#her friends her FAMILY seemingly fell to their deaths and there was nothing she could do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atxxzist · 8 months

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the crown prince | c.s

summary: with the fall of the king, the kingdom of utopia rest on prince san's hand. but when bounties are put on his head as the consequence of his ancestors' actions, he realize there's a backlog of history to undo and a lot more to prove that he's deserving of being the rightful ruler

pairing: choi san x f!reader

genre: prince!san, commoner!y/n, medieval au, angst, fluff, suggestive

word count: 19k

(ao3) if you don't like lapslock

age 8:

you live in the fifth district, the poorest and most rundown of all districts, sitting at the bottom of the kingdom with a large body of water surrounding it.

the only remarkable thing about the place is the port that's often used for traveling in and out of the kingdom. other than that, rarely anyone from other districts would come down unless they want to be at risk of a flood--which always striked the district the hardest out of any others.

but even then, despite the limited portions of food your family has to survive on each day, or the hardrock wood mattress you guys have to sleep on that frequently gives your aging father back pain, life doesn't seem all that bad.

you still have your family and a roof over your head, and a mind too young and optimistic.

age 10:

just two years after, you soon find out how hard it really is for a kid living in the fifth district, and especially one without parents or someone to love and care for them.

the fishermen had said your parents fell overboard and their bodies couldn't be recovered.

you couldn't believe it at first that no one looked even the least concerned or urgent to search for your parents, but you soon learn that their lives are meaningless, and the people that threw you out after their death made sure you knew so is yours.

"ay, kid, we could leave you out here to die if we really want to," one of the tall, scary looking man says after your episode of protesting and crying starts to annoy him.

and easily like that, they both leave you in the orphanage that's already overcrowded with other children of similar circumstances.

you lose everything in one day; the house your father built from scratch, along with anything that's ever been handmade by your mother, it's all gone. they're both gone, and you feel yourself withering away with all the loss.

before the age of eleven, you become nothing more than a ward of the district and the responsibility to a bunch of strangers who probably doesn't care whether you live or die.

age 11:

it only takes a year for you to become almost nothing like the person you were once before who was cheerful and optimistic.

all of it beat out of you, watching every day as some of the children gets yelled at or punished for doing something so trivial, it desensitized you to the point you're no longer surprise to hear someone get told no one else would want them outside of the orphanage.

you don't talk to anyone or attempt to make any friends. you keep to yourself and would often read any books you could find or hunt for any sewing materials during the few time of the day they let you guys out.

age 12:

during dinner, you hear the group of kids sitting at the nearby table talk about the upcoming coronation of the prince.

"it's not even like we're gonna get to see it," one of the girls squeak, seemingly uninterested in the topic as she pokes her food because it's true.

events like that, especially any celebrations or gatherings are only reserved for those in the second and first districts, who are usually of noble and royal status. not nobodies like you guys down here living off of scraps and remnants.

"i want to see how the prince looks like," another boy adds with a mischievous tone.

you, too, want to see what the prince looks like, but you most likely never will. he won't come here and the chances of you going up there is damn near impossible, it might as well be good as a dream.

but all of the children agrees that he's the luckiest kid in the kingdom, and for that, they hate him for it.

age 13:

through the years, you've been watching as kids go and new ones would come in.

those that left were lucky to have gotten moved or adopted into a household that were willing to take them in, and you, like all the other kids in here, tired of the overcrowding and deteriorating state of the orphanage, hope that a kind family will one day swoop you away.

but it doesn't happen at age thirteen, and you continue to share a bunk with the same girl from three years ago who's been here longer than you.

age 14:

the states of the lower districts only seems to decline as you get older with the corrupted hierarchy and the rich taking all the resources for themselves.

for hundreds of years--you've learned, that it's always been bad, but everything's looking far worse than it has even four years ago.

but with the conditions in the lower three districts deteriorating, the citizens are growing more vocal, bitter, and resentful of those that resides in peace while everyone else is suffering.

the disparity not only made everyone despite the higher ups, but also each other as the stresses of the poor states get to them. and with you living in one of the three's, it made you harbor a hatred toward the top two districts as well, unable to see them past anything but greedy and power-hungry.

slanders of the royal family increased then. talks of overthrowing the king or starting a war for equal resources for all districts, and some even saying they'd rather swim across the ocean to reach kingdom aurora than to live in this "hellhole". but at the time, they were nothing but empty threats to make one feel better.

age 15:

you were so scared at first, hearing of all the horror stories told by the older, taunting kids who's gonna get moved into a family soon, that you're gonna be unlucky for the rest of your life and not get chosen like them.

that you're just gonna stay here until some lowly men decides to buy you off, or probably meet a worse fate.

but one sudden day when the director of the orphanage comes running into the dining hall and announces to all the kids to be on their best behaviors because someone from the second district is going to be coming down the next day, your life changes for the better at the age of fifteen.

you didn't think you had a chance at all, but you still wanted to try because no matter the intense dislike you hold for the two higher districts, if there's an opportunity for a better life, you're going to take it.

it's better than staying here and suffering. everyone else is becoming desperate and you're not any different.

the lady comes the following day as expected, her carriage alerting the entire place of her arrival as all the kids are on their knees with desperation in their eyes.

you guys have never had any visitors from a district so high up before, so this is very crucial.

when she walks in, everyone bows to welcome her, the sight as equally mesmerizing to others as it is to you. never in your life have you seen anyone with so many pearls and jewels, the gown she's wearing made of only the best materials.

it then hits you harder that however this lady decides to take you in, you're going to be living a comfortable life no matter what.

she takes one look around the room, all the children secretly crossing their fingers and it's when her eyes land on you and her lips turn up into a smile.

the director tells her you're a good kid. often guarded and doesn't really get along with the others, but well behaved nonetheless.

it feels weird to be the one everyone's envious of when you were usually on the opposite spectrum, but now passing all the kids as you make way to the front door, all their burning gazes planting a seed of guilt because you understand the feeling all too well.

but with the nation in this state, all anyone can do is look out for themselves. eventually, their time will come, and this just so happens to be yours.

the lady sits you down in the carriage next to her while the coachman leads the way back. she informs you will be working under the family as a servant but will be provided housing, food, and even freedom from time to time.

"i heard you like sewing."

you nod shyly at her words.

"i learned it from my mother."

"good. then you will have the opportunity to hone the skill."

the trip to the second district takes a total of three days, the only times you guys stopped was for food or toilet breaks. when the coachman announces the arrival, your first time seeing the scenery is that to of a fish fresh out of water.

you didn't even know trees or grass could be that green. or that it's not always supposed to feel like a sense of dread that takes the smiles off people's faces until they just look straight miserable.

it's as if you've entered a completely different nation, unable to comprehend the huge difference already, even in comparison to the third district.

the lady is quick to disappear into the house almost the size of the orphanage itself, calling for someone else to escort you around and show what the next couple of years (and possibly, the rest of your life) has in store for you.

you're to wake up at 5am everyday to prepare food for the noble family, and will be sharing a chamber with three other female servants: the main cook, the main cleaner, and another young girl about your age.

you're only allowed to wander during weekends with authorization and is only to go out for groceries or other necessities. other than that, any rule breaking will have consequences.

for the next couple of days, you practice the routine.

waking up in the early morning and prepping breakfast, then cleaning, and repeat for lunch and dinner. sometimes, you'd get to do different tasks like helping the noble daughter pick out a dress or shoes for the day, but that's only if you get called.

you pick up the cooking and cleaning quite fast because you used to help your parents a lot. and though the work hours can be tiring, the food you're eating and the place you sleep in is a lot better.

you also get the occasional freedom and access to improve your seamstress skills, and it's not the ideal life, but it is the best one for someone like you.

you hear a grunting sound close by one morning when you decide to wake up earlier than usual.

turning to the source, you see a figure far away near the tall gates, prancing around in his heavy armors with a sword in his hand. the sight definitely amazes you as you're only able to stare in awe before accidentally creating a ruckus that catches the attention of the stranger as he turns around.

it's still dark and you can't see his face very well, only until he starts walking toward you.

"can i help you?" he asks, voice a type of husky but innocent.

"oh, no." you shake your head, "i was just uhm... watching."

he chuckles and looks to the ground, your eyes trained on the way his dark hair ruffles along with his movements until he's staring at you again, finally out of the poor lighting.

he's cute and has childlike features. definitely not an appearance that gives away he could probably slice you dead right now if he wants to.

"you're the new worker," he vocalize, and it takes you a second to figure how he knew, following his gaze to the door of the chamber behind you.

"ah, yes i am." you nod.

"cool. well, i'm the gatekeeper. jongho."

"gatekeeper?" you crank an eyebrow, so far behind on rich people terminology, you have no idea what that means.

"i just protect and patrol the place in case of any intruders. it sounds fancy but it's really not. you don't have to keep it formal, though. we're all servants here."

"i see." you smile tight-lipped.

he also does look a little too young to be manhandling weapons or putting his life on the line, but you too, are also too young to be losing your parents and getting sold off as a servant.

for anyone in the lower three districts, it is all for survival.

you soon learn that jongho was born in the fourth district but he's been living and training here for so long, he can barely recall his time there.

and you're not sure what it is about him that makes you open up given the fact you've been closed off for so long ever since your parents death and the comprehension of the cruel world you're living in, but through the year and before you turn sixteen, you find your first true friend in choi jongho.

age 16:

you get acquainted with hongjoong, a friend of jongho and a messenger who travels in and out of the districts to deliver any important information.

you're not sure how he keeps his identity on the low in spite of the growing tension between all the districts, but jongho assures you he has his ways.

jongho spends his days training with many kinds of weapons; swords, spears, daggers, crossbows, and just about everything when he's not guarding the house--which he usually isn't because the second district is still relatively safe at this time.

but if there is any outside attackers, it would be jongho's and the other men's responsibilities to protect the noble family. it's what they've all been trained for.

you still cook and clean, and your sewing skills have gotten increasingly better that you also started picking up embroidery.

on the occasion, jongho would teach you how to use a dagger just so you'd have some knowledge of self defense and protection considering the alarming state of the nation.

and now that you're living under people of noble status, royal parties and balls were the standards. not that you'll ever get to attend them for yourself, always hearing about it for an alternative or watching the noble family dress up in pretty attires that cost hefty coins before they waddle off in their carriage into the first district.

hongjoong returns a week later, informing you and jongho that the conditions, especially in the fifth district, is really bad that some citizens have decided to risk their lives in hope of reaching the kingdom of aurora since ships and boats cannot be sailed without approval from the royal family.

"it's basically a death sentence to be living in any of the lower districts at this point. i fear if the king doesn't do anything about it, a civil war may be on the horizon."

age 17:

not much changes and hongjoong has said that the king, along with other royal and noble families, refused to take actions since the dividing of resources for all the other districts would cause the first and second to falter because they do not have enough for everyone.

it's better to keep some afloat than to put the entire nation at risk.

"but sir, that's only going to keep running the citizens out of the nation, and the ones that do stay are becoming angry. the first organization against the royal family already formed, calling themselves outlaws. and they're not just ordinary citizens. they could infiltrate the two higher districts if they want to. a solution is not to only keep them happy, but to also prevent a war."

"then strengthen the security. we also have equally skilled men, if not, more. send any able-bodied men to the gates of the first and second district and don't let anybody from the lower threes enter."

age 18:

things only get worse. nobody is allowed to travel freely between the districts anymore and anyone from the first two were strongly advised not to go down because the chances of getting robbed or assaulted are high.

the four working men in the house dwindled down to two because the other two, including jongho, would be sent to guard the entrance. but during rotation when he gets to come back to sleep and eat, he'd tell you that it's eerily quiet, but that all the lower districts know the higher ones are blocking off entrance and might retaliate soon.

"we should be prepared for the worst. hongjoong said the fact they're quiet might mean the organization is planning something."

age 19:

for a while, security at the entrance decreases when it looks like the lower districts weren't gonna try to do anything about it.

jongho and the other men in the house were able to stay around longer, sometimes even for a few days straight without going back, and the outrage did feel like it was just a false alarm.

no one in the higher districts, even hongjoong, were prepared for the storm that is after the calm.

"y/n! wake up!"

you groggily groan at the voice, sounding both hushed but eager as it jolts you from sleep.

it's jongho and he looks absolutely terrified, his figure hovering over your body still in bed.

"come on, y/n! we have to get going!"

you don't have the time to take in anything, jongho already pulling you up harshly to stand on your feet as you hurl out more groans and complaints.

"what's going on? i was sleeping, you know."

"the king is dead."

it's those words that makes you more awake than ever, unable to believe as you just stare dumbfoundedly while he ravages the drawers for more appropriate clothings.

"w-what? h-how?" you can barely form anything coherent at this point, your heart racing so fast.

"he was assasinated," jongho reveals, throwing a loose, oversized shirt at you. "we're not sure how they managed to get that far up the first district, but all this time, that must've been what they were preparing for--you need to get changed."

he throws you a pair of pants and continues speaking, at the same time going through almost the entire perimeter for anything that will prove useful.

you don't even care he's in the same room, your body going into shock and quickly pulling the night gown off before putting on what he gave you.

"hongjoong thinks they're planning a raid, starting from the second district and working their way up. if we stay here, we could get captured, held hostage, or whatever those outlaws want to do with us--here."

he finds the dagger he had given you sitting in the last drawer, pulling the extra sheath out of his pouch and running to tie it around your waist.

"keep this with you at all time, and remember what i taught you. just in case we ever get separated, you need to protect yourself," he demands, passing the dagger to you with an extremely serious look on his face along with the statement just now, making you queasy in the stomach.

you can't imagine having to part from jongho for whatever reason. you wouldn't know what to do.

he gestures to your shoes and you wear it quickly.

"now come on, let's go!" he grabs your wrist and your body flings forward, only managing to grab the pouch on top the dresser before your feet's following his steps out the door despite the lingering sleepiness and that you could be forgetting something else, but it's all happening so fast, your mind struggling to keep up.

you're about to ask him about the other servants, or the noble family, but as he whisk you into the nightly air, the breeze pushing past your skin, you realize that before jongho came, you were alone.

they all left you.

"where are we going?" you ask.

"down to the third district. hongjoong lended me a map and said to go through the forest, we'll catch less attention that way. he said we can stay at one of his hideouts for now."

for the next hours, you don't see anything but trees and branches in your way, and the moon high above the dark sky as it follows both you and jongho.

your feet tired and sore at this point, asking jongho to find a place to sit even for just a few minutes because you might just pass out.

"if we keep at this pace, we'll be able to make it to the third district by morning," he informs, handing over the costrel and telling you to drink.

you nod, passing it back after finishing, observing for a few seconds as jongho takes a couple sips.

"so where did everyone else go?" you finally bring up the question bothering you.

"to the lower districts. i heard some are hoping to reach the port so they'll get the chance to sail to aurora or dune, now that the royal family is in a crisis, people don't care anymore. but as you already know, we have limited ships and boats and it's going to be a bloodbath all around."

he goes on, "we only found out the king was dead when people from the first district started migrating, and then everyone in the second started panicking, and i honestly did too initially. i was about to start heading down until i remembered you."

you smile and nudge the boy with your elbow affectionately.

"if not for you, i probably would've turned into a corpse by tomorrow."

"pfft," he scoffs, "not a corpse but a captive maybe. their target is still the royal family, and now that the king is dead, they'll most likely go after the prince. the raid is just to scare people off so they can bask in the lavish that the first and second district has to offer. but still, it's better to be safe than sorry. they did killed the king, after all."

you take in the information, asking one last question.

"and where is hongjoong?"

"he was also in the second district at the time, but after lending me the map and instructions, he said he's gonna go up in order to get more details; hopefully talk to the prince and will report back in a few days."

"do you think he's going to be okay?"

jongho nods and stands up from the log, reaching his hand out to help you.

"he should be. he wouldn't be able to survive for this long if he isn't competent. but we should get going or else the trip will be delayed."

the hideout is a small shack in the corner of the wood, blending into the surroundings so perfectly, you and jongho almost missed it.

it's essentially a square with a single wooden bed, one chair, and a small table with an ewer sitting on top. jongho said the water in there should still be good to use, and that he brought enough breads to survive on for a few days.

"i can take the floor," he says, taking off the crossbow and sword that's been stuck to his body for an entire night and settling them down.

"we can take turns," you offer an alternative, pitying the boy because he's the one who's been doing most of the works.

"alright."

he nods it off. he wasn't gonna fight you on it.

you and jongho passes time by training for the majority of time. sometimes, you'd just watch, but when he isn't worn out by his own routine, he'd tell you the basics of a crossbow and a knightly sword and would proceed to watch you practice with the dagger.

"you're holding it like a coward who's never fought in their life," is his usual criticism.

"well maybe cause i am a coward who has never fought before," you will retort.

"when facing an enemy, you can't show that you're afraid. you have to believe in yourself."

"easy for you to say."

but regardless of his yapping that sometimes make you roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head, he's a good teacher and even complimented you. if saying that you're a lot less awful than when you started, counts.

three days later from when you both settled, the light, passive knock at the door alerts you and jongho, you almost wishing it was one of the outlaws, preferably a weaker member just so you can put what you've learned to use.

but it's hongjoong.

"so what did the prince say?" jongho asks, quick and eager.

"he's recruiting. said he'll take in anyone still willing to stand by his side while he figure things out. he needs time."

"what about the guards and men that were in the castle? isn't it their duty to protect the royal family?"

"more than half of them ran to the lower districts. the outlaws probably won't do much to a normal citizen, but they will be vile to anyone on the prince's side."

"and he didn't try to stop them?" you join, hongjoong turning his head to you and shaking.

"he said he wasn't gonna force anyone who didn't want to stay. but for those willing to fight by his side, he'll take them."

you don't mean to come off hypercritical, but you can't help but think that the prince is being careless.

"but the outlaws want him dead, no? he shouldn't be taking in just anybody. that's too dangerous."

hongjoong just shrugs.

"that was his order."

a silence hangs between the three of you after, and one glance at jongho, you see that conflicted look in his eyes and know that he's about to say something you won't like.

"i'll go."

you snap your neck to him so fast, there must've been a pop.

"what--jongho, no," you object, worry in your tone. hongjoong just standing by and watching the incoming dispute unfold.

"it's better than standing around and waiting for something to happen."

"but putting your life on the line? for all you know, there might not even be a solution at all. look at the state of the kingdom. people are running away, everyone fearing for their own safety. in the end, you could be dying for nothing. did you forget it's because of these people that us born in the lower districts have to live a shit life?"

by now, you're both facing each other and fuming through your noses.

"and did you forget that we haven't been to the lower districts in years? ever since we got the opportunity to move into one of the top two? even if we were just servants, we were living better than a normal family in the fifth district. i was guarding and blocking off an entrance because i was so much better than the people trying to get through. you think i enjoyed doing that shit? no. but it was my job. in some ways, we betrayed our roots, y/n. and you're right. the prince could be lying and stalling out of his ass, but you know... i'm hoping that he's not. because for once, i want to feel like i'm doing something worthy. i didn't train all my life just to guard gates where nothing ever fucking happens nine out of ten times."

you watch in disbelief as he turns to pick up his crossbow and sword.

"so whether you like it or not, i'm going."

he gives hongjoong a stern look, to which the older man returns one, but is soon carried away by your voice again.

"then i'm going with you."

and jongho knows he's going to sound like a hypocrite; the fact he cares for you as much as you care for him so he doesn't want you to put yourself in the face of danger.

he also understands that you share the same sentiment in regard to him, which is why you don't want him to go.

"no. it's safest for you to stay here. you don't have the same training and combat that i do. you can barely hold a dagger the right way and it's one of the most light and basic weapon. those outlaws will pummel you like a bug."

you roll your eyes and you can see hongjoong trying to hold in his laughter.

"well geez, thanks, master. but boohoo. all i know is that i need to stab," you snark, managing to pull a small smile from jongho before switching tone. "i'm serious, though. i know i'm not gonna be pounding anyone, but i'd still like to come with. it would put a lot of my worries to rest knowing you're alive and okay."

"i'll be fine, y/n," he assures, one hand on your shoulder, "and if it'll make you feel better, if hongjoong doesn't mind, he can come once in a while to inform you of what's going on."

you meet hongjoong's gaze at that and he nods with a thin smile.

but that's still not good enough for you because how can you possibly be okay with the only person you can call family, going off and risking his life?

you're not.

which is why when they both finally depart, you wait until they're a good distance away yet still visible to the eye, tying the sheath the way jongho did and sticking your dagger in before taking the costrel he left for you along with the remaining breads and following right behind them.

hongjoong used to travel on horseback but he has to be more discreet this time around, especially going up the higher districts.

you're somewhat thankful for that because you're not sure you can keep up if that was the case.

you stop when they stop, and rest when they rest. you would try listening in on their conversations but it's always inaudible from where you're at.

you put aside the pain of an aching feet or fear of the nightly forest, afraid you would give yourself out.

two days later, you're sure you guys are close. a part of you somewhat curiously pumped because you've never wander up the first district before.

with the sun setting and the stars soon to come out, you're hoping to arrive before it gets too dark because you really are dreading the idea of spending another night hidden behind itchy bushes.

dragging yourself up the steep hill, you can't help but to admire the scenery, the air of utopia still fresh and the birds still chirp like the nation is whole, resuming your steps only to see that you've lost sighting of jongho and hongjoong, and if you're any quicker, they will catch on.

you don't panic just yet, although you're getting nervous, but carrying on because the castle shouldn't be too far from here. as soon as you can spot it, it should be easy to trace it back to the two.

the only problem is how you're gonna get in once you reach it.

as you get closer to the top, you can spot the castle's head peaking, and once finally on flat land, you're able to see the entire thing, and the dazzling white architecture is hard to miss.

the heart and soul of utopia planted right in the center of the first district, and you've never seen anything more sophisticated in your entire life. but as you sneak closer, you're sure that you're not even gonna make it past the portcullis.

if you don't find jongho, you'd be coming all this way for nothing.

you've been watching the guards at the gate and their patterns of behavior for the last hour, every time inching closer to the entrance with the least amount of noise as possible.

but you should've known. you've overestimated your ability (by a large margin) thinking you can outsmart people who does this for a living, and of all places, it had to be royal family's. stupid.

you barely take a step when the pressure of a sharp object against your back make your eyes go wide in horror.

you're thinking this is it. you should've listened to jongho and should have not acted like such a know-it-all, because the next time he sees you, it will be in corspe form.

the beating of your heart is loud along with the stranger's breathing, their hand going retrieve your dagger from the sheath, and if they attack, you will have no other way to defend yourself.

"who the hell are you and why are you sneaking around my castle?" the deep, masculine tone drowns your ears.

my castle?

you foolishly turn around like an idiot, feeling the pressure of the object move to your neck instead, looking up at this mysterious stranger but unable to make anything out.

the running of footsteps and commotion can be heard from behind you, a series of voices and better lighting approaching with all the torches in the guards hands, and when you're finally able to make out the pair of eyes staring back, it feels as if you forgot how to breathe.

because if it isn't the most beautiful man you've ever seen, dark locks, sly and sharp eyes to that of a fox that looks disapproving of your choices before it turns slightly softer when he sees how harmless you actually look, the weapon in his hand lowering with a clear of his throat.

"what part of 'it's safest if you stay here' did you not understand?"

jongho's loud and frustrated voice echoes through the entire hall, pacing back and forth in place as he reprimands you in front of hongjoong, the prince, and his other royal companions.

the prince (who you have to make a point one more time that he's devastingly beautiful) was unexpectedly casual when you explained to him you were looking for your friends, even returning your dagger.

"i only came because i was worried about you. i know you would do the same for me."

"yes, but something could've happened to you. you could've gotten lost, or worse."

"as you can see, i'm fine. the most life threatening thing was the prince putting a knife to my back and neck."

"because you were limping around the castle like an idiot."

"well, what was he doing outside of it anyways?"

"why are you talking about the prince like that!" he yells, and the both of you having an awakening at the same time, registers how embarrassing and inappropriate it actually is to be having a screaming match in the royal family's hall, turns to the prince and bow in apology.

"sorry," you both mutter.

"it's fine," the prince dismisses.

when you were still living at the orphanage, some of the kids would often play guessing games about the prince just because the chances of ever meeting him were close to none, everyone might as well get creative.

some assumed he's a snob because kids being kids, they were all jealous of the fact he was living better, and so it's only natural he would think he's better than everyone else.

then some thought he looked like a troll, which was why the king and queen kept him inside most of the time.

none of you guys knew a lot about the prince, but there were words on the street that he almost never went out of the castle; some even using that as confirmation for why he's a stuck-up.

but after meeting him, he's nothing like the kids have predicted.

he definitely does not look like a troll or sound like a snob, at least so far. he's actually rather soft-spoken, though a bit aloof and stoic. but you suppose one isn't gonna be jolly after the death of their father.

jongho had insisted that you go back immediately, and you were considerate of the castle's deities enough to pull him outside just to object.

but you only got another line in the quarrel before the prince intervened and much to jongho's dismay, said you could stay for the night since it was getting late and traveling would be difficult.

"but you're leaving as soon as the sun comes up!" he proceeds to nag the entire time you tuck yourself to bed, the prince kindly offering a spare chamber for you to stay in.

"yes. i know," you reply, all snarky tone and turning to face the other way because he's getting on your nerves.

there's a quick silence before the edge of the bed creaks with his weight.

"look, i know you only came because you were worried about me, and you're right, i would do the same for you."

you toss slowly to look him up in the eyes from your position.

he goes on, now locking you in his gaze, "but it's way too dangerous for you to stay here, and we don't know when they're going to attack. and worse, if they see you're in alliance with the prince, who knows what they'll do? i'll be fine. this is what i've trained my whole life for. you just have to believe in me."

you sigh and frown, finally deciding to cave because you do know that jongho is capable. you've never doubted him. it's the opponents that you're unsure of, their next moves could be anything.

"i'll go back, but hongjoong still needs to follow the end of the deal."

jongho smiles warmly, relieved you're no longer trying to fight him on this.

"he'd be happy to."

you nod, figuring that since you're already here, you might as well ask.

"so how many men volunteered?"

"for now, three. me, someone named yunho from the third district, and another guy named minjun. but more might wind up later, who knows."

"i still don't think it's smart of the prince to be taking in just anyone. it's way too risky. you have good intentions, but what about the two other?" you voice concernedly, your forehead starting to crease from the distress.

you just met the prince, but you know that the idea is ridiculous and you don't want him meeting the same fate as his father.

"optimism maybe? i don't know. more than half of the royal family's protections are gone so he probably can't be too picky. but i'd like to think he knows what he's doing."

but he's also still young and is currently in a worse position than his father, the king, who couldn't even save utopia. you don't think anybody is ready to be in his place, let alone lead an entire kingdom that's falling apart.

"alright. then you should return to the others; help them look after the prince. he's going to need it."

"actually, he ordered us to stay with the queen and princess."

you shoot up from position, incredulity written all over your face.

"what--why? all of you guys? then who's going to look after him?"

jongho shrugs.

"i disagree as well, but after all, he's the prince. we can't disobey orders."

"you guys should be allowed to if it's foolish. what is going on in his head?" you shake your own, unable to believe it.

you just know that something bad is gonna happen, and it would be due to the prince's own incompetence.

jongho has no idea either given he only just met him as well, but he's crossing his fingers the prince will prove both of you wrong.

"i have to go. you should get some rest because you'll be leaving in the early morning. i'll see you then."

you're woken up by a heavy disturbance, the ruckus happening outside of the room but also sounding so close.

it might be best if you stay here; leave whatever the noises is to the guards in the castle, but you just feel it in your guts that your prediction have came true.

carefully opening the door, you peek your head out, immediately drawn to the bright light illuminating at the end of the hall, and soon, your quick and eager feet has taken you to the shocking sight.

the prince standing before jongho and another guard as they hold back someone you can't quite recall. one of his hand tending to the cut on his left arm, and you can see the red seeping through the thin white fabric.

the prince meets your eyes when he notices you standing outside.

"i knew it!" you screech, your turn to pace back and forth as jongho watches from the side. "he shouldn't have just taken in anyone!"

you found out it was minjun, one of threes who volunteered along with jongho, who attacked the prince. apparently, he had snuck away from the other guards and was in the prince's room within minutes, a sword aimed at the young royal that could've taken his life.

"luckily, he only got off with a cut. i can't even imagine what would've happened."

jongho groans anxiously, the first day on the job and the reality of it already showing its head.

"there's nothing luck-based about the prince's survival," hongjoong's voice has you both turning as he appears from the opened door.

"prince san isn't only highly skilled in all areas of fighting, but he's the best warrior utopia has to offer. he most likely knew about the attack beforehand, which was why he only got away with a cut considering minjun also isn't just an average member of the outlaws," hongjoong reveals, the new information makes you and jongho gawk at each other in surprise.

"y/n," he calls out, and you detach from jongho's eyes to look at him.

"yes?"

"i need you to do me a favor. i trust you enough, and you look rather... harmless."

you pinch in your brows. if he wants to go off about your terrible fighting and self defense skill, he might as well just spell it out.

"the prince said he has a plan, but we're going to need to buy time. and no matter how skilled he is, we can't keep dealing with people coming into the castle in attempts to severe the prince's head. it's best if he's away until we can figure things out, for his safety and the kingdom's."

you only hum and nod, wondering where exactly this is going.

"he'll be leaving with you in the morning."

your face falls in horror, unable to believe they're entrusting the prince to you. the thoughts of being alone with someone like him both terrifying but weirdly stimulating.

"oh my gosh, she's blushing..." jongho yelps, a smirk tugging at his lips. he's seen the way you'd ogle at the prince, definitely something you never did to any other men.

"i'm not!" you cry defensively, embarrassed. "i-i just don't think i'm the right person."

"we just need the prince away from the castle for a few days. for now, it look like the outlaws are not planning on moving up the first district entirely, so the rest of us should be safe as well for the time being. you still remember the way back to the shack, right?"

you nod hesitantly.

"good. then it's settled."

the following morning, everyone bids farewell to the prince, the queen and princess wishing him well as the guards and hongjoong stack him with equipments, while jongho makes you carry the food and water.

he takes off the royal attire, disguising himself in commoner clothings instead, as recommended by his companion, wooyoung.

hongjoong promises to report back once things get relatively better.

at first, it's nerve-racking because you just can't help it. the prince is so handsome and your touch-starved body just reacts naturally, but once you figure he isn't gonna talk to you, only gesturing or murmuring out short instructions, the spark wears off.

"we should stop and rest for the night," he speaks more than three words for the first time, laying down his stuff and nodding to the tall tree.

"alright."

you settle your things down as well, plopping against the tree and waiting for him to do the same but he instead pulls out the sword and starts slashing the air.

when he takes notice of your gawking from behind, he apologizes.

"sorry, i'm just... practicing, hope you don't mind. you can rest, i'll keep watch."

you nod it off, sleep soon taking over, but when you wake a few hours later, able to tell from the different color painting the sky, the prince is still practicing and seems just as eager as he was before.

"prince," you call out, his movements halting in place as he turns back at the sound of your voice.

"call me san."

you clear your throat, "uh... san, have you slept at all?"

he shakes his head.

"i was practicing."

you stand up, dusting off the dirts from your pants and growing concerned regarding the sleepless prince.

"you can sleep. i'll keep watch and if there's anything, i'll wake you up," you offer, but he's quick to reject the proposal.

"no need to. i'm not tired anyways. if you're feeling fully rested, we can keep going. the sun is almost up."

you watch in dejection as he goes to retrieve his things because you're not sure you can believe he's not even the tiniest bit tired from everything so far.

it takes almost an entire day to reach the destination, your body tired and aching for something to sit on, the minute you reach the shack, you're sprawled all over the chair.

the prince looks just fine, though.

"it's small, but comfortable," you assure the prince just in case he has any doubts in mind. because you initially did, too, but it was surprisingly homey when you last stayed with jongho.

he nods, eyes roaming the small interior.

"it'll do."

"you can take the bed. i don't mind taking the floor," you tell him, but he instead shakes his head.

"the bed's all yours. i'll be outside practicing."

you scowl and sit up from your seat.

"again? we've been traveling all day. you should really get some rest considering you didn't get any the night before."

but he's stubborn, grabbing for his sword again as you can only sigh in disapproval.

"i really don't feel tired."

"then you should eat, at least."

"i'm not hungry."

you end up going to bed alone, only listening to the prince's grunting and slashing outside as he practices like he's trying to reach out to something or someone.

the uneasiness consuming you, seeing him always looking so miserable as if something's bothering him, unable to rest or do anything else.

it's understandable because of the circumstances he's in, but you wish he would be kinder to himself.

you only give him another two hours before taking matters into your own hand, flinging the door open to his figure dancing around the area with his sword, calling his name softly that makes him stop in track to look at you.

"enough," you mumble, quiet but stern, prying the weapon out of his hold with so much power, you think jongho would be proud.

"no, i have to pr--" he reaches for the sword but you move back, the prince grabbing only the nightly air in place.

"no, you don't," you spit, your free hand going to grab his wrist and dragging him back inside. "you need to eat and rest."

the sword clinks the flooring when you drop it, sitting san down on the bed and grabbing some of the breads and dried meat before taking the seat next to him.

"i understand you're going through a lot right now and it's tough, but you need to take care of yourself. you can't wear your body out or punish it. you're not even fully healed from the cut. if something happens, if worst comes to worst, you need to be prepared to fight."

you push the food toward him but he doesn't budge the slightest. his eyes trained on it, but everything else completely frozen.

for a second, you think all the efforts is gonna go to waste because the prince won't listen, but much to your surprise, he starts talking.

"my father and everyone around me would always say i was the best fighter in the entire kingdom; that i was one of a kind, gifted from a young age, and the future of utopia. i used to believe that as well, but what kind of prick can't even save his own father?"

a small gasp fall, fussing under your breath, "san..."

"maybe i'm only as great because i had the access and materials to become great. but in actuality, i would be no more than average in any other scenarios."

"san, you are great. hongjoong said you are, and you even fought off minjun. it's not your fault what happened to your father," determination in your delivery, finding yourself oddly caring for someone you barely knew.

"father did always lived every day as if it was his last. he knew everyone was out to get him..." he fidgets with one of the breads before taking a small bite out of it. "i thought it would make me feel better if i caught his killer, but i really don't feel any different."

"so hongjoong was right. you knew about the attack?"

you watch as he ogles at the piece of bread like it's the most interesting thing in the world, noddling lightly and taking another bite.

"somewhat, yeah. i was the one who found my father's body, and you can imagine… it's not easy for any kid to see their own parent blue in the face, lying lifeless in front of them, and especially knowing their murderer got away. it made me vengeful, but i couldn't act recklessly. i had to set up a bait because i didn't know who it was, but i knew they were coming."

you listen to each of his words so attentively, and you make sure he knows.

"it could've been your friend, jongho, or the others that came along. it could be anyone. it could be all of them. but regardless, whoever it was wanted me dead just like my father and wouldn't have passed up the chance."

you exhale, looking at the prince with sympathy and sadness in your eyes, all this time you really gave him too little credits, one of your hand somehow finding itself on top his resting one and soothing it.

"i can't do much, but i'm here to listen. if we're going to be together for a while, we might as well have each other's back."

and when san finishes his food and actually goes to sleep for the rest of the night (although you did have to fight him about sleeping on the floor), you finally feel at ease, able to go to sleep knowing he's not pushing himself.

san is the first thing you see upon waking up, his figure bending down a couple feet away and drinking out of the costrel.

he knows you're up from the movements, turning to meet your tired eyes.

"good morning."

"good morning, san."

"you should eat first. i left some out for you."

"oh, okay."

you nod politely, throwing the blanket off and getting up from the makeshift bed, but first telling him that you're gonna go wash your face.

"i checked the ewer. there's no more water in there."

"hmm," you hum, attempting to come up with a solution. "i'm gonna go down to the river. i'll be back in a bit."

"wait." his call stops you in track, half your body out the door. "i'd like to come with."

"is that okay? i mean... will that be safe?" because now that the prince is with you, you feel it is your responsibility to keep him out of danger no matter how unskillful you are. you don't want a single sighting putting his life on the line (more than it already is).

"we'll make it quick. besides, i need to wash up as well. i don't feel too clean from all those practices."

the river is actually quite close by, having never been there during your stay in this district but following the sound of nature was relatively easy to do. and you suppose hongjoong chose the spot for this reason.

once there, you're splashing your face immediately and rejoicing in the cool sensation, only just registering san's been watching you the entire time when you turn and meet his piercing gaze.

his expression blank before dropping to a smile at your wide-eye. and the first time that he does, you realize you've never seen him smile, ever. your attention taken away by the deep indentations appearing from his cheeks, and for just a second, your heart feels like it might explode.

but it's his turn with the river, you observing as he mimics you until both your faces are wet and raining with droplets.

"here," you say, pulling out the spare handkerchief you had remember to bring before coming, offering it to him then using the other one for yourself.

he thanks you, about to wipe his face when the striking design catches his eye.

"this is beautiful," he comments, your head snapping his direction. "did you make it yourself?"

you nod shyly.

"i picked up embroidery somewhere after sewing for a while."

the conversation continues on the walk back, san asking the questions because he just grasped the revelation he doesn't know anything about you.

aside from trying to sneak into his castle and being the friend of one of his guards, that's as much as he can recall off the top of his head although you're quite literally in a life or death situation with him.

"you said you picked up embroidery, so are you from the second district?"

san knows almost everyone who lived in the first district, having spent his entire life and becoming familiar with the surrounding neighbors.

during the occasional balls and parties, he'd get acquainted with some from the second districts. but he's never seen you before. if he did, he would probably be able to recognize you.

but he knows that a hobby and skill like embroidery was something only those in the top two could afford. it was a luxury, as much as san hates putting it like that.

you giggle at the thought and shake your head.

"i was a servant for a family from the second, but i'm originally from the fifth. i picked up embroidery because the daughter of the family was pressured into learning and i was there to help sometimes."

"oh..." is all he says.

maybe he expected you to have some noble blood or be from greatness, but the only thing close to the two were the shoes you shined and the people you served.

your entire life, nothing about you was ever great or noble.

you may have ran from the lower district for a better life, but you were never ashamed of where you came from.

it made you who you are, and if anything, you're a survivor.

"yeah..." you mumble, stopping once reaching the shack again.

he picks it up from your tone, correcting himself to make sure you don't misunderstand, "no. i didn't mean it like that. i'm just, curious about you and your background."

"oh?" you squeak, "then what do you want to know, prince."

you take a seat where he was sitting before, reaching for the food he left for you and looking up at him from where you are, wondering what kind of prince would want to know about a commoner like you.

"an iris," he refers to the pattern embroidered on the handkerchief, "was there a reason why you chose it?"

you smile softly, the question taking you back to a lane of memories and nostalgia.

"it was both of my parents' favorite flower. they always did clung onto any sort of hope there was when it came to our living conditions, and father would always used to say the iris not only symbolized that, but also courage and bravery. i don't know how true that is, but i tend to associate the flower with my parents. it was all i managed to take when me and jongho ran from the second district."

"that's sweet," the prince says, making your eyelashes bat as he plops down at the end of the makeshift bed but he never once look away from you. "and where are your parents?"

the death of your parents was once something that was difficult to talk about; a reality that you used to deny because you couldn't accept that they're no longer by your side and sharing the same struggles. because you guys did suffered a lot, but you all had each other.

and suddenly, you only had yourself.

it wasn't until jongho that you started to open up again; learn to let someone into your heart; to share the same struggles and to suffer all over again, but at least with someone by your side once more.

and it's with that lesson that you allow the prince in as well, unveiling some parts of yourself, for some reason feeling like you can entrust it to him.

"they passed away. the fishermen said the sea took them. it's been a long time and i've come to terms with it."

you don't miss the way his chest fall and a sullen look takes over his expression.

"i'm sorry to hear."

his life experiences and pain could never compare to anyone from the lower districts, he understands that all too well; how good and privileged he's had it.

but grief doesn't discriminate, and the feeling is... debilitating.

it makes you go into denial, nothing but a directionless road laying ahead, unable to help but think if you ever will recover.

but he feels a little better after talking to you, a living proof that no matter the loss or grief one goes through, there's a chance he will make it out fine in the end.

you're about to go off to bed when you suddenly remember what hongjoong had told you.

"prince," you call from below, the title just naturally rolling off despite the plenty of time he's made clear you can call him by his name.

"we have to change the dressing on your wound."

you get up to go search through one of the heavy bags, digging for some clean linens and vinegar the others had made sure to pack for the prince.

"hongjoong said we should change it every couple of days," you tell him, sitting at the edge of the bed while he stands up from the sleeping position. "your arm, prince." you gesture and watch as he rolls up his sleeve.

your cheeks for some reason start heating up at the sight, the blinking and nervous twitch of your eyes give it away, causing a giggle to tumble out of the prince at your flustered reaction.

"y/n," he speaks, once you've stared for long enough and still have yet to remove the old cloth. "that's what jongho and hongjoong calls you by."

"y-yes." you nod.

"have you ever tend to a wound before?"

"well, no. but i've been instructed on how to."

"i see." he smiles, and you're about to crack at the man in front of you. beautiful smile, perfect features, and some muscular arms to go along with it.

once you've contained yourself (or at least look like it), you unwrap the worn cut-out cloth and replaces it with a new one, every steps of what hongjoong had laid out followed to the very best of your ability.

"thank you, y/n," the prince says one more time, and the last smile on him for the night makes you think he just might be teasing you.

the past few days that you've spent with the prince, he's proven your expectations and predictions wrong over and over again.

almost like everything you've assumed is untrue in the best way possible. his aloof and stoic ways melting into smiles and laughters when you'd tell him stories about the kids back at the orphanage and how they thought he was a troll.

spending days and nights confined to a small space with someone you just met, the idea sounding awful but the reality actually quite nice because it's comfortable with him.

he not only speaks well, his words always the most soft and unoffending as they can be, but he also listens well.

day by day, the doubts you had--whether he would be able to salvage utopia, changes to the hope and belief that he's more than competent to pull it off.

but there's still questions bothering you; the strangeness of the entire picture in how utopia managed to fall to a state this bad in the first place if the prince is as level-headed as he presents himself.

he at least should've been talking sense into the king.

so you finally ask, during a routine morning where you and san have gotten accustomed to waking up the crack of dawn, sitting facing each other and munching away on portions of food that becomes less the more days pass by.

"san," you start, his name now more comfortable on your lips. it makes him pick his up head from the food to you.

"hongjoong said you have a plan, right? the reason they sent you here was to buy time. i-i was just wondering where does it go from here?" you try your utmost best to not sound meddlesome.

you're just worried.

because as much as you enjoy the time together, the unknown makes you uneasy. you don't want to doubt him but you also don't want everything so far to be for nothing.

it's the prince's personal affairs and not yours, but you just wish for there to be assurances; some kind of proof that speaks he knows what he's doing, because the closer you get to him, the more you fear losing him.

"i have a plan, yes," he answers, the calm demeanor on him a complete contrast to the troubled one on you. "why? are you worried?"

you breathe out, eventually nodding timidly.

"it's just that the state of the kingdom right now is really bad and it's going to take a lot to please the citizens, especially the group of rebellions. the idea of peace just seems so... unreachable."

you already sound like you're about to break down, when the prince--the one actually having to deal with it, looks the most calm and collective.

he acknowledges the concern, thinking it's fairly reasonable. actually, he's surprise everyone's been able to restrain themselves from spiraling for this long.

if he was someone else, he don't think he'll be able to put his trust into an inexperienced prince in hope of him saving the entire nation as well.

"the people of utopia isn't aware, but about a decade ago, the king of aurora, the closest neighboring kingdom to us had offered to help the nation after witnessing the terrible conditions most of the lower districts were suffering from," san reveals, "but my father... he denied the help."

you squeeze your brows in disbelief.

"what--why?"

"the king of aurora only requested for utopia's protections and services in return. as you know, we may lack in every other aspects, but armed forces is our strength. almost every men in the nation has some kind of experience when it comes to fighting or self defense. aurora is a peaceful and harmonious nation, but their men do not have the same training, combats, or skills that we do, and the king of aurora acknowledged the fact. though aurora was very unlikely to get into an altercation with another nation, the king said he would feel a lot better with utopia behind them."

"my father didn't see a point in tying ourselves down, binding an 'unnecessary' responsibility to our back. he said our ancestors' done it for hundreds of years without help and it will continue to be that way. ever since then, aurora has shunned us. they're not gonna start a war over it, but in other words: they hate our guts."

there's a pause from the prince, something shifting in his eyes before he starts again.

"i love and cherish my father. he is my father after all, and most of everything i've been taught were from him. i also understand that some of the things he did were for my mother, me, and my sister. but i wouldn't ever tell him i also think he's selfish; that i disagree with his view of the world; with his way of running things."

the pain in the prince's voice and delivery is seeping, your heart curling at the amount of hurt he must keep to himself, but if you can be the one to lessen it just a little, you will listen to his every words.

"but still, he's my father and i miss him. no matter how selfish and unreasonable he was most of the times, i promise that after everything is over, i will hold a proper burial for him. i will also repay everyone that stood by my side... i promise that."

his volume tapers near the end, his gaze melting into yours at the last statement.

"i also promised i will correct the mistakes of those who came before me, and if it takes my life, at least i'll be content that i went down with my morals. that i fought for what i believed in, even if the ancestors come back to tear me to shreds for it."

you chuckle, attempting to hold back just the smallest tear pricking the corner of your eye because all you ever did was doubt and doubt, and every single time, he always proved you wrong in the best way possible.

"so you're going to attempt to make a truce with aurora?"

he nods.

"i have to try. if we want equality for everyone, we can't do it without the help of aurora. if we do it now, without aide, the nation will fall apart no different than it is now. no amount of transports based on utopia alone will be enough. but aurora's economy; the standing of their nation is stable enough that helping utopia back on its feet will barely feel like a lift of a finger to them."

"but how would the message reach them?"

"on the day that i got attacked, i sent out one of my men, seonghwa. he knows the way around the sea best. by now, considering it's almost been a week, he should have already reached aurora, but it will take another couple of days to return. that's why i need to buy enough time for seonghwa to come back. i know the citizens won't believe it until they see the king and prince yeosang of aurora for themselves."

"and just what if the king and prince rejects the offer?" you're just trying to touch upon all possibilities.

"you see... i've thought of that as well. in fact, there's probably a bigger chance of them dismissing it considering our history and all. but if that was the case, i had already told seonghwa to head for dune next. it will take him at least another week and a half because of the distance, but if worst come to worst, that's our last hope. dune would be a lot harder to get on our side because they're not lacking in anything, their only weakness is they don't have any kind of alliance. and i was hoping after we sign a treaty with aurora, we could try for dune because they'd be more willing then, knowing we also have aurora, but that's only wishful thinking."

"you really thought everything through, huh?" you have to admit, you're impressed.

"you have no idea. every night after my father's passing, i barely got any sleep... until you finally enforced it upon me."

you giggle, meeting a soft smile on the prince's lips.

"well you need it. and seeing as intricate the plan of action is, you're going to need it even more. don't overwork your body, get plenty of rest in preparation of the big day. i believe you'll be able to do it."

there's a quick silence in the air before the prince speaks again.

"thank you... for believing in me, and keeping me sane of all things."

"my pleasure."

"but if hongjoong doesn't show within a few days, or does with the bearer of the bad news, we'd have to be prepared for relocation. they will pick up that i'm not in the castle and will try looking for me. if dune is the alternative, we're going to have to buy even more time."

"here," san says, coming from behind to stand in front of you, pulling out his own.

after observing one of his practices, he had asked how familiar you are with daggers since he recalled ripping it out of your sheath that day.

you said all understanding you have of it were from jongho, though he liked to find fault in your execution, and after a couple demonstrations, the prince seems to agree that there's a few areas you could improve on.

"a dagger is a short distance combat. some of the most basic requirements in becoming somewhat skilled at is, is trying to master the three primary positions."

you watch him get into stance.

"the first one is a downward thrust, usually used for an opponent who's not experienced in knife combat."

he acts out the method, thrusting his weapon into the air and turning to you.

"you try."

you attempt to mimic what he just did, the weapon a lot light and easier on your grip because the training from jongho did pay off in some ways.

"not bad," he comments, "just more confidence, and don't be afraid. because trust, when the enemy is coming, they won't hold back."

he tightens your grip on the dagger before stepping away.

"this certain method can also be used when an opponent is equipped with another melee weapon, or a firearm."

you nod, his encouragement and gentle teaching style as he tries reframing from straight up saying you stink in some ways or forms, is definitely preferred.

"got it! you are a much better teacher than jongho by a mile. you're actually nice to me," you joke, and the most flattered smile acrossing san's lips doesn't go unseen.

you wouldn't ever say it out loud, not to the prince at least.

that though leaving the place and each other's presence will be for a good cause, in some parts of you, you're already starting to dread the separation.

the parts that already grew fond of him in such a short matter of time, you fear there will never be another chance like this. together.

after everything is over, things will go back to the way it was.

he is a prince after all, and you're just... you.

"so, prince, what is the best defense weapon. figure i should ask from only the most competent person in utopia," you talk from your seat, staring up at him as he preps for another hour of practice.

he promised it'll be only an hour today.

"pfft," he blows, "don't say it like that. you might end up unimpressed."

"i mean it."

"you haven't even seen me on the battlefield."

"but i believe in you."

you hop out of your seat to him, tilting your head, "so?"

"i would say a spear. distance is honestly the best defense there is, though i do enjoy practicing with a sword more."

and that's when it happens. all the long days and nights of peace and harmony comes crashing down, from the corner of your eye catching a cloaked figure from far away standing on top one of the hills with a crossbow in their possession.

"prince!" you cry out, pushing his body away from target the hardest ever as he falls to the ground, and then a short second after, the most painful sensation of your chest being struck takes your vision and breath away.

the last thing you see and hear before fading into utter blackness is the sheer horror on the prince's face as his hands are covered with blood, and the desperate call of your name.

"y/n!"

the sound of jongho's voice makes you think you're in a dream, only until your lids are fluttering open that you see the both, scared but relieved expression of your best friend.

"oh my gosh... thank goodness you're alive."

by how tight he's squeezing your hands, you're glad to know you're not dead just yet.

"where am i?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"back at the castle. you were out for about four days."

"four days?" you repeat, when the memories come flooding back all at once and then some. "the prince."

you attempt to sit up but the dull pain from where you've been hit prevents you, your head falling back into the pillow.

"easy," jongho soothes your body back into position, "you lost a lot of blood, and not only that, the arrow had been poisoned. luckily, the castle has shelves of antidotes for it, but we were all worried that there was just the smallest chance you weren't gonna make it."

he pauses briefly, "the prince got you here in a day and a half... he felt really bad about what happened. he was by your side the entire time and only just left yesterday night when it was announced the king and prince of aurora have arrived."

"aurora have agreed to a truce?" your tone weak, but still filled with excitement, so happy for the prince.

"yes. and hopefully the prince can get them to sign a treaty. that's the plan. it's still going to take them another two or three days to reach the first district, but the prince wanted to go welcome them formally."

"will he be okay?"

"he's under disguise. but you should get some rest and stop worrying about someone else when you're in a worse condition than them," jongho snarks.

"just making sure..."

a smirk graces your friend, a coy look on him.

"what exactly happened back there that's now making you two act like an old married couple forced to be apart? i've known you for longer than the prince and he looked like he was in more distress than i was."

"nothing that is your business," you dismiss, hoping your cheeks doesn't tint a color that gives it away, a chuckle rolling out of jongho at that.

"you used to want to tell me everything. but fair enough. rest and wait until your body is fully healed. i'll visit you every day to update."

it's hard to wrap your head around the fact you didn't wake up for four days--which, more so, should've been the highlight, but you're more intrigued that the prince was by your side up until the last minute he had to go.

you don't want to get overly giddy about it; go beyond what's appropriate and assume that he did so because of another reason, and not just because he felt bad.

but you do wish to see him soon. even if just for a bit.

the next few days is a routine, usually consisting of jongho welcoming you with a wholesome breakfast that's more fulfilling than breads and dried meats, then another meal at dinner.

you're in bed for most of the time, your view usually the ceiling of the castle or the empty space around you, everyone busy and occupied now that the plan is becoming a reality.

jongho tries his best to visit you every day, and hongjoong on the occasion to check your condition, but if they're not patrolling outside, they're in halls discussing the next course of actions.

you've heard that the prince have returned just last night with the royals of aurora, not a single peace or quiet outside of your room since.

you can only hope that the loud and muffled voices outside is an indication that everything is going to work out for the prince; for the kingdom of utopia.

laying around in bed all day, only watching as the sun comes up and down as the wind sways the branches outside the window, wishing you could contribute more, if anything than just wait around all day feeling absolutely useless.

the first creak of the door ever since morning is heard, jongho having told you he won't be able to bring the next meal as he'd be out with the other guards but said someone else would.

and every time, no matter how hard you try burying the inappropriate sentiment, you wish it was the prince, even if just to see him for a minute.

you haven't seen him since that day.

but still, you're grateful to have any interactions at all. even if it's not the prince.

"hey," hongjoong greets, a thin smile on as he goes to take a seat on the stool facing the bed.

"hey hongjoong," you return, finally able to sit up without feeling like your gut's about to spill out.

"you doing better?"

you nod.

"a lot better compared to before."

"good. thought i should drop by to let you know about what's going to happen the next couple of days," his voice a deeper, stern tone, "the prince and royals of aurora will be going down the districts, one by one. the prince wants to let everyone know of the upcoming changes and fix that he has in plan. me and jongho will be away, but yunho and the rest of the guards will stay in the castle with the queen, the princess, and you."

"and how long are you guys going to be gone?"

hongjoong shrugs. "really depends. it could be a week, it could be more than that. traveling down to the fifth and coming back up here is gonna be a while. but as quick as possible, i hope."

"okay..." you frown. "just, stay safe."

you care for their safety and wellbeings more than anything. all three people of whom you're most familiar with, going off and risking their lives again. you're going to feel a certain type of way about it.

but they're doing it for a good cause. for the nation. for everyone. and so you allow to put your heart at rest just a little bit.

"don't worry. aurora brought some protections as well, and if we can convince the second district now overrun by outlaws, the rest of them should be easy."

hongjoong leaves after some last words of encouragment, and him wishing you a fast healing process.

later that night, they all left for the lower districts as stated.

the castle grows increasingly quiet, all ruckus from before now dwindled down to almost nothing.

the guards are usually busy patrolling outside, even more now that the prince is out, and the only people that seems to actually be around are the queen and princess.

the princess is the one to bring your meals, and you feel awful about the fact when it should be the other way around.

but she is wonderful. soft-spoken, elegant in her manners, and always with a smile on her face although you know it's not easy for anyone, especially what she's going through.

she bears almost no resemblance to san, but there's still some tell-tale features, like their eyes. the same foxy and slanted characteristic trademark on both siblings that looks so mellow on the princess, but entirely menacing on the prince.

"your tea."

the soft call of her voice would get you up from bed immediately, scooting over to thank her as you two meet eyes.

once you start feeling a lot better, able to stand on your feet and support yourself fully, you stroll the garden with the princess as she reminisce about everything crossing both of your path.

"i, too, wanted to be trained in weapons and self defense, but father said it wasn't suitable for someone like me. he would always take me out to the garden instead, in hope i'd develop a liking for it just so he didn't have to deal with the persistence. and i did... i did blossomed a love for gardening."

you scowl at the revelation.

"well, that's not right."

"it's not, but it was my father's order. he was a stubborn man and didn't like to listen to anyone. i wish i could say i saw anything else for father's ending."

both the prince and princess seems to share a mutual feeling regarding the father figure. though they understand the deeply flawed king, it's hard and conflicting when it's your own father.

"brother taught me what he could, which wasn't always possible because father was always around. but san is a good person... despite the amount of pressure father put on him, i believe he would be a great king. better than father himself."

a smile cross your lips at the mention of san.

"i believe he would be a great king, too," you add. you know he will be, and you wish for nothing more than all his dreams to come true.

"brother san seems to have taken a great liking to you," the princess brings up, recalling the signs and body language of her younger brother when he was with you despite your sleeping state and lack of awareness.

an act of affection and fondness she has never seen the prince give anyone before. not even the noble daughters that would show for events.

"oh, no," you deny, shaking your head, but the way your stomach swoops at the statement is real.

"why not?" she tilts her head, a brow raising. "do you not like him?"

"no--i mean, i do. i like the prince as a friend, but anything more than that would be innappropriate, i think." your volume tapers and your eyes shy away from hers, but the soft giggle makes you snap back.

"love is a beautiful thing. you shouldn't run from it, no matter the class difference or adversities. i know my brother wouldn't."

she smiles and pat your shoulder, abruptly taking your hand and leading the way out of the garden.

"so tell me, did you know that the kingdom didn't used to be divided into districts?"

you hum from behind, "actually, i do. i read it in an old history book i found back at the orphanage."

the kingdom used to just be utopia as a whole. no divisions of anything or labels to anyone. but when the capital found out they could cheat the system and hog all resources and supplies by dividing up the nation, the district system was implemented.

and those who lived furthest from the capital suffered the worst due to change, which was why the fifth district, a once fine ground for fishermen and access to the sea, declined overtime due to the lack of available care.

"yes," she mumbles, letting go of your hand and turning around, your feet screeching with the sudden stop. "brother wishes to abolish the system, after mostly everything gets taken care of, of course. by then, none of this 'social class' would matter as much."

you know she means it from the good of her heart; soul just as kind as her brother, but it is not only the struggle of being a fifth district kid, but also the reality of being a no one as compared to a prince.

you get accustomed to the newer routine, waking up the crack of dawn to go help the princess prepare breakfast the best your healing body can. just the smallest, throbbing pinch still there when you sit up, but you're fine nonetheless.

the morning when the sun hasn't even shown its head yet, your body still tired and mind hazy, the opening of the door gets a silent groan out of you as you turn to the source expecting the princess to have something for you so early.

but the sight jolts you from sleep, and you know that it's him, even in the faintest lighting.

"good morning," his voice like velvet has you sitting up, your gaze trained on him the entire time he goes to take a seat at the stool.

"good morning, prince," you return, the smallest amount of joy hiding in your delivery because you really are so happy to see him again.

he went back to the princely attire coloured in white, and his hair a slicked back kind that makes him so handsome, although some strands are loose and slightly messy from the many days gone by.

"san," he corrects you, the sound of his actual name so much better when you say it.

"san," you repeat, a short giggle after that he joins along. "so you're back already. how did it go?"

your expression changing to stern that instant, if you stare at him any longer, you might just burn a hole from how serious you are.

"a lot better than i expected," he answers, a thin smile on as he scoots closer. "i really owe it to the king and prince of aurora. if they hadn't took pity in me, i don't know what else i would've done. but for some reason, they chose to believe in me, and i really am so grateful for that."

he must've been so scared but unwilling to show it. unwilling to give away the fear that the kingdom in his hand is so close to crumbling down by a mere inch, everything could fall apart just like that.

but he had to persist through the hardships and doubts; masking any weaknesses because it would scare away the people if he did. if the ruler of the kingdom itself barely has any faith in the situation.

you reach for his hand, the stronge urge to comfort him as the soft look on you melt into his.

"san, they believe in you because they can see that you're capable. and i believe as well, that you from now on, you will make utopia a better place for the people."

he thinks that you always have such a way with words; how they always make him feel so warm and at ease every time. it's never felt so easy with anyone before.

"y/n," he calls almost in a whisper, taking his hands out of your grasp to now enclose yours. "i apologize for not visiting you. but as soon as i returned and had cleared everyhing with the royals of aurora, i came to you immediately."

"no. it's okay. you have a duty as the prince of the nation, i totally understand. there's no need to apologize."

you can feel his grip on you getting tighter, his eyes a type of desperate but also affectionate.

"but still, you saved my life. you traded yours for mine. to me, you're just as important."

you're surprise by the confession, an array of butterflies dancing in the pit of your stomach and you can see the prince growing more tense, but nonetheless, he persists.

"before i go any further, can i ask you one question first?"

you nod at that. "go ahead."

"you and jongho..." he starts, only to thin out before trying again, "are you guys... dating? or, well, do you like him?"

he's nervous and if he wasn't holding you, he would probably start fidgeting to hide the fact.

"me and jongho?" you quirk an eyebrow, failing to hold back the snicker from the thought while the prince just stares dumbfoundedly.

"i love jongho, but he's more like family than anything. we've been through a lot together but i can't see him in that light."

you've given similar answers out a couple times, especially to the other servants who thought you both had a crush on each other.

the prince's chest drop in relief and you can't hide the amusement you get from it.

"what? you thought me and jongho had something?" you can't stop giggling.

"well, i just had to make sure," he says, a hint of embarrassed and shy that is incredibly cute.

he wouldn't tell you that the one time he actually decided to come in the midst of everything, jongho was already by your side and if you didn't look so happy, he wouldn't have went back because he could tell jongho is someone special to you.

"so?" you await what he has to say, the eagerness only making him more nervous.

the grip on you loosening up to a more softer but more intimate one, one of his thumb running over your hand before he speaks.

"i know this might be too sudden and we haven't known each other for long, but, if your heart isn't taken by anyone, i'd like to ask for a vow."

you just stare ahead and wait for him to finish the sentence, your heart beating exceptionally loud.

"i understand it's a bit abrupt, but... i-i've never felt this way with anybody else. there's something special when i'm you, and i'd like to ask for a vow; a promise that we'll reserve our hearts for each other."

he's so scared, willing to take the chance at first because he will regret it if he doesn't. but now, he's afraid he might've ruined whatever he had with you in the first place, retracting immediately when there's only silence from you.

"but it's not an obligation. you don't have to. i'm just--"

"--i would love to," you cut, watching the panic on his face dissipate that instant.

"really?"

"yes. i would love to," you assure once again, the thinnest smile crossing your lips that soon turns bigger when he returns one.

he's absolutely over the moon to know the feeling is mutual; that what he felt and got from the time together wasn't just because you were compelled to treat him equal to his title.

that something more came out of it.

"but..." you mumble, the smile fading when reality sets in again. "is this going to be okay? you're a prince, and i'm just... me."

"of course it's going to be okay. i don't care who or what you are," he comforts, delivery incredibly passionate, you can't fight it. "but more importantly, before you give me your words once and for all, i need to know if you'll be okay with the conditions first. you can be honest. i won't be upset because i would never try to hold you back regarding anything."

"i'm listening," you acknowledge.

"the citizens of utopia have decided to give me a chance. that chance is not only to salvage the nation, but to also prove to them that i'm capable of leading and won't repeat the same mistakes those who came before we did. i don't know how long it's going to take; specifically how many years. but i will crack down on any remaining harmful outlaw members, i will be traveling in and out of the kingdom a lot, and i will be working on making this nation a better place for everyone. that is something i promised to do, and i will do just that."

he takes a deep breath and start again, eyes on yours. "so if you don't want to wait, i won't hold it against you. if there's things or someone better out there waiting for you, you don't have to accept my proposal. but just if you do... if you're willing to wait for me, once the nation is in a stable state and i don't have to stress too much about being all over the place, i promise then, that i will ask for your hand in marriage."

the bold declaration does take you by surprise, hard to grasp that the prince of all people would want to marry you.

"i know it's a lot to take in," he says, "but you don't have to give me an answer now. whenever you're ready."

you shake your head.

"no--i mean, i would love to. no matter how long i have to wait, i think it'll be worth it. after all, the nation is your priority and the people needs you."

he's taken aback by how fast you made up your mind, but overjoy that you want it just as much as he does. he can't be any happier.

"you're sure you want to do this?" he asks again just to be sure, but crossing his fingers you don't just so happen to change your mind.

you nod earnestly.

"i'm sure. besides, i doubt any guy would ever be interested in me let alone want to get married."

he chuckles, a sound you can to listen all day.

"even if they are, they can't get you now. so i don't want to see any of them trying to woo you or something. and you can't give in because you already gave me your words."

it's your turn to laugh, the jealousy endearing on him.

"well how would i know you'll keep your words, too? what if i wait and wait until i'm a grandma with grey hair only for you to take it back? marry someone else instead and say you don't want me anymore?" you tease.

"tskk," he sneer, "that won't happen, because i would never promise anything i knew i couldn't do. so you don't have to worry."

a reassuring smile spreads across his lips as so does yours, seconds passing by when the silence consumes the room and the both of you just stare at each other, completely smitten.

you notice the slightly fallen strands covering his eyes, going to move it with your finger but your hand stopping at his cheek after, a staring contest ensuing before something comes over you, leaning over to deliver a kiss to his other cheek.

when you pull back, the shy and flustered reaction of the prince brings another giggle out from you.

"i believe you, then. go and show everyone that they made the right choice in giving you a chance. go and make the nation a better place for the citizens. no matter how long, when you come back, i'll be right here... for you."

age 20:

you're twenty years old when the district system is abolished, and when you're nearing twenty-one, it will have been a year since you've spoken to the prince, and will be a few months that you've last seen jongho.

he had been given an opportunity to stay at the castle as one of the prince's permanent companions and took it.

as for you, you moved back to what used to be the fifth district, your heart and soul still full of regard for the place no matter how far you run because every last memory of your parents are rooted here.

you didn't want and couldn't ask for anything in return for the loyalty to the royal family during their toughest time, only taking the coins they had kindly insisted on giving and proceeded to find somewhere to settle. make a life for yourself.

the first few months after declaration of adjustments were as tough for anyone else as it was for you. no matter how positive of an effect, changes are always difficult.

the nobles having to reclaim their homes again after migrating from fear of the outlaws; the party finally retreating, and the former having to piece everything back together with the thought in mind that everything won't be the same, but it will be fair.

the lower districts benefitting the most from the changes but time is their biggest adversary, because though good things are coming, they're not going to come in an instant. having to wait days, months, years, for the full glory to show can be defeating.

but nevertheless, it's coming, and tomorrow will be better than yesterday and so forth. a year later and you can already notice the difference, especially the sea that once gave up on the nation ready to ripple once more.

where you're currently at, you couldn't have done it without the help of those around you. hongjoong who gave you full rights to his hideout in the fifth district because he won't have the use for it anymore, having also been promoted to work alongside the prince.

and with the coins the royal family gave you, you put it into materials to hone the skill you're best at, now finally making a living off sewing and embroidery.

over the year, you've renovated the small shack to your liking with the knowledge you carried from your father, building something for yourself you can call home.

you can still recall that feeling; the first sinking realization of being alone and the taste of freedom. you no longer belonged to somebody or owed anything to anyone. no longer the poor kid just waiting for a better life.

you were your own person, and it feels amazing to be free, though you think it would be even better if he was there.

the thought of him crossing your mind every couple of days, wishing for nothing but only the best for him, hopeful that one day, he will return to fulfill the promise.

"those are some fine handkerchiefs you have there," a young man's voice stops you, spinning around to greet him with a smile.

"you crafted them yourself?" he asks, his tone a type of mischievious that you don't even read into.

"yes," you simply reply, always putting on your best behavior when there's a possible customer. "would you like to take a look at them for yourself?"

"i'd love to."

you untangle the basket from your arm and start going through the many fabrics of your creation.

"wow. not only is the creator herself beautiful, but so are the creations. i've never seen these kind of patterns before," he comments, a smirk on that is both amused and flirty, you can't help the way your cheeks immediately reddens.

the man only seems to find the sight even more endearing as a snicker bubbles out of him while you're still just standing there because you've never met someone so shameless before.

you're about to say something when an arm is thrown around your shoulders instead, turning to the source and your body an immediate mix of relieved, joy, and a skipping heartbeat.

"san..." you say by natural instinct, his unreadable expression meeting yours before moving to the young man in front.

"i'm sorry, i told her to not go wandering by herself but she wouldn't listen. let's go back, honey."

he snatches the basket out of your hold with his other hand and hauls you back the other way.

"i've only been gone for a year and you're already flirting with another man?" he accuses once you're able to flee from his clutch, his steps following right behind you as a pout overtakes his face.

"i wasn't flirting. i was trying to make money," you weakly defend, focus on the path back to your place that you believe the word 'cottage' would be more fitting for.

"you're way too beautiful and talented to be out there spending your days talking to young men."

"pfft," you blow, "and you're way too handsome and princely to be traveling everywhere and going to other kingdoms in the presence of other noble and royal daughters."

"and i'd still choose you, baby."

your heels dig the dirt flooring, snapping around from the pet name, a laughter at the verge of coming out.

san can see the amusement on your face, only smirking in response.

"what? i know you like being called that."

this time, you really do laugh and he follows right after, absolutely in love with everything about you. whether that's snarking back or laughing at him.

"whatever you say, prince," you poke more fun at him before dragging him by the wrist into your place.

"cute what you've done," he pass a comment while you put the basket away.

"yes. and i have just about everything i need."

it's just a little bigger than the hideout back at what used to be the third district, but it has the same convenience in that it's close to the river, cutting out trips to the bathhouse which saves a lot of time.

he nods, the dimpled smile never leaving his face.

"so... what brings you here?" you eventually ask, sitting next to him on your bed, the atmosphere shifting because despite enjoying the banter and mischief of it all, you miss him and haven't seen him in over a year.

"we just returned and arrived at the port this morning, so i wanted to come visit and see how you're doing. you know, to make sure no one was trying to sweep you off by your feet."

you playfully land a slap to his shoulder, snickering.

"you're ridiculous. all year long and my love life is so dry, but the one day someone acknowledges me, you just have to come back," you reply with sarcasm.

"i'm sorry to ruin that for you, but you can't take it back. you promised to marry me, and i will make sure every guy in the kingdom knows that."

you remember the first time meeting san, his state of grief making him almost an entirely different person. quiet, stoic, and always in distress, it's the most wonderful surprise that he's actually a child at heart.

able to let loose once in a while and just have fun.

"no need to. you won't have any competitions at all."

he chuckles quietly at that and closes any remaining distance between you two.

"you speak too lowly of yourself when you're the most beautiful girl i've ever seen."

you bat your eyelashes, shying away from his gaze. you just blush way too easy.

he chuckles at the sight and moves the subject along, "but i also came because i have good news. the king and prince mingi of dune have agreed to a treaty."

"really? t-that's great!" you stumble your wording, beyond happy for him because this was everything he wanted and planned for.

"yeah. it wasn't easy but the fact we have aurora did most of the convincing. dune was... interesting to say the least," he says, briefly recalling the month he spent at the kingdom.

"you did it, though" you smile. "it's only going to get better from now on."

"i hope so. but it seems the real challenge just began. this place is going to need a lot of work."

"that, it is. but for now, you just need to relax. rest a little and eat if you already haven't. i can make you some soup, would you like that?"

he nods.

"i would love that."

he loves how comfortale and easy it is with you. when the weight on his shoulders gets too heavy, he can always rely on you to make it better, even if just for a bit.

"so where do i sleep?" he asks, walking back in after washing himself by the river with the towel you gave him.

the day had been nothing short of a dream, eating and cleaning together and just small exchanges that multiplies the butterflies in your stomach.

you wish everyday was like this.

"the floor," you joke, the response making him scowl.

"i'm carrying the nation on my back and you're gonna make me sleep on the floor?" he throws the towel over his shoulder, his wet strands of hair swaying along with his movements.

"that bed looks big enough for the two of us." he points with his chin. "besides, we're gonna get married anyways."

you roll your eyes, snatching the towel from him as you go to ruffle his wet hair with it, his shout of protests underneath coming out muffled.

"fine." you land the fabric back around his neck, crawling into bed and scooting to the wall to make space.

he lays down and faces you, your gaze burning into each other's when he cranks out a smile.

"i'll be leaving in the morning and you might not see me again for a while after. don't you think you should give me something to remember you by?"

your brows furrow, your mind jumping to conclusion considering the position you guys are in and the tone in which he said it.

"i'm not gonna have sex with you," you spit, prompting the loudest laughter ever from him, followed by confusion from you.

"no, of course not. i was talking about another of your handkerchiefs."

"oh..." you murmur, feeling embarrassed.

"not until we get married at least. then, we can do it," he states with confidence, the thought of taking you to bed and inserting control another way is tempting, and he can't wait for the day.

you smack his chest lightly, as flustered as you are, you can't help the giggle that slips out.

a few seconds of silence pass by before he starts moving closer, his breath ghosting your skin and finger going to caress your cheek.

"i really do want to kiss you right now, though," he confess, "if that's okay with you."

you nod as much as your pillowed head allows you to.

"that's okay with me."

you close your eyes shut, trying to keep from flinching as you await his kiss, moments later only for his lips to crash against yours, his hand moving to your jaw and his body pressing forward as the kiss deepens.

you kiss him like it's the last kiss between you and him; like your life depends on it, the bed creaking under as he takes it upon himself to connect your bodies.

he pulls back much to your disappointment, both of your chests heaving and trying to catch your breath, his forehead bumped with yours and tip of his nose brushing your own.

"good enough," he speaks, his breath still not yet returned, "any more than this and i might not be able to contain myself."

you giggle, placing a soft peck on his cheek, flashing one last smile.

"goodnight, prince."

"have a safe trip, and take care of yourself," you bless, blue in your heart as san makes his way back to you after speaking to the coachman.

all the laughters and butterflies of yesterday won't be experienced again until who knows how long. he will be away after this, and you will miss him dearly.

you wish he could stay but you know he can't. he has something bigger and better to worry about.

he stops before you, melancholy in his eyes as well. he doesn't want to leave you but he has to. and as much as he wants to take you along, he can't let you bear the same responsibilities and weight.

he wants for you to be there, when he already made everything better.

"you take care of yourself, too." his hands naturally finding itself cupping your cheeks. "don't overwork yourself."

"i won't."

you place your own hands over his, desperate to salvage his touch for one last time.

"when can i expect to see you again?" you ask.

"i don't have a definite answer, but i'll be back. i promise."

you two share one last kiss before you watch him go off, blue still in your heart, but you know that someday, he'll come back, and it will be to stay.

age 23:

you're twenty-three years old when there's a knock at the door one suspicious morning.

living in the middle of nowhere, and even over the years, you're only able to count on one hand the range of selection there is when it comes to who it could be.

"hongjoong?" you squint, the man you haven't seen in forever looking slightly more buffed; mature, his hair styled and attire new and shiny.

"great seeing you again," he greets, still on horseback and glancing down at you.

"would you like to come inside? for some tea or a drink?" you ask, figuring it's only proper etiquette you do.

"i'm good. i only came to deliver something."

you continue squinting, one hand shielding your eyes from the early sun, reaching out when hongjoong hands you a letter and unfolding it.

"an invitation from the prince?" you read, incredulity as you shoot up to look at him.

"yes. the prince is finally accepting his accession to king and the coronation will be held a week from now. that is all i have for today. i have to head back soon."

you have so many more questions but hongjoong already turns his back before you can ask them, settling for staring at the ink in awe when the sound of his voice picks your head up again.

"i hope to see you there. the prince will be expecting you."

you leave for the capital the following day, packing only essentials and enough coins, taking along pearl, the white horse you had purchased a year back for traveling purposes.

there's been a lot changes in the four years since san took the reign, all of them for the better, of course.

some of the homes have been revamped, some new ones added, and everywhere you passed, there are greens and beauty in each sceneries.

the citizens look happier, kids a lot less miserable and even those in the orphanages are coming around to the new implements along with those in progress to solve overcrowding.

members of the outlaws have dwindled over time and quieted.

for the first time in hundreds of years, utopia is able to live up to its name in some form; a place of ideal perfection.

so you couldn't fret too much; be upset that in the three years that have passed, san's only visited you once. because if it wasn't for him, the nation wouldn't have been able to achieve the current state.

you travel to the capital with hope, expectation, and excitement at the fact you will be seeing him again; a strong belief that everything will feel just the same as last time.

you stop at inns to rest when the nights fall and start again at dawn, reaching the destination in five days total, the day before san's coronation.

there isn't any difference to the castle, not even a bit. a touch of nostalgia hitting you when thinking back to the event four years ago.

entrance is easy to get through, showing both of the guards who seems to recognize you, the letter.

tying your horse to the nearest tree, you proceed to the door with a pounding heart, banging on it twice before the castle door creaks from the other side, absolutely no idea who the person could be.

"y/n!"

your eyes widen at the sight, that nervousness replaced by delight.

"jongho!"

before he can get another word out, you're already in his arms, the warmth of your best friend something you missed greatly in the full year you haven't seen him.

you can him hear giggling in your hair, pulling away to that goofy smile of his as one settles on your lips as well.

"you came," he simply says.

"of course i did."

jongho takes you inside, your nosy eyes wandering the interior that's also the same as before but still dazzling with all its history, cracks in some of the wall, and antiques.

you greet the queen and the princess who only gets more beautiful by the years, them welcoming you with warm smiles and you can tell immediately the new changes other than their appearances.

they sound happier; no other burdens or weight pulling them down, carrying it around like a haunting that won't go away.

you walk around the courtyard with jongho after, finally a time and place to catch up. all those time of being with each other, you didn't think you could survive if he wasn't by your side, but to have gone four long years only seeing him once in a blue moon, you'd say that's some character development.

"how are things here for you?" you ask him, walking alongside shoulder to shoulder.

"amazing," he answers almost instantly, "it's crazy. i never thought i'd get the chance to work in the capital, but the royal family's castle? with the prince? it's everything i've ever wanted."

you can't stop smiling, his tone telling of just how much he means what he just said.

"that's great. i'm happy for you. you did always say you wanted all those training to go into something."

he nods.

"and you? how are things down there?"

"much better. it's coming together. the people's the most tame i've ever seen them."

jongho hums in acknowledgement.

"i heard you're going to become queen," he suddenly brings up, and you almost choke in return.

"and who the hell said that?"

"--i did."

the familiar voice that isn't jongho makes the both of you turn around, your stomach dropping and heart palpitating because you know all too well who it belongs to.

you can only stare breathless as he takes a step closer, your throat dry.

he's just as mesmerizing as you remember but like hongjoong, time have passed and he has gotten more bulky, manly, and handsome if that's even possible.

"i'm glad to see you can come," he mumbles, a charming smile on that render your knees weak.

jongho clears his throat, attempting to hide a smirk as he goes to excuse himself politely and walks back inside, leaving you stranded in the presence of san.

everything still feels the same with him.

"yeah. i got the letter," you reply, glancing around the empty area, "though it seems i might have gotten a tad excited."

he snickers, and oh... how you have missed the sound.

"you're the only one i gave a personal invitation to," he unveils.

"oh." your eyes swell, only to break the tension after. "then i guess i'm special."

"you are," he assures, closing the distance and taking one of your hand. "i have promised you that once utopia is stable enough, i will ask for your hand in marriage."

you watch as he goes to pull something out of the pocket of his suit, one of his knees pointed to the ground, his entire body falling with it.

"and now that i've finally reached that goal... y/n, will you marry me?"

it takes a moment for you to process everything, overwhelmed with joy and happiness before you can properly nod.

"yes. of course."

and he will marry you, after the rise to king and acceptance of his title as the ruler of utopia, keeping the promise just as he did to every others.

permanent taglist: @moonchele

a/n: not me talking shit abt wanting broken era to be over only to go & write a 19k oneshot. but i loved writing this & had a lot of fun bc it was v different from what i'd usually write

#i don't know shit abt politics #so go easy #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #choi san x reader #san x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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graneymar · 1 year

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#1. NEYMAR: Bitter taste

SUMMARY: You and Neymar have been dating for only a few months when there were rumours about you being on vacation with your ex.

WARNINGS: angst

PAIRING: Neymar x female reader

Neymars POV:

Impossible. This can't be real. She would never do that. She loves me. I kept looking at the pictures and videos Y/N's ex posted on instagram a few days ago. She told me she'd be on vacation with her mother, but seemingly my fans knew better. They found recent pictures of her and her ex in Malta. I couldn't take my eyes off those pictures and stories. Pictures and videos of them at the beach together, clubbing, hugging, even kissing. Of course these images went viral instantly. Everyone was talking about how the "former playboy" Neymar Jr. got cheated on himself this time. Some people called it my karma, saying I deserved it. Others wished Y/N death in the comment section. But me? I felt nothing, pure emptiness. No emotions, no feelings. No sadness, no anger, nothing. Looking at her in these photos, I couldn't even recognize her as the woman I loved so much. She seemed so different. Her facial expressions, her gestures, her whole behavior. Who is she? Have I been really giving my all to someone I didn't actually know at the end of the day?

"Sinto muito irmão", Cris, one of my closest friends, texted me [I'm very sorry, bro]. Obviously he heard about the news already. I didn't even have the power or nerve to respond.

I was sitting outside on the terrace. It was about 8pm and Y/N was supposed to get here in about two hours. In those eight months we were together we have never been apart from each other for so long. We always managed to at least see each other at the weekends. Now she has been gone for three weeks and to be honest, I didn't even want her to come back. Thinking about how jealous she always used to be, how scared she was of losing me, and now it was her I saw in the arms of someone else.

I walked around the apartment, trying to find something to distract myself. The bottle of red wine I planned to drink with Y/N tonight caught my eye finally. Sinking into the couch I opened the bottle and couldn't stop myself from taking one sip after another. My family and friends called and texted me non-stop, reaching out to make sure I was alright, but I didn't want to talk to anyone. I switched my phone off and continued gazing at the TV that wasn't even on. All I saw was my reflection, sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine in my hands. Like a damn fool.

Soon enough, the second bottle was opened and I started feeling a little tipsy. No, I can't be here when she arrives. I can not stand looking or talking to her now. "Hey Kylian, what's up? Wanna go out tonight?", I called him after switching on my phone again, ignoring all the messages and missed calls. "Do you really think it’s a good idea to go out clubbing? Y/N will be there soon, you should probably talk it out", he replied.

"This is exactly what I don’t want and need. I've been sitting here overthinking it all for hours now. I need some distraction." It was clear to me that Kylian wasn't thrilled, but in the end, he agreed to get some drinks with me.

Y/Ns POV:

I could barely hold back a squeal of happiness the moment I opened the door to Neymars house. Three weeks without him felt like a year to me. I never thought I would miss someone so much.

Why are all the lights turned off? Weird. I expected him to wait for me, but didn't think of anything bad as I assumed he probably fell asleep on the couch, but no, he didn't. The only thing I saw were two empty bottles of red wine and a third one open. I laughed to myself "He really couldn’t wait and got drunk before I even arrived, hm?" Being sure that he already dozed off in the bedroom, I entered quietly, only to find the room empty. I slowly started worrying. Where the hell was he? What was going on? Is this another one of his stupid pranks? I tried to switch on my phone to see if he texted me anything, but the battery was dead. As I was looking for a charger, I noticed a little note at the side of my bed and picked it up.

I hope you had a great vacation with (your ex's name). Pack your stuff and be gone by tomorrow morning.

What the fuck? Where did this come from? My heart was racing, I started panicking. "Come on, come on, come on", I said as I tried to turn on my phone once more. A sigh of relief escaped my lips when I finally was able to type in my code. I tried calling Neymar, but as expected, he didn't pick up. After the probably 7th call I decided to check if he posted something on his instagram story, revealing where he would be or what he was doing. He didn’t post anything, but Kylian did. He was out with Neymar, in some kind of club. Suddenly I got a text from my best friend. "Uhm, why is (your ex's name) posting pictures of you two together? Aren’t these old?" What did he do? I knew he never liked seeing Neymar and me together, but making up rumours?! For what? Did he really think I'd go back to him after he tried to destroy my relationship?

I searched (your ex's name) up on instagram and was in shock. He indeed posted pictures and videos of us together in Malta from a year ago. I scrolled through the comments. Some people were making of Neymar, saying he deserved to get played after everything he has allegedly done to women. But most of them wished me death, stating they expected me to cheat, I am so fake, I never loved Neymar but his money and fame only.

The tears started rolling down my cheeks as I sat down on the bed. How could he ever think I would actually cheat on him? Didn’t I show how much I loved him? Wasn’t I doing enough for him and our relationship? Glancing at the note he wrote once more, I shook my head. I wouldn’t just leave him like this. Not for some stupid cheating rumours.

Neymars POV:

I decided to spend the night at Kylians house, giving Y/N the opportunity to leave before I'd get home. Normally, going out with friends and drinking always distracted me for at least a few hours, but it didn’t help me at all last night. Quite the opposite even. My eyes were still red and puffy from all the crying. My throat was burning due to the amount of alcohol I drank.

Entering the house I could still smell her fragrance. I took a deep breath, knowing this was the last time I would be "that" close to her. Looking around I realised there really wasn’t any of her belongings, meaning she most probably read the note and left like I told her to. "Oh shit", I whispered to myself as I entered the living room, seeing the bottles of wine that left a disgusting smell. As a consequence of the heavy drinking from last night, I couldn’t stand to smell any form of alcohol, so I decided to spend some minutes on the terrace. To my surprise, the door stood open. I stepped out and saw Y/N sitting on the bench, drinking coffee. "What are you doing here?", I harshly asked, "I told you to leave by the morning."

"And you really think I would just leave you like that?" Her eyes were as red and puffy as mine. She looked like she hasn’t slept the whole night. My heart would actually break seeing her cry, especially knowing I was the reason, but this time I didn't even care. "Well, you really should since I fucking told you to." The tears in her eyes were forming again as she looked away from me. "Have you at least packed your bags?", I asked her. She shook her head from left to right. "Then I'm going to do it for you", I said going inside.

"Neymar", Y/N shouted following me. I opened the door to her closet and started taking her stuff out. "Can you at least hear me out? I just want to explain it all to you." I looked at her in disbelief and laughed sarcastically. "I don't need an explanation. Everything I need to know, I saw."

"But it isn’t true Neymar, I didn’t cheat on you." I let out an annoyed moan. "You want to tell me these pictures are photoshopped? You met him by accident and then decided to spend your vacation with him so you wouldn’t get bored with your mom? Honestly, just drop it. I don’t wanna hear shit from you." Watching her breaking down in tears made me swallow very hard, but I couldn’t give in, not after her cheating on me with her ex. "The pictures and videos he posted are old. It was on his birthday, last year."

"Mhm, and it’s just a coincidence you've been there on his birthday again right?"

"Actually, yes. You know he lives there. The year I've been with him I was there all the time. I even thought of moving there. Trust me, I don't give a damn about him anymore. I just fell in love with the island." We remained silent for a moment, while I continued to throw her belongings into a random suitcase I found. "I don't know how to prove it to you, Ney. I deleted all those pictures as soon as we got together. I can’t even show you they’re old." No response from me. "He always wanted to tear us apart because he knew you were the real reason I left him."

"Congratulations to him. He succeeded", I coldly replied. She took out her phone and started scrolling, "Here." From the corner of my eye, I saw her holding her phone up. "Y/N, I don't want to see anything. I don't even care anymore. We're done."

"But this is undeniable proof that he is lying", her voice got louder, which made me raise an eyebrow at her. "Undenibale proof you say, huh?" I took the phone out of her hand and saw her instagram story archive. The same pictures and videos he posted a few days ago. My heart stopped for a second when I saw the date. Over a year ago. Not even able to look at her, I handed her her phone back. I couldn’t say a word, I felt so stupid. "But if you wish for me to leave, I will", she broke the silence, ripping her stuff out of my hand, "I just wanted to let you know that I would never cheat on you and if you still decide to go separate ways, it’s okay. Just please know that I really do love you and could never do anything to hurt you." I watched her filling the suitcase with her clothes. "And for your future relationships, you should really consider talking to your girlfriend first before leaving her without even giving her a chance to explain herself", she somehow managed to say inbetween her sobs. "Y/N, baby…" I softly hugged her from behind and turned her around. She buried her face in my chest and started crying even harder. "I'm so sorry. I can’t believe I even thought you would do that to me. He just made everything seem so legit and real." We just stood there, no one saying a word until she calmed down a little. "I love you Neymar, I love you so much. How could you even believe it for a second?" she spoke up.

"I didn’t at first, but… what would you think? I knew you were actually there and all of a sudden these photos appear on his instagram. And it’s not even a year ago that you broke up with him. I was scared you could possibly go back." Y/N finally looked up, staring right into my eyes. "I love you, you idiot", she said before pecking my lips quickly. "I love you too." I wiped away her tears with my thumb. "How about we'll take a nap, order food later and watch some movies? I think none of us really slept this night." She yawned as she nodded. "Sounds good to me."

#Neymar #neymar imagine #neymar imagines #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe imagines #football imagine #football imagines #neymar fanfic #neymar jr imagine #Neymar jr x reader #Neymar x reader #Neymar jr #Neymar da silva santos junior #imagine #imagines

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coneyislandbabey · 11 months

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all your sickness, i can suck it up. -> e.roundtree

WARNINGS: alcohol and maybe some cursing?

SYNOPSIS: The push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together. word count: 1,573

NOTES: This is part (6/8) of the Beast of Burden series! Part five can be found here. I hope y'all enjoy! Series is almost done now...

Los Angeles, 1974

Somehow, the news of Camila’s pregnancy didn’t surprise you at all. The way she and Billy had been going, they were either going to be together ‘til death and raise a small army of unnervingly attractive babies together, or else they were going to crash and burn in the flames of the most damaging breakup known to man. It was going to be the first one, you guessed.

The timing was shit, of course, considering all of you were getting ready to head out on tour very soon. But with Billy’s lifestyle, was there ever going to be a good time? Probably not, you thought, which is why you were wholeheartedly into their middle of the night wedding plan. You knew Billy was trying to be a good dad already, in his fucked up, disjointed kind of way. He was trying to set up a real family for this baby to be born into, even if he would be leaving Camila all alone right after they got hitched. You respected the effort.

You put on one of your nicest dresses, a beautiful thing of deep green silk and beaded details that fell to midcalf and moved like water on your body. Camila had done a wonderful job turning the backyard into a beautiful backdrop for the wedding. If you were a stranger, you might have even thought that some planning had gone into all of this, that the matrimonial couple had chosen to have a nocturnal backyard wedding because it’s what they wanted, not because of extenuating circumstances.

You downed a glass of champagne and a half before the vows were said, and your alcohol consumption only grew, quickly and steadily, after that. An hour later you were standing with your back against the house, thoroughly drunk and pouting as you watched Billy waltz Camila around the makeshift dance floor, happy giggles dropping like bubbles from her perfect mouth.

An ache had settled in your chest the minute that they had announced their pregnancy, and it had only grown in intensity throughout the night. For a long time, you couldn’t quite put your finger on what was causing it, but the picturesque tableau in front of you made everything clear.

You were jealous.

Billy and Camila had the one thing you had wanted for so long and felt like you would never be able to have. They had their happiness with each other, and they could put it on display for all the world to see. There was nothing stopping them from being together, nothing in the way of them finding a home within each other. And they were married now, in a perfectly imperfect little ceremony celebrating with their closest friends-turned-family, preparing for a life as a unit together.

You wanted to have that more than anything, and you wanted it with Eddie. You could picture your perfect life so vividly, one where you could call Eddie your own and be happy with him without worrying about any kind of consequences, but it was like all of it was on the other side of a solid wall of soundproof glass. The kind of glass that you could hit with a baseball bat over and over, but would never break. Would never let you in. Not as long as you wanted your respect, your fame, your art.

“Hey, you alright over here?” Eddie, seemingly materializing right out of your drunken daydream, was standing next to you, a slightly worried look on his face.

“Eddie,” you grinned, voice coming out far louder than you had planned on. Eddie laughed, taking in your clearly hammered state.

“You know, it’s kind of bad form to get so fucking drunk at a wedding,” he noted, amusement filling his eyes.

“Oh, please,” you waved a hand dismissively. “I can get as drunk as I want in my own backyard, wedding or not, thank you very much.”

“And who am I to argue with that logic,” he responded, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Exactly,” you nodded approvingly. “Care to dance with me, Mr. Roundtree?”

“I’d love to,” he smiled, offering you a hand like a proper gentleman. You took it, and he led you over to the makeshift dance floor. He pulled you towards him, his hands going securely to your waist as yours wound loosely around his neck. The two of you easily found the rhythm, swaying back and forth along with the song.

You lost yourself in the familiar scent of Eddie’s cologne, spicy and a little green, like the Pennsylvania forests as summer turned to autumn. You stared up at him unabashedly with love-filled eyes, taking in every feature of his face.

“What are you lookin’ at, darling?” he asked, staring back at you with the same affection. You felt the corners of your mouth lift into an involuntary smile at the mere sound of his voice.

“Jus’ you,” you hummed, tilting your head to look at him from a slightly different angle. The lanterns that Camila had hung in the trees cast a warm, yellow glow across the yard, and it touched every bit of Eddie with gold.

“Like what you see?” he asked, grin turning cheeky.

“Mm, I always do.” Your heart snagged at the red flush that overtook his face at your words. You caught sight of Camila and Billy dancing behind Eddie, and the pout returned to your face before you could tamp it down.

“What’s going on with you tonight, (y/n/n)?” Eddie asked, a frown on his face to match your own. “You can talk to me, you know that.”

You sighed, embarrassed to realize that there were tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You sighed, trying to gather yourself as much as you could through the haze of booze. You didn’t want Eddie to see you cry. Not on a night that was supposed to be nothing but celebration.

“It’s just– I see them,” you started, tilting your head towards the happy couple. “I see them, and I wish it could be us.”

You watched Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, confusion coloring his features, and you pressed on before he could respond, intent on explaining exactly what you meant.

“I want us to be able to just be happy, Eddie. I wish there was nothing else complicating things. I want us to be able to be together and everyone to know it and that to just be that, you know? I want… I want us to go through life together as a unit, and it’s breaking my heart right now that we can’t,” your voice was rough with emotion by the end of your explanation, unshed tears swimming in your eyes as you lifted your head to look at Eddie. You wished that you weren’t too drunk to lie. You wished you had the wherewithal to tuck all of these emotions neatly away where no one could see them, not even him. You wished that you could reach up and kiss him and maybe feel a little peace.

Eddie brought one hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb dragging gently back and forth across your skin, and you leaned into the comfort of his touch.

“I want that, too,” he said softly, and your heart clenched at the undertone of pain in his voice.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” you said. A tear escaped your eye, and Eddie brushed it away with heartbreaking tenderness. “If I was different, we–”

“I would never want you to be different,” Eddie cut in firmly. “I love you because of every single thing that makes up who you are, and I wouldn’t change any of it. I want you to achieve everything you desire, and I would never want you to desire less than you do.”

You smiled at his words, shaking your head fondly. Never in your life did you imagine being loved with the ferocity that Eddie loved you with. Loved despite everything, loved because of everything. Loved in every manner, in every version, in every world.

“I never imagined something as wonderful as you could exist, Edwin,” you said earnestly. “And I’m still sorry that I’m the one standing in the way of us having all of this.”

“I’m not sorry about it,” Eddie shrugged. “I get the honor of watching you achieve your dreams. And while you’re out there achieving everything you’ve ever wanted, I’ll wait for you until we can have this, too.”

“I can’t ask you to wait for me,” you said, eyebrows drawing in at the thought. Who knew how life would go? Who knew how many years would go by before the opportunity presented itself?

“You didn’t ask me to, angel. But I’m not capable of anything else,” Eddie said. “I love you, and that’s not going away. It’s been how many years already? You’re just stuck with me now.”

You laughed, your head dropping against his broad chest.

“I promise it won’t always be like this. One day it’ll pass, all my anxieties, all the possible consequences. Then we’ll have all this, too.”

“I know,” Eddie nodded. “There’s no other choice for us, I don’t think. You and I are just a fact of life.”

A fact of life. You liked that. Eddie being tied to you in some overarching, cosmic way was about the only thing in life that made sense.

tag list: @eonnyx @celestialstar111 @whataloadofmalarkey @sapphiclm @spidermanenthusist @mannstarkey @luvrgirl555 @toyourloves @thefemininemystiquee @treblebeth @how2besalty @vyctorya @neptunes-curse @littlehoneyfreak @itsjustmikii @fallingwallsh

#daisy jones and the six #djats #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader #graham dunne #warren rhodes #warren rojas #billy dunne #camila dunne #karen sirko #karen karen

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pixelmator5 · 10 months

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Laudna’s Lack of Control

You know what, why the heck not, part 1 of 6 of a may or may not be finished group of posts about CR3 EP63 and its effects on the 6 PCs (yes including the one that died.)

Laudna’s been through a lot, and that’s putting it lightly. All her life, she has experienced a lack of control. When she was young, no one viewed her like an actual person, no one around her at least. We see and hear about how a boy her age when she was young attempted to lure her into a sense of security before throwing dirt in her face. He was likely not the only one who did this. When she was young, she had no control over the social life, or the way the rest of the townspeople of Whitestone viewed her.

Then the Briarwoods came. Whether the townspeople knew how they did it or not, they took the place of the previous leaders of the once peaceful city. Once again, Laudna, at that time Matilda, was forced to watch as her home gradually declined under the Briarwoods rule, unable to do a thing to stop it. She had natural magical capabilities, but even they wouldn’t help in this situation.

Eventually Whitestone was in such disrepair that nothing could be done. Matilda begged her parents to leave the city, but without to funds or anywhere to stay once they left, the group of three were left to rot in the dying town. Once again she had a total lack of control. Until a letter came. The Briarwoods had invited her family to dinner. Finally, a way for her to take control of something. She had hoped that they would take an interest in her innate magical abilities, teach her how to use them, make her stronger! She’d finally have control over something in her life!

That was 30 years ago.

She died that day, at that dinner. She was skeptical about going in the first place, but her parents had talked her into it. Practically forced her. Once again, she suffered from her lack of control.

When she awoke hanging from the tree she thought it was the gods giving her a second chance, a way for her finish the life the Briarwoods had cut short. But her body was changed. Her skin was cold to the touch, her eyes constantly seemed to be bulging from her head. Her bones dislocated easier, her hair fell out in clumps, it was as if she was still dead. Then the voices started. Well, voice, Delilah Briarwood was in her head, but Matilda, if that was even still her name at this point didn’t want that. Control. The thing she still lacked.

Eventually, she met Imogen, she helped, she understood what it was like, being ostracized, not having control of what people think of you or the control over your own power, and eventually, they met Bell’s Hells, a ragtag group of nobodies banded together with little to no common ground between them. But she liked them, and together with Imogen they decided to stay.

Delilah’s has been living in the woman now named Laudna’s head for 30 years now. Advising her, empowering her, controlling her. Laudna knew she had to get rid of her. She didn’t want her there. But this came to a front when something happened. Delilah took complete control, took something, shattered something, she caused Laudna to betray Imogen. Laudna’s tether, Laudna’s friend, the one who wasn’t afraid of her. She took Laudna’s feeling of safety, to control she had in this small part of the world.

When Laudna died she became a prisoner to Delilah in her own personal hell. Fitting that the one who originally took her life tormented her in her afterlife, reminding her of all the things that had happened prior to her original death. When the Hells came to rescue her, Laudna was happy, she knew she would be safe. When Imogen told her to fight back, Laudna said she couldn’t. That it was up to Imogen and the hells. She relinquished control, she left it all up to the others, knowing they would help her. This was the only time where she was fine without the control being held in her hands.

When Laudna awoke next she was in Whitestone, seemingly Delilah free. At least that’s what the gnomish woman told her. Releasing control finally did something good, at least this time. So she continued travelling with the group. They uncovered secrets, revealed a conspiracy... they were separated. She thought she was doing something good, ignoring the speech and continuing to try and damage the Malleus Key, but it didn’t work, and control was stripped from her once again as she was teleported halfway across the world with no way to get back, once again separated from Imogen.

When the party met Bor’Dor after the split she thought it was great, another person like her and Imogen with seemingly no control over their magic or what has happened in their life. But eventually, things started to seep through the cracks. It started with the guards at the temple, it almost seemed like he knew what he was doing. But surely that was just Laudna’s imagination, he was on their side afterall, he had no reason to lie, right? She offered to help teach him how to use his magic, help him control it, like she had learned to do... but it was all a lie. Well, maybe not all of it, but enough of it... and he tried to kill them.

Laudna was distraught, she was sure he was telling the truth, but he betrayed her, he took what little control she had around her and he took it himself, manipulating it to his own will and she just could not handle being manipluated again. Manipulated by someone she trusted just like she was manipulated by Delilah, and losing her sense of control all over again...

And there it was, there was her chance. Deni$e had restrained him, he was so easy to get to, she could take her control back from him... and she did. With the same low heartbeat that was there when she took the gnarlrock from Imogen and broke it in her grasp... she had her control if only for that brief moment where she and she alone got to decide if he lived or died... but what will be the cost?

Laudna until this point had never been able to control anything in her life. How others perceived her, the trauma she’s had to go through. Her death, and rebirth. Delilah forcing her way into Laudna’s mind. Nothing, until she had complete and total control over someone who until recently had his own form of control over the others, and she takes it

#critical role #critical role campaign 3 #critical role spoilers #critical role c3 #laudna #delilah briarwood #matilda bradbury #cr3 ep63 #well this definitely came out more like a summary than an actual analysis but I feel like it gets the point across #hope you liked this one #may or may not continue working my way (working my way!) through the group #see you maybe next time

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queercontrarian · 2 years

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random hc vomit because i was thinking of burial rites in prythian, more or less fleshed out

spring:

the people of the spring court get buried in the ground. their land is holy to them and in death they seek to give back what they took during their lives. they are buried without coffins, some even without clothes. richer citizens and land owners will plant trees where their loved ones are laid to rest, while the poorer folk will usually opt for flowers, or a bush. tamlin's mother is buried beneath a beautiful magnolia. what could be recovered of the sentries that gave their lives searching for the one to break the curse rests in a grove of wild cherry trees. tamlin burned the bodies of his father and brothers and dumped them over the wall in the woods of the human realm so they would not poison the spring court even after their deaths.

summer:

summer sends its dead out to sea. some go in boats, some in caskets weighed down with stones and trinkets. some have their ashes scattered from the cliffs. the royal family rests in an underwater mausoleum, sealed off in marble chambers. cresseida says she doesn't want to go there, she wants her remains to feed her pet sharks. she made varian and tarquin sign a slip that they'd do it even though they absolutely hate the idea.

autumn:

cremation, obviously. however the method differs. among the lords, families usually plant a tree for each newborn. that tree will only be felled when that fae dies, and will then serve as their pyre. what kind of tree you're allowed to grow depends on your status, usually a family gets assigned a specific tree by the high lord. when the fae is dead and the tree is gone they will bury the ashes in the same spot the tree stood before and once a new child is born, a new tree will be planted there.

winter:

remember that huge sheet of ice in the winter court? there's graves beneath that. the winter court has a bunch of frozen lakes and they are also massive graveyards. when a fae from winter dies the family will stage a procession to the lake nearest to them or to where they came from, where they will hack a hole into the ice and lower their dead into the water beneath. no one quite understands the magic that pulls the bodies, clad in thick white sheets, down to the bottom, but there always seems to be a faint glowing light way down. family and friends will sing praises and prayer to their gods at the ice, before all band together to freeze it closed again. all former high lords of winter rest in the frozen lake beneath the winter court's seat of power. it is the highest honour to be laid to rest there, an honour the dozens of children amarantha had killed were offered. some families accepted, some chose to bury them with their parents.

day:

is it creepy that the day court has a massive underground graveyard with rows and rows of graveslots over and around each other? you could get lost in it if you take the wrong door out of one of their libraries.

(they also lowkey give me cannibalism vibes)

dawn:

think boromir in lord of the rings. they have giant waterfalls in the mountains of the dawn court that seemingly end nowhere. you can hike up the mountain and see where it starts but there is no place at the bottom of it where the water crashes on the plains. they simply disappear into nothing, and all technical contraptions and living people that tried to figure out where the waterfalls went by rowing down themselves disappear without a trace, never to be seen or heard from again. thesan also banned inventors from creating their own caskets with gadgets after one exploded with the corpse inside, gravely injuring two of the fae who carried it and horrifying the people that had come to grieve the loss of their friend.

night:

the citizens of the hewn city live, die and are buried under the mountain. the lower levels of the city, even lower than the dungeons, are mostly one giant tomb. night court royalty and other important people have separate tombs for their families. there is a space already reserved for rhysand when the time comes, in the same tomb as his father, his father's father, and every generation before them. other people of the night court opt for simple burials in the ground, some towns have caves to fill the purpose of a graveyard. illyrians prefer cremations. they refuse to be tethered to the earth even in death, and it is custom for families to scatter the ashes in flight over their beloved mountains. yet rhysand's mother and sister lay crushed beneath the mountain at the late high lord's behest, without wings, without air, without the freedom they craved so much.

#prythian #fae burials #court shenanigans #spring court #summer court #autumn court #winter court #dawn court #day court #night court #acotar #worldbuilding and stuff

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bethhiraeth · 2 years

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Hades and Persephone fic

A/N: I had some inspiration last night and I wrote a Hades and Persephone au (aka how many pjo and hadestown references can I fit into one story lamo). This is not beta'd and this is my first time writing something like this, so I would love any feedback you could give me <3.

Edit: updated and edited version is now up on AO3

I just wanted a friend.

There it is. That’s my excuse.

The loneliness, the depression, it’s enough to drive a person mad. Perhaps it did. That is the only reason I can think of for what I did.

My name is Persephone. My mother named me, and I don’t know what she was thinking. Most people call me Persie (which I despise) or Posey, which is a slight improvement.

My whole family has unusual names, and I suppose that is the first giveaway that I didn't exactly have an idyllic upbringing. Mother worked as a greengrocer in our small town. Whenever she was not selling vegetables, she was growing them. I hardly ever saw her and was mostly left to my own devices.

I suppose you are wondering about my father. Oh yes, I knew him, but I didn't care for him. He was married to mother’s sister, but you would never think he was the way he acts. I didn't have any siblings, and all my aunts and uncles hated me, and even when I was a woman they called me ��little girl’.

So I mostly raised myself. The small town did not allow for many friends, and even if there were many other children, I doubt I would have made any. I am sure they would have avoided me, calling me the little girl with the strange family, her nose in the flowers, her head in the clouds. On reflection, that sums me up rather well.

You see, I am what many would call an ‘outdoor girl’. My mother’s influence probably helped, but I spent all my time out of doors, exploring the hills and tending to the flowers. Sometimes I wouldn't come home for days on end, simply bathing in creeks, taming wild mares and sleeping under the stars. I doubt anyone noticed my absence.

But trees can only keep you company so much. I squirrel is not much of a friend if it cannot talk. And my overwhelming lonliness became harder to tamp down, harder to mask the bitterness of isolation with the sweet perfume of flowers or the nectar of wild honey.

The clouds my head was stuck in began to turn thunderous, the flowers rotted beneath my very nose.

The days dragged on in a blur, while I spent more and more time being unable to move with the weight of loneliness heavy upon me. One day it became too much. The leaves that I once found beautiful were now ordinary, the flowers gaudy, the vast blue skies simply mocked me with their freedom and seemingly boundless opportunity, while I suffered in the black, stagnant waters of depression, unable to move, slowly going under, feeling my eyes burn and my lungs fill with dust.

I do not know what prompted me to do it— perhaps my actions were born out of sheer spite— but one day I climbed to the highest peak I could find, the farthest place I knew from the eyes and ears of mortal men.

And I wept bitterly. I wept for every flower I had once loved, every person and everything that had been snatched by death before it was time. I wept for the father who did not love me, and the mother who did not want me. But most of all, I cried for myself. For every child who had mocked me, for the realisation that in my whole life, I had never had a single friend.

I suppose that was when it happened. We all know not to trust ourselves when we are in the depths of despair, but I suppose I simply did not care at that point.

“Am I so unlovable!” I yelled. I wave of anger rushed through me, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“Why does no one love me,” I felt I could not even cry anymore. “There is nothing I would not do for a friend”.

There. Perhaps you may think it was a mistake to say that. I certainly thought so for a while, but I realised I meant it. If in that moment I could have known what I did, I am certain I would have done the same.

I fell asleep on that hill, too exhausted to walk home.

When I awoke, I was certain I was still dreaming. A psychedelic mix of black, red and white swirled in my vision before coming into focus. The coldness surrounding me was unlike anything I had experienced, not so much cold as an ice dagger that pierces your very soul.

The cavernous room glowed dimly with flaming red torches that provided no heat, and gruesome trophies, both animal and human, that would have turned the stomach of the most experienced hunter.

I had somehow come to a kneeling position, and before me, a chair loomed. ‘Chair’ is perhaps the wrong word. I was knelt before a great throne, black as if the very stars had been stolen from the night sky.

In it sat a man in flowing black robes to match the chair. His greasy black hair hung to his shoulders, and his skin looked as if he had never stepped a foot outside. He had glanced away, but in a second his gaunt face had turned coal-black eyes upon me.

“So, you are awake.”

His voice was silky smooth, but behind it lay a dangerous edge. This was not a man to argue with.

“Let’s see about your contract, shall we?”

His voice made it clear that this was not a question.

He rose from his throne and walked the length of the hall, where a large writing desk stood. I was so startled by his sudden movement that I did not follow.

“Are you coming girl, or must I get one of my men to carry you?” He asked, exasperated.

I stood up and turned to face the man, feeling intimidated by even more angry.

“Who are you and what have you done with me?”

Those charcoal eyes searched mine.

“You mean to tell me you do not know?” His voice shook dangerously.

“No, I most certainly do not,” I retorted. I felt extremely out of place in my flowing green dress, but I stood my ground.

“You have sold your soul to me in exchange for a friend, who, by the way, is me.” He explained, feigning patience, as if he were explaining that 1 + 1 does, in fact, equal 2. “Now you must sign with this document to complete the contract.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Then you die,” he said simply. “And I still get your soul, so I would really advise you against doing that.”

So I signed the contract. And that is how I met Hades, King of the Underworld.

After that, I saw Hades nearly every day. He always came to me in one form or another. Sometimes he would be a little boy who handed me a flower and talked to me for a few minutes. Sometimes he was a woman my age, and we would laugh and sing and run in the hills together. He never came in the same guise twice, but I could always recognise him by the black eyes. Sometimes I only saw him in my dreams, where he would fulfil his end of the bargain and be my friend.

At first, it felt strange at first, to talk and laugh with the King of the Underworld. In those early days, it was clear enough that he did not want to be there, but was simply upholding his contract.

But as the year slipped away, and the honeysuckles and daffodils peaked their heads up from the earth, I began to notice a change in him. Those monstrous eyes of his— the ones that were as black as death itself and held so much pain, and anger, and resentment— turned gentle when he caught sight of me. It was not just me laughing anymore. The first time I heard it I thought it was the most wonderful sound in the world. It was not delicate or refined, and yet it felt like clouds of death and despair had parted to show a warm, bright sun was still out there.

It was the sound of hope. That is the only way of which I am capable of describing it.

More and more, he came to me in his own self, and all the days of playing on hillsides did him good, I think because his ghostly skin that was once so wax-like took on a bronzed tinge. His sallow cheeks filled with the fresh vegetables from mother’s garden, and even a hint of pink occasionally tinged them.

Those were the good days.

And then everything went wrong.

Perhaps it was my own fault.

I had packed a picnic for Hades and I. A rainbow of fruits and soups and fresh bread were laid carefully in a basket, and I walked to that peak where I had made that prayer so long ago, and laid out the rug.

Hades was late, and I, being a little annoyed, took a walk along the ledge. It was stupid, I know.

I heard Hades appear, as he always did, and turned around a little too fast.

It happen very quickly, in a tangle of yells, grasping hands and falling rocks.

I lay at the bottom of the ravine, my body broken. Hades stood over me, staring down at me with that face that was the same but entirely different to the one I had seen so long ago in the throne room. Of the underworld. I thought I saw a tear leak from those eyes.

And then, I am rather sorry to say, I died.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was in the same place I had been on my first trip to the underworld. But this time I was standing, and Hades was too, right in front of me, looking at me tenderly with those eyes that I imagine had seen such horrors.

“Are you feeling alright?” His voice was quiet, certainly not the booming voice I remember so vividly from my first time here. “Occasionally we get souls who get a little…uh… damaged in the process of death.”

I couldn't bear the sympathy that was so evident on his face.

“I’m fine.” I glanced away. “So I suppose I am yours now! You have another soul to torture till the end of time, and you don’t have to pretend to be my friend anymore.”

I tried to ignore the pricking sensation behind my eyes.

“Well,” he said slowly, “It doesn't have to be like that.”

I looked up at him. I daresay I didn't believe him, but something about his laughter and smiles in times past made me think they were genuine.

“You could be head general and Chief Gardener of the Underworld,” he said, an idea sparking in his eyes. “Yes, that would work. We could still talk, and…” he trailed off and cleared his throat.

“What I mean to say is,” he straightened, looking embarrassed. “Yes, I, King Hades of the Underworld, appoint you Second in command and Chief Gardener of the Underworld.” He declared in a ringing voice.

I was stunned.

I don't remember much of what happened after that. I think a skeletal guard came up to me and lead me to an enormous bed-chamber in the left wing of the house. And so I spent my first night in the Underworld.

Things proceeded well for a while. Every morning I ate breakfast with Hades on opposite ends of an enormous table and we chatted about what needed to be done for the day. I helped him fill out paperwork, file it away, and generally oversaw the running of the underworld as a whole.

However, the part I was most excited for was the ‘chief gardener’ part of the job description. Barren soil covered the whole space around the palace, and I quickly got to work weeding the poison ivy and deadly nightshade that grew in sparse patches, and replaced it with a rainbow of colour.

But my pride and joy was an enormous pomegranate tree. The fruit was delicious, and it grew tall and beautiful, with sweeping branches that seemed to touch the never-ending haze that was the ceiling of the Underworld.

The flowers thrived, and vases of them now decorated the castle.

I believe Hades almost had a heart attack when I placed the first bunch of cheerful yellow daffodils and babies’ breath and red pomegranate flowers on the breakfast table. It was rather funny actually.

Days, and weeks, and months and years passed. Hades had gotten used to the flowers by then, and sometimes he would come and sit with me in the garden, and eat a pomegranate, or just talk. He believes I grow better flowers than anybody.

“You could go back, you know,” He said one day. “You wouldn't believe me, but your mother misses you. She won't grow any vegetables or fruits anymore. The village is starving.”

“Is that even possible?” I whispered.

“Well, I am King of the Underworld.” He smiled weakly “I can do what I like. However, you would have to return, as you have eaten the food of the underworld.” He gestured to the pomegranate tree.

I considered. I was shocked that this was even possible. Thoughts of home, and of m mother and of our small cottage swirled about in my mind.

“I think I have to go back,” I said at last. “Just for six months. People will starve without me.”

He looked down. “I'll make the arrangements.”

I nodded, and stood up to go. I felt something had shifted between us.

“Persephone,” he said suddenly, grabbing the sleeve of my dress. His eyes were urgent, pleading. “Please, stay a while?”

This time, I knew it was a question.

So I sat back down. I could tell we were both trying to make the most of the time we had left.

He looked so very sad, and instinctively, as if I had known it all along, I knew what to do.

I stood up again, ignoring the panicky look in Hades’ eyes, and plucked a single flower from the pomegranate tree. It was a deep red, and looked almost like a carnation, with hundreds of petals so tightly interwoven.

Sitting back down, I carefully threaded it through Hades’ hair.

“This is my promise to come back to you,” I said, still fiddling with the flower.

Hades looked at me with those charcoal eyes, just as he had the first day we met, but this time they were not full of ice. They held warmth, and joy, and wonder, and something else that I couldn't place at that moment, something that I had never seen in eyes that looked upon me.

“Persephone, I love you,” he said simply, in a voice full of wonder, as if he were only just realising it himself. “I love you, and I would very much like you to be my queen, my wife, my partner, my equal. Will you do me the honour?”

His words shook me to the core, but some part of myself smiled, because I always knew. And now that I thought about it if I was certain of one thing, it was that I loved Hades.

“Yes Hades, I will,” I said, holding back my tears. A vine from that sacred pomegranate tree coiled around my left hand, settling upon my ring finger before turning to silver.

And when I kissed him, it felt as if the world slotted into place. Hades was my darkness, but he was also my light, my best friend and my husband.

Hades may be the king of all the riches under the earth, but I was an outdoor girl, with no need of fancy proposals or diamond rings. Just the promise of a future, even if that promise was contained in a single flower, or the vine from a pomegranate tree.

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 1 year

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Code Blue - Ch. 9 "Wicked Game"

Summary: Orlando returns home with a stolen treasure that he can't take his eyes off of. Megan sinks to a whole new low. Lee has a vivid dream. His world blows up as he loses more than one thing he loves. Megan faces Jo's wrath. Josie gets one hell of a shock.

*Warnings* Language, sexual references, smut, angst, death, mentions of medical malpractice, anxiety, alcohol mentions/use

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Chapter characters: Lee, Josie, Orlando, Megan, Amy, Britt

Salem, Massachusetts

February 10, 2023

12:15 am

Orlando returned to his ocean front condo a little after midnight and went straight up to his bedroom. Reaching under the bed, he slid out a box of personal belongings, one being that of a picture frame that encased a photo of him, his mom and two sisters. He had just moved in a month ago and still had not found time to unpack his things.

He sat down on the bed and reached into his jacket's inner pocket, pulling out your photo that he took from your room. He then placed it on the glass over top of his family, sliding it firmly inside the upper corner and stared into your golden eyes.

He then texted you to let you know he made it home safe although he knew you probably wouldn't see it until the morning since you had been, to put it blatantly, sloshed and had fallen right to sleep after he laid you down in your bed.

"Hey Josie. Just wanted to let you know I am home and ok. I had a wonderful time with you tonight although I am sorry it had to be under such sad circumstances. Maybe we could go out sometime, that is if you would like to. I'm sorry for what you are going through. Thinking of you. Talk soon."

The wide awake doctor placed your photo on his night stand and laid down with his chocolate eyes fixated on your image until he fell asleep.

8 am

Megan had removed your phone from the charger and took it to her room. Last night she had been lurking about when Lee had shown up, watching the entire exchange. Later, she had managed to snap a few compromising photos of you and Orlando during the kitchen party you had with him, Amy and Emily. Nothing too damaging, just an innocent hugs and what not, but she knew Lee would not see it that way, especially with Orlando being his best friend. From what she could tell, the enticing Dr. Pace was irrevocably besotted with you...and his voicemail that she had just listened to confirmed it. She planned on destroying any chances you had with the doting doctor after the humiliating confrontation between you and her.

Megan had always been extremely jealous of you ever since yours and her teen years. All the guys chased after you. A perfect barbie doll is how she saw you, who got all the Ken's....and it made her more angry because you were never interested in them or their attention. Even her own brother, Jason, adored you more. Now, you finally had a man you actually wanted and she was bound and determined to blow that right out of the water. She also saw Dr. Bloom's text to you that he sent last night which enraged her, that yet again, another man was falling at your feet, worshiping the ground you walked upon.

The sly sibling typed in Lee's number and composed a text message to him with the attached the photos, one being a hug between you and Orlando when he had arrived and the other of him up close and personal, touching your face. Although he had only been wiping your tears, it looked seemingly intimate from the angle she snapped it at. This would bestow your wrath upon her soon enough, but she didn't care as the damage would already be done.

"Seems my sister can't decide which doctor she wants. He also carried her up to bed last night and I had to listen to the moaning and the bed thumping against the wall all night long."

Megan hit send with a devious grin. Sure, the entire text was fabricated, but would Lee believe you, or Orlando when you both tried to convince him otherwise? Doubtful. It was yours and Dr. Bloom's word against hers as there were no other witnesses. Britt had left early with Dave, Amy spent the evening in the bathroom sick and Emily went to bed.

Megan then quickly put your phone back and went back to bed without a care, anticipatingly waiting for the bomb to drop and blow up your world.

Earlier -7 am

Lee muttered and moaned in his sleep as you vividly invaded his dreams. You were in bed with him, your hand caressing his bare chest over his St. Christopher pendant and small soft patch of hair that lied atop his pounding heart. The way you smiled and gazed at him was that of pure desire but it also held that of a burning love, like he was all you could see. Every time your hand moved, golden sparks the color of your eyes, radiated over him.

He had sexual dreams before, what man didn't? But this was something he had never experienced before. It was like you were really there. He could feel you, smell you. Every detail of your face was pronounced as the candlelight shimmered of off your smooth skin. An angel was all he saw.

His cock was throbbing, begging, pleading for your hand to find it as your fingertips traveled down his happy trail. His lips were parted, yearning for yours to take his breath away with an overly longed for kiss. The closer your mouth came to his, the heavier he breathed, the stronger his solid cock twitched, the more his hips relentlessly swayed against you. Your hand was now slipping under the covers that barely concealed his aching manhood.

"Lee."

His name flowed out of your mouth in reverberation as your lips grazed his, your sweet warm breath tickling his tongue that was urgently waiting for yours. Your hand found his long and girthy impatient member and your fingers curled around it, sending a shockwave through him. His head arched back as he madly moaned, his hips bucked and....

Lee woke up aspirating and grunting your name as he released, saturating himself and his sweat pants with his warm essence. He then desperately felt the empty spot beside him, realizing you were never there.

Off to the shower he went with intentions of zero degree water because after that dream, he was still very much aroused. He needed to focus as he had a 9 am conference meeting at the hospital.

Lee chugged down a red bull and quickly devoured a protein bar. For being a physician, he certainly had the most unhealthy diet. There was no one to cook for and he had no desire to cook for himself, He was into the fitness part though. Working out, running, hiking, surfing and yoga were just a few of the physical activities he enjoyed doing. although the past week he had been slacking with all that had been going on.

He headed out the door a little after 8 in a light blue dress shirt, satin navy vest with matching slacks and tie, black oxfords and carried the navy suit jacket as it was another oddly warm February day. Getting in the car, his cell phone sounded. He had some glimpse of hope that it was from you in response to his voicemail he left last night. I wasn't from you, but it certainly was about you from a number he didn't recognize. His heart shattered as he read the message and swiped through the attached photos.

8:30 am

Orlando was on his first morning break when he received a call from his very distressed and angry best friend.

"You just had to do it didn't you? You just had to go after her."

"Lee...calm down, what is going on? I don't know what you mean about going after her. Going after who?"

"Really? Is this how you're going to play it? I know that you fucked her last night. Did you really take advantage of a poor girl who's mourning the loss of her brother?? Someone who says she is Jo's sister sent me the photos and told me all about you carrying her up to bed and keeping her up all night with your...."

Lee paused as he sat in the hospital parking lot. He couldn't even finish the sentence.

Orlando froze and stood dumbfounded as Lee then continued his rant, having a good idea that Megan had did something terrible.

"How could you do it man? You knew...you know... what she means to me?"

"Lee...slow down man. I don't know what you are talking about. What pictures?"

"Well obviously you don't know that you both were photographed while displaying your affections for one another, so here, let me send them to you."

Orlando's heart was palpitating and he really didn't know why because he knew he...and you...didn't do anything wrong.

He left the cafeteria and went to the locker room waiting on these so called photos.

"There. You gonna deny it now?" Lee snapped.

Orlando opened his texts to see two photos of him and you hugging and one with his hand on your face, standing only inches apart.

"Lee, man...I can explain these...."

"No...you can't. I have eyes. I can clearly see what is happening here although I had been blind to it. You moved in on a pregnable girl, knowing how upset she was yesterday...."

"Lee stop! You don't know what the hell you are talking about. And...she was upset over you or did you forget that part? Nothing happened! Trust me, she wants to be with you or are you that damn oblivious?"

All Orlando thought of in that moment was when you snapped at him for calling her Jo, demanding only Lee to call her that.

"Did you not carry her up to bed? and have inconspicuous sex all night?"

"I don't know what Megan told you, but she is a liar. She has it out for Josie. The both of them got in a huge fight last night. Come on Lee, open your eyes and see what's going on here."

"Oh I see alright...right here in front of me that I can't stop looking at. You just couldn't do it could you? Let me finally....finally be happy. She was the one thing that woke me up inside, brought me back to life...and you had to ruin it..."

"Stop!"

Orlando was now pissed off. "You're clearly not going to listen to reason, but listen to this. If anyone ruined what you and she could have possibly had, that was you!"

Orlando hung up and immediately called you as he paced about, but there was no answer.

"Come on, come on pick up." he reeled as he stood frozen with his head down, pinching his eyes brows together with his fingers.

"Josie...call me back when you get this, it's extremely urgent!"

Lee knew the two of you were not an item, but something....something had began between you both and he knew you felt it too, at least he wanted to believe that. Whether he had a right or not to feel what he was feeling....he felt it...he felt it immensely and couldn't make it go away even if he wanted it to.

The meeting commenced, unfortunately with Dr. Westbourne and Dr. Conrad both present. Lee did his best to concentrate but about fifteen minutes in, he found his mind wandering to you and those images.

He found himself loosening his tie as his airways constricted when he envisioned you in bed with his best friend. You had never been his, yet he felt like he had lost his true best friend that he barely knew.

"Dr. Pace? Did you hear what I have just told you?" Dr. Westbourne asked in a second attempt to gain his attention.

"Oh...yes. Sorry. What...what was the question?"

She stared at him, recalling his manic visit to your place yesterday.

"Do you understand the purpose of this meeting? Your patient, Miss Henrietta Carpenter's family has requested a brain autopsy. They believe a medical error was made during her tumor removal."

Britt's words began to echo and fade as Lee's mind traveled to the 18 year old girl who had asked to see him multiple times the day before she died. It was the day the explosion victims came in and he was needed to assist in their treatments because of short staffing and one patient, your brother, had head trauma, so he had never made it in to see her. Could he had made a mistake? There were always complication risks with brain surgery...but...did he cause one? Did his mental state of mind finally catch up to him in his work and cause the death of that young trusting girl?

He stood up, leaning on the table to balance himself. The anxiety was beginning to claim his ability to focus....to breathe.

"Dr. Pace. Are you alright?" Dr. Westbourne asked as she came over to him.

He didn't speak and was perspiring and pale.

"Can I have everyone leave the room please while I speak with Dr. Pace."

He knew this was bad and that Britt was about to let him know just how bad it really was.

"Lee...the board is concerned, as am I about your mental state of mind lately. It has not gone unnoticed. I am aware of the reasons behind it and I am truly sorry and sympathetic over it...but with that said...it is clearly affecting your work and that puts your patients at risk. Lee...I am sorry but I have no choice but to suspend you until the results of the autopsy are back. And...god forbid, if the results do determine medical malpractice, the family will most likely file a lawsuit against the hospital and you. The girl's mother claims her daughter had repeatedly asked to see you and you had never came in. ...that was the day before she died...They claim she was in discomfort that night."

"I was in the ER with you and the explosion patients for christ sakes! She was always asking for me and it was always for non medical reasons Britt! If she was experiencing problems, why wasn't I paged? I was never even told about her death until I came in for my shift the next day!"

"Lee, I know this but...this is standard protocol. You know as well as I do of the many complications that can arise, and that does not mean it was caused by you. We just have to wait and see. And...I saw you at Josie's yesterday Lee...and the state you were in...."

Lee whipped his head up in anger. "This has nothing to do with Jo. You leave her out of this."

"So...you are calling her Jo now? and quite defensive of her I might add. Lee, what is going on between the two of you? You looked like hell yesterday and you still do."

"That is none of your business." he snapped and pursed his lips.

"Oh but it is...and the hospital's when it affects your work ethic. You need help Lee and..."

"Jesus...no wonder people call you the britch." he reeled and stormed out.

Lee got in his car, slammed the door shut and tried to breathe. He took out his phone again...almost calling you because you were the only one he wanted to talk to....needed to talk to. Instead, he found himself looking through the photos again when suddenly he came across one he had never seen...a very disturbing one. A photo of him laying passed out on the floor from when he fell out of the attic...and it was taken from the attic.

How did it get on his phone? He didn't have this phone when that happened...and who took it? because he was alone that night...or so he thought.

Lee sat up in a befuddled state and then drove off.

Earlier at 8:45 am

You woke up with a screaming headache and the taste of last night's bad decisions in your mouth. As you laid there, unwilling to get up, your thoughts went straight to Lee and you knew he had been in your dreams as well. Suddenly, the sound of car tires squealing to a stop in the driveway and a door slamming alerted you.

You got up to look out the window wondering who would be here this early and why so dramatically at that. When you saw it was Orlando, you rushed to put your slipper boots on and ran downstairs to see what was going on.

Upon opening the door, he rushed right in.

"Josie....we need to talk. I tried calling but you didn't answer."

"I'm sorry, my phone has been down here charging. Orlando, what is wrong??"

"Well that explains how she did it."

"Who? Did what? Come sit down, you look like you're going to pass out."

"Your phone...she got Lee's number from it and..."

"Whoa whoa what? Who Orlando?"

"Your sister. She took photos of us last night in the kitchen and sent them to him...she told him I had carried you up to bed and that we had sex."

"What?"

"One of us hugging, the other when I was only wiping your tears away. Megan had been watching us undetected and took pictures. She apparently saw me take you up to bed, but she lied to Lee and told him she heard us...you know."

"Seriously? Wait...how do you know this?"

"Because Lee called me and told me and to put it mildly...he was pissed off and didn't believe me when I told him it wasn't true."

Orlando showed you the racy appearing photos, although they were completely innocent.

You couldn't believe what you just heard and seen. Emotional pain consumed you first as you thought Lee and how he must feel. It was unbearable.

Then the rage took over as you grabbed Orlando's phone from his hand, then went flying up the stairs to confront Megan. Your screams of her name awoke Amy and Emily who came running in.

"You!! You ruined everything!!!"

Megan sat up as Amy asked what was going on. You shoved the phone at her.

"This...this is what's going on. She took these last night without me knowing and then sent them to Lee, telling him Orlando and I slept together!"

Amy gawked at the pics. "This is crazy."

"Why would you do this!!! Do you think of no one but yourself?! Of course you do, what a stupid fucking question. DO you have any idea what Lee is probably going through?? Do you even care??" you shouted at the top of your lungs.

"I was angry!"

"SO you go and hurt someone else because you were ANGRY at me...ME!!"

Emily and Amy stood speechless while Orlando sat downstairs listening to the fiasco.

"Yes, I did! Because you deserved it after what you did last night, humiliating me in front of everyone...in front of Mom! Since when do you care about this guy anyways when no one is good enough for the holier than thou Josephine!"

"Well Megan, I do care about him and if you weren't such a spoiled little brat, maybe you would understand that!"

You stormed out and ran back downstairs to get your phone and try to repair the probably irreparable damage.

"How could you do something like that??" Amy asked Megan.

Megan peered up at Amy in silence. She had always liked Amy because no matter the grievances she had with you, Amy had still been nice to her."

"It's disloyal. And something like this can never be undone. Ever." Amy continued and then left in disgust.

Amy came downstairs and gave Orlando his phone back as you listened to Lee's voicemail from last night that surprisingly, Megan didn't delete.

"Jo...please...I only want to talk...and try to somehow fix this. Can you please let me do that? It's killing me knowing that I hurt you and that you're...are you afraid of me now? I swear to god I would never hurt you. I know how fucking stupid I sound saying that after what I did and there is no excuse...I chose to drink and take those pills which caused me to become someone else. Jo, I take full responsibility for my actions and I am so damn sorry. Please...please can you ever forgive me? I know I don't have the right to ask anything of you, but please, could you let me try to make this right? To show you I am not a monster. We...we connected...and it was strong.....I know you felt it too Jo. It was real... that's why it hurts so damn much....Please...call me."

The regret and pain you felt was like no other as you sat down and cried into your hands. The emotional turmoil and anguish in his voice gutted you. You had treated him so horribly when he had came over in such a bad way. He clearly needed someone and he chose that someone to be you...and you turned him away. He was right...so right..about the connection. It was very very real and incredibly strong. You never believed he was a monster, just a man in severe agony...and he needed you.....you needed him.

You dried your eyes and called him. You had to try to explain. Maybe if he heard it from you, he would realize the truth.

Lee returned to his lake house, ripped his tie from his neck and then shaved his beard off. Anything at that moment on his neck or face suffocated him. The mood he was now in required some liquid medicine. He changed into some jeans, a blue and red plaid shirt and a black knit hat revealing the bad boy image he once had years ago, then he sped off to the bar down the road as he couldn't sit in the house alone with himself...not again.

With the music blaring some good old rock n roll, he cruised around for a bit to blow off some steam before going into the bar or he knew he would most likely end up in some altercation as it wouldn't take much to set him off.

The cd shuffled to the next random song. He stared at the player for a moment in shock. Why did that song of all songs have to play? He couldn't bear it and shut the music off completely.

youtube

Then his phone rang. When he picked it up and saw it was you, he hit ignore and tossed it aside aggressively.

After a few hours at the bar, a girl came in. A girl he knew from his past that he once hooked up with, but felt nothing for. Jessica was her name. A petite young sandy blonde.

"Lee?" she asked as she stood at the bar where he sat.

He did a double take when he recognized her. "Jess...hey. How are you?"

"Not bad. How you been looka?" she smiled with seductive eyes.

"Been better. Sit down, let me buy you a drink."

She obliged and the two sat and caught up for awhile. Lee was feeling pretty good and invited her to follow him back to his place. Again, she obliged and off they went.

"Orlando...thank you for coming to tell me all this but I need to go find Lee. He won't answer."

Orlando reluctantly left and you went to take a shower to wash off last night's gritty feeling and refresh yourself.

When you got to his rental house, his car was not there. You tried calling him again but this time it went straight to voicemail. You didn't leave one and called Orlando.

"Hey...Lee is not there. Do you know where he might be at?"

"Possibly one of his other places, otherwise, I am not sure."

"Could you give me those addresses...please?"

He hesitated because he wanted to be with you, but he knew if he didn't tell you, you would find out some other way. He also knew it was hopeless to pine after you as your heart clearly lied with his best friend.

"Sure...you got a pen?"

You jotted down both locations and then drove off on your search for the missing doctor.

The closest one was on the lake so you chose that one first and lucky for you, there sat his car, with another one behind it you didn't recognize. You knocked on the door and rang the bell but there was no answer. Maybe he was ignoring you, you thought...or maybe he was in the shower or sleeping...but then your eyes went to the car that sat behind his. Then you heard laughing coming from the boat house on the other side of the driveway. Walking down the blacktop pathway, you froze as you came to the open door. There was Lee with a woman hoisted up on him, and they were kissing.

That immediately ceased when she saw you.

The look on his face was first that of surprise and remorse. He never in a million years thought you would come looking for him and actually come to this place.

"What are you doing here Jo?"

"Honestly, I don't even know now. I think I just wasted my time and interrupted yours."

Then, he got cocky.

"Thought you would be off with Orlando somewhere, or wait...was it Dave you said you were seeing?"

You could tell he had been drinking and that he 100 percent believed you had slept with Orlando.

"So this is what you do huh? Make assumptions and believe my lying jealous sister instead of your best friend who told you nothing happened between us? and then bring some random bar whore to your place to make a huge stupid mistake?"

You looked at her as if you knew who she was, but she didn't say a word.

All he did was raise his eyebrows while giving you smug disdainful stare in admission to your accusation.

There was something in his eyes though...something that said he hated what he was doing to you right now, but your anger made you ignore it.

"Well...I guess there's nothing more to say."

Beside you, there was a sculpture of a woman, but you hadn't paid enough attention to it to see who it was. In retaliation to his heartless reaction, you suddenly knocked the art work clean off of it's pedestal, sending it shattering to the ground and walked out.

He went to clean it up and felt sick, not from drinking, but from the unnecessary pain he just caused you. Your car door slammed, causing him to flinch and then you raced off squealing your tires. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, wanting to get in his car and chase after you...beg you to forgive his stupidity...because you were right...this was a mistake. He didn't want this woman, not even in the slightest and even if you hadn't shown up, he knew he never would have gone through with sleeping with her. He began to realize that Orlando had told the truth, otherwise, why would you have bothered seeking him out if you wanted his best friend...or Dave even...which he now was seeing that was also nothing but a ruse.

"Hey...forget her. Let's go up to your room."

"Get out." he mumbled.

"What?"

"GET OUT!" he then shouted as he slightly tuned his head to the side enough to leer at her.

"You know what? Fuck you Lee." she snarked and stomped out.

"No thanks." he muttered as he picked up the broken pieces of what was once.....you.

@redeemer46

youtube

#lee pace #lee pace fanfiction #code blue #love stories #dark stories #slow burn #slow build #orlando bloom #lee pace smut #smut #britt westbourne #Youtube

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musicnoteso7 · 10 months

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Empty

TW: Death, Loss of family, Blood / Gore, and General Angsty Topics “Baby mine, don't you cry” Small tears fell onto his brown leather jacket, coming from his baby. Why, out of everyone in this cruel world must his little girl be picked to leave? There were many that were deserving of this pain, but not his sweet child. Why couldn’t he be the one to go? She had so much left for her in this world not him. “Baby mine, dry your eyes” Tears could be felt in the corner of his eyes but he held them back. He would stay strong for his little dove. He would make sure her last moments were good ones. He had to. “Papa it hurts, it hurts so bad..” His sweet baby cried out to him clear fear in her tone. “Shh, it’s going to be alright pumpkin, just close your eyes and lay on me papa’s got you. I promise, papa’s not going anywhere.” Every plea in his body shouted to call out for help, but he had already wasted much of her time left doing that before. There was nothing else to do other than make her feel comfortable as life took its course. One arm held her close to his chest, and one arm brushed through her blood filled hair as he began to sing her favorite lullaby he would always sing to her when she was scared or heading to bed. Not once letting his breath hitch between a single note, the last time she heard her song would be perfect. “Rest your head close to my heart“ Soon enough his baby’s body went limp almost as if she had calmed down, and slowly her weight became a dead one. Sobs came out once she had fully passed as William held her dead body for hours until someone came to find him and every tear in his body possibly had been shed. “Never to part, baby of mine” ----~~~~---- The sounds of birds could be heard in the early morning. William rubbed his eyes drastically to awaken himself reaching out for his glasses and putting them on then squinting to look at the time. 8 am seemingly a perfect time for a man with no busyness. He got out of bed and walked down the quiet halls of his tiny cottage. So bare, so quiet. Every morning he woke up to hatred of his home, the longing for the sound of tiny footsteps running across his halls. A longing for the noise of kids playing outside in the garden with one of their new favorite games for that week. He missed it all so much. Sure the cottage was lovely, and it was lovely to live in but William was lonely. He ached for the past that had been long gone away. Now his only friends were the ones in his writings, and books scattered around his book shelves in a way he would call ‘neat’ as he knew where everything was. Even after all these years he still found himself absentmindedly making too much food in each meal, or calling out her name, or even humming her song to get himself to sleep. He missed that fulfillment of being a father, but not as much as he missed her. William hated the term lonely, it felt so small. If anything he would say he was empty, a shell of a man that he used to be. Completely empty.

#cosmp #cozysmp #angst #cowilliam #charachterintroduction #smp #minecraft #lore #idk how tags work

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leilersworld · 2 years

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can we as a fan base take a few minutes to deeply appreciate how complex and beautiful the characters on Criminal Minds are.

Spencer Reid is so much more than a kind genius who’s the youngest on the team, he’s an anxiety ridden young man who’s trying his best to convince not only himself but his “superiors” and the people around him that he’s good enough. and all at the same time he’s trying to heal his inner child that broke when he was left to take care of his mother without a father and graduate highschool at 12 years old. He’s also a man who went through a drug addiction all because someone else decided to inflict pain on him. He seemingly loses everyone that’s important to him and his brain reacts by shutting down and not allowing him to love as much as he could before.

Jennifer Jareau is so much more than a blonde women who has kids and is sensitive to situations with kids. She’s a women who has gone through a miscarriage and has been confused on who’s she’s supposed to love and who she’s not supposed to love her entire life. she lost her best friend at eleven years old and had to find her laying in a pool of blood, which left her damaged and made her feel the need to protect everyone around her all the time. she feels like she has no control and when it comes to kids and her teammates she’s even more vulnerable to that thought.

Aaron Hotchner is so much more than a hard headed boss who always follows protocol and never cracks a smile. He’s a man who fell in love and then felt like he got too reckless and ending up losing that love. He’s also a father, a single father for a long time might i add. He feels the need to be harsh and blunt with the team because he’s scared if he lets his guard down, someone he loves and cares about will die again. He was abused as a child and everyone has seemed to glaze over it like it was nothing, and like it hasn’t impacted who he is today. He’s trying his best for everyone, not only his family, but his chosen family (the team) as well.

Penelope Garcia is so much more than the bright and cheery tech analyst at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. She first hand sees all the bad in the world through her job, so she uses stuffed animals and bright colors to remind her that life can still be good. She first hand sees the way her teammates morals are lost in the field, and what horrible things can happen to her family. So she try’s to make them smile and laugh as much as she can because she can’t help but feel like it might be her fault they’re not smiling in the first place. She of course feels this way because her own parents died in a car accident when they were out looking for her when she hadn’t come home in time for curfew. And the one time she gave someone a chance, he ended up shooting her. She’s trying her best to not let the walls around her collapse entirely.

Derek Morgan is so much more than a buff man who gets a lot of women and is cocky. Deep down he’s a boy who was manipulated and abused into thinking he wasn’t good enough. He lost the only person he ever looked up too as a boy (his father) and Carl decided to use his vulnerability as a way to convince him he was “saving him” by molesting him constantly. He then pulled himself out of his bad situation and covered all of his past bruises with the concealer that is being a buff man who gets a lot of girls and has a lot of game. Not only this, but he grew up in a family full of women. And he feels as if he needs to protect them because if he doesn’t, no one will.

Emily Prentiss is so much more than a women who is good at her job and cracks some jokes from time to time. She was a young girl who got pregnant and was shamed for getting an abortion by a church she was supposed to feel loved in. And then just as she thought her bruised past was simply put behind her, the man who had a bounty over her head escaped from prison. This then forced her to fake her own death and flee to London where she couldn’t keep in touch with her chosen family (the team) and was blamed for it when she came back to Virginia. All she ever wanted was for her mother to love her and appreciate the work that she did, but it’s seemingly very hard to impress a Diplomat.

David Rossi is so much more than and Italian Man who loves to cook and has had a few wives. He served in the Vietnam war and has a tough surface that he doesn’t allow people to break through, in fear of feeling too weak. He’s also a man who’s lost many things, one being his son who died soon after child birth, and another being a women he fell in love with. (Strauss) because of a serial killer. He compartmentalizes with the immense amount of loss and pain with tribal things like wine and being a cubs fan. Deep down he cares way more then he makes it seem, and makes it care to seem.

Overall, they’re so much more than a TV show and i think we as the audience tend to forget that.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #david rossi

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vincent-sinclair-deserved-better · 1 year

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I Can't Decide

Whether You Should Live Or Die

Characters: Cylas, and still @rottent33ths baby boy Clay <3

Words: 2268

Content warnings: talk about death, planned murder, past kidnapping and murder, torture

divider by delishlydelightfuldividers

“Can I show you something?”

Her voice pulled him from his conflicted thoughts and he nodded. She motioned for him to step back into the hall and left the room, closing but not locking the door. Instead, she turned to their right, the lone door at the end of the hall.

“I’m not sure if you noticed earlier, during my... ‘speech’. I slipped up, said ‘us’ instead of ‘me’,” she said, trying to sound casual but her voice was shaky and cracked towards the end, “I mean, I also mentioned before that he had ‘practice’ in this whole method of killing, that he’d done it before – six times – and... well. Police did end up digging out the remains, so the family could give the other girls proper burials and stuff. But they never found this place didn’t bother to really look either though.”

She opened the door, and Clay’s gaze fell onto a narrow table, pushed up against the wall just opposite of the entrance. The room itself was fairly small, probably a storage room, but it was almost completely empty except for the table and some shelves. Shelves that had nothing on them except candles and flowers.

The table was covered by a pure, white cloth, and on the wall above it hung, in a neat row, six picture frames. From each of them, a girl smiled at him, varying ages but none past their teens. There were more candles along the edges of the table, though mostly tealights, and seemingly random knickknacks placed under each of the photographs. A stuffed bunny, braided bracelets, a keyring with all kinds of charms.

And then his eyes fell onto the small metal plaques on the lower edge of the frames. Each one had a name and two dates. It looked like some kind of shrine or place of remembrance. “This... you made this?”

Cylas nodded, “When I first came back here and looked around this place, I found that asshole’s office. He kept all kinds of stuff, things that had belonged to the others, in a random drawer. Plus, folders with information on each one us, and pictures. Photos he must have taken secretly when stalking us, stuff from social media, several from the time here... I burned most of them.”

“Why didn’t you give them to the police? Or the families?” he asked.

“There was no real need, he’d already gotten his sentence, and with the families I just didn’t want to poke around in open wounds, it had been a couple months since everything had come out,” she shrugged, “The police didn’t seem to have cared enough to properly look for this place, they didn’t even look for the van used for the kidnappings. And... I don’t know how to explain, but there is some kind of emotional connection I have with... this. I can’t – or don’t want to – let go. Maybe it’s got to do with just having proof that my experiences are real. I don’t like the thought of having strangers poke around down here.”

“Anyway, you still up to spending some time with your new friend? Or have I successfully scared you off?”

“You're not- I don’t think you’re crazy, okay? And you won’t be getting rid of me this easily,” he said, letting out something between a scoff and a snort, “I guess... this is a little more than I expected. Again. But that doesn’t change my opinion or make me see you in a bad light. Sure, it’s quite different from my methods and I don’t quite understand why anyone would go through all this effort, but, then again, this isn’t your average course of action either, right?”

“Nah, only special people get this kinda effort,” she said, visibly relaxing, “And it’s not for their gain. I think it’s just really got to do with me having been in that position where all I wanted was for the pain to end, even if it meant death. I know what it feels like when death is not scary but all you want. And I guess it’s just something you can’t really relate to unless you’ve been there.”

“So, now that we’ve got all of that cleared up – you gonna introduce me to ‘my new friend’?”

She smiled, genuinely, not the exaggerated or cruel kind, “Of course, I’m sure he’s excited as well. Kind of mean for me to tease y’all like this, no? Letting you get a look at each other, only to drag you off.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he loves to see a new face for a change,” Clay added, humouring her... ‘playful’ style.

She motioned towards the flower-patterned door, “Go on, it’s unlocked, and I’m sure you can figure out how to use a door handle.”

He rolled his eyes but did as she said, only to be met with the same view as before. The man didn’t seem to have moved even an inch, and all Clay could think was how pathetic he looked. “Well, I guess he won’t be digging any graves.”

Cylas squeezed past him, ducking under his arm, and strode confidently towards the miserable figure crouched on the floor.

“Come on now, sweetie, this is no way to treat guests, hm?” she said with a sickeningly sweet voice, and Clay could see the man flinch away from Cylas’s outstretched hand, “You know how this works by now, don’t you? Either you move your ass or I’ll make you.”

The man looked up at her with legitimate fear, before grabbing her hand and very shakily getting up. He was taller than Cylas, and if he had been in a better state, he might even have towered over her, but as things were, he might as well have been a mere insect under a microscope. Clay hadn’t been aware that it was possible to basically look down on someone who was physically larger, but it was the only way he could describe Cylas’ expression.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” she said, and the man shook his head. She gave him a condescending smile and patted his hand, “So, the gentleman by the door is my friend Clay. I’d ask you to say ‘Hello Clay’, but... we know how difficult the whole speaking thing has become since the loss of your tongue.”

Clay raised a brow at that, “How did he- I assume that you were somehow involved in whatever lead to this specific loss?”

“Well, his backtalk and disrespect started to get annoying. Some people just don’t know when to shut up,” she replied, shrugging, “Anyway, Clay, meet... his name doesn’t really matter, I suppose. Any immediate thoughts? An instinctive vision of what you’d like his future to look like?”

He snorted, “I guess in this regard I am not quite as creative as you are. I wanted to bash his head in, but... he looks hardly worthy of that, to be honest. I’d be fine just throwing him in a hole and being done with it.”

“Whatever you say, you’re the boss,” she said. Clay looked at her in surprise. “Wait, you mean it?”

“M-hm,” came her response, “I think it’s time to move on, at least a little. Plus, keeping him alive does take a metric fuckton of effort and resources. I might actually learn something from you.”

He chuckled, “Then let’s go, get his sorry ass out of here. You know any good places for body disposal?”

“Probably just about anywhere,” she said, letting go of the man, the lack of support causing him to fall to the floor. Cylas went to remove the shackles, seemingly unbothered by the proximity to her prisoner. Then again, he did genuinely seem barely able to move on his own.

“Still would like to get at least a bit of distance to this place. And not to the west, I don’t want him anywhere near the place where he... where the others rested, even if they have been moved since.”

“Gotcha,” Clay said, “So, wanna get him into the car and look for a spot?”

“Sounds like a plan. Though I think we might have to carry or drag him after all, don’t think he can make the walk.”

“How are we gonna get him up the ladder though? And how did all the stuff get down here?” Clay asked, realising only now how complicated or close to impossible it seemed. At least for objects like a fridge or sofa that couldn’t really been taken apart.

Cylas looked at him with a smirk, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “There might be another way in and out of here. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She stepped over the man and was just about step outside, before she stopped and turned to look down at him. Clay watched as she stood, apparently thinking about something, before pulling the man up by his hair, his back to her, and reaching around to choke him out. Despite her small stature, she made it look easy, effortless, and Clay was once again reminded that she wasn’t a person that should be judged on looks alone.

“You mind taking him? Or do you wanna save your energy for the whole grave-digging thing?” she asked seriously, “I mean, he weighs pretty much nothing, but still. Can’t make you do all the work.”

Clay laughed, “It’s fine, I think I’ll manage. After overcoming the challenge of operating a door handle, this should be easy.”

“Alrighty then, let’s do this,” she said, almost skipping out of the room and down the hall. He chuckled at her now cheerful and upbeat behaviour, still struggling a little to keep up with the way her mood could just change so suddenly.

With the unconscious man slung over his shoulder, he followed Cylas to where she was waiting, in front of the door right next to the entrance they had come through.

“This,” she said, pushing it open, “Is his former office. I don’t really come in here, but it has one advantage-”

Right across the room was another door, but made from steel and looking like it had previously been hidden or covered.

“A stereotypical secret doorway, hidden behind a bookshelf. I took the freedom to remove it because... it was just annoying to constantly have to use the stupid mechanism. Now it’s just a heavy ass door,” Cylas explained while unlocking the door and pulling some bars into place, before finally pushing it open.

Despite having described it as heavy, she didn’t seem to struggle with it, and easily held it open for Clay. He, to his credit, seemed completely unbothered by the body dangling over his shoulder. The door shut with a slam that echoed down the tunnel, this one actually made from concrete and stone, with electric lights and ceilings Clay didn’t have to fear hitting his head against.

“Um, so, if this here is a thing... why did you drag me down that other hole?” he asked, but already knowing the answer when he saw the grin on Cylas’ face.

“Cause I thought it’d be funny,” she said unsurprisingly, “Payback for you always putting shit on the top shelves or holding stuff over my head.”

“Alright, you vindictive little gnome,” he said, “Lead the way.”

“Shut up or I’ll take your kneecaps,” she retorted, turning away and starting to walk down the tunnel.

He chuckled and patted her head.

“Pff, you can act all high and mighty all you want, you still blush like a teenage girl when complimented,” Cylas said teasingly, “Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

When she looked back at him, she could, in fact, see a light rosy shade spread over his cheeks, despite him turning his head away.

“I’ll get you back for that, just you wait,” Clay said, sounding slightly flustered but not upset.

Cylas smiled, “I’d expect no less.”

It wasn’t long before they arrived at some stairs that lead towards another set of metal doors. Once the pair stepped through them, they found themselves back in the forest and not far from where they had left the car.

Cylas watched Clay as he looked around in disbelief, before turning his attention towards her. “You made me walk all the way through bushes and brambles and all that stuff, to some tiny trapdoor that led to a dwarf-sized tunnel, even though this is right here?”

She shrugged, “Being an annoying little shit is how I show love and affection. Sometimes.”

Clay rolled his eyes and looked back at the door they had left through, only to find it amazingly well camouflaged against the hill, blending in with the rest of nature around it. Not impossible to notice if one was to really look around, but easy to miss when just glancing at it.

“Come oooon, the car is basically in reach,” Cylas said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along, “We should try and make as much use of the leftover daylight as possible.”

He followed without further comment or protest, and just dumped the body in the back of the car, although they did tie the man up, just as a precaution. Cylas plopped down in the passenger seat while Clay got in on the driver side.

“So, should we just follow the road for a bit?”

She nodded, “Yeah, trees and bushes and stuff will get a little denser a little way down, or look like it at least, but there’s a side road we can go down. I’ll point it out to you when we get there.”

“Alright then,” he said and started the car.

@bluecoolr

#oh my god i need to up my sentence begginings game #cylas writes #clay and cylas #cylas keir #clay spencer #once again it is past 12

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emilybradshaw · 2 years

Text

English Rose - A Bradley Bradshaw Story

Chapter 7

I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's very angsty and delves into Emily's backstory...

I won't be updating until Wednesday now as I'm away down to London for a few days.

Taglist: @bratshaws

Emily woke up on Monday morning and immediately beamed, she hadn’t gone to bed until late as she and Hayley were up talking until about 1am for her, she had so much to tell her about her now boyfriend, and Hayley was thrilled.

She hadn’t heard her best friend so happy and full of life in so long, her mother and brother made sure that was eradicated from her very existence by the time she decided to leave England, and Hayley couldn’t blame her, if she had to put up with half of what Emily had been through she would have upped and left years ago, Hayley thought the only reason she stayed in the end was because of her, she knew Emily wouldn’t have wanted to leave her, but now hearing her this happy, she knew it was the right thing for her completely.

Emily must have been laid staring at the ceiling for a good half hour before she finally started to get herself up and moving for the day. She tapped her phone screen to see what time it was, 08:46, still early, considering she hadn’t actually fallen asleep until gone 2. She glanced down and saw several notifications, so many in fact she had to scroll the lock screen to see them all. She laughed as she saw the whole of the Dagger Squad had requested to follow her on Instagram and be her friend on Facebook, Bradley had sent her a soppy good morning text and Hayley had sent her an equally as soppy goodnight text, she let out a happy giggle moving her finger so she could see the rest of her notifications.

The breath quite literally hitched in her throat as she looked down at her phone, there were two texts. Two texts from people she had hoped to never see or hear from again, she realised that was unrealistic but she had hoped for at least a month she might have some peace, as it happened she had no such luck.

Mum: You think you can run away from your family? You stupid, little bitch. We will find you and bring you home. Mark my words.

Charlie: I can’t believe you left us. How could you do this to Mum? We’ll work out where you are Emily, I promise you. You can’t hide forever.

Suddenly the world started to close in on Emily, her vision was fuzzy and her ears were ringing, the phone slipped from her grasp and landed on the floor with a thud, closely followed by Emily’s body collapsing into a heap on the floor as she became unable to hold herself up. Her body soon became wracked with sobs and she started to shake violently, they were going to find her and take her home, back to that hellhole.

She had tried so hard to escape, times before she tried to run away but lost her bottle just before. Emily’s mother and brother were awful, her mother the worst, the alcohol turned her into a demon, and her brother for some reason idolised his mother, he could do no wrong in her eyes, but Emily seemingly could do no right. Her Dad looked after her and cared for her but he had died, ten years previously in a car accident, right after he had dropped Emily and Charlie off at school. That’s when the drinking got the worst and it never got any better. The day Michael Walker died was the day that Emily’s life truly fell apart. She had tried to put a brave face on for the last decade, passing her GCSEs and A-Levels with the highest results in the school and getting her place at University, but nothing was ever enough for her mother. To Caroline Walker, Emily was a major disappointment, she would be used as her mother’s verbal and emotional punch bag, have glasses and objects launched at her over the slightest inconvenience. The final straw came two weeks before Emily boarded her plane to California. Emily had come in from a shift at the pub she worked at, her mother was drunk as per usual but was a lot more aggressive than usual. Caroline decided that she would once again blame Emily for the death of her father, a vitriol of verbal abuse followed and as Emily was trying to get away from it Caroline had pushed her into the side of the fireplace. She knew she couldn’t take much more of this, she felt as though if she had stayed in England her mother may have ended up killing her.

Emily’s cries had got so loud that they had alerted Maverick who had come in from his morning run, he thought it was Penny or Amelia at first but then remembered that there was a parent/teacher day at the school so both had left early that morning. He then realised the cries must therefore belong to Emily. He jogged up the stairs, gently knocking on her door, after there was no answer he quietly opened it and peeked his head around it, gasping as he saw the young girl crumpled in the middle of the floor crying her eyes out. He acted quickly, not thinking twice as she scooped her into his arms, she then circled her hands around his waist and pulled him tight to her, crying even harder than she had before.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, whatever it is, we can sort it. Are you feeling homesick?” That last sentence made her wail even more, so he assumed, quite wrongly, that she was homesick. The pair stayed like that until Emily calmed down slightly, her sobs becoming sniffles and hiccups every time she inhaled.

“Th-Thank yo-you” she mumbled, pulling herself away from Pete as he released her from the hug. Her eyes were all puffy and bloodshot and she had tear tracks running down her cheeks.

“Not a problem, but what was that about?” he questioned.

“No-nothing” she replied, looking down at the floor.

“Well, it’s not nothing is it. You’re sat hyperventilating and crying in the middle of your bedroom floor. That is nothing”.

“it’s complicated” she replied, taking the biggest deep breath possible, still not looking Maverick in the eye.

“Well, kid, I’m not leaving this room until you explain to me why I’ve just walked in on that”. He forced, moving his hand to her chin and forcing her head up so his eyes met hers.

“erm, well, so. I kinda came to America because I needed to get away from my Mum. She’s an alcoholic and, and, well she makes my life a living hell”

“How does she do that, Emily?”

“She’s abusive Pete, she has been for years, verbal, mental, physical. You name it, she’s done it to me”

Maverick let out a sigh, he hated this. How could anyone hurt a girl like Emily? He hadn’t even known her a week and he had already worked out that she was one of the sweetest people you could meet. “So, Emily. I don’t mean to be blunt, but… what’s happened to make you cry this morning?”

The girl said nothing, just passed him the unopened phone and directed him to the two texts that had sent her into a panic. He gasped, looking between the girl and the phone a couple of times before he spoke again. “Emily, Emily look at me.” She looked up at him, her eyes glassy as tears were brimming at the surface of them once more. “They will not take you back, they won’t. We won’t let them. If they find you they won’t come near you, I promise you that. We will protect you.”

“We?” she questioned,

“Me, Penny, Brad-“

“No. He can’t know about this, he only asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday. This will scare him off”

“No, it really won’t, Bradley will want to protect you Emily, that’s the type of man that he is”

“Even so, I’m not ready to tell him yet. Can I just be normal for a bit longer?”

“Well, I won’t go behind your back and tell him if you don’t want me to, but I will tell Penny. She needs to know in case this happens again, so she can look after you, okay? But I mean it, Bradley will want to look after you when he finds out about this”. He smiled at her, giving her shoulder a squeeze as he did so.

“Thank you Pete. I really do appreciate it.” Emily said, getting up from the floor and placing herself on the bed, calming herself down with every breath that she took. Maverick tapped her on the knee and he stood up and made to leave the room, turning back to Emily who looked at him expectantly as if she knew he were going to speak again.

“I guess I should also say congratulations, Bradley told me he asked you to be his girlfriend last night”, he winked at her as he left and closed the door leaving Emily alone with her thoughts once again.

She decided to delete the two messages from her phone and block both contacts, she then opened another text and smiled.

Bradley: Good Morning gorgeous, hope you slept well. Wanna meet at the beach for a walk later?

Emily: Good Morning Lieutenant, I would love too. See you at 3?

Bradley: Sure thing sweet one, see you soon <3

Emily held the phone to her chest, inhaling deeply as she finally got rid of her hiccups and sniffles, she really was lucky to have these incredible people around her, like Pete said, they would look after her now and although they scared the living daylights out of her, her family wouldn’t be able to touch her, not with the Daggers around.

#bradley bradshaw x midsize oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #top gun rooster #rooster bradshaw #top gun movie #top gun #maverick

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writtenbywings · 2 years

Text

The Widow’s Watchman

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Bucky Barnes

Summary: The Winter Soldier has a quest for revenge, and Melina Vostokoff is at the top of the list. In order to save her mothers' life, Natasha must go against Bucky.

Anger, malice and death are on the cards for this slow burn adventure, though love was never an expected guest.

Chapter word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Language

Link: The Widow’s Watchman

Type: Slow burn romance

CHAPTER ONE: THE ONLY WAY HOME

I'm humbled by the smiling pie in front of me– its shortcrust edges and gelatinous berry center filling the kitchen with flavor– too fancy to be from New York. No, the pie itself had come from a quiet little French patisserie in the south, where the fruit was sharp and sweet, and the pastry was blind-baked in a clay oven. There was no note attached, though piped cream had been swirled to form an 'x' at its center. An oh-so threatening message.

A warning.

"That's the third one this month." Steve said, coming into the kitchen with an armful of wood for the fire. Winter had crept in overnight, the biting fingers of frost finding its way into our penthouse apartment, and its 250-bag lease.

I mumbled something half-heartedly and closed the lid to the pink-box, not wanting him to read too much into the sugar, egg and icing that was my kind admirer.

The wood fell to a thump on the ground, and Steve gave one of those boyish half-smiles that went kindly with a flushed face. "Error at the bakery?"

"Something like that."

"Something like that, she says." I hear him laugh, his footsteps getting nearer. He appears at my side, a hand outstretched for the lid.

My movements are quick, and I fight off his fingers with a slap.

"I'm not allowed to eat this one either?"

"Steve."

"Natasha."

"We don't know who sent it. It could be laced with all sorts of poison."

"Just a bite. I'm sure a little cyanide wouldn't kill me."

I rolled my eyes and stepped aside, welcoming him and his golden-retriever grin forward. He took a fork from the drawer and began to pick at the death-marked dessert, not seeming fazed by its ingredients.

"Have you heard from Tony?" I asked, a half-attempt at conversation.

Steve and Stark weren't on speaking terms, though for what hundredth reason, I didn't know. Perhaps the one time I had been left out of the loop… something that didn't happen often.

Gone were the days I braided Stevie's hair and burped Tony over my shoulder. They were both as bad as each other, and my patience for their girly squabbles had worn to nothing.

Though this time felt a little different – a little off. And whatever Steve had done to Tony's ego… wasn't good. Robo-cop wasn't even returning my calls.

With a mouthful of pie, Steve shrugged, his face losing a little of that outdoor flush.

"Have you tried talking to Pepper?"

Steve shrugged again.

I was ready to let the topic dry up, when Steve pulled out a letter from his back pocket and slammed it on the counter. It was thick paper, hand-written and pressed in black foil.

Stark Industries had been printed on the header.

My eyes snapped quickly to the mention of Hydra, and blurred out all the unnecessary military gunf.

"A group of classified files have been stolen. An unknown hacker, with seemingly no fingerprint on any program we own, managed to deep-dive into Tony's system and pull an entire century's worth of metadata out with the snap of a finger."

My blood ran cold, and I pressed my lips together, trying to make sense of what spewed out in front of me.

"They're saying Tony did business with some big-money dealers a few years ago. He wanted to end the contract after what went down in Afghanistan, though it was too late. They came to collect."

"My family." I blurted. "I trusted SI with the identity of my family… my friends. God, all of my life is in that system. All of yours, Bruce, Clint… even Clint's kids."

"This is what I said."

"And?"

Steve chewed a mouthful of pie and then swallowed hard. "The conversation got a little more… heated."

"Was it Tony's fault?"

"The board."

I sighed, my knife getting hot without a victim to stab away the blame. I glanced to the pie, to Steve's dirty fork, to the letter that made everything in our downtown apartment look cheap.

I needed answers.

"Nat–" Steve hurried, though my hand was already on the keys. "Nat, where are you going?"

"To speak with Stark Industries."

Tony was sat behind a mirrored table– the wedge of glass thick enough to hold an aquarium, or a mountain of classified files. He had an elbow resting on it, and the other toying with one of seven sharpened pencils– STARK printed at the narrow end.

Pepper wasn't here - no one was.

The little hideaway that Tony had built strangely silent– not a vengeful axe or a deathtreat headed his way. Strange, as paparazzi had greeted me near the gates.

"I told you once, and I'll tell you again - I don't know how they did it."

I splayed my fingers on the arms of the chair I was sitting in, trying not to squeeze the life out of the leather. "You're Tony Stark… you made life support out of old car batteries and red wires. You're telling me you don't know how someone managed to hack the business that's arming the world's defense from space?"

He sighed that Tony sigh, flicking his eyes to the floor and then to the city-wide view behind me.

He knew more than he was letting on… he knew something was coming.

I stood abruptly and narrowed the space between us, slamming my fist on his perfect desk.

It didn't make a dent - though the glass chinked on impact.

"Who did it?"

"Natasha."

"Who did it?"

"Listen here, warrior princess–" Tony stood, "I got ten men arming my front door and a basement full of blood-soaked files downstairs that could have been leaked to the press, hadn't I got there in time. I saved what I could, I've inscripted the rest of the data to keep everything safeguarded, and the moment this bastard releases so much as a phone-pin to the newspapers, I'll have every top-ranged Russian sniper aimed at his ass."

My eyes narrowed, though I didn't move.

So it was a 'he' that did this.

Tony released a long breath and looked helplessly to the floor.

"It was James Barnes." He eventually fessed.

The muscles in my jaw tightened. "Bucky?"

Stark nodded.

"Why would he do this? What did he have to gain?"

The Avengers had dealt with their fair share of Winter Soldier drama back in the day – mainly with Tony in the firing line, and Steve with his tangled heartstrings keeping us all at bay.

We had bigger fish to fry once the drama was squashed, though Bucky had always kept his eye out– that skull crushing arm just enough in reach to cause damage when the time came.

Apparently, that time was now.

"What does he want? He's been off the grid for years…"

"He wants revenge."

"On us?"

"On the people that did this to him."

My brows hitched. "What would Stark Industry have to do with Hydra's experimenting? He killed your parents, does he want to finish off the bloodline now too?"

Tony smiled, too much of a stickler for sour comedy.

I thought I had pushed it too far, as his grin went stale and dry, though something else reached his eyes - a pity, a sadness.

"He wants Melina Vostokoff."

My blood began to boil.

"Why?" I demanded– a simple word for a simple answer.

Tony began to clear his throat and adjust himself back into his seat, looking to flower up the reason I wanted. No.

Not like this.

"Give it to me straight." I simplified.

"Melina was involved in the Winter Soldier project. She, unfortunately, is on his hit list."

I laughed, short and stiff, enough to make an average man sweat.

Tony was no average man.

"And he got Melina's details off the data… of course." I shook my head. "I can't let him kill her. I won't let it happen."

"Nat–"

"No, Tony. I trusted their whereabouts with you and Stark Industries. What if he goes after Yelena? What if this breaks out into a war?"

Tony sighed, absentmindedly scratching the electric plate that bloomed like a ray of sun from his chest. A heart without a pulse– it cast a shadow from beneath his shirt, though I didn't acknowledge how mortal it made him seem.

As much bone, blood and brain as I was.

As Melina was.

No, I couldn't let Bucky get to her. I couldn't let him take the only mother I had known.

I would go to Russia and stop him before he made contact, and hopefully, before Steve got in the way of my gun.

#natasha romanoff #buckybarnes #black widow #marvel #fanfiction #buckynat #bucky x natasha #mcu #roleplay

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razputin-vodello-au-archive · 2 years

Text

The Lives and Times of Razputin Vodello - Chapter 11: Compton and Cassie's Cookbook Collection

A few days after his adventures with Bob and Helmut, Raz had managed to ask Otto about what he had learned about Maligula, about Lucrecia Mux, about their history. And Otto had told him. He had told about how he met her, when she was a refugee from the war-torn Grulovia, and introduced him to Ford Cruller. How, almost instantly, those two fell for each other. About how soon after they found the others to join their little band of explorers. Ford Cruller and his Psychic Six, they called themselves, even if Otto had other ideas about that name, he had confessed with a laugh.

Otto told him about they started experimenting with their minds and psychic abilities, to find ways to expand their powers and uncover the secrets held within their own minds. How he had invented something called the Astralathe, a device designed to alter a person's psyche in order to broaden their consciousness and knowledge of heir their minds worked.

One day, war had returned to Grulovia and she, knowing she had still family living there, insisted to return to help defend it. Both he and Ford had warned Lucy against this. The Astralathe had made their minds vulnerable and needed a lot of time to repair their natural defenses. But Lucy, as Otto had said with nostalgic amusement, was as stubborn as they come and soon left, promising to write. He told about how sad Ford had looked, but let her go, because he had faith in her. Next they heard from her, she had been Gzar Theodore Malik's Minister of War and was on her way to turn the tides of the war around.

Soon after, good news turned grim. The war ended, Grulovia was victorious, but the hostilities didn't end. The Malik Family had drained Grulovia's citizens during the war and kept on taking and taking, to fuel their lavish lifestyle. This soon turned into peaceful protests from the Grulovian people, which endured for several years. These protests were always broken up by Lucy, who – peaceful as she was – used the rain to end them, despite her reluctance. It was during those times, Lucy started sending less and less post cards. With the last ones mentioned the people had started mentioning her by a new name: Maligula.

It all had come to a turning point when, during a stubborn protests, Lucy – now often referred by her given moniker – had called down so much rain that the Valermo Dam broken and flooded the capital. Ford Cruller and the others believed that Lucy's family, who often spearheaded the protests, perished in the disaster. This broke Lucy. She no longer was Lucy. Lucrecia Mux was gone. Maligula remained, and she soon turned against her country, flooding it, causing death and destruction. The Deluge of Grulovia

Otto had turned silent and sullen after that. He told told Raz how he, Ford and the others – who were being recognized as experts on Psychics – were called in to ...deal with the situation. A great battle ensued, the Psychic Six versus Maligula. It seemed a hopeless battle. Nothing they did seemed to faze Maligula, their former friend-turned-enemy.

Raz knew most of what they did from his time in Helmut's mind. But he was curious about how they defeated Maligula in the end.

Otto told him he didn't really know. During the chaos of the battle, they got separated from each other. Not long after that, Maligula seemingly …stopped. No trace of her, or Ford. It took a few days, but eventually they found Ford again, wandering around the remains of broken buildings of the flooded capital. Talking nonsense, a distant stare in his eyes, the one comprehensible thing he said was: “She is gone. I have dealt with her.” He had killed Maligula. But it wasn't only Maligula. She had been Lucy - his Lucy - too. The action had broken him, shattered his mind, fragmenting his personalities, with only sporadic moments of clarity.

But time for grief, there was not. A new battle stood ahead of them. The world wanted answers. Answers that could be harmful for the Psychic community. People always had a mistrust towards Psychics in the past, and Maligula's actions had called for a return of tougher laws against them. It was then, during this pinnacle time of probable peace between Psychics and non-Psychics, that a decision had to be made. If the world found out that their experiments had caused Maligula's uprise ….things could turned out for the worse.

It was Ford, during a moment of semi-clarity, that had offered the solution. “Maligula is not Lucy. Lucy is not Maligula” It was not an easy decision, but it was unanimously agreed to separate Lucy from Maligula. They were two totally different people. And so it happened. Maligula was laid to rest and Lucy would be remembered as a former member of the Psychic 6 – and soon not remembered at all. The Psychonauts Agency was formed, to battle against Psychic threats like Maligula and the rest was history, with the truth behind it only known to a select group of people.

It was a lot for Raz to take in, but he promised to uphold the secret. Not because he completely agreed with the action behind it. Because he understood the importance of it. And if he was honest, it was not that much changed with this knowledge. It was ancient history after all.

In the following time of initial excitement after Raz's adventures in the minds of Helmut and Bob, things fell surprisingly quick back into normalcy. The Interns had returned from their week of vacation, very much impressed with what had transpired. But soon enough, the regular flow of routine had set in again. It was time for classes, honing their psychic powers and – maybe the thing they dreaded most – studying for the coming exams. And most importantly: having fun with his friends between study sessions.

It was during one of those moments between studies that Raz made his way towards Psychoisolation, to meet Compton Boole for his chess lessons. With a spring in his step, he made his way into the Psychoisolation reception. With a with a quick hop, he sat on the reception desk and gave Terryl, the receptionist, his best charming grin.

“Terryl, meu raio de sol!” He greeted warmly with a wink. “It's been a while since I had the pleasure of basking in your radiance.”

Terryl giggled and booped his nose. “You flirt. Better not let Lili hear you.” She said. “And yes, it's been a while, but then again, you have been very busy, if I have to believe the stories. And I believe them, because so many people are saying it AND I have seen Bob and Helmut for myself. It's so weird to think that-”

Raz waited as Terryl was spooling off her thread of things of she wanted to say. He chuckled silently. He had learned early on that is was easier to let her just tire herself out.

“-and that's why those ferrets aren't allowed her anymore.” She finished. “Anyway, I would love to talk some more, but you have taken enough of my time talking as it it.” She gestured to the lev-lift. “Go on right ahead.�� she said with a smile. “Compton is waiting for you.”

Raz hopped of the desk. “Okay, thank you.” He ran to the lift. He gave a final two-fingered salute and levitated to the top.

Terryl shook her head with a giggle. “Cute kid, but impossible to get a word in when he's talking.”

Raz made his way around the psychic-ability-disabling shield toward the entrance of the dome. Inside, Compton was already setting up the chess board. It seemed he hadn't noticed Raz yet, mumbling to himself as he was setting up the pieces. Raz gently knocked the door.

Compton gave a yelp, nearly dropping the pieces of the table. He sighed when he noticed Raz. “Oh, Razputin, there you are, my boy.” He greeted. He waddled over to the door and unlocked it. Raz was one of the few people that visited him that Compton allowed to actually come inside the dome. Since Raz's mind was impossible to read without him letting them in, it didn't overwhelm Compton when he was near. Which made it easier to give chess lessons. And while Raz wasn't that into chess, he liked visiting the older Agent a lot. And Compton seemed to enjoy the young kid's company as well.

“How are you, Agent Boole?” Raz asked as he entered the dome, promptly hopping on a chair.

Compton took a seat as well. “Oh, I've been well.” He stated, taking out a bottle of soda out of his tiny fridge and giving it to Raz. “Sam's been comes over once in a while, and that always brings quite the buzz. But it's calm most of the time.” He chuckled and pointed a finger to Raz. “But things haven't been so calm around you, I've heard.”

Raz grinned. “I take it you heard about Helmut and Bob?”

“I did.” Compton replied enthusiastically. His expression turned into a frown and he sighed. “To think, poor Helmut has been here all along, practically next door. And Otto, oh how I would like to put his nose between his two ears, having Helmut's brain in that contraption of his for so long. And Bob … Oh, how I imagine things could have been differently if Otto only ...” He sighed again. “Well, no point dwelling on 'what if' and 'what could have'. Just the fact that you found him is astonishing. And you brought Bob back as well. You're making quite the name for yourself, dear boy.”

Raz chuckled, blushing a bit of the praise.

Compton's expression fell. “But I've heard from Otto that you have ...learned things while you were there? About ...Lucy?”

Raz nodded. “I did.” He said. “But Otto told me the whole story and ...I get why you did what you did. I might not agree, at all, but ...”

Compton sighed. “Good. Lucy was a dear friend.” He said. “No matter what happened to her, that monster who overtook her ...was not her. I rather remember the Lucy I know, rather than what she became.”

Raz nodded again. He decided to change the subject. “Have Bob and Helmut visited you yet, Agent Boole?”

Compton gave a wistful smile. “Not yet, they haven't.” He said. He grinned and chuckled. “But I guess, after being apart for so long, they have better things to do before visiting old friends.”

Raz cocked his head. “Like what? With Helmut being de-brained for so long and Bob isolating himself, I think they'd run out of things to talk to fast.”

Compton let out a small laugh. “Oh, to be young again.” He stated with a amused shake of his head, leaving Raz somewhat confused. “Well, they might not have visited me yet, but Bob has sent me over this.” He tapped the bottle on his side of the table. “Home brewed Gûbiduk.” He chuckled. “My guess is that this is just a way for Bob to get rid of them, but I appreciate the gesture. I always enjoyed a glass of this. With moderation, of course.”

He lifted his glass and took a sip. He let out a breath and smacked his lips. Raz failed to stifle a chuckle as he remembered his time in Helmut's mind.

“What so funny?” Compton asked, raising a eyebrow.

Raz chuckled. “It's just ...in Helmut's mind -” He giggled again. “I met a mental figure that represented both you ...and one of the 5 senses. You were ...Taste.”

Compton chuckled. “Oh dear, what did 'I' look like?”

Raz snorted. “A giant pair of lips with beady eyes.” He started laughing, he couldn't help it.

Compton laughed as well. “Oh, that Fullbear...” He said. “He always said that I was one of the better cooks around ,but – AAAH!”

Compton suddenly yelled and pushed his hands against his ears. Raz jumped up. “Compton, what's wrong?!”

“Too many! Too many voices!” Compton yelled out.

Raz was confused. He thought that Compton couldn't read his mind. But then he noticed what was causing Compton distress. A trio of bees somehow had managed to find their way inside the dome. How, no idea, but now they were overwhelming Compton, who was involuntary reading their minds.

Compton started to run around the room. “Shoo, shoo, get out of here!” he shouted in panic. He ran out the door, where he stumbled and landed on his side, his hands pressed against his head. The bees started buzzing around him, filling his mind with whatever they were saying to him. “Go away! Please! Not all at once!” He shouted. “I can't take it! I can't! It's too much! Too much!”

Raz grew incredibly worried. At this rate, Compton might explode himself, or something else ...or someone else, namely Raz himself. Raz first thought was to go downstairs and get Terryl, but decided against it. Being a waterfall of words, she might make things worse. He had to get someone else. But who? He couldn't leave Compton all alone. Something might happen. Then he thought about his time in Helmut and Bob's minds. If he helped them, couldn't he do the same for Compton. Help him out with whatever his mind was going through?

Raz wearily took out his Psycho Portal out of his jacket. He had promised his Mom to be responsible with it. But this counted as an emergency. She would understand.

“Agent Boole, would you mind if I made a quick, and very quiet, uh ...wellness check?” Raz asked. “Inside your mind?”

“Ahh!”

“Scream once for yes, I may enter your mind, and twice for no.”

“Ahh!”

“Great!” Raz held out his portal. “Outta my way, bees.” He dropped the Psycho Portal on Compton's head. It opened, showing the doorway of golden mental light. Raz pulled his goggles to his head and prepared for the Astral Jump.

The journey through the Astral Void was quick this time and he felt none of the usual side-effects. Traveling through so many minds in such a short time must've helped a bunch, together with the modifications Otto had made to help dealing with his basophobia.

Raz's feet touch solid ground. He looked around. He was in a ...dome, so it seemed. Fitting. The difference with this one was that it was mostly empty, save for a giant bell, hanging on the ceiling and a giant platform beneath it. Raz approached the bell, giving it a good look. He had the sudden urge to smack it. A voice suddenly shouted, before he was able too. It was Compton, or the Mental representation of Compton main personality anyway.

“No! Not yet! I'm not ready!” He shouted, running to the platform Raz was standing on. “Cassie's not here yet!” He rolled on the platform, in a fetal position.

“Not ready for what?” Raz asked.

Compton stood up. A fierce expression burning in his eyes. “Dinner!”

Raz's shoulders slumped. “Let me guess.” He began, slightly fearful. “We're on the menu?”

“No. Worse.” Compton replied, looking around. “Judgment!”

A bang suddenly was heard. Raz and Compton turned around. Raz gasped as he saw the hulking mental figure approach them. He knew what it was because of his lessons, but never faced it before. Wielding a giant gavel and wearing a judge's outfit, it was ...well, a judge.

The Judge slapped his gavel in his hands. “Court is in session.”

Compton gave a gasp and teleported out of sight. Raz sighed. “Guess it is up to me.” He jumped down of the platform. He cracked his knuckles. Luckily, he also knew how to quickly deal with this type of enemy. Two words. Disarm and burn. Quickest way to defeat it.

The Judge pointed his gavel toward Razputin. “Court is in session!” It roared. “Please remain standing! If you're able!”

Raz gave a cocky grin. “How 'bout you?” He held out his hands. Two orange PSI Hands grabbed the gavel and started pulling. The Judge grunted as he tried to keep a hold of it. “RAH! Never touch a Judge's gavel!” The gavel slipped out of his hands and flew over to Raz, where it hovered above him. With a snap of his fingers, the gavel was set ablaze.

“Here, have it BACK!” He threw the object back to the Judge. It hit the Judge with a hard impact. It's flammable clothes caught fire. It screamed as he tried to put the flames out.

It's only a mental figure. Raz had to remind himself. It's not real. It's not a person. It's a mental representation of judgment of yourself, or the fear of judgment from others. Still, no need to let it suffer. He placed his fingers against his temple and build up energy for a PSI Blast.

Raz grinned. “Objection overruled.” He fired his PSI Blast, hitting the Judge square in the powdered wig wearing face. It gave out a yell and started to wobble on it's feet. It grinned weakly at Raz. “Let's ...take a five minute recess.”

“Nope. Court is dismissed.” Raz said. He ran towards the Judge and jumped, aided by levitation. He PSI-punched the Judge right in the face, sending him flying. Right against the giant bell, where it exploded into smoke.

The bell started ringing, loud, deep, resounding. The whole room felt like it was vibrating. It hurt. Raz fell on his knees and pushed his hands against his ears. He felt like screaming.

Compton suddenly stood next to him, in a panicked stated. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no!”

The bell rung again, but suddenly started rising. Raz stood up and frantically looked around to the new environment. The bell shrunk as it was being lifted. It's loud, booming rings slowly changing into a soft tingling. Raz gasped at the sight before him. Three giant ...goat hand-puppets, complete with arm, stood in front of them. They resembled Hollis Forsythe, Ford Cruller and Otto Mentallis. Raz didn't know if he should be scared or amused.

The Ford Cruller goat, who held the bell, greeted them rather harshly. “Compton.”

“Oh no, anything but this.” Compton said, more to himself than anyone else.

The Otto Mentallis shaped plush leaned down. “It's...!

Next was Goat Hollis. “Time …!”

The Ford Cruller Puppet spoke next. “For...!”

“RAM! IT! DOWN!” A whole heap of voices shouted behind them, cheering and yelling. Music started playing. Raz turned around. He knew Mental Worlds were ...abstract, but this … He was on the set of a surrealistic cooking show, it seemed, where the audience seemed to be the ingredients. There were eggs, watermelons, bee hives, pigs, … This was weird.

A curtain opened up, revealing – much to his amusement – a Hand Puppet Goat version of Truman Zanotto, complete with a presentator's microphone. “Good evening, ladies and Gentle-food, and welcome to Ram It Down!” It said. “I'm your host, Tincan Zanotto. And while our celebrity judges need no introductions, I'll give them anyway. I give to you Headbutt Forsythe, Otto Meatallis and Faun Cruller!”

The audience cheered.

Tincan Zanotto continued. “Tonight, we'll watch ONE lucky contestant prepare THREE increasingly-complicated dishes in an attempt to please our celebrity judges!”

“Impossible!” Headbutt Forsythe yelled.

“He'll never do it!” Faun Cruller added.

“He's nothing without Cassie!” Otto Meatallis finished.

Tincan Zanotto laughed. “And he's the nice one!”

The audience laughed and cheered.

Compton seemed in much distress. Raz placed a hand on the elderly Agent's shoulder. “Hey, You are not alone in this.” He said with a genuine smile. “I know my way around the kitchen ...a bit. I will help you with these dishes.”

Compton chuckled nervously. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Mom always said that when you are feeling overwhelmed, just take a step back, have a breather and continue on your own pace.” Raz said. “If we'll do this, we'll have no trouble with whatever these goatonauts will throw at us.”

Compton inhaled deeply and let out a breath. “If you say so.”

“I know so.” Raz said confidentially. “This will be a piece of cake!”

One Compton Cook-off later, Raz found himself flung back into his own body, back in the physical world.

“That was NOT a piece of cake!” He grumbled. A wave of nausea almost overwhelmed him and he struggled to fight it off. The whole experience had been, in two words, upsetting and disgusting. The audience being way to eager to be used as ingredients, looking eagerly forward to being sliced, diced, boiled and/or grilled was one thing. The way those gluttonous goats scarfed down those dishes was another.

But the whole fight at the end of it ...that was too much. Did they HAVE to projectile vomit AT HIM. He got hit a few times. Raz dry-heaved as the memory returned. The whole thing was disgusting. He knew that it was all a mental projection, not real, but he still could feel the vomit on him. He felt filthy. He needed a good shower after this. He inhaled and let out a deep breath. Relax. At least it was over now.

His thoughts got interrupted when he heard laughing. Compton was laughing. Good sign. Raz jumped up and looked inside the dome. Compton was talking to the bees.

“Oh, that is so Cassie.” Compton said with a hearty laugh. “But, what do you mean 'they won't let her out'?”

The bees buzzed their answer and started flying away.

Compton followed. “What Librarian?” He asked.

The bees buzzed again.

Compton placed a hand on his chin as he thought. “Hm, I need to find Cassie right away.”

Compton started to walk away. The bees buzzed something against him. He chuckled. “Lost? We'll never get lost.” He said. “I know that forest like the back of my hand.”

He started walking to the exit again, but Raz jumped in front of him. “Wait, don't you want help?” he asked. “And what's going on?”

Compton gave Raz a stern look, but eventually nodded with a smile. “I guess some help can't hurt.” He said. “After all, you did wonders for me. Let's go.”

“Yes!” Raz quickly ran after Compton.

Compton took Raz to the Questionable area, to the entrance of the Forgetful Forest.

“Here we are.” Compton said and he clumsily climbed over the fence. He dropped to the ground, got up again and dusted himself off.

Raz levitated over the fence. “Agent Boole, may I ask what is going on?”

Compton chuckled. “Oh, my apologies, sometimes I forget some Psychics don't do Zoolepathy.”

“I know Zoolepathy, but insects are ...difficult to understand for me.” He turned to the bees. “No offense.”

Compton chuckled and started making his way through the forest, Raz following quickly behind him. “Well, it seems that Cassie -”

“Cassie O'pia?” Raz asked eagerly.

“Yes, don't interrupt me, Razputin.”

“Sorry.”

“It seems that Cassie is dealing with an ...identity crisis of some sorts.”

“Explain?”

“Well, Cassie's specialty has always been Archetypes.” Compton explained. “But it seems she lost control over one of them and now this 'Librarian' is issuing orders to the bees, effectively keeping Cassie a prisoner in her own home, only letting her out to tend the hives and the queen.”

Raz blinked a few times. He had understood half of it. “Uhm...explain again. What are Archetypes?”

“Well ...oh, Cassie has always been better at explaining this, having been a teacher and all ...” Compton said. “The way I've always seen it, Archetypes are mental figures that you create to aid you in the Mental Worlds. But these are not your average constructs, no, no, no. They are ..well, you.”

Raz opened his mouth to ask a question, but Compton continued.

“Archetypes are part of the Mental Projection Psychic ability.” Compton explained. “And these Archetypes represent parts of your personality, parts of who you were in your life. And Cassie had taken on many roles during her lifetime, even before joining up with the Psychic six.”

“Don't you mean 'seven'?”

Compton sighed, but didn't commented. “And like I said, she has lost control over one of them.” he said. “And now it has taken control over the bee colony Cassie's been looking over.”

Raz wasn't sure he understood everything completely, but he understood enough to know that they had to help Cassie. No-one should be held against their will, even if the someone doing the 'against-will-holding' was a part of themselves.

Raz looked around as he and Compton walked on the forest path. “You know, I tried to find my way back to the Gulch after Otto had taken me there for Bob, but I never could find the right path. And that was weird, because I had it memorized.”

Compton laughed. “Well, of course your didn't.” He said. “Back in those days, we were very protective of our work, so Ford had set up Psychic defenses all around the Gulch. No-one, aside from us, would be able to find this place, unless we were there to guide the way.”

“That's so cool!” Raz exclaimed.

Compton sighed. “But ...with Ford gone, I am sure they will start to deteriorate over time and eventually ...be gone.” He fell silent. “I wonder if Cassie knows about Ford. She held him in such high regard...” He chuckled. “Some might say he was jealous of Lucy and Ford, but I knew better.” He paused. “After all, she was happy being with me and my wife ...”

“What?”

“Ah, we're here.” Compton announced. They looked over the Green Needle Gulch, the various building around it. Raz looked over to the vine tower, where Bob and Helmut's house was located. He would like to visit them, but they had better things to do.

“Well, I guess we better find a way down there.” He said, turning around. “So we ...better ...get ...moving.” He slowly looked up at he towering figure standing in front of them. A tall, slender person, covered in needles and two giant, black eyes. He had heard Lizzie stories. About a person living in the woods, part human, part porcupine, a full witch. Lizzie even claimed she had seen her. But Raz never believed her. Not until now...

Raz gave a scream, jumped backwards and hid behind Compton. “AAH, the Green Needle Witch!” he shouted. “Don't let her hug me! I don't want to be filled with holes!”

Compton sighed and shook his head. “Kids ….” He looked up with a smile. “Hello Cassie, it's been too long.”

“Boolie?” the witch asked. She took off her mask, revealing an elderly woman's widely smiling face. “Compton Boole, it is you!” She knelt down to embrace Compton, but he took a step back.

“What is that stuff on you?” He asked.

Cassie chuckled and look down at her. “Oh, this?” She asked. “Honey and pine needles. Beekeeping can be such a messy affair.”

Raz peeked from behind Compton. “Cassie ...O'pia?”

Cassie noticed Raz. She knelt down and give him a warm smile. “And who is this?” she asked. “Hang on, you look familiar ...”

“We kinda met once a few years ago.” Raz said. “I was 5 at the time.”

Cassie clasped her honey-covered hands together. “Now I remember, you're that little boy they found.” She said enthusiastically. “I gifted you a pot of honey.”

“It didn't last very long.” Raz said with a chuckle. “I'm a bit of a sweet-tooth.”

Compton cleared his throat. “Cassie, not that I don't enjoy our reunion, but we have been informed that you are having ...problems?”

Cassie opened her mouth to answer, but a swarms of bees, flying in a formation resembling the Green Needle Witch, started flying around her.

“What?” She asked the bees. “I AM doing my work, but I am with friends now.”

The bees started buzzing angrily and started to push her towards the forest.

“Okay, okay, I'm going, no need to get to prickly.” Cassie said with a sigh. She turned to Compton and Raz. “I need to tend to the queen, but you are welcome to join me at my home.” She turned to the bees as they started buzzing. “Yes, they are! No need to be impolite!” She sighed and gestured to them to follow.

As they made their way towards Cassie's house, Compton asked questions. Raz was too busy being weary about those bees to really listen. A short while later, they found themselves in house, almost completely covered in thick orange honey.

Cassie opened the door and let them in. Raz took notice of the bee-themed interior.

“Very ...uh, hive-y.” He commented, hoping to sound genuine.

“I wasn't included in the redecoration discussions.” Cassie said with a sigh.

Compton clapped his hands together. “I think the first thing we should do is – Ah!” A swarm of bees flew in front of his face and started buzzing angrily. He gasped. “My word, how vulgar.”

“No need to get angry, bees.” Raz said, putting on his most charming smile. “We're here to help Cassie. So she can be a better beekeeper. Your queen is going to like that very much.” He winked at Cassie, who gave an almost unnoticeable nod.

The Bee-Witch-figures buzzed against each other, like they were discussing something. They turned to Raz and nodded. Raz grinned and took out his Psycho Portal. “I guess you wouldn't mind if I snuck a quick peek inside your mind?”

Cassie smiled. “Oh please do, I haven't had a check-up since Ford ...”

Raz's smile fell as he noticed how Cassie voice trailed off.

Cassie sighed. “I heard about Ford.” She said with a wistful smile. “It was hard to hear, but at least he is with Lucy now.” She turned around. “I am ready, young man.”

Raz nodded and floated the Portal over to the back of her head. It attached itself and opened up.

Raz pulled up his goggles. Second Astral Jump of the day, here I come.

Moments later, he found himself surrounded by complete darkness. “Hello? Cassie?” He figured it couldn't hurt. “Bees?!” No answer. He looked around.

Lighting up like it was a scene from a theater play, a corner of the room lit up, showing a desk with a 2D figure – like a drawing that was cut out and come to life – was sitting. He walked over. It seemed to be a younger version of Cassie. The pen in her hair suggested this was her 'Writer' archetype. That, and she was busy writing in a book.

Raz cleared his throat. “Cassie?” He asked. “I-”

Writer Cassie held up a hand, not looking away from her book. “It's okay. I know why you're here.” She took a book out of the shelf and grabbed a pen. “Now, to whom shall I dedicate this description?” She started writing. “Not that many people find their way in here these days” she said approvingly. “You must have a good head on your shoulders.” She turned to look at Raz. “Definitely a big one at that.” She added quietly.

Raz rolled his eyes. “Cassie, I am here to help you.” He said. “Some bees told Compton that you have trouble with a ...Librarian?”

As on cue, the scene suddenly ...folded like a book. A giant stood over Raz. Raz realized this was another Archetype of Cassie, dressed in a fancy green dress suit, green glasses and an orange pendant around her neck.

“Ah, there is that pesky Little volume.” The Librarian said. She smiled at Raz. “Thank you, young man. I have been looking for this silly book forever.”

“Wait, I was still talking to her.” Raz said. “I wanted to help her with ...” He stopped himself. He was talking to the very problem he was there to help with. Better not inform her of that little fact.

The Librarian scoffed. “What, this one?” She said dismissively. She laughed. “Oh, I'll admit, the Author was helpful once. When we needed the money to leave the country, but that was a long time ago.” She slammed the book on the desk. “But when the chips were down and we needed to fight to protect our friends? Hah! Worthless!”

The librarian knelt down and placed the book inside a locked cupboard.

“Is there ...another Cassie book in here I can talk too?” Raz asked, peeking over the edge of the desk he was standing on.

“They are all restricted.” The Librarian said, closing down the cupboard. She stood up and started to walk away, but quickly turned around. “Hmm, then again, maybe you could help me with something. There are two other books mission from my collection.” She leaned closer to Raz. “DANGEROUS BOOKS. These are the books that got us in this horrible situation. These are the WRONG BOOKS, you understand?” She didn't wait for Raz to answer. “Round them up for me. Take them out of circulation. They are OVERDUE. Understand?”

Raz felt like he didn't have much choice. With the Librarian being a literal giant right now, he wouldn't dream of being able to take her on. He had to play along, for now at least. Maybe he could find something or someone to help him here? Like Vision and the other Senses had been helping him in Helmut's mind.

Raz flashed the charming Vodello smile. “Sure, anything for a beautiful and orderly creature as yourself.

“You'll find that there's no need for romance novels here, you man.” The Librarian said. She nevertheless smiled. “But a woman can always appreciate a compliment.”

That's what I'm hoping for. Raz thought. He grinned. “I'll go find those books for you.”

“Get to it, young man.” The Librarian said.

Raz hopped down the desk and made his way toward the gate marked 'Children's Corner. He tried to look between the bars as best he could. The room inside was high. If this was a video game, he'd bet that the object he was looking for would be way at the top. Not that this was a video game, but you'd be surprised how many times video game logic would apply when traversing Mental Worlds.

Raz pulled an nearby lever and the gate opened. The moment he walked through it closed behind him. At that moment, a Censor Gate popped up.

“Hey, you're not a child.” Raz said with a grin to the Censor popping his head out.

“No!”

“Raz pulled up his goggles with a flamboyant gesture. “Well, THIS shouldn't take too long.”

The very moment he said 'long', a pair of festive trumpets sounded and a new Mental Figure appeared. A gremlin-like creature wearing a an uniform, like from cheerleaders or marching bands. Porra. An Enabler. Supports negative thoughts.

The Enabler started dancing. “Censors know when something's wrong! Kill the thoughts that don't belong!” It pointed it's twirling stick to the censor. A green beam shot out the stick and places a protective aura around the Censor.

Raz groaned. “Seriously?” he asked rhetorically. “I don't have time for this.”

He pointed two fingers towards the Enabler and shot a beam of his own. One made of concentrated Pyrokinetic energy. The Enabler exploded in to a rain of confetti.

Raz grinned triumphantly and decided to do a cheer of his own. “They say nice things in happy verse, but Enablers just make things worse!”

He quickly shot a PSI Blast toward the Censor, who exploded into smoke. Raz buckled. He had poured a lot of mental energy into those attacks to make them stronger. Maybe he shouldn't have done that. He took a breather and looked up. The book must be there, considering the Censors popping up to fight him. He levitated up, passing many 2D cutouts of book characters.

And indeed, there is was. A shiny book on a pedestal. Raz landed in front of it and opened it. The world around him warped and he found himself in another place. He turned around and saw another figure – probably another Archetype of Cassie – looking over the balcony. He ran towards her.

“Cassie!” He called out, making her turn around. This Cassie had two rulers for earrings. Rulers? A teacher, maybe? She rested her hands on her knees and leaned down. Raz kept talking. “You've gotta watch out! There's a giant ...uh ...YOU out there hunting for ...you.” This must be one the weirdest things he had ever said.

“Don't worry, young man.” Teacher Cassie said. “The Librarian can't get in here. That's why she sends in her ...” She eyed Raz. “Operatives.”

“Who me? I'm not an operative.” Raz said in his defense. “I'm just playing along until I can find the real Cassie.”

“The real Cassie?” Teacher Cassie asked with a certain curiosity. “Tell me, child, what is your name?”

“Razputin Vodello, Ma'am.” Raz answered.

Teacher Cassie smiled. “Polite, good. And tell me, who is the REAL Razputin? The one you are with your friends? With your family? Or t he one you save for your ...” She smiled. “...Special Someone? Hmmm?”

Raz blushed.

“Is that the real you?” Teacher Cassie continued. “Or are you actually a combination of all those different identities?” She rose up and started to walk around Razputin. “Important challenges in our lives can cause us to create entirely new identities for ourselves, sometimes summoning powerful archetypes from our unconscious mind: The Hero, The Explorer, The Shadow, ...”

Raz shrunk, that last one bringing shivers down his spine. She was definitely a teacher, the way she talked.

Cassie continued. “My special talent allows me to summon whatever archetype I need to survive my current situation.”

Probably how she got into this mess in the first place. Raz thought.

“Would you like me to teach you?” She asked Raz, who nodded eagerly.

Cassie smiled. “An eager student.” She noted. “I'm starting to like you more and more, young man.” She chuckled. “Now, close your eyes and clear your mind. Focus your mind's eye on a vision of the archetype you need the most right now.” She instructed and Raz did as she told. “Is it a trickster? A Wise Mentor? Or maybe ...a Mighty Warrior?”

As she instructed him, Raz thought about the best way to do this. He had seen a lot of 2D drawing people here, and Cassie's archetypes seemed to be those as well, so … why not him too. He held out his hand and made a drawing motion with it.

With a poof, a black-and-white cartoon version of himself appeared with a celebratory pose. “YIPPIE, eu estou aqui!” It started to run circles around Raz and Teacher Cassie at a high speed.

“Oh, well, very good.” Teacher Cassie said unconvincingly. She watched at the running archetype. “You'll get better with practice.”

Teacher Cassie walked over the giant book with the door in it. “Your Archetype will act on its own sometimes, but you can also focus it on a specific task.” She gestured toward the door. “Like opening this door from the other side.”

Raz looked at his Archetype. “You think you can …?”

“Eu tenho esse!” The Archetype cheered and he ran to the door, squeezed himself under it and soon enough, opened the door for Raz. There was a tunnel behind the door.

“That's the spirit.” Teacher Cassie cheered. “What a good boy. Now, see where this little fellow takes you. I'll see you at the end.”

With a nod, Raz ran inside the tunnel. During his travel, he encountered enemies, had to climb a lot of things, fight some more. He was glad he was a Levitation Master, or else this could have taken a lot of time. He could easily skip some parts to traverse faster. He and his Archetype – now affectionately nicknamed Archie - eventually made their way to Teacher Cassie again, standing on a book where someone had made a cutout scenery out of the pages.

Teacher Cassie smiled brightly as they approached her. “You made it!”

Archie puffed up his 2D chest proudly. “Ele ajudou!”

“Seeing you two work together so well really inspired me, AND ...” She grinned. “It gave me an idea. We need to get all of Cassie's archetypes together! Round up all the runaway books and give them to the Librarian”

“But she'll lock you all up.” Raz commented, worry in his voice.

Teacher Cassie grinned. “Oh, don't worry!” She reached up and tore a page from the book she was standing on, which folded itself, and her, up in a neat little roll, which tucked itself away in Raz's jacket pocket. “We'll be with you. Now, go find the others. Hurry!”

Not too long after, Raz had found his way back to the Librarian's desk and gave her the book.

“Ah, the Teacher's Edition. We all learned so much from this one.” She commented, almost proudly. She knelt down and placed the book inside the cabinet. “But, we can't have her making up new identities and confusing things right when I'm getting everything sorted, can we?” She locked the cabinet down. “No. We can't.”

She turned to Raz. “Just one more book to go!” she said. “You're on the very edge of becoming my FAVORITE ASSISTANT!”

What an honor. Raz thought sarcastically. As he made his way toward wherever the last book was stored he was thinking about the situation. The battle with Maligula must've brought the Librarian to power. Cassie must have made her to feel safe. But now she had too much power. Raz figured he had to help Cassie get her aspects back into balance. That would help her for sure.

After a long trek through the Library, he found the second and last Book. He opened it and once again found himself inside its pages.

There were some big letters on the page. It read 'FANNIE FLATS'. Teacher Cassie's paper head popped out of Razputin's jacket pocket. “The next member of our little crew works here. But be careful.” She eyed the big letters. “This is the shop of Fannie Flats, the infamous counterfeiter.”

“Cassie worked for a counterfeiter?” Raz asked.

“I work for myself.” A voice, sounding like another Cassie, spoke up. A corner of the page turned and Counterfeiter Cassie's head popped out. “But I do what I need to survive.”

“After our parents dumped us here, we needed an Archetype that was a little more …” She eyed the younger Cassie. “...thick skinned.”

“Cassie, we've come to get you out.” Raz said with a grin.

“It's true.” Teacher Cassie added. “We have a plan!”

Counterfeiter Cassie gave a bored wave. “Oh, hey, Teach. Listen, now's not really a good time.” She said. “Flats has a big deal coming up, and she's really on edge. And ...” she looked around. “...I am working on my ticket out of here.”

“Can we help?” Raz asked.

Cassie popped behind the page and appeared on the other side, closer to Raz and Teacher. “Listen, don't tell anyone, bu the cops are closing in on this placer. The boss' days are numbered. I cut an immunity deal for myself. I just need to get them some evidence they can use against the big gal.” She crawled behind the page again and popped out on top. “But she's watching everybody like a hawk these days and I can't get away. “

Raz pointed his thumb to his chest. “We'll do it. I'll get you the evidence you need. You'll be out of her in no time.

Counterfeiter contemplated the offer. “Deal.” She said. “But remember. Never double cross a double crosser.” She folded the page over, showing a door and opened it. “You can come in through here.”

Raz steped through and gasped at the scene. He had thought that Helmut's Mental World was pretty but this ...this was absolutely gorgeous. Everything was made out of books and paper and ink.

“Oh, this is absolutely one of my favorite Mental world I've been.” He commented.

“It's beautiful, is it not?” Teacher asked, popping up from Razputin's jacket pocket. “But don't let it fool you. Under all that beauty, Shanghai is a dirty place.” She let out a sigh. “Something I learned quite quickly when I was here. But enough dawdling on the past. You better hurry and get that evidence.”

“Any clue where I should start looking.” Raz asked.

“Fannie Flats has three locations she often visits, both for her 'enterprise' as for her own needs.” Teacher said. “The Cannery, the Marketplace and the Printing Factory. Chances are you'll find our evidence there.”

Raz nodded and levitated of the ground. And it seemed Teacher's hunch was correct. It took a bit of effort, but he managed to find three pieces of evidence linking Fannie Flats to criminal operations. He quickly returned to the book where Counterfeiter was hiding. He took the three pieces of evidence out of his jacket and presented them to Counterfeiter.

“That's all the evidence we could get.” He said. “Think it's enough?”

A snake wearing a Cop's outfit popped his head behind Counterfeiter. “Let me be the judge of that.” His tail grabbed the evidence out of Razputin's hand. He brought it to his face, his tongue flickering over it, as if he were tasting it. “Oh yeah, this is some hot dirt right here.” He said with a snaky grin. “We'll be able to blackmail her with this for YEARS.”

“Blackmail?” Counterfeiter asked incredulously. “I thought you were going to arrest her?”

“What? How is she gonna make the money she needs to pay us from jail?” Snake Cop asked, like the just asked the stupidest question in the world.

Counterfeiter's expression grew worried and fearful. “But, if she's not locked up, and she finds out I was the one who sent her up the river ...” She didn't finish her sentence, but Raz could guess what the consequences were.

“Hey, don't worry.” Snake Cop said nonchalantly. “We'll uh, protect you or something.” With that said, he popped back into the pages and vanished, leaving Counterfeiter bewildered. She quickly popped over to Raz and Teacher.

“Let's beat it.” She said. She folded herself into a near square and hopped into Raz's jacket. She popped her head out again. “This was a bust.”

From inside the pages, people started panicking. Oh, 'bust' as in 'the cops busting them', Raz realized. He ran out the book, grabbed it and made his way to the library desk, where Librarian was waiting for him. He presented the book to her.

The Librarian eyed the book like it was covered in unmentionable filth. “Ew. Not a chapter of which I am particularly proud.” She turned around.

Raz stepped forward. “Hey, She – you – were forced the outlaw life.”

“Not that part. I mean ...” She knelt down and placed the book with the others. She rose up and stared Raz right into his eyes. “...nobody likes a snitch!”

Still a bit of outlaw in her, Raz Thought.

She knelt down again and looked at the trio of books locked up behind the grid. “There you are, all safe and sound again.”

She rose up and turned to Raz. “Thank you, young man.” She began, somehow sounding very insincere as she talked. “You were a little loud for my liking, but you got the job done.”

“And now you let me help you?” He asked. Not if everything is going to Teacher's plan, he thought.

“Ooh, you want to help me?” The librarian asked, a sly smile tugging on her lips. “I know a place from where you can help me.” Quicker than she looked, she grabbed Raz, holding him in her hand.

Raz felt a wave of panic wash over him. Oh no, not again. Okay, you can do this Raz. I am fine. I am safe. I am in a giant's hand. No, don't think of that. How about we just start shouting? “H-hey, put me down!” he yelled.

The Librarian threw him inside the cabinet with the books. He winced as he fell hard on his back. “Of all the double-crossing...!” He yelled.

Without another word, the Librarian turned around and walked away. Raz shuffled backwards towards the wall. When he felt his back hit solid matter, he hugged his knees, burying his face in them. He had to calm himself down. He started taking deep, shaky breaths. His panic attack had a good grip on him.

Just let it pass. Just let it pass.

“Razputin, what's wrong?” Teacher's voice asked from inside his jacket. Her head popped out, giving Raz a concerned look. “Are you hurt.”

“N-no....” Raz managed to whimper out. “B-basophobia. T-trig-triggered. Panic attack. Will pass.”

Teacher's face showed worry. “Oh dear.” she popped out of Raz's jacket completely and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Deep breaths, young man. In ...and out. Clear your mind, just like you did with Archetype.”

Raz did as instructed. Just do your breathing exercises, Raz, he thought to himself. He started taking deep breaths. In ...and out. In ...and out. Soon, he felt his heart rate slow down, his breathing easier, his mind clearing up. He just needed a few more moments and he'd be good to go again.

Teacher smiled almost motherly at him. “That's good. You're doing great.” She told him gently.

“Something going on out there?” Counterfeiter asked from inside the jacket. She popped out her head. She gave Raz a concerned look. “Something wrong with the kid.”

Teacher gave Counterfeiter a soft smile. “There was, but he's doing better now.” Raz looked up at Teacher and gave her a nod.

“Well he better, because I don't see a way out of this.” Counterfeiter said, looking around. “If locking us up in here was part of the plan, it's a stupid part.”

“This was, in fact, all part of the plan, indeed.” Teacher said.

Counterfeiter chuckled. “And I thought I was the tricky one.” She sighed. “I don't see how this is going to help any of us. This is a bad place.”

Teacher stood up, helping Raz on his feet. “No, it's perfect.”

“How is THIS perfect?” Counterfeiter asked.

Teacher went over to Writer's book and started to push it to the ground. “Any place is perfect …” She opened the book, revealing the Writer. “...when we're all together.”

Writer's eyes darted around, before falling on Teacher. She smiled. “Well, I haven't seen you in a while.”

Teacher picked up Writer from her page and straightened her out. She, Teacher and Counterfeiter linked arms together. “We should never let her split us up.” The latter said.

“When we're together, nothing is impossible.” Writer said.

“Well, that tears it.” The Librarian's voice suddenly called out. The cabinet suddenly got torn in two, revealing it to be a book. The librarian held a half in each hand. “I hate to damage a book, of course ...” she said, rolling her eyes. “But that last line was too corny, even for a motivational speaker!”

The three Cassie archetypes linked hands. “We're not going to let you control us anymore!” Teacher yelled defiantly.

“Oh, and which one of YOU thinks you should be in charge?” Librarian asked, shaking the book half. Her voice turned grim. “None of you could stop Maligula. None of you could protect your friends.” She threw the two halves away and let herself drop backwards, towards the sea of ink that had started to flow into the Library. “I am the real Cassie O'Pia! And I'll show you how we fight off a foreign invader” She fell into the sea of ink, submerging herself into the black void.

Raz book half fell on the ground, jettisoning him out of it. The half with the three Cassies had fallen into the ink, but they had managed to climb out of there, onto a higher stack of books. They watched the spot where the Librarian had sunk down, wearily looking over the sea of ink. Raz gasped when two giant hands made of paper rose from the ink. Raz scrambled up and watched as a giant version – even more giant than before – fo the Librarian pushed herself up from the inky void. Made completely out of paper, instead of the single sheet she used to be.

“That's one deadly looking Librarian.” Raz blurted out. “A Die-Brarian, even!”

“Get ready for the shushing of your life.” Her booming voice called out.

“Ooh, merda.” Raz commented as he watched the Leviathan Librarian hovering above him. When in doubt, remember Basic Combat Braining 101: throwing projectiles at enemies is the elemental. Raz started to pick up stuff that had washed onto the platform he was standing on.

“Throwing things? In a LIBRARY?” The Die-Brarian asked incredulously. “Have you no respect for private property? No, of course you don't!”

Raz ignored her and kept throwing debris, books and other trash at her. He suddenly heard one of the Cassie's shout at him.

“Here, try this.” Writer shouted. “It's filled with her least favorte kind of ink!” The three Cassies threw a giant pen at Raz, who swiftly caught it with his PSI hand. He threw it at the Die-Brarian, hitting her right in the face.

She stumbled. “Ooh ...I feel ...at little ...dog-eared.” She fell forward, her face resting on the platform.

“Right, now what?” Raz ask-shouted at the Cassie's.

Writer Cassie pointed at the Die-Brarian's mouth, which was formed as a gate. “Ooh, Raz! Get that gate open so we can work our magic from the inside.”

The Die-Brarian stirred. Raz realized he had to do something, or she was going to get up again and he had to start everything over from the start. He looked at the sea of ink the Die-Brarian was partly submerged in. He had never tried it, but …

He held out both his hands towards the inky sea. He gritted his teeth and grunted. “C'mon, work with me here!” Then he felt it, that familiar feeling when he made the water move to his will. Two giant hands made of ink rose from the ink-sea and took hold of the Die-Brarian.

Raz wiped the sweat of his brow. “Okay, now for that gate.” He said with a grin. “Archie, you're up!”

With a air-written 'poof', the Archetype appeared. “Ei Lindo!” he greeted. Raz pointed to the gate. "Deixe para mim!” He squeezed himself through the bars of the gate and soon enough, the gate opened. A long paper tongue rolled out.

“That's your cue!” Raz yelled out to the Cassies. “Do it now, while I got a hold on her!”

The three Cassie Archetypes jumped down and laid themselves on the tongue, which promptly rolled itself back into the mouth. The Die-Brarian opened her eyes and rose up, but found herself constricted by the ink-hands.

“What is this?” She asked. “Who is in here!?”

Suddenly, three more paper eyes grew on her face.

“Hello Cassie.” Writer's voice said.

“We are here to teach you a lesson.” Writer added.

“Something stinks in here and we are here to clean house.” Counterfeiter finished.

“You three?” the Die-Brarian shouted. “Oh no, I can't handle all three of you at once.”

“That's kind of the point.” Counterfeiter said. “Ready, gals?”

Writer spoke up. “I'm ready!”

“Together now.” Teacher shouted.

The eyes started to swarm around the Die-Brarian's face at incredible speed. The Die-brarian shouted in fear, swatting at the eyes and suddenly, bang ...her head exploded into scraps of paper. Her body stumbled, struggling to keep itself upright and fell over into the ink.

Raz watched as the ink flew away to wherever it had appeared from in the first place, leaving the Library ink-free and dry again. Raz made his way of the platform and walked over to the desk. There, the Librarian lay, slumped against the desk, back in her normal form and shrunk down to the same size as the other archetypes.

She looked up, sadness in her eyes. “I can't believe I failed! Again! I guess ...” she began. “I guess, I'm ...not the real Cassie.”

Teacher appeared from behind her. “Yes, you are.” She said friendly, a big smile on her face. “And so am I.”

“Me too!”Writer jumped up from behind them. “Mostly when we need money.”

Counterfeiter joined the quartet. “Hey, I'm pretty good in a fight.” She winked at the Librarian. “You might have notice.”

The Librarian took a few steps forward, letting her gaze go around the room, as if lost in thought. A smile spread on her face. She turned towards the other archetypes and took hold of their hands. Raz watched in amazement as they folded together and, with a puff of smoke, Cassie O'Pia, like she was in the physical world, appeared, a kind smile on her face.

Raz gave a shy wave. “Hi. Uh ...are you ...the real Cassie?”

“Hmmm, Not sure.” Cassie said. “But I'm sure she's in here somewhere.” She knelt down. “Thank you for putting me together again, Razputin. I was in dire need of that check-up, it seems.”

Raz grinned. “Sem problemas.” He took out his smelling salts out of his pocket. “I better get out of here and see if everything is alright in the physical world.”

Cassie nodded. “Of course, but please feel free to visit anytime. After all ...” She smiled. “...the library is a public place.”

Raz chuckled and popped open his smelling salts. A quick through the Astral Void later, he was back in his physical body. He looked around. Where were Cassie and Compton.

As if she had read his mind – which Raz knew she couldn't have – Cassie called out. “I'm over here, young man.” She exited a room, now wearing normal clothes. “I was in a dire need of a wardrobe change.”

Raz chuckled. “Where is Compton?”

Cassie pointed her thumb behind her. “He is outside, negotiating with the queen. We need to set up some new agreements between us.”

Raz nodded. “Well, I better ask him to bring me back to the Motherlobe.” he said. “Everyone is probably wondering where I am.”

Cassie nodded. “But before you go ...” She reached walked over to a cabinet and took out a big jar of honey. Raz's eyes lit up. “...a little gift for you.” Cassie said with a smile. “And try not to finish this one too quickly.”

“I'll try ...” Raz said with a grin. “But no promises.”

Later that day, in the evening, Raz found himself in the Atrium, telling what he had done that day to his fellow Interns.

“So let me get this straight...” Morris began. “In the span of less than a week, you have not have not helped one, not two, not three, but four of the founding members of the very Agency we are standing in right now?”

Raz grinned. “Yup.”

“Okay, good for you, I guess.” Morris said with a shrug. “What do you guys wanna eat tonight?”

“Hey, is that everything I get?” Raz asked. “Not even a 'great job, Razputin.'?”

Gisu patted his head. “Great job, Razputin.” She said. She pinched his cheek. “Such a good boy.” She giggled as Raz swatted her hand away.

“But honestly, Raz, what you did ...is nothing short of amazing.” Adam said.

“Yeah dude,” Lizzie said, kneeling down to look Raz in his eyes, smiling brightly. She (lightly) punched his shoulder. “But tone it down a bit, you know. You're starting to make us look bad.”

“I'm not making you look bad.” Raz said, pretending to wipe dust of his shoulder. He grinned. “I'm just that good.”

Norma giggled. “Uh-oh, sound like someone's head is starting to get a little big for his shoulders.” She said. She starting to slowly approach Raz. “Only one remedy for that.”

Raz grin fell. “Don't you dare, Norma.”

Norma looked over to Lizzie, who had already positioned herself behind Raz. She nodded. “Grab him.”

Raz ducked in time to avoid Lizzie's grab and took off. Norma, Lizzie and Gisu ran after him, with Adam, Sam and Morris laughing at their actions.

Meanwhile, in the Grand Head's office, Truman and Hollis were looking down at the shenanigans of their Interns in the Atrium.

“That kid is making quite the name for himself.” Truman said, stroking his beard.

“Four of our founding members, completely helped in a matter of days.” Hollis commented. “A feat that some of our best Agents spend years failing to do.”

Truman chuckled. “Maybe we should make him a full Psychonauts right now.”

“You can't be serious?” Hollis asked.

Truman chuckled again. “Of course not.” He noticed the look on Hollis' face. “Something on your mind, Hollis? Out with it.”

“I don't say we should make him a Psychonauts yet, but ...” He looked at the clipboard she was holding. “Helping out a troubled mind, traversing the Mental world all on his own, learning new Psychic skills, making a difference, ...” She said, going over a list. “In his first year in the program, he has done things the others have done in their four years here. In essence, he is now at the same level as the others.”

“What are you suggesting?” Truman asked.

Hollis smiled. “Why not treat him like it?” She asked. “Let him skip a few years. Next year, let him join the others in observational mission with Mentors. That way, he has a chance to graduate with the others. He wouldn't have to do the rest of the Program without them.

Truman nodded. “Good idea. But it would be a big responsibility for him.” he said. “He'd need someone to look after him.”

Hollis smiled as she watched the Raz and the Interns play around. Raz was currently hiding behind Adam's legs, avoiding the grabbing hands of the Girls. “I think he's got that covered.” She chuckled as Norma and Lizzie lifted him up and placed him on their shoulders, like he'd just scored the winning goal in a soccer match.

Truman chuckled. “You want to give him the good news?”

“I'd say we wait.” Hollis said. “Exams are on their way. He needs to be focused on studies.” She said. “After that, summer is on its way. Let him be a kid a bit longer. We'll tell him when the new school year starts.

Truman nodded. He watched as the Interns left the Atrium, carrying Raz around. “Quite the name, indeed.”

The weeks passed. The weather turned warmer. Summer was on it's way.

Officer Mully Mcreary wasn't a stranger to calls from 'concerned citizens' and in the summer period, the park was often used by teens to camp out in. But when he got a call from a woman, complaining that a 'traveling pack of ragtag hooligans' were camping out in the Park, he had raised an eyebrow. He had been surprised when he had arrived at the park and saw that their effectively were people – a family of six - with a caravan parked there. He was even more surprised when the father had presented him with official documents, signed by the mayor, saying they were allowed to be there.

It didn't take long to understand what was going on. “Well, I have to call City Hall to confirm this, but that's only a formality at this point.” Officer Mcreary said, handing the documents back to the man. “I do want to apologize for this.”

The man chuckled, running his hand over his beard. “It's no problem,” he said, a thick accent in his voice. “It's not the first time this has happened. Certainly won't be the last. This happens a lot in our line of work. We are used to this.”

“So, you are here for next week's Summer Festival?” He asked the man.

“yes, but we got permission to get here early, so we can set things up.” The man said. “Prepare our performances, do some practice shows, getting everything ready and perfect for the festival next week.”

Officer Mcreary smiled. “Well, I'm sure to come and give it a look for myself.” He said. “My kids are going to love this.”

“Ooh, I'm sure they will.” The man said heartily.

“Well, I'm off.” Mcreary held out a hand. “Once again, sorry for the disturbance, Mr …?”

Augustus grabbed Mcreary's hand and shook it. “Aquato. Augustus Aquato, from the Flying Aquatos.

Mcreary nodded. “Well, good luck to you, Mr Aquato.” He turned around and walked back to his car.

Augustus clapped his hands together. “Okay, gather round, Aquatos.” He called out. “We have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it. So, Mirtala, Queepie, help out your mother unpacking. Dion, Frazie, help me set up the tents. Afterwards, I want you on poster duty.” He turned to his wife. “Donatella, please help me manage this lot.” he pleaded with a grin.

Donatella giggled and patted her husband on the shoulder. “On it, Mio Caro.” She turned to her children. “You heard your father! Iniziare!”

Augustus chuckled as he watched his children scramble to start their chores. He turned towards the city and inhaled deeply.

“After everything that is happened, this is going to be good for us, Dona.” He said. “I can feel it.”

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #razputin vodello au #fanfiction

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