once he opens the door. Luckily, his room appears empty so you push past him ready to take off your shoes and get comfortable. It’s been a while since the two of you had a sleepover but tonight, you could really use it. 

“You didn’t like him?” he asks closing the door before coming over to sit next to you on the bed. 

“Like him? How could anyone like him?” you ask making Harry laugh. 

“Honestly, I have no idea. I never thought you’d go through with it,” he chuckles confusing you even more. Why would Harry set you up with him if he doesn’t even like him? You narrow your eyes looking at your best friend with a suspicious feeling growing in your stomach. 

“Why wouldn’t I go through with it when you vouch for him?” Does he know? How could he know when you and Saul have been so careful not to reveal anything in public? Everything seems a little backwards right now and what you really want is to cuddle up next to Saul and forget all about this but your pride won’t let you do that. 

“You tell me?” he smirks and he definitely knows. 

“Saul told me to do it.”

“Saul?! You’re dating Saul Silva?!” He’s so shocked that you quickly realise that he definitely didn’t know you were dating Saul. 

“I knew you were dating someone and hadn’t told me but... You’re dating Silva?” He can’t believe it and you can’t believe you just told him that you’re dating your teacher. Could tonight get any worse. 

“Whatever I just said, I blame it on the wine.” But the damage has been done. There’s no way Harry will let you forget this and while you worry about what Saul might say, you have to admit that it’s really nice to be able to tell someone. You get keeping it a secret until graduation, but you wish you didn’t have to. And lately that feeling have only gotten worse. 

“You can blame admitting it on the wine but not the fact that you’re dating our teacher.” He goes to high five you but the look in your eyes is enough for him to abandon that idea. 

“So, you sent me on a date that you knew would be horrible to make me confess I was already seeing someone?” you ask trying to figure out exactly what went down tonight. 

“I really thought you’d back out before you guys even left Alfea. I felt a little bad.” He holds up his thumb and index finger to indicate the measurement of how bad he felt. It’s not much. 

“You’re a dick,” you laugh deciding that you won’t be upset about this. If you hadn’t been fighting with Saul, you might even have thought it was a fun prank. Instead you opt for climbing under the duvet and going to sleep. Harry stays on the floor not even considering the idea of you two sharing a bed which you really appreciate. He can be a gentleman for the right person. 

“Wake up.” The sun has made a reappearance way too soon but you know you can’t go back to sleep. Classes will be starting soon where you’ll have to face Saul. 

“I have a plan that might make up for last night. But it’s very petty.” Your ego likes petty at the minute. He fills you in as you head towards the training grounds. When you arrive, you don’t even look in Saul’s direction instead focusing on Harry. 

“Have you been working out?” you ask touching his biceps even though everything in you is screaming for you to stop, you keep going. Harry is like family and while this feels so wrong, his smile tells you that someone else is definitely annoyed by it. Your back is to Saul but that means that Harry can watch him. 

“Tightening his grip in the staff,” he informs you at the same time letting you know that you can up your game. 

“Fight me,” you whisper crawling into the ring. It’s the silliest training you’ve ever done. Instead of actually trying, you and Harry just roll around laughing and having fun. None of you put anything more into it than wanting to piss Saul off but it’s still weird. 

“I surrender,” you scream when he starts tickling you. 

“You two, my office!” he snaps and you have to bite your lip from laughing. Harry’s plan worked a charm and while you probably should feel a little bad for agitating him like this, you’re mostly just satisfied that you finally got the reaction you wanted him to have when you told him about the date. 

“I’ll be expecting to see you in detention for the next three Saturdays. Training is not a joke and I refuse to let anyone behave the way you two did out there.” You can’t even look at Harry in fear of laughing out loud while Saul is screaming at you. He’s clearly very upset but you don’t feel bad. He started this. 

“Harry, you’re excused.” He sends you a look when he gets up to leave which you return with a wink. 

“See you,” he says letting his hand rest on your shoulder for just a second longer than necessary. Don’t laugh, you tell yourself wanting to enjoy jealous Saul a little longer before you admit what really happened out there. 

“What the hell was that?” he sneers very upset. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Harry is my best friend, we were having a laugh.” You try to ask innocent secretly swooning over just how hot he is when he’s jealous. 

“Don’t play dumb with me. Why were you flirting with him?” There’s a fire burning in his eyes that you’ve really missed. All you want is for him to admit that you’re his and he’s yours. You know it’s wrong and that no one can claim another person but somehow, you and Saul have anyway. 

“Sorry. I just thought it would act as a good cover. You know, so people don’t ask any questions.” You’re enjoying this far too much but really, it’s just your bruised ego talking. 

“Well, that little stunt just cost you me.” That wipes the smile of your face. 

“What?” you ask thinking that you can’t have heard him correctly. He can’t seriously mean that he’s willing to end things over this. It’s an argument and sure, it’s one of the big ones but you figured you’d get through it like you have with anything else. 

“I’m not doing this childish thing you’re trying to do,” he says with a hollow tone. 

“I’m done.”  

[jaxsteamblog]

Day 19: Hurt/Comfort

I’m re-posting my 2019 fic “Making Space.” It’s post-canon and very heavy. There are mentions of past self-harm, a statement of suicide ideation, miscarriage, blood mention, various forms of depression, and implied child neglect. Thinking about this made me sad, writing it made me sad, do not let it make you sad unless you want it to. Click on the title to read on AO3 or continue under the cut. Be aware of trigger warnings! Includes Kat-ang and Ma-ko.

---

“Tenzin is an Airbender, he needs to know these things.”

“You have never cared about that. You have never made others feel lesser like this!”

“They won’t get it.”

“If you leave. If you leave with just Tenzin, we won’t be here when you get back.”

Sokka and Suki arrived on the earliest airship as soon as they heard. Bumi and Kya, knowing something drastic had happened, couldn’t be separated, so Sokka took them both out to go penguin sledding. Suki stayed with Katara, moving around the hut in silence till Katara inevitably dissolved into tears.

“They’ll hate me.”

“It’s better this way. If they hate you, you’ll be around to love them.”

“I’ve lost my baby.”

“He’ll come back.”

They stayed for a whole season, ignoring all of Katara’s anxious questioning about what they had left behind. At night, since Katara couldn’t sleep, she could often hear her brother’s angry whispers as he summoned all the curses he knew from the ocean depths. His anger lasted longer than her tears, and Katara wrapped herself in her brother’s anger like a thick fur.

Bumi did well under his uncle’s attention, though his comments about his father made Katara wince in pain. Sokka deflected each question and comment easily, refocusing Bumi on some project.

The more Katara watched them, the more she realized she should have reached out to Sokka sooner. Standing between his aunt and uncle, Bumi beamed. These were two great heroes, and both were non-Benders. With the other South Pole children - more non-Benders than Waterbenders - Bumi only stood out by the paleness of his skin. But then, there was Suki: just as bundled up and red-cheeked.

Kya was quieter, often trailing behind the others. When Katara was close by, her daughter would come and sit with her. Their mirrored sadness wove them together, a common blanket that bound mothers and daughters everywhere.

“Daddy isn’t coming.” Kya said.

“It has always been his choice to make.” Katara replied and pulled her daughter to her side. None of this made sense; Aang had always stressed the importance of living in harmony, of being friends with all types of people. As they had grown, Aang had even recognized the patronizing way he would speak of the Air Nomads. When he reminisced, it was never to compare his people to others. He never again acted as if the Air Nomads had been some sort of paragon. Letting go of that pride had allowed him to open to the new occupants of the various Air Temples.

The Air Nomads were gone, but they would never be forgotten. Aang held a pained resignation in his chest and Katara would find him staring off in thought when they stopped at the Temples.

She thought that sadness would fade with time. Aang was more present and tempered, rejoicing in everyone’s growth. The sadness returned when Bumi died, and when other pieces of his past started to slip away. But every time, her husband would return and they would go on a trip where he would kiss her till she felt her body rise into the stars.

Katara never expected that sadness to be running like a river through him, slowly eroding away his insides.

When Bumi was born, Aang cried. At first, Katara thought it was from joy. But she heard him late at night, after she had gotten up to feed the baby and found Aang gone. He wept like an animal was trying to escape his chest and Katara was frightened.

She had shut the door, feeling her heart flutter behind her ribs.

When she got pregnant again, she knew she had a Bender. She was excited when she told Aang and he had seemed like his old self. He stole her breath with kisses and everything seemed lighter.

As the midwife handed Katara the swaddled Kya, Katara squeezed her eyes shut.

Three days after the birth, Katara had woken to the pain of milk in her breasts. Going for the baby and seeing Kya missing, Katara almost fainted from the shock. Rushing about the house, she finally heard the faint lines of a song.

Aang sat in a chair on the balcony, rocking back and forth while singing a song too soft for Katara to make out. Holding her breath, she just watched. Her husband’s face was tight but his eyes were sunken. With one thin finger, he was tracing the curve of Kya’s cheek and drawing small swirls. Then he bent down and kissed her forehead before standing up. Silent, Katara walked over and took her, moving back into the house to feed her. Kya, smelling milk, started to cry, but Katara paused to look back.

Aang was still standing, looking out into the midnight air.

Tenzin’s birth was salvation. Aang had been overjoyed and could barely contain his excitement. For weeks, Katara would snap at him when his mania would wake the other children.

She didn’t notice how Aang’s sole source of happiness became Tenzin. Katara was busy, tending to the older children and continuing the work she was already doing. Aang took over most of the infant care, save for when he needed to be fed. But as soon as Tenzin moved on to more solid food, Katara would often not see her youngest for hours.

Katara thought it would pass.

Then Aang would start leaving, taking Tenzin to important Air Nomad places. That Katara could excuse, though she didn’t see why they all couldn’t go. Bumi had started school and Kya could work on her waterbending at home.

When one trip extended unexpectedly, Katara panicked. As soon as Aang returned, her fear came out as anger and they argued. He had just taken a small detour, to show Tenzin a special place. Cliffs that sang in the evening breeze and glinted like fire crystals at sunrise.

Aang had taken her there and told her that he would love her forever as they laid in the thick grass, listening as the ground below serenaded them.

It was a place they could have gone with all the children.

Katara had left to pick up Bumi and shut the door.

All of those doors being closed had ended up shielding her from what had been happening. The sadness had erased everything she loved about Aang and it was too late for her to fix it. The empty space had been filled with air.

When Sokka and Suki finally did leave, Bumi and Kya cried every night for a week. They became belligerent, fighting with her over everything from their clothes to their food. Already stressed, Katara yelled back and they cried even louder.

At night, Katara’s own sadness continued to heave out of her, like a bilge pump on a sinking ship. She would fall asleep out of exhaustion and when she woke up, Bumi and Kya would be curled around her.

They had woven a wide blanket and it covered them all.

Towards the autumn equinox, as the sun was starting to stay lower on the horizon for longer, Katara received a letter. She felt the rush of hope and the familiar lightness, but it left her as she read it. Toph, with children of her own and a job that allowed for few breaks, had written to check in on her.

Much to Katara’s embarrassment, everyone now knew about what had happened. The chain of events that led to the discovery was both mortifying and oddly satisfying.

Having stayed close, Suki had told Toph about their trip to the South Pole. Immediately after being told, Toph had tracked Aang down and dressed him down, loudly, in public. The argument had been explosive and Toph warned him to not set foot in her city. And she would know if he did.

When Toph returned, Zuko was already in Republic City. He had only recently gotten divorced and was attempting to be more like his uncle to achieve some sort of inner peace. Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared to deal with Toph’s fury.

Zuko tried his best to defuse the situation, but then Sokka came into Republic City. With his anger still not assuaged, he reported the effect Aang’s decision had on Bumi and Kya. They talked more about what should be done; there were legal penalties for abandoning one’s wife and children, but that would involve a traumatic session of Katara testifying. Divorce was also tenuous, as Katara would have to forfeit all of her children if she won her suit.

Then Aang came to Republic City.

It had been daring, of course, as he could have gone directly to Avatar Island. Instead, he came into Republic City and it only took moments before word reached Toph.

Now with Sokka at her side, she renewed her fight. Sokka stepped in, but only to explain how Aang’s leaving had hurt Bumi and Kya.

All of this was written more like a police report, but Katara could tell from where Toph had bashed down on certain keys of the typewriter that certain sentiments had come up during specific points.

Toward the end of the letter, all Toph reported was that Aang had made an offensive comment, Sokka had lunged, but Zuko got there first.

And the Fire Lord knocked the Avatar out cold.

During all of this, Tenzin had been in the care of an Air Acolyte. At this point, the Acolyte stepped in, getting Aang up and making sure they flew to Avatar Island as soon as possible. A day later, Appa flew away again to destinations unknown.

Toph promised to visit soon, but urged Katara to return to the United Republic. There were plenty of cities far enough away from Republic City, but she would be close enough for everyone to visit.

Katara folded the letter and hid it in a small cupboard where she kept her unguents and pill casings.

At the dawn of the first twilight day, the sign that winter was fast approaching, an airship arrived. Regular shipments came into the South Pole to replenish famine rations that they were supposed to have stopped using five years ago. But the reconstruction took longer than expected, and the signs were suggesting that this would be a harder winter.

Katara brought Bumi and Kya to the dock as a reward for having a not-so-terrible day. They went shrieking like wild animals with the other children as the hydraulic ramp slowly lowered with a leviathan groan.

The flash of red the airshipmen wore at first made Katara think of Republic City and she suddenly couldn't breathe. But as the ramp hit the ground and the people began to move, she saw the Fire Nation symbol and relaxed.

Then the guards came and Katara felt lightheaded as she was suddenly pushed back thirty years.

Zuko looked so different, it scared her. Her fingers froze with electrified terror and Katara felt like she was going to cry. As he started to look around, she prayed he wouldn’t see her, but as the thought became wisps in her mind, his eyes met hers.

Then Bumi went barreling up the ramp and directly into Zuko’s stomach.

Once again embarrassed, and still on the verge of tears, Katara rushed forward toward the crowd. Her voice was thin and reedy as she pleaded and pardoned her way past people. And then, she was in front of Zuko.

Bumi was thrown over his one shoulder like a laughing sack of potatoes. Izumi and Kya stood together behind him, whispering and admiring a bracelet Kya had made.

“You didn’t have to come.”

“I know.”

“We’re doing fine.”

“No you’re not.”

Katara’s breath came in a shudder and her chest felt hot. Zuko set Bumi down and handed him a crowbar, telling him that he hid a prize in one of the crates. Kya cupped her hand around Izumi’s ear and then both girls were suddenly giggling before darting away.

“I’m fine Zuko.”

“His sadness changed him and you didn’t get to say goodbye to the man you loved. You’re not fine.”

“And how do you think that could possibly be it?”

“Because I never got to say goodbye to the Mai I married.”

Before she started to cry, Zuko put his arm around her shoulders and turned her away from the gathered people. No one was paying attention to them, as they were either unloading or going through the supplies. Still, Zuko steered her away and back toward her house.

Taking no prompting, Zuko sat her down on the couch and brought over a blanket while she was weeping. Katara curled into it, laying down on the couch and sobbing while the core of her soul ached. When he returned, Katara felt his warm hand on her back, slowly rubbing the tight muscles that seized with every arrhythmic breath.

“This is all my fault.”

“Not all of it. And you can’t be blamed for not fixing something you didn’t know was broken.”

“Why did he do this?”

“Because a sadness that deep can erase the greatest of joys.”

He gave her tea and he told her about Mai. The promises he made and how now, finally, everything would be as they wanted it. She had enjoyed it at first, the power and privilege that came with being married to the Fire Lord.

Then they started to get pregnant.

She usually lost them in the first trimester. Nothing to show of a pregnancy except the amount of blood. One pregnancy had been promising, and the doctor had ordered strict bedrest. Sages, not the Fire Sages but a new group to rise from their ashes, had said that if the spark caught, the baby would be a strong Firebender.

They had lost him during the seventh month.

Something had broken in Mai then, and Zuko insisted they stop trying. Mai needed the rest and to recover, so they traveled to various healing springs. The doctors had told him in very strong words that he must not even so much as sleep in the same bed as her, so that her body could heal. He did. She pulled away from him, receding more into herself. Maids and other noble ladies assured him that this was normal, and Mai would be fine. So Zuko had left her alone.

He had left her all alone.

During a new moon, when it was the darkest Zuko had ever experienced, he had been woken up as someone entered his room.

Mai had come to him and draped over him like a sheet. Zuko could still remember how he had traced his hands over her body and felt her ribs. And the thick scars on her legs.

She said nothing and the only sound was of their breathing.

When it was done, Mai got up and walked out of the room.

When they returned to the palace, she moved out of their shared room. And nine months later, Izumi was born.

Mai took care of all the motherly duties, but quickly handed Izumi to whatever nurse happened to be nearby. As those duties lessened, Zuko tried to reach out to her. Every time, she turned him away.

When Izumi turned five and they found out for certain she wasn’t a Firebender, Mai threw a glass into the dining room wall.

“I failed. The thing nearly killed me and I failed.”

“You didn’t fail. Please, Mai, if I ever made you think that-”

“It’s not you Zuko, it’s them. It’s this place. It’s me.”

“Mai.”

“Zuko, if I stay here one more night, I will die.”

Zuko let her go.

The divorce had been hard. Mai looked dead as she signed the papers, forfeiting her parental rights to Izumi. As her father’s only heir, there couldn’t be a chance that Mai would take her. As per the usual agreement, Mai was not permitted to remarry for one full year and any pregnancy had to be reported immediately to the palace. Just in case the baby was Zuko’s.

There was no ironic laugh. Mai only scratched out the character of her name and looked at the magistrate.

“She wasn’t even the same woman at that point. I hadn’t even been seeing her.”

“Why couldn’t they just tell us?”

“That sadness was theirs. Either they thought we wouldn’t understand or they didn’t want to drown us.”

“I love him so much.”

“Aang’s gone. Mai’s gone. And it is a terrible thing.”

“What do I do with my own sadness now?”

“Let love in.”

Zuko said he was staying until the solstice, claiming that he had never had the opportunity to spend a good one with her. Having him around, Katara tried to work on letting love in. She saw how sometimes Zuko’s sadness would seep in and he would begin to pace. He moved till he found Izumi and then pestered her, throwing handfuls of snow over her and the others while they ran about shrieking. By the time he needed a break, he was smiling and his eyes were brighter.

Katara took a chance. When her sadness lapped up her spine, she sought out her children. She taught them how to scrape furs and when Bumi started to roll over them, instead of yelling at him, she wrapped him up in one. As he struggled and laughed, Katara and Kya continued to roll him, using their bending to ultimately send him bounding down a hill. They would roll after him and end up on their backs, laughing and crying at the same time as their breath became clouds in the air.

Love began to take up too much room and the sadness had no place to linger. Zuko warned her that it wouldn’t always feel like that, and it would be difficult to push back the sadness for good. While he was prone to melancholy, it was still taking him time to recover.

At the solstice festival, she understood what he meant. Zuko had gone to help light the fireworks and the children were gone somewhere doing spirits knew what. A woman came by with a tray of sweets and Katara took two small plates. As the woman left, Katara turned.

Aang wasn’t there to take the other one.

He had been absent all this time, but her muscle memory still expected him to be there. When she washed dishes, the first she usually held out, waiting for Aang to dry. When she tucked in the children, she had to stop herself from saying their father would be in shortly to say goodnight. When she thought about the meals, she first thought about what dish could be made with and without meat.

But now, during a happy festival, she grabbed a dessert for her husband who had left her. Who had been gone for longer than she cared to admit.

“Katara.”

“He’s not coming back.”

“No.”

“I thought he loved me.”

“Katara, he’s not the same inside. There was too much of the pain.”

“It hurts, so m-much.”

Zuko held her while the fireworks boomed overhead. She pressed her face into his chest and crawled as close to him as she could. He took in slow breaths and his body warmed. Zuko wrapped himself around her and she cried.

“You have to let the pain out.”

“How?”

Her breath was hot and wet, and it curled against her flushed face. Her nose was congested but her eyes dripped.

“I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“Zuko.”

Katara turned her head and Zuko went stiff. His sleeve had been pulled up as he held her awkwardly. There was a mark like a thumbprint burned into his skin. The skin was cracked and dry, with the flesh beneath looking dead. It had been burned repeatedly.

Her sadness and pain left her in a rush. Katara felt weak and wrung out. She sagged in Zuko’s arms and he sighed.

“I have to keep going. Even when I don’t want to, I have to.”

“It can’t be like this forever.”

“But we have to survive the waiting.”

Katara decided that staying in the dark for weeks and weeks wouldn’t help anything. An army of people packed up her house and loaded it onto the airship. Bumi and Kya were excited about the trip, hoping out loud and without subtlety that they would be able to stay at the palace for just a little bit before heading on to the United Republic.

Iroh greeted them when they landed, hugging Katara with such genuine warmth that she suddenly felt like she was drowning. She had resolved to stop crying so much, knowing that it was causing some sort of imbalance in the waters of her soul. Zuko told her it was only her body pushing out some of the pain to let in a little more love. Katara had told him that Iroh had been corny, not sappy so he had missed a lesson somewhere.

Now being outnumbered by Benders, Bumi started to act out. Iroh took every boast and bluster seriously, giving Bumi the attention he needed. When his anxiety waned, Izumi reminded him that she was a non-Bender and was going to become the next Fire Lord. She asserted that just being a Bender didn’t make anyone amazing because just look at her grandfather and great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather, and then Iroh interrupted her to tell them that there were red bean buns in the kitchen.

Then Kya broke Katara’s heart as she took Iroh’s hand and asked if being a Waterbender was special enough. Iroh smiled at her and replied that he knew of one very special Waterbender who was also one of the women he most admired. Kya glanced back at Katara as she and Iroh went after the others, and Katara smiled.

That night, Katara made Zuko show her all of his scars. Working from his right arm, Katara glanced at his abdomen. Zuko put a hand over it.

“Not that one.”

“It’s just another scar you didn’t deserve.”

“It’s one I earned.”

“By throwing your life away.”

“To protect you.”

Katara found all the small burns and smoothed them away. The water around her hands stayed cool and glowed faintly, concentrating in spots as they found the damaged skin. The threadlike scars from very sharp blades were also erased.

“And here?”

“I earned that one too.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What else would you have me say of it?”

“You have earned kinder things.”

He sat up and pulled on his robe but left it open. Katara could hear the rush of blood and her limbs felt heavy. He faced her and took a loose strand of her hair. He watched his hand as she watched his face. Zuko tucked the strand behind her ear.

“I earned your friendship.”

“That hasn’t always been kind.”

Her fingers felt cold, or else it was that his skin was hot. Katara touched the place where Azula’s lightning had hit him and he smiled.

“I would take this type of kindness over your indifference any day.”

“I’m not indifferent.”

“I don’t mean to presume.”

“You have earned kinder things than my attention.”

Zuko’s hand returned to her face and he cupped her cheek. A small affection, but one so intimate that her body shuddered. This was not the touch of a brother or a comforting friend. It was a touch she had not known for a very long time.

“Then let me have your words, because you have my full attention.”

“Take them.”

And he kissed her.

As Zuko shifted to hold her, Katara cried out softly. There was nothing desperate or lustful, but her body still felt charged. Zuko only hugged her, kissing her gently, and cradling the back of her head with his fingers in her hair.

As Katara’s head started to spin, Zuko picked her up and moved her to his bed. He regarded her with a pained look.

“This isn’t how I want us to begin.”

“But I am ready for an ending.”

They spent the night together, and Katara got her first restful sleep in months.

It took two years.

Katara bought a house in Luodai, a promising city that wasn’t too far from Republic City. She met with Aang half a dozen times in various attempts to reconcile, or at least come to some sort of agreement.

Then came the proposal of a new law.

Katara had not been permitted to sit as the South Pole representative on the council as she was married to Aang, who also had a seat. Sokka had taken it instead, and had done a remarkably good job. It was because of how seriously he took his position that the proposal took as long as it did.

Called the Mothers’ Right Law, it outlined the new rules for any divorce occurring outside of any marriage where a legitimate heir was required to maintain the stability of a government. Women were now allowed to initiate a divorce on their own and did not have to forfeit their parental rights. Instead, custody must be shared between the parents in equal measure for all children. If the mother is unemployed or becomes unemployed before remarrying, the former husband must pay her an allowance.

Sokka presented it at a council meeting and as Aang rose from the table, Toph stepped forward. The other representatives all stared at the Avatar and ultimately the law was signed.

Aang signed it again, in another version, one month later.

For the spring and summer, Aang had all three children. Katara had them for the fall and winter.

And during the next winter solstice, Katara and Zuko decided they wanted a new beginning.

[when-will-they-interact]

Could you do prompt 11 or 6 u don’t have to though sorry

11- “Excuse you, I can be as dramatic and ridiculous as I want, outside of work hours. You can’t stop me.”

 Virgil raised a hand to shield his eyes from the bright glare of the light pointed right at him. Squinting to see past it, he did his level best to glare his disapproval at his two best friends.

 “Guys, is this really necessary?” he grumbled.

 “Oh, definitely. You’ve been acting weird for months and every time we ask you manage to deflect. We’re simply taking proactive measures to find out what’s up with you before it comes around to bite all of us in the butt.” Janus adjusted his gloves, looking every bit the super-villain-interrogator he was pretending to be.

“And you don’t think that this whole setup is entirely too ridiculous and dramatic for a lawyer of your standing?”

 “Excuse you, I can be as dramatic and ridiculous as I want, outside of work hours. You can’t stop me.”

 “Not that we’d want to. Jan, hon, where’d you put the tweezers?” Remus butted in.

 “No tweezers. We agreed,” Janus patted them on the shoulder consolingly, adding, “but you do get to sing if he doesn’t cooperate.”

 Virgil’s eyes widened in fear. If Janus was willing to let Remus sing, they must be taking this really seriously.

 “All right. Before we begin, state your name for the record.”

 Virgil raised an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed.

 “Fine. Have it your way. We’ll get right into it then. You’ve been going out more often than usual, citing, and I quote, ‘hanging with friends’. We all know this has to be a blatant lie, because neither of us was with you during these times and we happen to be your only friends. You also missed the day your favorite band was in town during their tour. You’ve worn something other than your hoodie 13 times in the last 2 months, an all time high. You’ve invested in eyeshadow that isn’t black and actually used it. What’s going on?”

 Virgil blinked. His friends kept closer tabs on his hoodie than he had thought. Their work was impressive, but he wasn’t gonna crack that easy. “So you’re saying I can’t make new friends?”

 Re gasped dramatically. “You would abandon us? Leave us to suffer in the dust and the day-to-day grind of life as you make your way up the social ladder? Virge, the betrayal shall simply kill me!”

 Virgil rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself from grinning at his friend’s theatrics. “I’d never abandon you; you know that.”

 “So then what is it?”

 “Why do you guys feel such a pressing need to pry into how I spend my time?”

 “Because we’re worried.”

 “What could you possibly be worried about? Me changing things up a bit?”

 “We’re worried about you because we think you might be taking the same road as your mom.”

 Virgil did a double take, sure this had to be some kind of sick prank, but the look in Janus’ eyes stopped him from saying so. Jan was deadly serious, and Virgil was only now realizing that the theatrics were his friends trying not to fully freak out.

 “The weird outings, the spacy look you get, the odd behavior, the missing important events? We were there, Virge, we remember how it went. We’re worried about you, and we want to know if you’re safe. You can tell us anything, we’ll help you with anything.” Remus’ voice was quieter than usual, and for the first time in a long time, they looked scared.

 Virgil didn’t respond for a bit. He was mentally berating himself for not realizing just how his recent behavior would look, and also for not just telling them what was going on in the first place.

 “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think. I should have known how you guys would see this. I can assure you it’s not that.”

 “So what is it then?” Jan asked.

 “I, um, I’ve been seeing someone,” Virgil sped forward, determined to get the story out before either of them could interrupt, “His name is Logan, and I didn’t say anything because he’s kinda high profile and we wanted the relationship under wraps until the both of us were ready. I should have told you guys, though, you’re my closest friends and I don’t like keeping things from you.”

 “You. You got a boyfriend???” Remus’ jaw was practically on the ground.

 “Is it really that hard to believe?” Virgil asked, defensive.

 “Considering your track record of running away from romantic relationships, yes, it kind of is.” Janus had slumped in relief the moment Virgil had explained, but now he perked back up.

 “I- okay fair.”

 “Wait, what do you mean ‘high profile’?”

 “He’s this big name in investing or something. To be honest, I completely lost track of what he was saying when he tried to explain. The financial terms went right over my head. J, you’ll probably get along great with him.”

 “Wait, this Logan, he wouldn’t happen to be Logan Berry would he?” the question came from the least expected source, Remus.

 “Yes? How in the world-“

 Remus held up a finger, pulling out their phone and tapping at it frantically. Finally, they held it up to show an Instagram page. To be specific, their twin’s Instagram page.

 “What’s Roman got to do with this?”

 Remus pointed at the first picture, which depicted Roman with two people at a coffee shop. Virgil squinted.

 “That’s- that’s Logan sitting with him.”

 “Apparently you’re dating my brother’s bestie. Well, one of them, anyway.”

 “We really do live in some really shitty soap opera.” Janus dramatically flopped back. Remus patted him consolingly on the shoulder.

 Virgil, seeing his chance, stood up, ready to make his escape.

 “You can go now, but don’t think we won’t be after you for deets later.” Re called as he left.

 Virgil groaned good-naturedly, but inside he was giddy as a kid on Halloween. His friends remained brilliant as ever, and now he was free to gush like he’d been dying to do for months. As he stepped into the sun, Virgil grinned. Things were good. Things were really good. And judging by the text he’d just gotten, things were about to get better. Virgil texted back and set off with a spring in his step. He had a date to get to.

[blankdblank]

Ash Pt 8

Any means for a private lunch was dashed in a debacle of a means by Prince Estel to plea his way out of his usual music lessons Elrond was trying to enforce upon him. Trailed by the entrance of a confused messenger who arrived with a pile of notes from Erebor that didn’t seem to make any sense at all thanks to the smudged outer envelopes. That while you finished the first then second helping of the warm honey butter rolls there the King had taken notice of the usual seals he gave lists of the few known possible recipients from those who had written them. Off they darted to try and leave the two bonding Nobles alone for a moment of silence in which the King timidly glanced your way and flashed you a quick grin before his move to finish his lunch and catch up to your emptied plate to snack on a roll on the way back to the clock.

Five pieces was all you managed to move before a hiss left him in a shake of his hand to signal the warning bite he’d been given the day prior that meant it was time to stop. “I suppose we might want to find your Elk then before our clock gets a hunger for your blood and we have to lock it away every night so we won’t find you half eaten by morning.”

Throatily he chortled and set the piece in his left hand down in a scoot of his chair to stand and help you to your feet. “What a colorful image of a monarchy under attack.”

“It would explain why there are no clocks here. Natural enemies, have to draw a line somewhere.”

Smirking to himself he stepped back to allow you at his side for the stroll to the front doors, “We have clocks. They are reserved for our families and beloved Ones, time is precious.” In a sweep of his eyes over your face he asked, “Were there a great deal of clocks in Nunieffe?”

“Oh yes, couldn’t go twenty feet without running into a clock. We might have been the cheese capitol but everything had to be punctual. Schedules for everything. You’d think the boat racers would have some freedoms from it but there’s timed arrivals and if you don’t meet them you’re disqualified no excuses even if by a second. Been a few uproars on that rule including my dad. Got booted half a foot from the finish line half a second past the final marker. No one won that year nearly had an uprise on their hands.” With brows risen he looked over your face in your step through the front door he had opened for you to do so.

“Over a race? It must be quite a prestigious title to win that contest of sailsmanship.”

“Well the race is 14 months long.” That had his mouth drop open in shock, “Trip around the world have to collect tokens from each Noble along the way and gain stamps for your travel papers. Not much of a prize beyond bragging rights and a spot in the naval forces that moves higher each time you participate and rank higher than the time before.”

“Naval forces are prized then?”

“Higher ranked you are the less likely they send you out in a row boat in the middle of a siege. Best winner came in first three times with five participation ranks above tenth place out of hundreds. He retired as a general and never had to leave the dock last war in his lifetime. Our lands are the sacrificial lambs up for slaughter. We bred faster and no one really wanted our ranks to win but we put the top social tier out of the race every time by the second stop. They already enter the wars in leader positions anyways why do they deserve another foot up away from the bloody ground.” Your eyes scanned over his steely face in a means to not cling to you for how miserable the fate your old world had dealt you and your kin. “Sorry. I get a bit cynical, and heartless about the top tiers.”

“You are not heartless. They are the ones who should hang their heads in shame. I am beyond comforted that you are free from that pit of death and despair.”

“More a chasm than a pit,” you replied and a smirk ghosted across his lips.

“Chasm then. Let us think of better things and enjoy a long ride on a fine day in this sun painted forest.”

“I see what you did there,” you said and he chuckled in the first step towards the stables away from his closed apartment.

“Did you not grow around many trees?”

“There were trees. Just not a lot higher than your shoulder, thirty feet at the most. Until you got to the outer edge of town but no one goes into those woods,” he glanced your way and you said, “Haunted and full of holes.”

“Ah, well no danger of finding holes today.”

Again you glanced up at him in a move that drew his eyes to yours for a pleased grin that had you ask, “I was meaning to ask, your throne has antlers on it?”

“Yes,” he said a bit puzzled about what the exact question was.

“I mean they aren’t like feathers that just come off on their own or wool that can be sheered,”

“Elk and deer lose their antlers annually.”

“Really?” You asked and he nodded with a relieved chuckle at what you might have imagined of their means to extract the antlers from the stubborn creatures and somehow still they would be left alive afterwards.

“Yes, in the spring I will remind you and we can set up a picnic and watch the herds startle themselves when they shed them.”

“But they seem so, like bones, you wouldn’t think they’d just fall off.”

“Nor do they until their first shed and still each year you’ll see them sneeze or reach a certain way to a bush or tree trunk and the antler will come loose and hit their side on the way down. Tuo nearly leapt six feet last year after his startled sneeze triggered loss.” He chuckled again to your amused grin, “within the next month the new set begin to grow and the meantime allows them safer head sparring practice with their young ones in the first signs of their first tips.”

“Why did you pick an elk over a horse? Are they faster?”

“Tuo was a difficult birth. His mother was found injured and barely survived the night after I helped ease her struggles. I helped to secure a female to nurse him with her own daughter however due to his father who was head of the herd none of them could claim him outright without his approval so until he deliberated a good match I spent most of my days and nights in the stable with him.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Lowly he chuckled and stated, “I do have to admit Celeborn had just left from his latest trip to show off his youngest set of twins and I was a bit jealous and missed those parental moments. Thousands of years have passed since my son left my palms and shoulders.” Curiously he stole a glance your way and asked the question now burning in his head, “What were your dreams for a family, prior to the betrayal of course? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Truly I haven’t,” softly you sighed and in his full gaze on you with head tilted slightly for a better angle on your puzzle of an expression when you looked away. “We have Seers we are taken to when we are able to conceive, they tell us how many children we will have. They read it on our palms.”

“What did yours say?”

“She said my palm read sunrise. No number, just sunrise, and since it is illogical of an answer, I don’t know. I looked it up in a book and I didn’t have that line,” his eyes sank to your hand palm up in front of you in a tap of a finger on the other hand to what he took as just a normal wrinkle on your palm with meaning of nothing else past that now having him question what his own palm might say. “But now I do,” you sighed again, “Which according to the book now says sunrise and blue.”

“That is odd. If you had to guess a preference, had you imagined a son or daughter?”

“Um,”

“I myself was a bit baffled for a preference. A daughter however might have proven a bit difficult as my mother most likely would never have let me have a chance to hold her, as she always wished for a younger sister to raise alongside me. Though she would have been no less loved even from a distance until I was allowed to hold her again.”

“Maybe one of each, three are the usual goal expected of women but the husbands normally choose how many children-,”

“I can guarantee that will not happen here. You have full power here, did your father encourage that belief that you would be prey to your husband’s demands and expectations?”

“Well, my parents, my mother did what she was expected to even against her hopes to have had me with her child sweetheart,” that had his eyes on yours in a sharp shift. “They weren’t in love, and the longer it went without a son that became clearer to me when we weren’t in the shop where they seemed to be able to play happy couple for the public.”

“I am so sorry you had to face that.”

“He seemed pleased at least when I was taken.”

“I cannot ever imagine that to be a parent to a heart like yours that moment could be a father’s single proud,” softly he huffed in irritation, “To barter you off I assure you that afterwards there was ample remorse on the loss of his only child hefty sum of silver or not. Several of our people have various moments of pride for your person. Including myself, I am very proud of my dazzling One.”

In a smirk up at him you teased, “I am about as dazzling as an Elk is stable crossing a lake of ice.”

That had him chuckle and shake his head and then catch your eye again, “Deflection will not serve your case, a few stumbles and slides does not negate majesty from and Elk. Tuo is head of the herd and has gotten his rear end stuck in ample situations while growing and learning our forest.”

Upon being in sight of the stables your eyes shifted to his hands that above the slit on his maroon outer robe that button by button it revealed more of his dark silver pants that his white tunic was tucked into the waistband in a careful move to not lose his maroon and deep silver wrap folded over his forearms. “It has buttons?” That had him grin in the reach out to shift the front flap on the side closest to you over his arm while his other hand continued until he undid the jeweled clasp at his collarbone. “Oh, it’s thicker than it looks so it hides the buttons.” You said then gave his arm mild pokes to test the fabric on his arm for thickness to not be groping at his chest, “I suppose it helps keep you warm.”

“It does. While the cold does not normally affect our kin layers are comfortable for myself, though the length can bother Tuo while we ride.”

Down the steps you strolled with fingertips brushing the leather paneled skirt over your black pants contrasting your brown knee high boots. Comfortably in your pale orange blouse secured by a black and orange vest at least you seemed to be a good choice for a ride. Tuo already was on his way from the line of trees to join you inside the Elk stables you hadn’t entered before. Past the open front entrance towards the large section on the end with a crown etched into the half door that was propped open that you stopped outside of to watch his easy move to the cupboard inside he opened. Off his arms the wrap dropped to his fingertips that in front of him he folded in half then quarters and then eighths to add to its usual home next joined by his outer robe that was hung on the hanger inside he took the armored dark green robe that like the other had a split in the part that hung nearly to the knee.

The stare from you however in your stroll closer to his button of the robe had his eyes fixed on you right to the stop a foot away that had him smirk at your tap on the end of the hilt of his sword strapped to his right hip that was a twin to the one on his left. “I didn’t even see your swords.” Up to his your eyes shifted and you asked, “Are they heavy?”

Around the right sword his left hand fixed and in a smooth motion he unsheathed the solid metal sword that along the etchings in the top of the blade near the hilt your fingertips tapped. “Not heavy at all once you have trained enough to build up the muscles in your arms and wrists.” He said and eased it closer to your hand that was joined by your other to timidly lift the blade with fingers and palm fixing around the hilt with the other. Both you shifted up and down for an awkward feel of the balance while he finished buttoning up his robe.

Back to him you offered the blade and over the back of your hand his eased to take hold of the grip in its release that spread a grin across his lips that spread in the smooth motion of your hand to tap his middle to feel the solid armored layer he added while his sword was sheathed with ease. “What is this made of?” you asked with one set of fingers in a second press that was joined by your other hand that widened his grin at the innocent contact that didn’t come close to making him sway but did test the give of the scale like material that didn’t budge at all. “Feels like metal?” You asked and then turned your head to the layered plates that laid from the tops of the shoulders down the tops of his arms over a layer of more scales.

“They are made of mithril plates layered in thick green wool. Mithril is the strongest and lightest metal in these lands.”

“You need armor and swords for this?” You asked with eyes on him again and he shook his head.

“No, merely a habit. I can leave them behind if this bothers you.”

You shook your head then gave his middle another grin spreading poke and said, “No, if you’re comfortable with them it’s fine.”

Your poke however had Tuo upon his entrance bop the King in the chest with his snout to join in on the fun that had the chuckling King shift on his feet to say, “Let us get you dressed Tuo,” with a glance at you he asked, “Would you like to learn?” With a nod he extended his hand you laid yours on top of to walk with him to the large compartments along the wall where he said, “Tuo prefers his saddle first,” the leather saddle he lifted with ease and carried over to the Elk that turned sideways and eased over the Elk’s back. Every piece was explained while he adjusted it then reached down to grab the opposite strap that he said in easing it to the proper notch, “Not too snug but you have to ensure it isn’t too loose or you will spin down off their back. Usually a finger space between the belly and strap will be comfortable but some steeds prefer a notch looser and will make it clear to loosen or tighten the strap.” The stirrups were adjusted down straight then he collected the reins and bridle that he eased over Tuo’s head and helped you to secure the buckles then dropped a hand to your upper back that was used to guide the way to the saddle.

“I don’t think I can lift my leg that high,” you said eyeing the stirrup that made him smirk and ease his left hand over the back of your wrist to reach for the knot on the saddle, “Just reach up, I’ll lift you.” Around your hips his hands settled and with a warning lifted you to where you could plant a foot in the stirrup. “Now, ease your right leg over,” his hands remaining fixed in place until you were halfway over the saddle and when you had settled in place he stepped away to gather the reins that he crossed in your hands his had given a mild cup to release the hold of them.

In a step back he said once at your side when you moved your foot that had slid from the stirrup in its drop again at your leg being shorter than his to rest in them. “How do I not be in the way?”

To himself he chuckled and he replied in an ease of his raised foot in the stirrup, “You are nowhere near in the way,” his hand fixed on the knot over your arm. And fluidly up he rose and used his long legs to his advantage to move around your back to settle on the extended rear seat of sorts on the saddle that had come of use when Legolas was younger. With legs situated around the sides of yours over your shoulder he peered and reached for the reins that you released then promptly tucked your hands back and he asked, “Are you comfortable with the height?”

“Yes, just, not going to look down too often,” you said and he smirked in a low murmured confirmation to the watching Elk that looked forward and began to walk to the entrance.

“Just a slow trot to begin with,” he hummed near to your ear after a careful glance at your braid that hung to the saddle he ensured the curls in it or the jeweled beads tucked throughout would get caught on his outer robe. Straight to the trees while you remained straight as possible to continue not being in the way, “You are not in the way, relax you will not fall. When we get deeper on the path I can show you how to steer if you would like.”

“I don’t know where we are going.”

Again he chuckled and he said, “I am right here,” he said to your glance at the speckled mare that halted with a glare then turned back to storm to her usual pouting tree to lie down underneath. “I will not let us get lost should you take control.”

The first turn was taken and a rounded pathway was laid out for the trotting Elk and up your eyes shifted to the endless trees, “Were the trees always this tall, you said you moved here from your old home, have they grown? I can’t imagine they grow very fast. And they all seem even, so who planted them or did it just rain acorns one day…”

Again he smirked at the curious ramble from you and answered each that you could think up between shared facts and gestures to various things along the way. Hours you rode and chuckles soon gave warning to guards above on where their King had reached along the pathway and after a passing inspection of the guard post he had warned you where Thranduil helped you down to let Tuo take a break at a small stream. With hold of your hand Thranduil smiled in a head tilt to the side, “One more surprise.”

Curiously you smiled and strolled with the King away from the amused guards who chatted once you were out of earshot of the newly bonded Ones that had been kept so far apart for so long. Around a series of large boulders you hurried to catch his stride and then caught signs of the shift from tree surrounded grassy pathway to an open clearing that cut off to a rocky ledge that just led into the sky. “A cliff?” You asked and looked up at him when you stopped a bit afraid of what he brought you here for.

Widely smiling at you he said, “There are nests below, unless you wish to head back?”

Tentatively a few feet from the edge you stopped and crouched down with him inching closer to your side with his hand still clutched in yours just at the edge his arm extended and you saw the large nesting grounds of large owls that the parents were offering their catches to their chicks. “Our Great Owls nest here, sacred creatures none here dare hunt. We do not approach them but occasionally we are welcome to peer down at their home while when they fly over ours they do the same.”

“Does your brooding keep them away as well?” you teased and he chuckled again and joined you in a pull backwards.

“No, just merely an issue of territory.” He said in helping you to your feet again for the turn back again after your sweeping glance out into the endless sky and forest around you. “Tuo should be ready for us.”

“So fast?” You asked and he grinned at you.

“Elk can run for days at a time from our herd if need be. However for our steady trot he will have ample energy to get us back.” The Elk in question was pleased to see you back again and came closer to have you lifted on his back again knowing that for the broad looping path back the King would allow you to take control of the reins if you felt comfortable and once Thranduil was behind you Tuo turned for the path and heard Thranduil offer. “Would you like a chance at the reins?”

“Um,” Already your heart was racing in the velvety hum he had given near to your ear and down your eyes dropped to the reins.

Outwards he eased his hands for the reins to be seen resting on his fingers with palms out, a motion that had yours ease closer. Brief and gentle fingertips eased against his palms to shift against the leather straps that you almost let go of until his hands melted around the back of yours to guide them into the proper hold. Kindly he guided you on needless tugs on the reins for the next several turns in the path that Tuo could travel in his sleep but welcomed the chance to take part in lessons. Each turn widened your smile and lured soft excited giggles in the first stages of control for a steed. Though he hummed post chuckle, “There is a jump ahead, we will have to speed up though.”

“We can both jump?” You asked in the slack of your hands that eased back that signaled his left arm to leave the reins in his right to lay it across your belly to press you into his chest in Tuo’s change in speed. Around his hand and arm yours gripped in a melt around your back to keep you steady in the race up to, the leap and landing and afterwards in the calmer pace until the body in his hold untensed. Even then he still kept a loose hold until a clearing on the right had you bravely reaching out to change course to see the beautiful flower filled hideaway where some colorful birds were gathering food for their nests.

From far above a whistle had Thranduil hummed in a guide of the reins saying, “Ah, nearly time to ready for the feast.”

“I hear tonight is the big sparkle night.”

That had him chuckle again, “Yes, I presume our Seamstresses had created a dazzling gown for you to shine in tonight.”

“They did quite a job in the beading. Must have taken all of them to get it done in time.”

“Well they had completed everyone else’s attires months in advance there were ample hands free. I can guess it will look perfect alongside the swan crown.”

“I thought since it is the big sparkle night I should wear the larger crown, unless-,”

“The larger will be welcomed and I cannot wait to see the final look tonight.”

“Can’t imagine you having a much flashier robe than I’ve seen you in, Dew Drop.”

“You might have organized part of my wardrobe however there are a few pieces that you have yet to see.” He replied playfully not pressing the term you had referred to him by to subtly express an approval of its use, however puzzling as to the source or reason why. “Tonight there is a performance from our choral troupe tonight followed by our fable performers that will certainly add to the splendor of the evening with more performances in each night beyond this one.”

.

Pink, sleeveless, backless and beaded strips in angled and arranged to fit the curves on the full chest covering gown that hugged you to the pool of fabric around your feet with a delicate woven set of chains draped down the back opening. Teardrop stones surrounded by arched rows of lasgalen stones in an elegant arch formed the crown you had been gifted that sat gracefully on top of your hair that was braided back with shimmering decorations.

Back to your seat again beside the shimmering robe donning King with his same wrap from earlier to help disguise the shimmer while in the shows, that once the food was through and the performances began to a noticed shiver in the move of the tables he eased from around his back to yours. Nice and warm to the dim of the glow in the hall you settled in the oversized wrap with a failed try to withhold your dopey grin to the gesture. All of this was so odd and now near to the end of this month in this new home of yours for the first time since you had been taken now you were beginning to feel safe. Mainly due to the actions and time with your One who every so often through the performance would steal glances your way to ensure that you were enjoying the show. Subtle actions that had his son and Lord Glorfindel on his other side unable to keep from openly grinning for how the private bonding sessions had been doing wonders for the duo they knew to be a courting pair soon enough.

From a few blushing quick grins in caught gazes when you would look back at his staring breaks to the fable being performed that upon a certain point required a loud flash and smoke that had his hand daringly drop from the arm of his chair over yours to ease under your hand in time for it to be a welcomed thing to clutch until the jolt of your heartbeat had slowed to its former steady rhythm. Polite, again the doubts had sprung up and much like the deep ache you hadn’t realized to be there in the time on Tuo’s back in the arms of the King the hand that refused to let go with thumb bravely smoothing up and down the back of yours only locked you in place more. You couldn’t kiss the King again, he was being so polite, no matter what Ones did grow to be eventually for Elves it was only him being polite. Publicly you were known to be scarred and damaged by the husband turned captor and he was simply preventing a show disturbing meltdown. And still you couldn’t force yourself to take your hand away. Even if it was just a daydream of more than just a silencing hand to hold you didn’t want to let go, and to be completely honest that terrified you more than smoke or a sudden flash ever could.

Desserts in small bite sizes on foot came in a round of wine on the way back to the ballrooms that led to more dances through which an Elleth carried to hang up the wrap Thranduil had said you could leave in your chair that among the others was taken away to make more room for couples to dance. Another break for air however found you contrasting your fellow Wizard Radagast who was dancing excitedly in a hushed hum to the tune with eyes upwards mid twirling step that in a giggle ended to a plop back onto the bench there you didn’t know you were that close to.

“If you are cold I will fetch you my wrap, unless you merely wished to stir envy in the stars for your glow.” Thranduil hummed on his way over with two wine glasses in hand, yours still smaller and with your favorite blackberry wine while he sampled the newest cherry and strawberry blend his people had been perfecting to be sampled this year.

From his hand you accepted the glass offered to you and before you could scoot over he had turned and taken up the spot just big enough for him to fit and be snug against your side and took a sip of his glass you mirrored with yours. Once the glass was lowered and your lip loosening sip was swallowed onto his shoulder your arm shifted to drape there and down his back with a plop of your chin on his shoulder that had his sip halt so he could lower his glass and catch your gaze curious of what you were up to. Onto his chest a finger extended from around the side of your glass tapped and tugged the corner of his mouth upwards to your statement of, “You know, I figured out where I’ve seen the color of your eyes before.”

Once his head was turned and he swallowed his mouthful of the wine now among the bottom of his list of favorites to sample on he would tolerate to encourage the brewers to continue tweaking it to face the bitterness it was chased by. “Oh?” he asked truly curious if you were referring to some dream that had warned you of the travel here and to him with no expectation of what you would actually say.

“You’ve seen dew drops at sunrise,” there was that term again, dew drop and now he had something of a reason why. It was his eyes you had complimented and from a being with such impossible eyes as yours that meant something that stunned him to silence. “That chilly blue that has a hint of a glimmer to them unlike any other blue. Dew Drop.”

From the doorway to the gardens Elrond’s voice split the silence by asking, “Now the two of you tucked alone out here can only spell a plot is afoot. Spill your secrets now or we will be unrelenting in our payback.” The grin on his face doubled in his wife’s lean into his side with a plate of snacks she had gathered for the pair of them he chose a piece from that was popped between his lips.

Thranduil however replied to the rest of your cheek to his shoulder to look at the couple joined by Lord Glorfindel and his deepened smirk at the position you had relaxed into that made Thranduil almost lean in right there and kiss you on the top of the head and stroke the wrist attached to the hand holding the glass still rested against his chest. The King’s response however heightened that amused response in the widening of your eyes. “You are mistaken, Elrond. No espionage here.”

Right through the haze of the wine those words hit the panic button and in a lift of your head. Behind the trio an Elf you had promised a dance to arrived and you said, “Ah, Ringwe, I owe you a dance.” Up you stood and in mock ease to the waiting partner you walked with a trade of head nods once you had taken another sip of your wine as the question circled on if the King knew or not. He said he hadn’t, well, not exactly, he hinted he didn’t know. And to be honest, espionage was not that common a term to use day to day. The glass was taken along the way and several dances later to your apartment you strolled beside the King who managed to catch a signal you were about to leave who cut you off in the hall. This time he was lost to chatter from nerves and again with a press of lips to your knuckles the night was ended when he got you safely across that threshold.

Pt 9

@devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00​, @lilith15000

[agent-cupcake]

First prize winner @elmentrysworld wanted a Claude x Yuri x Reader story that takes place after my Claude x Reader oneshot Aletheia. I’m splitting it up because my life has been… A lot these days and I wanted to post SOMETHING

I hope you enjoy it regardless?

Claude x Yuri x Reader - Part 1 of 2

This part is sfw, but the next part will not be

//

News spread throughout the palace like wildfire.  Even when it was meant to be kept quiet. No, especially then. Claude had a visitor. Mysterious, foreign, he came without notice and had been quickly hurried out of sight. It was strange to be sure. He hadn’t called for you, but Claude knew as well as you did that you’d find out and come anyway, no invitation needed. That was just the way of things, both of you were too nosy for your own good. The casual way in which you regarded the lapse of propriety once would have shocked you, but now it felt as natural as breathing.

It was his fault. Honesty, transparency, tearing down all the walls that would divide you.

Thinking about that made your chest ache in a hollow, bitter way. You still weren’t entirely sure where you were with him. Things had been unsteady since that night. Or, perhaps, too steady. He was so eager to get everything back to normal. And it worked. Mostly. When you were together, you could readily believe in everything Claude had told you. You could buy into his vision of what you were meant to be, who you were to him. But alone, well. Things were always harder when you were alone. Sometimes something frightening welled up within you. It was not the fear, or the anger, or the helplessness. It was the doubt create by the memory of those things.

You were almost able to ignore it, to cast aside your fractured memory of that night.

But that word was the kicker. Almost.

After being so flush with conviction, to be caught in uncertainty was agonizing.

It was his fault.

You shook that bitter thought from your head with a nearly violent jerk, taking advantage of the dark halls to cover the spastic movement. There were far more important things to focus on than your own personal melodrama. That was the way of it, of everything, wasn’t it?

A mysterious visitor. That would be a good distraction.

The door to Claude’s sitting room was cracked ever so slightly. A trap probably, left open just for you. Or you were reading too far into things. It didn’t matter much, as there was just enough space for you to pause, breath held and ears straining to listen through the narrow opening. There were voices from within, two of them. Male. Unaccented. You hesitated there, unable to make out any of the words, only aware of when they stopped abruptly.

“You can come in, you know,” Claude called from within, his voice raised enough to reach where you hovered. It caused you to start. A deserved surprise, all things considered. “How long were you hiding there?” Claude asked as you stepped past the threshold, not surprised to see that it was you. A trap, then. Or, more charitably —and Claude was so charitable— an invitation.  

“I wasn’t hiding,” you told him, although there was a certain unintended edge to the words that made them seem deflective. Claude sat in his usual chair, a big, comfortable throne of seat that was plush enough for him to take up any manner of unusual reading postures. In the chair across from him sat the guest, the second voice you’d been hearing.

Yuri Leclerc, apparently, had decided to visit. Instantly, every defense you were in possession of was thrown forward, your instincts recognizing the man as a threat before your mind could catch up. He was watching you with too-keen eyes and an unreadable expression. Yuri was the type of man that was almost always unreadable. Or smirking. Plotting, planning, not too unlike your king. Only, where Claude thrived in the sun dappled world of politics, Yuri was a shadowy figure in the night. The most formidable criminal player in Fódlan. And here he was, watching you approvingly in the familiar comfort of Claude’s sitting room like he belonged there.

A thousand questions jumped to mind, but you stifled them. That would be rude. After all, Yuri was a friend. Or so Claude said. You smiled. “I was merely trying to think of a good enough excuse so that when I interrupted, it wouldn’t seem so suspicious. Then you would so graciously invite me to join you.”

“And how’d that go?” Claude asked, playing into your game without blinking. “Did you think of one?”

”Oh, sure. I came to tell you about a strange visitor that’s come to the castle.” You looked at Yuri, meeting his eyes for as long as you could bear before looking away. Of all of the people Claude knew from Fódlan, he was the most interesting. And the most dangerous. You resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of his eyes. “Very strange and mysterious. Probably a foreigner. Possibly dangerous.”

Claude laughed. “Right. Well, I’d hate to compromise on security. Would you like to join us?”

“If you insist,” you said, shutting the door fully behind you and taking in a big breath. “It’s been awhile, Yuri.”

“It seems that all of us have been quite busy,” he responded warmly, standing up to greet you. In all the time that had passed, you had forgotten about how pretty Yuri was. Or perhaps it just wasn’t something that you could remember, his image intangible and vague when you weren’t directly exposed to it, like the lingering tendrils of a dream that caught as fleeting fancy in the waking world. In fact, Yuri did possess a strange, elusive dream-like quality. At a glance, anyone could tell that he was most definitely from the west, what with that paper-white skin and light violet hair, his narrow features and that slim build. Considering his reputation, it was nearly paradoxical that he would be so strikingly feminine. But this, too, was a weapon.

You almost would have preferred he show up with a sword in your face. At least you would know how to react to that, would be able to keep a cool head.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Yuri took your hand, pressing a kiss to its back when he bowed. Although you knew this to be a western tradition of introduction —Claude had taught you all manner of western traditions— Yuri’s method was disarming. Far too charming to be authentic, but not slimy enough to read as deceptive.

“You too,” you said, bowing in turn while doing your best to keep from seeming affected by his demeanor. Yuri, just like Claude, was the type of man who enjoyed playing with people. It was, you supposed, apart of his charm. The type of charm that made your teeth clench.

“Yuri and I were just discussing his trip,” Claude said, seemingly oblivious to Yuri’s flirtatious greeting. Or dismissing it as Yuri’s usual antics. Or, no, Claude’s smirk told you that he was fully aware of your flustered reaction and found it entertaining. You pushed down the impulse to scowl at the man. “Apparently, a group of bandits has been making a nuisance of themselves along Fódlan’s Throat.”

“A group of bandits had been making a nuisance of themselves along Fódlan’s Throat,” Yuri corrected, sitting back down gracefully. You followed suit, albeit with far less poise. You didn’t believe yourself to be an awkward person per se, but he could make anyone look like a lumbering oaf by comparison. “When I heard that there was trouble with a group of Almyran merchants coming into Fódlan, I got permission from Holst to gather a group of my best men and follow a shipment coming out of Fódlan into Almyra.” His lip pulled back slightly, a slight expression of disgust. Just a blink later, it had passed, his face composed back into airy calm. “For all the trouble they caused, they were nothing but a lousy group of thugs without a single shred of sense between them. The only reason they’d done as much damage as they had was because of their terrain advantage.”

“And?” Claude prompted dryly. For all of his personal dramatics, he often lacked the patience to indulge anyone else’s.

Yuri smiled, undeterred. “Let’s just say they won’t be bothering anybody else.”

There was no question as to what that meant with that suggestive grin. You didn’t envy the bandits. Then again, you didn’t pity them, either. As far as you were concerned, men like that deserved what they got. For all of the many ways Claude disagreed with you about acts of violence and death, he obviously felt the same. Or maybe it was just okay when Yuri did it.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting a reward for this good deed,” Claude said.

“I couldn’t possibly,” Yuri said with a wave of his hand. “Besides, several merchants have already made their appreciation abundantly clear. Their gratitude is all the reward I need. Besides, it wasn’t entirely unselfish. Bandits hurt my business, too.”

“You have my thanks all the same,” Claude said. “I mean that.”

“Will you be going back to Fódlan soon, then?” you asked. You didn’t meant to sound so eager, but the words came out that way all the same.

“I have business here, actually,” Yuri answered. One of his carefully manicured eyebrows raised. “Why, are you that eager to see me gone?”

Gods, his eyes practically cut through to your soul, twinkling in amusement. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said, trying to remain steady. “But, you know, having a foreigner hanging around during times like this could be inconvenient. There’s quite a bit of unrest already and your line of work is, well, it could cause issues here.” Not to mention the fact that you still didn’t know if you could trust him and were at least mostly certain that him being here could cause upset in your relationship with Claude. That last thought came out of nowhere, hitting you hard and leaving you breathless. You cast a side eye to Claude, jumping slightly when his gaze met yours. Too perceptive. You looked away.

“I promise not to cause any trouble,” Yuri said, putting on an air of sincerity despite the small smirk he still wore. “Besides, it was quite an ordeal to get here, my men and I need some rest before we can make the trip back. You wouldn’t be so cold as to ask me to put myself or my men at risk, now would you?”

Your eyes narrowed, but you shrugged. “That’s my opinion as an advisor, it has nothing to do with me being cold. In any case, it’s not up to me.” You looked at Claude pointedly. His expression was difficult to read, his fingers resting on his chin as he considered it.

“As long as you agree not to cause any trouble, I welcome you to stay as long as you would like,” Claude finally said to Yuri. “And since you seem so concerned about his presence,” he continued, turning to you, “why don’t you keep an eye on him? I’m sure Yuri could use a guide. Assuming that works for you, Yuri.”

“I have no objections,” he responded, flashing you a brilliant grin. “I look forward to getting to know you even better. Who knows, maybe we can even become friends.” Gods, did he have to say everything like it was a proposition? Even the word “friend” was heavy with implications when it came from his mouth. In spite of yourself, you felt your stomach clench, the fine hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“Claude,” you bit out between your teeth. “I’m not sure-”

“Great! Then its settled,” Claude said, cutting you off. “Well, it’s getting late and I am just beat. I’m gonna hit the hay.” He stood, stretching and yawning in an exaggerated way that only he could make look like anything less than a farcically bad performance. “Yuri, you’re more than welcome to take a room in the palace if you can find a maid to prepare one for you. They have a thing about outsiders so it might be somewhat of a hunt, but I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

“Wait a min-”

“Actually,” Yuri cut you off, standing. “I already have a place in town. Wouldn’t want to be too far from my men in case something goes wrong. I suppose that’s my not so subtle cue to leave.” He paused, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you. “I’m staying at the Silkstone Inn, in case you want to come keep an eye on me. I could use a guide to show me around the city.” He smirked. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

“That’s not necessary,” you said flatly.

“Heh, nevertheless. Goodnight.” Yuri tipped his head towards you. “Claude, it was a pleasure seeing you again. I hope we can catch up while I’m in town.”

“I’m sure I can find some time to entertain you. I’d love to swap secrets, for old times sake.”

“Now that sounds like fun. Until then.” Yuri didn’t wait for an answer, exiting without asking for Claude’s leave, dramatic cape flaring behind him.

Impudent scoundrel.

You stood. “Can we talk, Claude?”.

“Too tired,” Claude said, the words disfigured by another yawn. This one was far less convincing. Your eyes narrowed.

“You pawned me off to be a… A babysitter,” you said. “I had no idea he was going to be here, I didn’t plan for this at all.” You pulled in a large steadying breath, not that it did much to settle you. “Be honest, Claude, is this your way of punishing me?”

“I’m not punishing you,” Claude said, his facade of fatigue fading away as he read your expression, gaze holding yours. His eyes were too sharp, too astute. It made you uncomfortable, a sense of transparency rippling through you like a shiver. All the doubt you’d been secretly harboring was in your eyes. You knew it, and you knew that he did, too. “Truth be told, I didn’t know that Yuri would be coming, either. But… that’s not what you meant, is it?”

“It is,” you told him sharply, disliking that question intensely.

“No, no, this isn’t about Yuri. There’s something that’s been bothering you. After our little conversation the other night, I would have thought you’d be able to open up and tell me what you’re thinking. I can’t read your mind, you know.” Could have fooled you. He sighed, frowning. “You’re upset about something, I can tell that much. Are you… Angry with me? I hoped that it would get better, but it’s not, is it?”

A question. Yes or no. Simple.

Honesty was sweet and vile. Your hands clenched into tight fists and the taste of sugar was thick on your tongue, heat creeping in on the edges of your mind. It all came up, sugary bile in your throat and in your head. You hated yourself for your answer but he had asked you a question and expected the truth.

“I’m not angry with you,” you told him. “That’s the truth, you don’t even need to drug me to hear it. I’m not angry with you. How could I be? After all, you’re my king. My lover. For me, there is nobody else. And I’m-I’m okay with it, I’m not angry with you.” Words that had brewed as a cutting critique of his treatment, that you had meant to use to hurt Claude, ended up lacking any of the rage you had originally intended. That was the nature of the truth, the unpredictability of emotion. Looking into Claude’s eyes, you melted. The feeling wasn’t sweet, or feverish, or synthetic. Honesty was painful. Honesty was crippling. “How could I be angry with you?”

Claude’s expression fell. It might have been your intention in all the time those words had been brewing in your chest but actually seeing his pain nearly broke your heart.

“I’ve been going about this the wrong way, haven’t I?” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. The silence was long and awkward, your words echoing in your mind, each pass creating a feedback of regret for having spoken in such a way. “Maybe we should take a break from this little scandal of ours. I’ve got the feeling you need some time to think.”

“Think about what?” you asked.

“What you want,” Claude said. At your scandalized expression, he was quick to continue, “I don’t mean give up your position, at least not for now, but we can’t continue on with this hanging over us. I’m asking you to help out a friend while he visits because I don’t trust anyone else to do it. That’s all there is to this.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture. “As to everything else… Please, just think about what it is that you really want. Whatever it is you choose,” he shrugged, “I suppose we’ll go from there.”

“After everything you’ve done,” you said, a block of ice in your stomach, “that’s it?”

“What? Not at all,” Claude said, seemingly surprised by your accusation. “But I can’t force you to feel something if you don’t. The heart wants what it wants, right? Right.” He yawned again, this one far more authentic. He really did look tired. You hadn’t noticed that before. “And right now, my heart wants a good night’s sleep. You should think about getting some, too. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”  

You winced.

“Don’t make that face, everything is gonna work out just fine.” Whether he was talking about Yuri or you or your relationship, you weren’t sure. Maybe all of it, maybe none. Claude kissed your cheek in a shockingly chaste way and didn’t invite you to his bed, even though you were half certain you’d have agreed despite everything. He bid you goodnight.

The wind teased you that night, billowing in your curtains and kissing chills onto your skin as you thrashed around in your bed in the search of a comfortable position. You thought about doubt, and choices, but did finally get to sleep. Small mercies.

[shabre-legacy]

@grandninjamasterren you seemed to really like that prologue for the story I’m considering working on again, so how about a bit from the first chapter of that same story. 

                                               SYLETRA

Syletra quietly slipped through the trees, taking care to keep her footsteps nearly silent. The 20 year old princess of a destroyed kingdom seemed to be born to the forest. Her black hair shone and danced with the shadows and her dark eyes seemed to emit a golden glow. She moved quickly but even as silent as she was, the beautiful horse following her was not. “ Shoo Ayasha, shoo” she hissed as she neared a clearing. The horse shook her head and nickered quietly. Syletra rolled her eyes and stepped into the clearing as the buskskin standing to the side turned his head and responded to Ayasha with a  loud snort.

 A young elf stood by the horse, checking the girth on a saddle secured to traveling packs. He glanced up and a hand in greeting. “ Sy, what are you doing here, I thought the temple had    devotions today.” 

    Syletra shrugged, “They are, Ascelyn. But as I have explained so many times, I’m not a priestess, so I don’t have to be there” 

    Ascelyn looked a bit sheepish. He scratched his head. “ You know I haven’t been able to remember those temple rules, they confuse me.”

    “You didn’t forget,” Syletra said, rolling her eyes at his pathetic attempt at deflection. “you just thought that I would be too busy with the rituals to remember the day” 

     Ascelyn sighed as he acknowledged her accuracy. “ya, maybe you’re right, maybe I just didn’t want anyone trying to stop me.” He snapped out slightly irritated at the delay of his plan. 

    Syletra stepped closer and laid a hand of his shoulder, “ Who said I was here to stop you? We’re coming with.” 

    Ascelyn’s smile that had just been starting to appear, narrowed in suspicion “Who’s we?”

    “Me and Issy, of course”

    “Issy, a priestess in training has permission to leave the temple?”

    “Well....Technically, no, but… you are like family and Jhaeros is like family and he is your brother and emotionally he is our brother. So...If anyone’s going to help you bring him home, it’s us”

    Ascelyn sighed, Sy was babbling, she only did that when making an excuse. “You’re running, aren’t you?”

    Syletra looked stunned that he would even think such a thing, but overdone, clearly an overdramatic fake at attempting to look sincere. “What... No...I would never” 

    Ascelyn crossed his arms and leaned against his horse, lifting his eyebrows slightly as he stared down Syletra, a small smirk on his face. “Yes, you are. You do want to bring Jhaeros home, but you are also running away.”

    Syletra’s entire body seemed to deflate, she leaned forward, Ascelyn moving to stand near her as Syletra’s forehead rested on Ascelyn’s chest. “ I guess, maybe, I mean since Jhaeros isn’t back yet, he clearly needs some help, but honestly the priestesses keep saying I need to ‘accept my destiny’ and  ‘claim my father’s throne’ and ‘ the people will follow you to war’, but I don’t want to be queen or lead armies to war. I just want to explore, and rest in the temple and run through the forest and not deal with any of that.”

    Ascelyn gently pushed her shoulders, causing her to straighten, “You do realize that we might have to fight to get Jhaeros back, that isn’t exactly exploring the forest. And you’ve heard the stories of my time away. The world beyond the temple is crawling with demons, they could show up anywhere we go, they Will try to kill us on sight. Sure you can handle that?”

    “Yes, It’s for family. Queen is something I have no desire for. I don’t want that responsibility, I just want my family back.” 

    “Ok then, we should get on the road soon, they tended to get worse when it got dark. Where is Issy meeting us.”

    Syletra smiled and clapped his shoulder “She’ll meet us in the glenn before the bridge.” She stepped away and gathering the reins, mounted Ayasha in a single fluid motion, speaking of years of practice. Ascelyn moved back and mounted the buckskin, a determined, but playful glint in his eyes. They turned their horses and moved out of the clearing. Their large, heavy, beautiful horses matching steps and skillfully weaving through the trees. They trotted into the glenn. The Temple Divine on one side and the bridge on the other. There in the middle stood Issobella, her beautiful black paint mare and the High Priestess of the Divine. The sun glinting off the gold of her crown and her dark cool amber skin. She stood proudly in her purple robe, with Issobella looking a bit embarrassed and a bit nervous behind her. A fierce, gorgeous falcon sat perched on Issy’s shoulder. Issobella’s warm brass skin contrasting beautifully with the pale blue riding robes of a Divine priestess. Her eyes shone like twin pieces of amber pulled from the fire, the braids she had her hair pulled back into emphasized her delicate features, yet somehow allowed the strength in her eyes to shine.

    The High Priestess stepped forward and Syletra seemed to shrink. She was absolutely sure she was going to be in trouble. Instead the High Priestess stepped to Ayasha’s side and placed a hand on her knee, “Are you certain that this is what you desire child? the world beyond our protections has become dangerous and you will face not only the dangers of the road and of demons, but also of those who call themselves king, should they learn you live and have no army to protect you.”

Syletra looked down at her from her perch on her horse. “I’m certain, high mother” She said respectfully “Jhaeros is out there and he is like a brother, I need to help bring him home”

The High Priestess sighed softly and reached into her pouch, handing Syletra a small, but ornate and heavy book. “Your mother sent this here before she had you brought here. She filled it with all the things she wanted you to know, but never got the chance to tell you. If you truly intend to finally enter the world beyond our small haven, you should have her wisdom with you.”

    Syletra nearly cried, there on her horse. Something from the mother she didn’t remember, written just for her, and the High Priestess’s blessing to leave. Maybe leaving her ‘destiny’ behind wouldn’t be as challenging as she had thought. The Priestess raised her hand and shimmering in the air appeared a sword and a simple but elegant staff. She gently waved her hand and the sword floated over and landed on Syletra’s pack, neatly slipping under the cords tying everything down and the staff seemingly secured itself to Raine’s pack near Issobella’s bow. She placed her hand on Syletra’s knee again. “May the grace of the Goddess be with you and her light show you the way”

    The Priestess moved away and turned to Issobella. Issy bowed her head slightly as she felt the Priestess place a hand on her shoulder. “High Mother” she murmured with respect. She looked up as the High Priestess gently squeezed, moving to gently grip her chin and lifting to look into Issobella’s eyes. “ You have been blessed by the goddess. Do not forget it and when you have wandered as far as you desire, there is a place here for you. The staff is a gift from all your sisters here, you will also find a few volumes  and a new falconer’s glove in your pack. Use these well, kill any demon who threatens you in the name of the Divine and make us proud.” She leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on her forehead. Stepping back she looked at the two girls she had raised from babies. Syletra on her palomino mare, her honey gold skin and golden eyes, strong and proud, black hair floating gently in a summer breeze, looking every inch the princess she was and Issobella, delicate features failing to hide her power and thirst for adventure and knowledge. They had grown up well and she was so proud of them. She feared for them, with the chaos the world had descended into, but she had prepared them and could not force them to remain, and by the Goddess, they had become for more than she had ever thought they could be. “ Good luck! You will both do great things and there will a place here if ever you desire to return. Be safe and may the goddess watch over you both.” She turned and headed back to the Temple, pausing long enough to call back to Ascelyn “ I hope you find your brother safe. Take care and try not to get my girls killed” She stepped out of sight, beyond the garden hedge, knowing that leaving the only real home those three had ever known would be hard enough without others around. 

                                                  ISSOBELLA

    Issobella watched the High Priestess walk back to the temple. She was a bit shocked that she had just let them go, she had thought that there would be a whole thing about training and responsibilities and duty and the dangers that existed beyond the boundaries of the temple protections, but maybe she understood the need to go after Jhaeros better than Issy thought. “Hey Issy, we need to go.” She shook her head to clear the fog, she raised her fist and Enya hopped down from her shoulder, Issy quickly raised her fist as Enya leapt into the sky. 

Issy swung up on Raine, settling the new staff within easy reach. She gently tugged at the reins, turning to face Sy and Ascelyn. “I’m ready when you are” 

    Ascelyn looked slightly guilty “You sure, Issy, I don’t know what we’re gonna find out there, or when we will be back, if we’ll be back. Sure you don’t want to say goodbye or something.” He smirked at her “I know how sensitive and sentimental you are”

    Issobella laughed at this, Ascelyn was always so concerned about changes. He tried to mask it, but he really hated them. When she had passed her first testing and was allowed to participate in devotionals, he had been thrilled for her and still sulked for a week after she had to limit how much time she could spend in the forest. “It may not work out Lyn, we might all die. But perhaps seeing how we survive will be the best adventure ever.” She spun Raine around and with a sharp “Hyah” clattered across the bridge and disappeared from view, leaving both Ascelyn and Syletra laughing behind her. “Keep up, slowpokes” 

                                                     SYLETRA

    Syletra shook her head as she giggled. “That girl, she sure loves the idea of adventure” 

    Ascelyn looked at her, somber and concerned, but a smile playing in his eyes. He was always such a happy and reckless man, but seemed a bit nervous and overly concerned. “You know, once we cross that bridge, we can’t go back, nothing is going to be the same ever again. You still good with that?” 

    Syletra nodded sharply. “You know I am.” She had to get out before someone changed their minds and tried to force her back into that whole ‘become the queen, go to war, do as you are told’ fiasco. She nudged Ayasha and took off across the bridge.

    Ascelyn sighed and leaning over, patted his horse. “Alright Xanadu, let’s catch up to my ridiculous sisters before something tries to eat them.” He gave him a nudge and Xanadu broke into a fast lope clattering across the bridge and passing right by Sy and Issy, before slowing to a trot as the three of them went up the same path as Vanora ran down all those years before and entered the world two of them had only ever heard about in books and rumours.

[tanakavox]

"Rose luck, help me out for once...”

Zwei quietly muttered the words to himself as he played around with the raffle ticket he currently held in his hand. The number read 925, same as his birthday he couldn’t help but note before he let out an exasperated sigh. He had arrived a couple hours before the raffle actually began, hoping that by getting there early he’d increase his chances of winning by being one of the first people to grab a ticket. Unfortunately, that also meant he had to wait till the raffle draw actually began, and thus left the Corgi Faunus waiting on a nearby bench and utterly bored out of his mind.

‘I should have brought Rosie with me,’ he thought with a sigh. Having her around would not only make for better company than empty air, but also because she had far better luck at these kinds of things than he ever seemed to. From rigged carnie games, to crane games, to even contests and giveaways, Rosemary seemed to have been blessed by Lady Luck herself and was always winning something or other all the time. It was one of the very few things of his best friend and now lover that he had always been envious of, though that had mostly stemmed from his own lack of luck and how he always seemed to get the short end of the stick in regards to chance. Zwei’s inner musings were cut off as the raffle hostess, a dark skinned rabbit Faunus, came out to address the crowd, her voice being amplified by the microphone.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and those in between, we will now begin the raffle call! Three of you will be lucky enough to win a brand new Playstation five, so if your name is called please head to the office to collect your prize,” the hostess announced with a smile on her face, before she walked over to a box and pulled out a slip of paper. 

"First number is… 189!" 

Zwei mentally swore, doing his best to ignore the excited whoop that came from the crowd. He kept his calm, knowing that he still had a chance to win. The rabbit faunus smiled at the enthusiasm of the winer, before she pulled out another slip. 

"Second number is...616!" 

Another whoop emerged from the crowd, and the silver eyed Huntsman's heart began to beat loudly in his chest. His fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles had turned white, and a cold sweat had broken out over his neck.

“Please,” Zwei said to himself in a near whisper, his eyes closing as he sent a prayer to literally anyone who would listen, “Just let my luck hold out for once…”

The hostess let out another pleased smile, before she pulled out the final slip of paper, and thus the final winner.

 "And the third and final number is…925!”

Zwei’s eyes snapped open in disbelief, his jaw dropping at his incredible turn of luck. His shock quickly turned to glee, before he fistpumped and let out a loud, “HELL YEAH!” He quickly made a beeline to the office, eagerly awaiting to get his prize. After a short wait, the hostess came into the office to present the prizes to Zwei and the other two winners(Whom Zwei would later learn where both Huntsmen, but that was a story for another time).

Zwei had the biggest grin on his face as he walked out with a brand new Playstation Five, the elusive console that he had been on the hunt for nearly three days straight. It even came bundled with a copy of the new Spider Man and the Demon Souls Remake, which was an absolute steal!

"Rosie is never gonna believe I won this through a raffle,” Zwei chuckled to himself, imagining the look of disbelief on his lady's face, before he found his musing interrupted when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He looked down in confusion to see who it was, only to look on in annoyance at the women before him. She appeared to be a middle aged woman with an inverted bob cut, expensive winter clothing, and body language that basically screamed “ego.” Zwei knew without doubt that the woman in front of him was a, “Karen,” and that he had a strong inkling as to what she had approached him for.

"Excuse me,” the “Karen,” began, her shrill tone laced with condensation as she addressed the Huntsmen, “Do you think you would be willing to-”

“Nope.”

Zwei’s sudden interruption caught the Karen off guard. She looked shocked at having been so suddenly denied, while Zwei looked down upon her with a bored, almost uninterested look on his face.

“You don’t understand,” She tried again, this time with a more pleading tone, “But my baby-”

"Let me take a wild guess,” Zwei interrupted her in a bored tone, “your baby has some kind of incurable disease? Or maybe they lost a limb in a “tragic,” accident? Or some kind of other inane sob story that you’re trying to use to guilt trip me into giving up my recently acquired Playstation Five in my hands?”

Zwei had appeared to be right on the mark as the Karen’s jaw had practically merged with the floor from her ploy being easily discovered(and just as easily sunk), within a matter of seconds. Zwei couldn't help but scoff at her blatant attempt to try and swindle him out of the console in his hands.

“Yeah, I used to work retail lady, so I’ve heard every single sob story under the sun. So sorry to disappoint your “Baby,” but this thing is going straight under the tree and directly into the hands of my nephew come christmas morning. But uh, nice try though.”

Zwei then brushed past the women, not even bothering to acknowledge her any longer than he needed too as he made his way to the nearest exit. The Karen did not take the dismissive that well, her face flushed and angry red and her mouth contorted into an ugly grimace. She turned around and screamed at the top of her lungs, “IT'S BECAUSE OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU THAT MY SON WON'T BE ABLE TO EXPERIENCE THE JOY OF OPENING A PS5 ON CHRISTMAS DAY!"

"Why don’t you bitch to your whipped husband about it,” Zwei shouted over his shoulder, not even bothering to stop to address screaming women, “he's probably the only one who’s gonna give a shit lady." 

His response had served to antagonize the Karen even more, who began screaming and raving louder till the whole mall was practically echoing with her shrill voice. Zwei simply kept on walking, a smug smile on his face and a feeling of content at having managed to luck out on getting the gift he wanted for his Nephew. He had just exited the mall when he suddenly felt a force impact his head, causing him to stumble forward a little before he managed to keep his balance. He quickly did an about face to see what had caused the impact, before his eyes narrowed upon a relatively large man with an even larger sword on his back who had his hand balled into his fist.

It was obvious that the man sucker punched him, though it did very little to hurt Zwei and was really more of an annoyance. Despite this, Zwei’s training kicked in and he instantly began assessing the threat level of the huntsmen before him. Standing next to the man was the Karen who was screaming at him, who now had a smug smile on her face as if she had pulled out a trump card.

“Still think my baby isn’t worth handing over the console kid?”

“Couldn’t swindle it from me, and now you’re trying to take it by force,” Zwei asked, before giving her a look of mock shame, “tsk, tsk, someone is going on Santa’s naughty list.”

“Hand over the console kid, and I promise not to break too many bones in your body,” his attacker threatened in a booming voice, only causing Zwei to roll his eyes at the overused threat.

“I have a better idea: how about instead of getting into a fight you don’t want to start, you use the remaining two brain cells you have left in your tiny little head of yours to grab your snotty wife and get the hell out of my sight, before I end up shoving a lump of coal straight down your “stocking?”

The man did not take kindly to Zwei’s counter proposal, choosing instead to pull out the sword of his back and readying to attack Zwei. Zwei quickly, but gently, tossed the Playstation Five in his hands to the side, before bringing up one half of Red Daylight to block the oncoming blow. Zwei could feel the aura behind the man’s sword as it impacted upon the flat of his hookblade, but he easily deflected the attack to his side in an almost comical manner. 

Zwei blinked, before he looked over the man again as he lunged at Zwei, who merely side stepped his easily telegraphed attack. Upon further investigation, Zwei noticed that the man’s stance was sloppy and his defense was full of so many holes that even the most novice fighter could have taken him down. His sword strikes lacked fluidity to them, coming off more like the man was swinging a baseball bat around than a heavy sword. And while he clearly had his aura unlocked, he wasn’t properly distributing it throughout his body to make efficient use of it. Zwei deduced this in a manner of seconds, before he came to a sudden conclusion.

“...You’re not a huntsmen,” Zwei stated aloud, “you’re just some scrub that had his Aura unlocked and thought you could use it to bully people into submission!”

The “Scrub,” did not take kindly to Zwei’s revelation, his face contorted into an angry sneer before he made to swipe at Zwei again.

“You shut your damn mouth you filthy animal,” the Srub screamed in rage, “and give me that stupid console!”

Zwei once again merely stepped to the side, watching as his attacker overstepped his swing and ended up falling to the ground.

"Are you serious right now man,” Zwei asked in an incredulous tone, “do you even know how many laws you’re breaking right now from having your Aura unlocked? Let alone that you attacked me and started a fight in a public area full of civilians? Hell, what if I was a civilian?!”

The Scrub had managed to pick himself back up, before he sneered at Zwei’s questions.

"Then you would have died to make my son happy, animal,” the Scrub spat out hatefully, before readied himself for another attack. The Scrub barely had time to blink before he saw Zwei disappear and reappear instantly in front of him, not even having the time to react before the Corgi Faunus violently sunk his fist into the man's stomach. The results were instant: the Scrub dropped his sword as he violently began to retch and wheeze, falling to his knees as he desperately tried to keep himself from vomiting on the spot.

“You know,” Zwei began, “I was wrong about you and your wife. You two don’t don’t belong on Santa’s naughty list…”

Zwei then proceeded to grab the Scrub by his hair, before activating his semblance as he delivered a devastating knee strike to the man's face. His nose broke with a sickening crunch, and his face was practically covered with blood that leaked from his nostrils. 

“...YOU TWO BELONG ON HIS SHIT LIST!!!”

Zwei hooked Red Daylight into the Scrubs collar, before he activated his semblance and began spinning around as fast as he could, before unceremoniously pulling hard enough to tear through the Scrubs collar and sending him flying out into unknown parts of Vale, his landing destination unknown.

-At a familiar dumpster-

“Oh man,” groaned a miserable voice, “how… how long was I out for?”

The voice belonged to the would-be thief that Zwei had taken care of the day before, now finally waking up from his coma induced nap on top of his bed of trash. He groggily managed to push himself up, whimpering the whole time from how much pain his body was in from the beating he received before managing to push the dumpster lid open. He hung the top of his body over the side of the dumpster, doing his best to ignore not only the smell of the garbage around him but from the fact that he had garbage in places that were best not mentioned.

“Worked up the courage to steal that stupid thing, and what do I get for my troubles,” the theif whimpered to himself, “my shit kicked in by a Huntsmen, being bathed in garbage, and I didn’t even steal the right thing!” 

The thief let out another groan, before he looked up at the sky as if to mentally ask the Brother’s what he had done wrong.

“Can this get any worse?”

The man’s question was immediately answered by the sound of screaming getting closer and closer to him, before he felt the impact of an incredibly large man with an even larger sword knocking him back into the dumpster. The thief groaned in agony and tried to move, only to realize that he was now pinned under the large man, who was completely out cold and unmoving. The thief couldn’t do anything now, except blankly stare at the overcast sky.

“...Well, at least I have fresh air.”

The dumpster lid crashed down with a loud “THUMP,” once again trapping the Thief inside his rotten prison, muffling his sobs as he cried about what a rotten Christmas this was turning out to be.

-Back with Zwei-

“Brother’s what an asshole,” Zwei muttered to himself as he sheathed his weapon back with its sister blade. Zwei would have to make sure he made mention of the man to the local authorities, who would no doubt be sending a huntsman to apprehend the Scrub due to his illegally unlocked Aura. The thought of illegally unlocked Aura made Zwei briefly think of his brother in law for a moment, before he let it slip out of his mind.

“I wonder what Jaune got me for christmas this year,” he mused aloud, “Oh damn, maybe he got me Cyberpunk!” 

Zwei smiled at the thought, Jaune typically gifted him games for christmas so there was a good chance that he may very well be shooting gangbangers in Night City soon enough. His smile quickly turned into a smirk, before raising his voice and saying:

“And just where do you think you’re going, Karen?”

The Karen in question was currently in the middle of trying to sneak away with his Playstation Five, before she stopped dead in her tracks from being called out. She visibly flinched when Zwei had suddenly materialized in front of her, his smirk plastered on his face as his confident eyes met her terrified ones.

“How kind of you to hang onto my nephew's gift while I beat the hell out of your husband,” he thanked her in a mock cheerful tone, “and here I was thinking that you were just a rotten woman with no sense of manners whatsoever! Guess you have some christmas spirit in you, huh?”

The Karens face got redder and redder as Zwei kept speaking, before she opened her mouth to scream at him…

“Ahem.”

… before her mouth clicked shut, and she looked around to see that she and Zwei were surrounded by a large crowd of people, including the Raffle Hostess who had presented Zwei his prize. The fight must have caused them to all come to investigate, and judging by their angry looks, they must have seen everything that had occurred. The Karen’s face drained of all color, and she began sweating bullets as the Hostess began to address her

“Ma’am,” she calmly began, “I do believe that device in your hand belongs to this young man, whom I should add, rightfully won the device in the raffle and has the legal paperwork to back up the ownership of it as well.”

The Karen went to say something, only to be interrupted by the Hostess, who now had an ominous look on her face.

“I would highly advise handing said device over to its rightful owner, Ma’am,” the Hostess said curtly, “As I’d hate for the police to have to add stolen goods on top of all the other charges you’re more than likely going to face tonight.”

It was at this point That Karen had finally noticed that there were several police officers waiting nearby, more than likely called in due to the fight, all of them giving The Karen an unimpressed look. Knowing that there was no way out of this, The Karen’s shoulder slumped in defeat, before she turned back Zwei, who was watching The Karen getting a dose of Karma with uncontained glee. Gritting her teeth, she slowly, albeit reluctantly, handed the Playstation Five back to Zwei, who happily took his console, before bowing to her in a mock fashion.

“Thank you so much Karen,” Zwei cheerfully stated, “I’m glad to see that we were able to clear up this little misunderstanding. But now, I think it’s time we both go our separate ways, don’t you think?”

Zwei didn’t even bother to let The Karen speak, before he started walking away, stopping only momentarily to give the Hostess a quick appreciative nod, before he kept on walking. Just as he got near the _edge of the crowd, he paused, before he briefly turned around to see The Karenin the middle of being cuffed by the police.

“Oh, and Karen?”

The Karen looked over to Zwei, face flushed red in embarrassment and her eyes burning with rage as she locked eyes with the smug looking Corgi Faunus.

“Hope you and your baby have a Merry Christmas,” he said smugly, “because it looks like it’s going to be a long one for the both of you!”

That was all it took to send The Karen over the edge, before she once again started screaming and raving and wishing all kinds of unpleasant things upon Zwei, who merely hollered with laughter as he activated his semblance and began making his way back to the Bullhead Docks. Despite running into some bumps along the way, he had achieved his goal of getting his nephew the perfect gift, and now all that was left was to go home.

“Just you wait Xing, you’re about to get one HELL of a gift…”

@thatorigamiguy did the edita for this again. Thanks dude!

[pkg4mumtown]

Welcome to Hawkins PD (Ch. 1)

AN: Finally got far enough along in writing to post the beginning. First Hopper fic so...yea...let me know what you think so far.

Warnings: smoking, cursing, y’know normal Hopper stuff, Female Reader

Summary: You’re a new officer being assigned to Hawkins without being warned of the attractive but grumpy Chief.

Title: The New Kid

Chapter 1 of ?

Chief Hopper slammed the door of his Blazer shut, squinting at brightness of the sun he had underestimated. He set his wide-brimmed hat firmly on his head and slid aviators on his face, all while never dropping the lit cigarette hanging from his lips. He strode over to a white-haired, stocky man who stood just inside the open gates of the Indiana Law Enforcement Academy. The older man gave Hopper a pointed look as he strode through the parking lot.

“C'mon, Hop, no squares on academy grounds,” the man sighed. He wore a tan uniform and wide brimmed drill instructor cover on his head, like the other instructors at the academy

Hopper grimaced around the cigarette, pulling it from his lips and flicking it off to the side, “I’ll pick it up when I leave, Cap.”

The white-haired man shook his head and laughed softly, leading Hopper inside the confines of the academy, “Haven’t been a Captain in years.”

“Bridge, you’ll always be ‘Captain’ to me,” Hopper slapped Bridge on the back. “What do they have you doin’ now?”

“Basic Training Commander,” Bridge winked and tipped his hat.

“Look at you,” Hopper chuckled and shoved Bridge’s shoulder.

They walked in silence for a minute before Hopper finally spoke up, “So, why’d you call me here? I’m betting it wasn’t just to catch up,” Hopper looked over at the shorter man, who sighed.

“Hop…” Bridge started, “…the director, deputy director, and myself have decided to attach another officer to your station.”

Hopper stopped walking all together, giving the man an incredulous glare, “Excuse me?”

“Look, after the lab and Byers fiasco, you’re lucky we're not adding ten times that. It was a shit show and the media were hounding us as to why Hawkins has only six officers, three of which never seem to leave the office,” Bridge stressed. “We had the Roane County Sheriff’s patrolling the town for you and your boys, just to keep the citizens at bay, while you were doing fuck knows what, Jim.”

“While I was fixing the problem,” Hopper growled. “You have no idea what was going on!”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” Bridge challenged with raised eyebrows.

Hopper ignored him and kept walking with no direction, “And anyway, the lab is empty now.”

“The ratio is still six to thirty thousand people, man. Detroit's ratio is one to four hundred.”

“Detroit is also the ‘Murder Capital’, is it not?” Hopper huffed. “Why’d you call me here, then? You could have told me this over the phone, so I could at least throw something after I hung up on you!” he raised his voice slightly, itching to pull out another cigarette.

Bridge smirked and tilted his head up, indicating Jim to follow him. The sound of gunfire grew louder with every step, telling Hopper that they were heading to the range.

“Thought you might want to check out who we’re assigning to you,” Bridge said as they finally came to a stop.

Below them stood about twenty recruits in unmarked tan uniforms with black ties, which would change according to their departments after they graduated.

“That one,” Bridge pointed to the recruit on the far left, a moderately tall woman with her hair pulled back into a bun. With her strong shoulders and stern expression, she definitely looked like she could hold her own amongst the males in the class.

Hopper tilted his glasses down and scrunched his nose at the brightness, “The girl?”

“Jesus Christ, Hop,” Bridge sighed.

“It was a question!” Hopper retorted back, huffing at Bridge's insinuation.

Bridge rolled his eyes and nodded, “Yea, the female recruit.”

At that moment, one of the drill instructors shouted a nearly indistinct command. It was unintelligible to Hopper’s ears, yet all the recruits responded immediately by clutching their right hands to their chests. Hopper watched, intrigued, as they fired the last of their rounds single handedly. His gaze swept over all the recruits and their targets before focusing back on the female as she shoved the barrel of the revolver between her duty belt and her trousers. Hopper’s expression turned impressed as he peeked over his sunglasses while she flicked open a pouch, retrieved a speed loader, and reloaded before shooting again.

“When did you guys start grading one-armed reloads?” Hopper wondered.

“When we finally got speed loaders that weren’t shit,” Bridge chuckled and shrugged. “Better to make it mandatory so they don’t fumble later.”

Hopper stuck around for a while, to make his trip worthwhile. He watched from a shaded area with Bridge as they started a defensive tactics lesson, always keeping his eye on the girl. He eyed her and a male recruit curiously as they circled one another in a scrimmage. The male was aggressive and lunging in order for her to practice a specific maneuver, which she did fairly well after deflecting some of his hits. The ferocity in which she fought back made Hopper curse under his breath in admiration.

“So, what d'ya think, Hop?”

“Why her?”

Bridge groaned, “Hop…I thought you were better than this!”

“Better than what? I’m just asking why her specifically!” he raised his voice in irritation.

“Because she’s a woman?” Bridge retorted and raised an eyebrow at him.

“No, man, because she actually has skill. Like the Sheriff’s or Trooper material, not for some boring town like Hawkins. I’m just…” Hopper sighed, “I don’t know, it feels like a waste of resources plus she'd be bored off her ass.”

“We don’t decide their departments, Hop, she chose local police over Staties,” Bridge pursed his lips and chuckled to himself.

“What?”

“Maybe she’ll kick your boys into gear. Lord knows, your station could use some energy.”

Hopper just rolled his eyes as the dig.

“Her station request, though, was anywhere but her hometown and we were already planning to add another officer to your station anyway,” Bridge revealed.

“Hmm,” Hopper grunted, “bad family relationship?

“Probably a question for her, not me.”

-

I shrugged on my heavy, oversized, black duffle bag and picked up my equally oversized briefcase before leaving my sleeping quarters for the last time. With my free hand, I pushed my aviators, a graduation gift from my best friend, up the bridge of my nose. Said friend had already departed the premises after the graduation since it was a bit of a drive back to our hometown.

The academy grounds were a sea of uniforms from local police to Sheriff’s deputies to Staties, with various shades of blue and tan. My uniform, however, was the only blue one with a “Hawkins Police Dept.” patch. I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or excited when I found out, since the town had a reputation of being quiet, save for the couple occurrences over the last two years.

I made my way back near the front of the Academy, pushing through the sea of people still lingering while they congratulated the new officers. I peered over people’s shoulders, looking for the exit and finally seeing the open gate. I spied the bus stop just beyond it and stepped into the parking lot, only to be stopped when I heard my name called.

“Y/L/N!”

I snapped my head to the left, seeing Commander Bridge leaning against a Blazer with another tall officer. He waved me over with his hand and said something to the officer. I glanced at the side of the Blazer, my eyes widening when I saw “Chief” in bold print followed by “Hawkins Police Dept.” Not an officer, then.

I stood straighter as I approached my new boss. His all tan uniform was almost form fitting his large frame, while a wide-brimmed hat adorned his head. As I approached, he took his sunglasses off and hung them on his shirt, revealing impossibly bright blue eyes. I let my eyes trail up his form, lingering on his lips pulling in as he took a drag from the cigarette in his mouth.

“Officer Y/L/N, this is your new boss,” Bridge motioned with a wave of his hand.

“Chief Hopper,” the man stuck his hand out. I couldn’t help but rake my eyes over the dark blonde beard adorning his cheeks and framing his lips.

I quickly dropped my briefcase to the ground and stuck my hand out as well, “Officer Y/L/N, sir.”

“Yea,” Hopper chuckled and pointed his thumb at Bridge, “he said that. You can tone it down. Relax, you graduated.”

“Sorry, sir,” I apologized for no reason and paused. “Why are you here?”

“Bridge told me you dormed. Figured you might need a ride into town,” Hopper shrugged.

“Oh, well, you didn’t have to do that. I can take the bus, sir,” I gulped. An hour drive with my new, very attractive, boss? No, thanks.

“Well, I’m already here,” Hopper grunted out a sigh and grabbed my briefcase off the floor.

“Sir, no, I can—” I tried to stop him.

“For the love of God, Y/L/N, take a load off,” Hopper responded, almost annoyed with my behavior. He circled around to the back of the Blazer, “Any family you still have to say ‘bye’ to?”

“No, they didn’t quite approve of my career choice,” I murmured.

Hopper simply grunted as he opened the back hatch of the Blazer and tossed the briefcase not-so-gently in the bed. I shrugged my bag off and did the same, nearly jumping when he slammed it shut.

I turned back to Commander Bridge, offering him a smile and shaking his hand, “Thank you for everything, sir.”

Bridge laughed lowly and shook his head, reciprocating the handshake before slapping my shoulder, “Good luck, kid.”

I nodded and jumped into the passenger side of the Blazer, seeing the two men exchange goodbyes like old pals in the passenger mirror. I shook my leg nervously as the Chief rounded the Blazer and jumped in with a heavy sigh.

An hour drive and I’d already managed to annoy the shit out of him before the trip even started. Great.

Chapter 2

[canarhys]

kyr’yc

read on ao3.

kyr'yc [KEER-eesh]: last

(or: rex calls cody one last time. tcw s7 spoilers.)

Rex knows it’s stupid.

The orders always start from the top. It starts from the commanders, works its way down through the captains and sergeants, til the specialists and rookies get their share of the words. The orders hit the commanders first. That’s how it works whenever their superior officers brief the entire GAR on a matter. It was inevitable that a commander would have received the order by now, and it was inevitable that such a commander would have taken care of their orders now. Good soldiers follow orders, Tup had said. It starts from the top, works its way down, till all the soldiers are following the order. They’re good soldiers. Rex knows that by heart.

But he can’t stop himself from pulling out his comlink and accessing the private channel they shared. There’s something tugging at his heart, a dwindling hope that maybe he didn’t get the order, that he had been off yelling at his general’s recklessness or taking care of the shinies up in the medbay of Utapau. He could be safe, could have killed Grievous by now and that was all, relaxing somewhere with homebrewed tea in hand and watching the stars shift above. He had to be fine. Despite the nagging voice in his head, Rex would not give up hope.

He was his brother. He knows he’s stronger than that.

Rex scans the room, making sure he is in total privacy. He and Ahsoka had escaped from the star destroyer a few hours before, running away from the hundreds upon hundreds of troopers bearing Ahsoka’s marks and wielding weapons issued by Rex, blasting at them. Droids. They were emotionless, direct and goalless. Droids. Now Rex was a hut’uun, hiding away in a starship barely big enough to fit a squadron, knowing that his hands were stained with the blood of the brothers he had expressed love for just hours before.

( He couldn’t even afford being surprised when Ahsoka was forced to deflect a blaster shot into Jesse’s chest. He couldn’t. Yet he could feel the blaster wound in his chest, scorching and hollow. )

Once he is sure that he is alone with no trace of Ahsoka outside, he brings up his comlink and taps a few buttons, heart beating faster and faster. More so than when he and Ahsoka had been running from his vode. He knows what he’s doing could compromise them, knows that if he did this it would mean certain death for the both of them, but Rex has grown used to not following orders. It’s what General Skywalker would have wanted for him. He was always a wily one like that.

The comlink comes to life. He places it on a nearby table and maximizes the image, and steps back to allow the figure on the other side to manifest. When he does, Rex sobs. His body is frozen when he looks at his ori’vod — ivory armor of plastoid dirtied to the point of brown, the knicks and dents in his shin and calf plates from the utilization of his own legs during combat, the large blaster rifle that hung comfortably from his belt that the older always joked to be his storage supply for di’kutla jetiise. The sunset painted on his belly, the antenna that jutted from his shoulder guard proud and lean, the visor that jutted from above his peepers that shielded the rays of the sun and made for a good bludgeoning tool ( to the commander, at least ). Even with the helmet, Rex recognizes him immediately, and he shoves down the tears that already begin to gather in his tear ducts. He takes in a shuddering breath and keeps himself composed. Even while wearing the armor that he had taken from one of the troopers before him and Ahsoka left to hide his identity, it seemed as if the older had already scrutinized him.

“This is Commander Cody,” the voice of the figure in the holo says with nearly the same bluntness that Rex often attributed to him, no-nonsense and grounded that could even the strongest of Jedi Masters shift on the balls of their feet. “Who is contacting me?”

Rex searches for a name to say, taking far too long in finding an answer that he’s sure Cody would have already gauged him out if he weren’t with an inhibitor chip. “Uh, Clone Trooper Sunbeam, sir.”

“Sunbeam?” Cody repeats, his voice even harsher now. The same scrutinizing tone that he held whenever he snuffed out a lie that Rex tried his best to conceal. “What’s your designation, trooper?”

That had been the red flag, because Rex knew damn well that Cody would never ask for a trooper’s designation. He was far too independent, far too stubborn and caring to ever ask for the meaningless string of numbers. People who called him or any trooper nearby their designation received a fierce strike from the commander. Cody practically dies every time a rookie answers his question of their name with their designation. “They have names, Rex,” Cody grunted as he fixed up his tea once, his rage concealed beneath a neutral and grumbling exterior. “Not numbers, names.”

Rex takes a few moments to answer. Too stunned to speak. That couldn’t mean anything, that couldn’t.

“Well?” Cody questions him.

“CT-6775,” Rex answers after a few moments. He’d cringe at himself, but right now the fear that he’s already lost his best friend is much stronger than his bad lying.

The commander, however, seems to believe him — the second red flag, because Cody’s skepticism and stubbornness was in abundance — and he nods to him in thought. “Alright, Sun. You are a part of the 332nd Company of the 501st Legion, I presume? Were you successful?”

Rex forgets to breathe. “Su… successful in what, Commander?”

“Order 66 — protocol for the instance when the Jedi are traitors to the Republic and must be executed upon the command of Lord Sidious. Ahsoka Tano was with you, I am correct? Were you successful in her execution?”

Rex’s heart falls. The realization — the realization that all of this was real, that everyone really was gone — sets in him like a cloak of shadow. Suddenly, he’s numb, so numb that it burns and freezes him simultaneously, so numb that he already feels his strength sap away instantaneously. The tears fall, cascade beneath his helmet that unlike him was so young, so clean and undirtied unlike his former armor or his own soul. The tears drip down his face the same way they had done when he was fighting back the chips and delve between the blacks wrapped around his neck because he’s lost him. He’s lost.

“… Yes, Commander,” he answers in a monotone. “Ahsoka Tano has been captured and killed. Darth Maul has also been apprehended and executed.”

“Good,” Commander Cody mutters with a nod. He does not even seem phased. Not aggrieved by the death of the former Padawan who he had shown so much love for, who he had let rest her little montrals on his lap after the Second Battle of Geonosis, who he had yelled at the generals for when she was banished from the Jedi Order. He does not even seem exuberant about the death of Darth Maul, who had caused his general pain beyond imagine, who had killed so many innocents and has eluded their capture innumerous times. “So, why are you calling me?”

Rex doesn’t even bother trying to find an answer to his question. His heart has been torn into two. This… this wasn’t Cody. Cody teases him endlessly, Cody doesn’t take excuses, Cody doesn’t pass from one topic to the next unless it concerns himself. Cody’s not what this husk is — emotionless, brief, and still. Rex wishes he were Force-sensitive just to know that Cody is still screaming in there, still kicking inside and forcing his way through the embrace of the chip. But he isn’t. And now he has to deal with the knowledge that he will never know.

“Just… uh… wanted to brief you on our progress, sir,” Rex answers when he collects a little of himself. “I’ll leave now, I’ve bothered you enough.”

“Alright then,” Cody answers bluntly. Then there’s a pause as Rex goes to reach for the comlink on the desk, then Cody holds his hand out to stop him. It’s so close to Rex’s own. “Wait.”

Rex pauses. “Yes, sir?”

Cody doesn’t speak. It’s like he’s frozen in time, but the comlink had too much of a strong connection to stutter in its hologram. Cody doesn’t move. Though his face is obscured beneath the helmet, Rex had a feeling there was something happening under there. Something bad. Then Cody gathers himself and stands to an upright position.

“Where is your commander?” Cody asks. “Commander Rex?”

Rex stares at him for some time. The way that Cody had phrased that question… it didn’t sound like the chip was talking. It sounded like something else entirely. Rex battles with himself. He could reveal himself, compromise his and Ahsoka’s safety, show his face to show the commander that he was still alive and somewhere out in hyperspace. He could gain the satisfaction of his brother, seeing him face-to-face, letting him know he would be alright whilst practically committing suicide. And Rex almost believes it to be worth it. He wants to know that Cody still cares for him, that even though his ori’vod may have already shot down General Kenobi that he wouldn’t try to shoot Rex point-blank. 

But he can’t. He can’t. He isn’t strong enough. He’s a hut’uun.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Rex tells him. He wills his voice not to shatter. “He died during the skirmish. Tano got the better of him.”

For a few moments, the room is drenched in silence. Neither Cody nor Rex moved, eyes trained with one another though shielded by black visors glinting in the light. Then Rex sees something, something liquid fall from beneath the rim of Cody’s helmet. Soaks beneath his blacks or over his chestplate, falls down as his throat bobs with a silent sob. Tears. Cody… Cody was crying. 

He’s still in there. He’s still in there.

Then, Cody’s voice speaks out. Still monotone. “Thank you, Sunbeam. You may disconnect now.”

Rex nods. He reaches over and shuts off the communicator. Cody’s form dissipates. Rex is alone again.

For a few moments, Rex stands there like a ghost, lost in a ship that he does not remember the name of, trapped with a young girl who he can barely look in the eyes. Grieving the death of his best friend. He doesn’t know what to do.

Silently, he walks over to the comlink. Take it up in his hands, mulling over the metal of the piece of metal. A few minutes later it’s tossed from the ship to the streaks of hyperspace and destroyed upon impact.

Rex returns to the room. Locks the door. Slumps down on the durasteel. Shatters.

[hopeisour4letteredword]

proof of patience ch1

Summary: In which Flynn grows a beard, and Yuri tries really hard to be a good boyfriend, even when he’s tired. Flynn tries... a little less hard.

Read it here or check the notes for the link to AO3.

Yuri climbs in through Flynn's window just after dawn, and Flynn is nowhere to be seen. Shit. Yuri is on a healthy distraction mission. He was hoping he'd have time to ambush Flynn before he got started on his day.

"That dumbass better not be working at this hour," he says to himself, swinging his legs in from the windowsill to climb fully into the room.

"The dumbass is in the bathroom," Flynn calls, muffled through the door. Oh. Oops.

"Cool, thanks. I'll wait out here. Snoop through your stuff."

"You can come in," Flynn says. "I'm just about to shave."

"Shave away the hours of your youth?" Yuri opens the bathroom door enough to peek inside. Flynn, standing in front of the mirror, glances over to give him an indulgent smile that Yuri is going to stubbornly pretend does nothing to his heart, thank you very much. The contents of his shaving kit are spread haphazardly across the countertop. "Why are you shaving at dawn?"

"So I don't turn up at my morning meeting looking disheveled," Flynn says. He goes back to arranging his shaving setup. Yuri slips fully into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself, and hops up to sit on a clear space of counter. It leaves him in arm's reach of Flynn. He exercises this ability by reaching up to pat Flynn's jaw and scratch his fingernails through the short, stiff hair. Flynn's eyelashes flutter closed as he leans into the touch. "Mm. That's nice."

"You've missed a few days," Yuri says. Probably more like a week, at least. He doesn't like that, less because of how Flynn looks and more because... well. If Flynn isn't even finding the time to shave, what else is he skipping? "Busy, are you?"

Flynn cracks an eye open. "Did Hanks send you to yell at me again?"

"He didn't send me, but he might have tipped me off that you've been working too hard."

Flynn puts his shaving soap to the side; his arrangement is completed now, but instead of starting his shave, he turns to Yuri. He strokes his knuckles along Yuri's cheek. "Hanks knows damn well what he's doing when he makes you worry about me. Don't make excuses for him."

"Grouchy," Yuri murmurs. He lets his own hand fall from Flynn's face. "Who's worried? Not me."

Flynn makes the same soft, amused sound he always makes when Yuri tries to deflect accusations that he cares. He rubs a thumb over Yuri's cheekbone. "So you climbed through my window at dawn to check up on me for completely non-worried reasons?"

"Check up on you? Psh," Yuri says. He kicks out a leg, hooking it around the back of Flynn's thigh to try to pull him closer. "Nah. I'm just here to catch you alone so we can fool around. Totally for my own benefit."

"Uh-huh," Flynn says, unimpressed. He lets Yuri's heel drag uselessly across the back of his thigh, unmoved. "At dawn."

"I would say I just know what I'm dealing with, but I did actually think you'd be in bed for at least a little longer. So really you're even worse than I was accounting for."

"I've got a long day today," Flynn says. "I wanted to get a head start on it."

"When's your meeting?"

"...Eight. But I wanted to meet with the Captains before we—"

"At what time?"

"Seven thirty."

"You need two hours to shave?"

"Like you know anything about how long it takes to shave," Flynn huffs. He pinches Yuri's smooth cheek. "Babyface."

Yuri mock-snaps at his fingers. Flynn snatches his hand back. "Don't be jealous just because I don't need to worry about accidentally slitting my own throat."

"Those of us who are actually capable of patience don't have to worry about that," Flynn counters. Fucking finally, he leans in to give Yuri a gentle, chaste kiss on the mouth. Yuri closes his eyes as he presses back into it.

"Can be patient," he mumbles, against Flynn's lips. Flynn huffs a disbelieving laugh.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hm."

"In that case," Flynn says, pulling back—when Yuri blinks his eyes back open, he's smirking. "You can wait until I'm done shaving to have your fun."

Yuri groans over-dramatically in defeat, letting himself slump back against the wall. He doesn't mind that much, really. He is tired from getting up for this. He wishes Flynn wasn't up so damn early, burning the candle at both ends, but he's definitely not about to go back to sleep now, so there's not much Yuri can do about that one. And Flynn saying he has to wait to have his fun is as good as a promise that he will be having his fun, which means Yuri can hack out whatever chunk of time before his meeting Flynn would have spent rereading every report under the sun that was even tangentially relevant. That's Yuri's time, now. He can force Flynn to relax for a few minutes.

Anyway, it's not all that bad to wait quietly in Flynn's space while he shaves. It's peaceful, and his soap and aftershave smell nice, and at least Flynn is doing something to take care of himself. Yuri won't admit it out loud, but he likes the slivers of domesticity they manage to wring out of their busy lives. He basks in Flynn's proximity, watching as he rinses and lathers his face. He might zone out a little. He doesn't think he dozes off; his eyes are open and he's awake. That's how he can appreciate the moment, after all. Aside from their breathing, the only sound is the splash of water whenever Flynn rinses the razor between strokes.

"Maybe I should just grow it out," Flynn says, thoughtfully, as he drags the razor along the curve of his jaw. Yuri's not really listening, nodding along as he watches the lather and stubble disappear and leave smooth, soft skin in their wake. "Not have to deal with shaving for a while. That might be more convenient."

Yuri makes an absentminded sound of agreement. After a second, his brain kicks back into gear, and he frowns. "Pretty sure people with beards still have to do some grooming."

"Hm. I suppose it depends on the look you're going for."

"Well, I'm pretty sure people with beards who want to look reputable have to do some grooming, oh great Commandant."

Flynn grins as he pauses to rinse his razor again. "I don't know, some people are into rugged beards, aren't they?"

Is he actually considering this?

"Are you serious?"

"Not about not grooming," Flynn says. He still has a faint smile as he resumes shaving. He's almost done with one side. "I might be serious about the beard. What's your opinion?"

"My opinion?"

"Yeah. Do you think it would be an improvement?"

What would Flynn look like with a beard? He never tried growing out his facial hair when they were teenagers, or ever, that Yuri knows of. The short fuzz he's shaving off right now is about as long as Yuri's ever seen on him. How would a full beard look? Would it be the lighter blond hair that's on the top of Flynn's head, or the dark gold of his eyelashes? How would it change the shape of his face? That probably depends on the style he would wear it in... Why would Flynn want to grow a beard? Is this another attempt to present himself as mature, as a young man in a position of high authority? Did Finath have a beard when they were kids and Yuri's just forgotten about it? At least if he had, Yuri would have some frame of reference for how it would look on Flynn. But no, he realizes abruptly, he doesn't actually want to think about Flynn's dad when he's trying to decide whether Flynn would look hot with a beard; that's no good at all.

Scrambling for a safe answer, Yuri manages, "I like your face just fine the way it is."

Flynn blinks, then beams at him and ducks close unexpectedly to rub his nose against Yuri's. Yuri's startled inhale gets him a mouthful of lather from the side Flynn hasn't shaved yet. "Aww, Yuri. That's sweet."

"Flynn—Flynn, ew—" Yuri splutters, shoving him away and leaning across the counter to spit in the sink. Turns out the mouthfeel and flavor of soap has not improved since Hanks washed out his mouth for swearing when he was a kid. "Bleh—you got soap in my mouth! Gross."

When Yuri glances up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Flynn looks entirely too entertained. "I like your face the way it is, too."

"I like your face a lot fucking less right now," Yuri grumbles, retreating back to his corner of the counter with a scowl. "Jerk."

"Just trying to liven things up for you. I thought you were starting to look a little bored."

"Getting soap in my mouth is not a cure for boredom!" And he wasn't bored in the first place, but he's not about to tell Flynn he's content just to be enjoying his company.

"Seemed exciting to me."

"I'm leaving," Yuri complains, and makes no move to go anywhere at all. Flynn laughs and brings the razor back to his face. "You don't deserve my intervention."

"For my work habits or for the beard?"

"Grow a beard if you want a damned beard. You don't need my permission. It's your face."

"You're the one who has to kiss this face, though."

"I don't have to," Yuri says, and has no fucking idea whether he means that as a threat or a reassurance. Both, possibly. "And your dashing good looks don't hurt, but they aren't the primary reason I do it, so do what you want."

Flynn makes a face that suggests he wants to shower Yuri with more affection for that one, but he restrains himself. Thank the gods. Yuri doesn't want another mouthful of soap. He leans back against the wall and tries to ignore the faint aftertaste in his mouth as Flynn steadily shaves the other side of his face. At least he's not in danger of dozing off again. He feels fully awake now.

Finally, Flynn ducks down to thoroughly rinse away the last of the lather. Face still dripping into the sink, he reaches over to nudge Yuri without looking. "Pass me a towel?"

Yuri passes him the towel. Flynn carefully pats his face dry, and the next time he reaches over to nudge Yuri, Yuri shoves a new towelette into his hand before he can make contact. Flynn snorts fondly as he covers the bottle of aftershave with it and tips some out to soak into the fabric.

"Sure you aren't impatient?"

"I'm just being efficient," Yuri says, reasonably. "I already knew what you were going to do next. Why bother waiting for you to ask for it?"

"You've never been efficient a day in your life," Flynn says, wiping his jaw with the aftershave in easy, practiced motions. Then, in a spectacularly low blow, he says, "I mean, remember when you tried to fix the plumbing for the Lower Quarter?"

"Shut up, geez." Yuri kicks him, lightly. Like the ordeal with the aque blastia even counts. "I can't believe I got up early for you to be mean to me."

"I know. You could've just as easily waited until evening for me to be mean to you." Flynn tidies away the components of his shaving kit quickly, then sets it aside to give Yuri his full attention. As he leans in, he murmurs, "Glad you didn't, though."

"Oh?"

"Mm. Great start to my morning." He eases Yuri into a slow kiss, drawing back just enough to add, "Much nicer than shaving alone."

"I can think of some other more interesting ways to spend your morning than shaving alone," Yuri says, and when he hops down from the counter to pull Flynn back into the bedroom, Flynn follows easily.

Yuri's got other things to think about after that, and he forgets all about most of the conversation. Why would he remember it? He and Flynn say all kinds of nonsense to each other as banter. It's not like it will come up again, right?

[daily-jaspvid]

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Jaspvid fluff and whump

Part three is finished! So i’m posting it here.

Content Warnings: mentions of previous s-lf h-rm, mentions of previous su-cide attempts, mentions of child endangerment/neglect (canon-typical), mentions of mental institutions, mentions of food.

Has a happy, hopeful ending!!

I awake slowly the next morning and nuzzle deeper into the pillow. It takes me a moment to recognize there is someone holding me in place, and another moment to recall where I was. I roll over to my companion to idly watch him sleep. He was peaceful, completely relaxed. I notice all the marks I left on him and for a moment felt apologetic.

After only a few minutes of totally not weird watching, I slide my way out of his hold. At some point after I had fallen asleep he must have thrown our clothing in the wash because I noticed my clothes folded neatly on the dresser. It was a sweet gesture, that was for sure. Instead, I locate a towel in the hallway closet and take a shower.

Not even five minutes into the endeavor I hear the door creek open and David shuffles in. “Mind if I join you?” He asks in a groggy voice.

“Yeah, sure,” I agree, moving aside as he slides in. He wraps his arms around my waist so that he can bury his face in my shoulder from behind. For a few long moments, we just let the water wash over us. We had no words. I don't even think either of us had many thoughts at the time. With a gentle kiss, he pulled away.

“Did you sleep alright? Honestly, I wasn’t really expecting you to hang around this morning.” He admitted sheepishly. I turn around to kiss his cheek.

“Why wouldn't I? I told you I still wanted to catch up, and it's not like we did much talking last night. I got cheated out of a good conversation!” I retorted with a smirk. He laughed at that, gentle and bright.

“We can make breakfast and talk more, then. I’d really like for you to stay longer,” he turned to pick up the shampoo and placed a dollop in his hand before lathering up my hair. My eyes fluttered closed as I enjoyed the pampering. “You can stay as long as you’d like, really. I don’t mind at all.”

“Well, I don’t leave back home until Monday. I can stay until then.” I suggest, mind starting to drift back to the previous night when he gives me a little scratch behind the ear.

“Sounds like a plan to me!” He chirps, and we enjoy the rest of the wash with more conversation and a bit of fooling around.

Around 9 am we settled in the kitchen. He had a table with a few chairs and a small basket with various snacks and fruit in it. I grab an apple as he starts poking through the kitchen.

“Do you like waffles? I have a waffle maker I haven't had a chance to try out yet.” He suggested, pulling it out from the back of one of his cabinets.

“Hell yeah, I’ll take some waffles!” I agree as I join him. “What do you need help with? I haven’t made waffles since I was a kid!”

“What was your childhood like?” he asks as he begins to retrieve the ingredients. From my hesitation, I can see concern start to creep onto his face again.

“Oh, well, it was… fine. My parents are nice, and my older brother is pretty cool. Hes going to have a kid soon, so we’re looking forward to that.” I deflect as smoothly as I can. He seems to take the hint and steers the conversation away.

“That's always fun! I don’t have any siblings. I guess that's why I latched on to you when we were kids! You sort of felt like a brother to me,” He paused for a moment, red striking across his face. “Wait- ok, well, that sounds weird now considering- Oh, gosh…”

I blink at him and raise my brows. “Really now? You gonna rephrase that?” I chastize, nudging his arm with my elbow.

“You know what I mean, Jasper!” he scolds, handing me a bowl. “Here, mix this.”

I do as I’m told, still chuckling. He fusses about looking for other ingredients, finally settling with tossing in a handful of frozen blueberries into the mix.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” He asks in a delicate voice, not looking at me.

“Sure,” I allow, having a few feelings of what might come up. I set the mixed batter on the counter and we wait for the waffle maker to warm.

“How did… you get all those scars on your upper arms? And your body. Really just, all over. I mean, I have an idea but-” He exhaled. “And you mentioned the one on your neck.”

“Yeah, I’ve had my struggles growing up. As I said, they're mostly self-inflicted. The one on my neck I did when I was 14. Did a shit job and my brother found me right after I did it. It wasn't very serious since I chickened out mid-cut, but it didn’t stop me from trying other things when I got older. I’ve been in and out of mental hospitals due to attempts, and just my general psyche.” I spill. My expression grows dark and a little cold as I recall, fixating on one of the kitchen tiles as I ramble on. David listens, quiet, waiting for me to finish.

“I’m sorry. I wish I had been there to offer more support, or at least my friendship. I’m sorry I brought it up, we don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to.” He says finally, squeezing my hand. My concentration breaks and I look at him, letting the darkness fall away from me some.

“No, it’s fine. I’m used to talking about it by now. It’s been a long process, but it's gotten easier as I’ve gotten older,” I nudge him aside to begin pouring the batter. “I’ve learned a lot of tools to keep myself grounded.”

“Did it start after… All that happened?” He asked, watching me work.

“Yeah. Having two near-death experiences in one summer does a thing to two to a child’s mind. By all accounts, I should be dead, or at least a lot worse off. Even though I survived I… I never felt like I did. I feel like a big part of me did literally die then and like… I’m a ghost. Like I’m not real and that I shouldn’t be here. Like I need to free my spirit from this world and pass on to the next, wherever that is,” I scoff at myself. Way to sound like a fucking basketcase in front of my childhood crush. “Sorry if this like, changes things. I don’t know, I don’t really talk about this to normal people.”

“Oh, no! It’s fine, really!” He insists, squeezing my hand harder. “I’m glad you’re sharing this with me. It's important. Also, I mean, we did share those experiences together. I didn’t think much of it until I was a lot older how lucky I was that summer, and it always had me worried about you! Wondering how you were. You never came back. Mr. Campbell just swept it under the rug like he does with everything.”

My expression twists in anger and disgust at the mention of Campbell and I take the opportunity to handle the waffle-making again. “Campbell as an ass, and if I never meet him again that’d be great.” I grumble.

Davey scans again as if looking for the right words. “During the summer I actually work there. If you’d like, you can come with me next summer. Maybe being back there will… Help put your soul to rest. It's also an excuse to spend more time together!”

“Only if Campbell isn’t there, I will.” From his expression dodging away, I had my answer.

“He comes by every now and again. Not often, but there's no way of knowing when he will show up.” He explained, fussing with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Well, I’ll… I’ll think about it, ok?” I finally reason. He smiles in a slightly strained way, still visibly worried.

“Please do. Now come on, let's eat while it's still hot!” He finishes plating our breakfast and whisks it away to the table. I take a seat, watching him buzz around setting the table, and grabbing our drinks. Even so soon after waking up, he was full of energy. Even after the heavy conversation, it didn’t ruin his mood. He notices me watching and offers a big, bright grin. I feel like I’m staring at the sun.

We enjoy breakfast. The conversation stays light, mainly about school or our friends. We exchange funny or weird stories from our childhoods. Before long the weekend slinks by and I make my departure home. we keep in touch, but he makes another suggestion; we should become pen-pals. Thinking the idea is cute and nostalgic, I agree and brush off my stationary set once I arrive at my family home.

[im-fairly-whitty]

The Witcher Wolf: In Plain Sight

Two years have passed since Geralt was cursed with the ability to turn into a wolf whenever his medallion is removed, a curse that's turned into a blessing now that he and Jaskier are partners in everything they do.

It's no exception when they discover a Nilfgaardian army bearing down on Cintra, headed straight toward a certain child surprise. With Jaskier's help and Geralt's enchanted medallion they must find a way to get into the palace, make sure Princess Cirilla is safe, and get out with her in tow if needed, regardless of Queen Calanthe's orders.

[Chapter 1: Into the Fire]  [Chapter 2: Old Friend] [Chapter 3: Bad Luck] [Chapter 4: So Much for Being Smart] [Chapter 5: Secrets]

Chapter 6: The Beginning of the End

Jaskier was no stranger to all the elements of a prison cell. The loose dirty straw on the floor, the hard mattress if one was lucky, the unmentionable bucket in the corner, and the poor excuse for food that might occasionally be slipped under the door whose quality depended both on the town and how badly you’d managed to annoy the guards.

The familiarity was well earned too, one did not travel with a witcher without spending a fair amount of nights paying the price for a bit of rough adventure or a tragic misunderstanding in a damp cell. Doubly so if during your younger years you happened to have cultivated a reputation for sleeping with the spouses of married people who held grudges.  

But while Jaskier had spent time jailed for slights both real and imagined, he’d never been in a cell quite as nice as the one Wilhelm had put him in, and despite that he had also never hated being trapped more than he had the last several days.

The low bed had sheets on it, there was a plain writing desk with parchment and quills against one wall. The room even smelled of candle wax and clean straw instead of filth since Jaskier had the astounding luxury of being escorted to a real privy whenever he asked the guards.

Wilhelm clearly hadn’t been lying when he’d told Jaskier he still liked him despite their currently being at odds with each other, but not even three warm meals a day could erase the fact that Jaskier was trapped in a dungeon, that he had no idea where Geralt was, and that he hadn’t seen Wilhelm in three days.

And of course there was also the charming way that even the dungeon guards were visibly disturbed at the whispered news that Cintra was at that moment being stormed by an entire army of Nilfgaardian fanatics. Exactly the kind of thing to make a bard unable to stomach any food at all for the last twenty-four hours and sit tensely on his mattress while he picked at the sleeve of his chemise.

Jaskier’s knees were tucked up to his chest as he wondered for the umpteenth time where Geralt was, wondering how Geralt was, wondering how much time he had left before Nilfgaardian soldiers flooded into the dungeon where Jaskier would be utterly defenseless and trapped in his cell. Where was the wolf medallion Wilhelm had taken? Was Cirilla already smuggled out of the city, leaving them behind? What was being done to-

Jaskier jolted as the lock on his cell door rattled, smacking the back of his head against the wall behind him in his hurry to stand.

He wasn’t sure whether to relax or not when he saw it was only Wilhelm carting a small chair. Jaskier would have much preferred it to be Geralt coming to his rescue, but it was certainly better than an armed soldier of the Eternal Flame.

“You’re a bit late, I was expecting you two days ago.” Jaskier said, his dried out sense of humor struggling to surface at the unexpected relief of seeing a familiar face. “Or is it three days now? Hard to tell without a window you know.”

“Two and a half days.” Wilhelm said, setting down the small wooden chair he’d brought in with him and sitting down heavily on it with an exhausted sigh. “Though you could tell me it's been a decade and I’d believe you. My apologies for abandoning you without warning, I trust things haven’t been too rough for you?”

“Without a doubt the best prison cell I’ve ever been held in, full marks to this establishment.” Jaskier said with a dry chuckle. “Dreadfully dull though since you took the lockpicks out of the lining of my doublet before tossing me in here, I have no idea how you found them.”

“I found them because I’m the one who taught you that trick seven years ago.” Wilhelm said, raising an eyebrow. “Remember when we got so drunk that we woke up locked in a root cellar with a-“

“Alright, alright, I remember, I remember.” Jaskier said hastily. “You certainly don’t have to bring that story up again, I’d actually managed to forget it.”

“Truth be told I’d much rather be back in that root cellar.” Wilhelm said, any trace of amusement slipping from his face. “The Nilfgaardians have invaded Cintra and her majesty has taken her armies out to meet them in the battlefield. Within the coming hours we’ll be receiving messengers carrying news of our fate.”

“And you don’t think Calanthe will succeed.” Jaskier said quietly, dread seeping back into him.

“If we already had the additional Skellige forces her majesty is so fond of counting on in the field I believe we would, but we don’t.” Wilhelm said, his expression one of grim acceptance.

“What of Cirilla? Is she safe? What is being done to protect her?” Jaskier asked, folding his arms tightly where he stood.

“There are several possibilities in play, but the queen does not wish for Princess Cirilla to be removed from the city until she has given her permission. And she has likewise made it clear that she will only give that permission when there is absolutely no other choice.” Wilhelm said.

“So you’re waiting until things are so bad that Calanthe is dead?” Jaskier said incredulously, heat getting into his voice. “Who’s to say Ciri will even still be alive at that point? Or any of us? How on earth are you going to get a princess to safety when you’ve waiting that long, it might be impossible!”

“I am bound to her majesty’s commands, Jaskier,” Wilhelm said calmly, not at all rising to the bait. “It’s my job to make impossible things happen, though I’ll admit this will be one of the hardest miracles I’ve ever been asked to perform. Which is why I need to know where Geralt of Rivia is.”

“I already told you I don’t know.” Jaskier said, his fingertips digging into his arms. “Even if I did know I wouldn’t put him in danger by telling you, you’ve made it quite clear what will happen if you find him.”

“Being a spymaster means that I make a living of collecting information.” Wilhelm said, spreading his hands. “I gather a bit here and a bit there, using some but tucking away the rest. I must follow my queen’s wishes, but I am also capable of balancing several needs.”

“Which means?” Jaskier asked impatiently.

“If I were to find Geralt of Rivia while her majesty still wishes him to be forbidden from the city I am bound to punish him accordingly.” Wilhelm said carefully. “But if I were to know where he is and simply make no effort to find him until it was safe I would have no duty to harm him and when the right moment comes no time will be wasted getting you and the princess to him and all of you out of the city safely.”

Jaskier blinked. “You mean you’d let us take her?”

“When you need the impossible done you hire a Witcher. Every peasant farmer knows that.” Wilhelm said simply. “Had I been allowed to act earlier I would have preferred Princess Cirilla to be sent somewhere more secure with a military entourage. But when our city crumbles into flame and ruin tonight her best chance at survival will be to disappear into the mountains with a Witcher who will—I hope—protect her with his life.”

“You sound so sure of Cintra’s fall.” Jaskier said, voice not at all shaking.

“It is morning now and the Royal army has left the city.” Wilhelm said. “By my estimations we will hear of their defeat before late afternoon, at which point those of us left will be besieged in the castle until the bitter end, which will surely come before the sun has the chance to rise since the enemy will be drunk on their success in the battlefield. Nilfgaard takes no prisoners, we will all be dead before tomorrow.”

Jaskier tried to say something, some witty or satirical comment to deflect the dark fear that settled in the air. But nothing came, the half formed words sticking in his dry throat.

“Which is why,” Wilhelm said, making a hand sign that Jaskier recognized as a Cintrian oath. “If you tell me where Geralt is I swear not to make an effort to find him until either Calanthe is dead or has given me permission to give him his child surprise. Knowing in advance where to find him could save us precious hours that could save the princess’ life.”

If Wilhelm was making an oath Jaskier knew for a fact he’d honor his word. He’d never met a man who stuck to a promise as well as Wilhelm, but that was precisely why he had to be careful.

“If I did tell you...but you did find him before the time was right? Without trying I mean, if you accidentally found him, what would happen?” Jaskier asked carefully.

Wilhelm looked at him, squinting a bit, clearly processing what Jaskier’s words meant. He is closer than you think, somewhere you would see him if you realized where to look and therefore still in danger.

“If I found him before it was safe I would be honor bound to dispose of him according to the queen’s wishes.” Wilhelm said slowly.

“Then I cannot say anything.” Jaskier said, swallowing a bit and folding his arms a bit tighter. “As I said before, I have no idea where he is.”

For a long silent minute Wilhelm met his gaze with the calculating kind of look one might expect from a hawk or a leopard, and then the spymaster scratched his beard with a nod. “Well at least that means he is close after all, I only pray he’s within the castle walls by the time the siege begins or not even destiny herself will be able to save the princess.”

Jaskier kept a carefully expressionless face, giving away nothing. He knew that if Geralt would do whatever it took to stay by Ciri’s side once he found her, he could only hope nothing had happened to him in the meantime. Wilhelm would have mentioned if he’d been discovered, but he wouldn’t have mentioned a wolf being killed on the palace grounds.

“How is the princess?” Jaskier asked, desperate for any shred of information that might tell him about Geralt.

“She is understandably anxious but well guarded.” Wilhelm said. “The druid Mousesack stays by her side as a personal protector as well as a young knight. Ideally they both would accompany Ciri in the event of her fleeing with you and the Witcher.”

“Does she...” Jaskier hesitated, rephrasing what he really wanted to say over and over again in his head. Does she still have a wolf with her? Does she have a companion with her in this trying time? Does she...have any distractions to keep her busy?

“Does she know this? The plans to keep her safe?” Jaskier asked lamely, knowing that ultimately there was nothing he could ask about Geralt that wouldn’t draw suspicion. Wilhelm would realize what he was after, he would connect the dots if Jaskier put too many of them on the playing board.

“She knows that we are working to keep her safe.” Wilhelm said, clearly noting Jaskier’s hesitation but choosing not to address it. “Nothing more than that. She may be next in line for the throne, but she is still a child.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me out to speak with her?” Jaskier asked, already knowing the answer but having to at least try.

“Not yet my friend, but should you require anything ask and your guards will do their best to get it to you.” Wilhelm stood from his chair, cracking his back with a grimace before sighing and shaking his head. “And now I must return to the nightmare upstairs, I’ve already used up the minutes I was able to steal for you. Be on the ready Jaskier, tonight will be horrible for all of us. I hope you make it out alive, I’ll do everything I can to ensure it. The moment I can I’ll be back to free you and get you out of the city with your Witcher and the princess, may we be so fortunate.”

Jaskier bit his lip. “You’ll be coming with us won’t you?” He asked. Yes Wilhelm had made everything more complicated and yes Jaskier would give anything to be out of this cell and back with Geralt, but he certainly didn’t want to see an old friend dead.

Wilhelm hesitated with his hand on the door, his wooden chair tucked under one arm.

“Well, if destiny sees fit to send me with you I certainly wouldn’t argue.” He said with a smile. “But I have plenty of work left to do before then.”

“You still have the Witcher medallion?” Jaskier asked in a rush. “You haven’t lost it or given it away?”

“No I haven’t, it’s locked in my office with the rest of your things.” Wilhelm said. “I know how valuable a Witcher medallion is Jaskier, I’m not going to pawn it off.”

“Alright. Good. It’s...very important.” Jaskier said earnestly. “I cannot tell you just how vital it is that you keep it safe. Especially if you plan on Geralt helping you tonight.”

Wilhelm nodded slowly. “Alright...I’ll be especially sure to keep it safe. Rest assured.”

“Good.” Jaskier said, rubbing his arms as he sat on the mattress, feeling the barest shred of relief at the news and having nothing left he could safely say.

“Well, get some rest and get something to eat Jaskier.” Wilhelm said with a nod. “Force it down if you have to. Either it’ll be the last meal you ever get or it will be the energy you need to make your escape when the moment arrives, neither of which will be worth missing out on.”

Jaskier made a noise that was something between laughing and slightly choking as Wilhelm left the room.

 ***

 Spymaster Wilhelm de Drobiazg of Cintra had never asked to be a royal spymaster, in the same way that a river never asks to run downhill.

Ever since he was a child he’d always had a knack for finding the invisible strings attached to people, and with practice had become expert in winding them around his fingers so that he could shift events to his own purposes.

A nudge here to eliminate an assassin before they ever got close to the royal family. A well placed comment to a visiting ambassador there to cut off an unwanted betrothal offer for the princess before it was ever written up. A sleeper agent installed in a backwoods town years before the queen’s forces invaded, giving them the kind of invaluable intel that led to military victory again and again. Wilhelm was always watching and whispering from the shadows, ready to serve his queen in any way she needed before she even knew of the need herself.

And in his twenty-one years as Spymaster he had seen a bit of everything from cursed knights to secret romances to countless military campaigns. But Wilhelm had never experienced the crushing anxious grief that filled the late afternoon air as he stood in the castle’s front courtyard, looking down at the body lying on the stretcher before him.

All around him soldiers straggled in through the gates, cradling wounds and supporting injured comrades as dirt and blood streaked generals hoarsely bellowed directions. The city was well and truly locked down after the defeat, gathering in the few who had survived the tragedy in the fields that had been the royal campaign.

Only one body had been carried all the way back to the castle by the survivors, the effort too great for anyone less important than the Prince Consort himself. Wilhelm doubted even Eist’s body would have been brought back had the injured queen not been—barely—coherent enough to order it done.

Wilhelm bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he crouched down and gripped Eist’s cold hand, allowing himself a moment to wish the man a pleasant afterlife.

And then he stood, nodding at the bearers to carry the body away. Eist had been a good man, one of the best, but on a day that none would survive it was little use to mourn those lucky enough to fall first. Those whose bodies would have the luxury of being carried to a resting place by their still living comrades.

Wilhelm knew he would not be one of them.

“General Danek.” He called, moving to fall in step with the chief general of Cintra hurrying past. “Anything I need to know that I don’t already?”

“I doubt it, your scouts are always the first in and the last out wherever we go.” Danek said, his voice rough with grim anxiety as he pulled off his helmet and all but threw it to an attendant so he could wipe the heavy sweat from his brow. “You probably knew how the battle was going to end before I even did.”

“I’d settled on this outcome as a ninety six percent change yesterday morning when we hadn’t received news of the Skellige reinforcements.” Wilhelm said quietly. “Which is why it was my recommendation to remove the princess before we were put in a place of near impossibility.”

“Well then you should have pushed harder, could have convinced her majesty of your damn estimations before she wound up being dragged back to the castle with a stomach wound and grieving a dead consort.” Danek growled.

“You don’t have to be a spymaster to know that changing her majesty’s mind once it’s made up is a fool’s errand.” Wilhelm said, placidly shaking his head as they entered the palace. Their footsteps echoed down the stone hallway to the queen’s chambers, the quiet around them a false peace from the manic bustle shut outside. “And pushing her to admit defeat of any kind is a zero chance at all.”

Danek said nothing in reply, only giving a tired kind of snarl as they reached the queen’s rooms, pushing the doors open to reveal a bustle of healers gathered around where Calanthe lay on a low couch.

“Danek, have they reached the city gates?” the queen demanded, catching sight of them and ignoring the young woman gingerly cleaning blood from a cut on her face.

“They will within the hour your majesty.” Danek said, bowing his head in quick respect as they stood beside her couch. “We have no forces to speak of, little more than a skeleton crew now and badly injured at that. I can have the druid shield the castle gates. It’s a bandage on a head wound but it will buy us a bit of time.”

“A bit of time to what?” Wilhelm interjected calmly, hands behind his back as he looked at the general. “There are hardly more than a hundred people in this castle, the city is lost to us already. There is no chance of saving ourselves now, the only thing to be decided is how quickly we will choose to die and whether we will get Princess Cirilla to safety before or after it is too late.”

“You’re suggesting we simply roll over now for the Nilfgaardian blade?” Danek growled.

“I am not sending my granddaughter into the wilderness alone Wilhelm.” Clanthe snapped, flinching as a healer began stitching a wound at her side. “As long as this city stands we have a chance.”

They did not, and Wilhelm knew it, but as he looked out the window to see the beginnings of evening start to sharpen the smoky sky he also knew how useless it would be to press the issue. Not when she’d just lost her husband and her city and soon everything else with it.

“I understand your majesty.” Wilhelm said. “But now that things have reached a point of especial seriousness I would like to explain to you the plan for the princess’ extraction that has the best possible chance of success. Should you approve of it.”

“What is it?” Calanthe asked tiredly.

“I have good reason to believe that Geralt of Rivia is nearby, and that he has come to the city with the intent of claiming his child surprise and taking her to safety.”

The queen spluttered a choking gasp and even Danek stiffened.

“The witcher will never lay a finger on my granddaughter!” Clanthe demanded, trying to rise from her couch only the collapse back halfway with a pained noise.

Wilhelm gave a quiet sad sigh, moving to kneel down beside his queen so that she was at least a bit above him. “My queen, I know this is the last thing you want, but please for a moment consider the tactical advantages.” he said quietly. “There is no better guard than a witcher, especially not for a young princess who will need to be hidden among common folk in a way that a soldier could not manage. There are hardly any men to spare and even if there was Cirilla’s company would have to be as small as possible to keep from attracting attention. A single witcher is worth twenty men, and as his child surprise the workings of destiny will be on his side.”

“I should have you hanged for treason, how long have you known the witcher was in my city?” Calanthe said, but Wilhelm could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

“I have only a well-founded suspicion, your majesty.” Wilhelm said. “But it’s a suspicion that may be the difference between life and death for Cirilla. Were we to entrust the girl to his care she would have a fighting chance. If we do not she has next to none. If you give your approval I can seek him out and begin preparations to get the next ruler of Cintra to safety before it is truly too late.”

Calanthe said nothing, instead staring at the far wall, as if attempting to reduce it to dust with her furious gaze. Wilhelm could see the grief and fury inside her battling, and that the fury was quickly losing.

“I want to see my granddaughter.” Calanthe said, her voice hoarse. “Wilhelm you are dismissed unless you have anything else to report before I discuss what to do next with Danek.”

“No, your majesty.” Wilhelm said, getting to his feet with a grim nod and bowing before he left the room.

Anyone else might suppose he had failed, but he had served his queen too long to be so badly mistaken. She had deliberately not said no, meaning she knew he was right but would deny it until the last possible second when her wounded pride finally gave in.

It would be the last possible second, likely when even the castle gates had already fallen, but Wilhelm already knew that Calanthe would order Cirilla given to the witcher before the night was out. She hadn’t yet, but she would.

Meaning Wilhelm had very little time to find him.

[Read Chapter 7: Out of Time]

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Thanks so much for your patience between this update, I just got a brand new full time job which has been a huge blessing but had taken some adjustment and getting used to. Happy to be back writing again!

Secondly I thought this was going to be the last chapter, but as I wrote it it split itself into two and then three chapters. More content for you guys, so no complaint there. But yeah as a heads up there will be one or two (probably two) chapters after this one.

I've given Jaskier my "can't even think about eating when stressed even a little" habit. I feel like he only manages to choke down like the equivalent of a medieval granola bar after Wilhelm leaves him, but boy is he going to need it.