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pocarinapyon · 2 years

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🌶️🌶️ Jealousy-Jealousy: A New Banner version A2 (Albedo, Childe, Venti, Zhongli)

A new character banner is just around the corner and the excited you couldn't help but rave about how cool they are. Naturally, you pre-farmed materials and even spent moolah for a five-star weapon, claiming they deserve only the best of best (Meaning: four star weapons and artifacts are not allowed!! And let's not get started on the artifact stats! 😡).

Inside the world of Genshin, your bond ten boys couldn't help but feel jealous. The flames of jealousy fueled further when you used them to grind for the new character's items. How sickening was it to think that they have become stepping stones of your new favourite character?

The boys decided. When they materialize in your world, they will make sure to mark you and to indulge in their sinful fantasies of you. You are theirs and only theirs, after all.

But one night, to their surprise, their competitors were summoned along with them. How will the boys act? Will they fight with each other until one of them gets to have you all for themselves? Or will they work together in pleasing and glorifying your body?

Just like how you teamed them up in game.

Contents include [a brief scene introduction], and [the actual chilis].

Starring : Albedo, Childe, Venti, Zhongli (GangB.)

Tags / Warnings : 🌶️🌶️ [Chilis] Seggs; Scattered cuss words; The Archons calling each other by their Archon name; the boys being chatty in the first part; Implied rape; Petnames (if it bothers you); Somnophilia; Childe...respecting you???; Albedo making a "souvenir" 😏; Creampie; The boys being possessive; I might have given Zhongli a non-canon ability; Zhongli being a gentleman on the streets but a freak under the sheets; Albedo holding back 👀...for an experiment!; Anal (don't worry, you're vacated 👍🏼); Squirting; etc.; 👑/🖥️ [SAGAU/(Reverse) Isekai]; Based on the SAGAU/Reverse Isekai concept linked below but with chilis

Again, this post was done on mobile and I don't have anyone to beta this so if there are major minor mistakes, please forgive me. 😭

Future Plan : Version B1 Bennett??, Diluc Ragnvindr, Kaedehara Kazuha, Kaeya Alberich (Separate) - but I will post something else before B1: either a new one (ALHAITHAM, COME HOME BABY!!!) or from my backlog (Reimagined and rewritten. The ones drafted before I was separated with my PC... Yes, you read that right. I was separated with my precious PC 🥲)

Links : Pinned Post, JJ version A1 (Albedo / Childe / Venti / Zhongli) Separate, JJ Request (Venti), SAGAU/Reverse Isekai concept, A Good Experiment (Albedo, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya) Separate

Target audience is female (bodied) reader.

To whoever is reading, please enjoy.

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Surrounding your bed, wordlessly judging each other, were the characters selected on your Party Setup screen. Albedo, Childe, Venti, and Zhongli were supposed to farm more items but the drowsy you were so exhausted that you fell asleep after selecting your line-up. The moment you stepped into dreamland was when the Genshin men materialized in your room, each hoping to have an intimate alone time with you but was gravely disappointed to learn three others came with them.

The clock continuously counted each passing second, its ticking the only sound echoing in the room. With a strum on his lyre, the first to break the deafening silence was Venti.

"Ehe~ I wonder what's everyone waiting for?" the bard asked innocently, yet they all knew what he exactly meant.

"Tch! For [your name]'s sake, I am not going to do the deed in front of other people," Childe quickly retorted.

"Oh?" Zhongli exclaimed in amusement. "Apologies. I assumed you to be the first to take advantage of this situation, Childe. Knowing you, I presumed you would wish us to watch you conquer [your name]."

Flabbergasted, Childe's mouth gaped like a fish. It was true that he was someone known to conquer the battlefield, winning victories even against the largest and strongest of preys. But this - this "battle" was you. And as someone who was taught some manners, Childe - Ajax - could not bring himself to just carelessly strip your vulnerable form while other vicious predators watched.

"Of course, it is something I will not allow," the Geo Archon added.

"Let me guess, Mister Zhongli wants to bury himself inside [your name] as well, doesn't he?" Childe interrogated, glaring at the gentleman whose arms were crossed together.

"I do not simply wish to bury myself. I will defile [your name]."

Even before the Harbinger could respond back, the Anemo Archon blurted.

"Eeh?! That's very kinky of you, Morax! You mean you want your cum oozing out of [your name]? Or you want to cover her body with it? Or you just want to stretch her out with your biiiig dick?" To this, the Geo Archon responded with a low chuckle.

"Heh! Mister Zhongli, I didn't expect you to be this vulgar! In fact, I thought you'd be the first to give [your name] some respect. It seems I was fooled. But hey, it's just like that time in Liyue, yeah?" Childe growled. "Not today, Morax. Did you seriously think I would just let you toy my wife?"

"Not without us, right??" Venti chortled, earning him an angry glance from the Snezhnayan man.

"Haha... Even if you wished to, I believe you are not capable to stop me."

Chaos was about to transpire as the Geo Archon and the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger shot daggers at one another, both waiting and ready to pounce, their flames fueled by the playful Anemo Archon's remarks. However, the quiet Chief Alchemist knew better. He knew that if you started to wake up, they will disappear and this evening will be a wasted opportunity. Of course, none of them wanted that.

"Ahem. Everyone, I have a proposal to make," Albedo spoke, catching the attention of the group. "It may sound absurd but I think we should learn how to share. We need to work together if we want to take advantage of this moment."

Share. Work together. Big words. Would it really be possible for these possessive men to actually share? To work together? But no matter how much they resented it, it was the only feasible thing to do. After all, their common goal was to make the most out of their capability to manifest in your world. And with Albedo's agreeable logical idea, using their unique abilities, everyone decided to cooperate.

...

It was a very uncompromising position for you as three men, all with the desire to leave no inch of you untouched, feasted on your unconscious form. You had no choice for you were their sleeping beauty and they could toy you as they pleased.

"Ehe~! Albedo was right! I didn't know you were sensitive here, Windblume?" Venti remarked as he nibbled on the flesh of your side, making you softly gasp in pleasure.

"Hey, Mister Albedo, aren't you going to join us?" Childe asked, squeezing both your erected nipples. "You three did a good job, you know? See, I can do basically whatever I want without waking [your name] up!" he enthusiastically said, roughly kneading your two lumps of flesh with his broad hands. "You're really missing out."

"Indeed," Zhongli concurred, loosening your pussy with three digits. "If you fear [your name] will awaken from sleep then worry not. Barbatos may not look like it but rest assured he has induced our beloved in deep slumber with his lullaby."

"Ehehe! Morax actually praised me! But giving our muse a pleasant dream is an important recipe too. Plus, you did so much with your potions. Now come and join us!"

Venti leaned his cheeks on your tummy and skillfully rubbed your clit. The double whammy on your womanhood made you moan louder, to which Childe pouted. Still giving your breasts attention, Childe invaded your parted mouth with his tongue and muffled your erotic voice with a sloppy kiss.

"Thank you all for your offer but please don't mind me," Albedo, still clothed, politely declined as he smiled contentedly at the profane scene before him.

After capturing the image in his mind, Albedo returned to his clipboard and engraved the erotic memory in art. Meanwhile, the other three men returned to their own businesses and continued to abuse your defenseless body.

Zhongli retracted his hands from you then positioned himself in front of your entrance. The Liyue god spread your slick with the tip of his cock while pumping his shaft, lubricating his big erection in the process. To this, Venti got up, gave Zhongli enough room, and continued to play your sensitive nub. Meanwhile, Childe peeked at the pornographic scene and began to choke his own cock with his hands. Now feeling your cunt weep in loneliness, Zhongli smirked and pushed his whole length inside of you in one push, making you arch your body and gasp lewdly in response. Venti mused at your angelic voice while Childe squeezed his own manhood harder.

Childe pumped his shaft faster, turning himself on by watching the two Archons molest your body. The Geo Archon rocked his hips to and fro, sensually massaging the walls of your tight cunt. Meanwhile, the Anemo Archon excitedly puffed your mouth with his cock, stifling whatever lewd sound came from your lips. Sounds of clapping flesh, Zhongli's low growl, Venti's melodious moan, and Childe's choked groans were the only music echoing your room. The three men pleasured themselves with your body until all of them released at once: Zhongli's filling your pussy, Venti's serving as your swig, and Childe's staining your tummy.

Cooperating with each other, they all switched places. Childe scooped the cum littered on your body before feeding it to your quivering lips. He then began to give life to his flaccid manhood by giving it a massage. Meanwhile, Venti gave your pussy a quick lick before rubbing his energetic cock on your slit to coat it with love juice. Zhongli, on the other hand, sat back to watch.

The Anemo Archon squeezed your plush thighs before slowly entering your wet cunt. Venti relished the way how your gummy walls felt and took his precious time bottoming out. He buried himself deep, grinding and rocking his pelvis against yours to explore your warmth. On the other hand, Childe spitted on his erection to serve as lubricant. He pumped his shaft while prodding the tip of his cock on your lips. He parted your mouth so he could feed you his whole length in a nice deep throat.

Venti's and Childe's rhythm started differently, wherein Childe's was abusive while Venti's was leisurely. It didn't take long before they both got lost in pleasure, now corrupting your holes wildly. Zhongli ogled the wanton love-making before him and watched how Venti and Childe came together deep inside of you accompanied by the harmonious sound of an excited squeal and a low grunt.

After coming down from their highs, the three men swapped places again, this time with a special request from Childe.

"Mister Zhongli, why don't you take the rear for me?"

The three men adjusted your positions wherein Zhongli penetrated your behind, Childe entered your womanhood, and Venti made use of your mouth. Zhongli did slow, shallow thrusts to let Childe enjoy brutalizing your tighter than ever wet cunt. Meanwhile, Venti simply let his cock sit in your mouth. The two Archons did not move and let Childe debauched you roughly, their resting cocks stimulated by your rocking body.

Having Zhongli in your ass, your pussy hot tighter that it became hard to move inside - a challenge Childe made for himself. The Harbinger knew you liked it rough so he eagerly pistoned his cock in fast deep thrusts. The wet walls squeezing him clenched and he knew you were going to cum. He kept pounding and pounding until he shook in overstimulation and unintentionally released all his seeds.

Childe heaved as he filled you to the brim. With a plop, he unsheathed himself from you to let the cream flow out of your abused pussy. It was cue for the two Archons to continue stimulating themselves. Venti placed the head of his manhood inside your mouth, your teeth grazing the neck of his penis, and massaged his shaft. Meanwhile, Zhongli fucked your rear in slow deep thrusts. In their own pace, the Archons reached their highs and soon came inside your holes.

The three men ogled your form: your holes leaking a mix of love juice; your chest rising up and down in taking deep breaths; your lips quivering as drool dripped its corner. Thoughts of how they defiled you played in their minds. Yet a common question plagued them.

Were you able to cum?

"Thank you all for your cooperation. May I have the honour?" Albedo spoke gently.

The men gave way so the Chief Alchemist could have his chance. Albedo observed the bastardized state you were in.

Damn did you look hot.

"I'm here, my princess," Albedo whispered in your ear as he freed his cock from its moist restraints.

Albedo pecked your lips and tucked the strands of hair away from sticking on your forehead. He caressed your hips, slid his hands down your thighs then pressed your clit, making you gasp in pleasure. A good reaction. His lips smugly curled upward before he sheathed himself fully inside your cunt.

The three men had their erections from watching Albedo pump your pussy in a mating press - each of his thrusts making a lewd squelch. Stray erotic moans often escaped your lips, further arousing the watchers and luring them deeper into depravity. Albedo kept his pace calculated, pistoning with the right combination of depth, rhythm, and speed.

Your breathing became erratic as your body begged Albedo to fuck you more. But it wasn't enough. Albedo kept teasing you - pretending to give you orgasm only to stop - until your pussy tried to suck him deeper.

The three men surrounded you and Albedo, pumping their cocks in desperation. Moans and grunts filled the room orchestrated by Albedo's rough pistoning. Climax was fast approaching and all of you were on edge. It didn't take long before you came and squirted all over Albedo. The scene made the watchers spill their seeds all over, each with their own grunts and growls. Albedo unsheathed himself and, with a choked moan, he joined in spurting his cum.

Basking in the joy of orgasm, everyone panted in satisfaction. Albedo, in exhaustion, leaned his forehead on yours before victoriously declaring.

"Hah... My love, only I can make you feel this good."

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Hello, everyone and thank you for reading Jealousy-Jealousy version A2! I hope you all enjoyed it.

It's my first time writing a smut fic with multiple partners at once. And, uhn.... It's spicier in my mind, though. 😅

Also, my favouritism is showing, lol!

Anyway.

To whoever read this, thank you for your time. Here, have some raw meat. 🥩

Please feel free to cook it however you want.

Links : Pinned Post, JJ version A1 (Albedo / Childe / Venti / Zhongli) Separate, JJ Request (Venti), SAGAU/Reverse Isekai concept, A Good Experiment (Albedo, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya) Separate

Venti = Battery and Crowd Control cutie; Childe = Main DPS and massacrer of all (except Hydro Mimics, that's Albedo's job lol); Zhongli = Shielder and prophet of Osmanthus Wine; Albedo = Off-field sub-DPS and pretty boy who bitch slaps enemies with his Rite of Progeniture;

Geo Resonance FTW!!

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin sagau #sagau smut #genshin albedo #genshin tartaglia #genshin childe #genshin venti #genshin barbatos #genshin zhongli #genshin albedo smut #genshin childe smut #genshin tartaglia smut #genshin venti smut #genshin zhongli smut #genshin imagines #genshin isekai

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lemotmo · 1 month

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You certainly don't have to post this but I thought the answer was actually pretty good advice 😊

Q. Hello, I haven't been around the 911 fandom long but I think I may have gotten my hopes up about Tommy. It's increasingly clear that Oliver and Lou do not get on and I think I listened to wrong blogs and allowed myself to have expectations that don't appear to be likely. You do seem to understand the show pretty well so in your honest opinion do you think Tommy is sticking around?

A. Hello, anon. I wasn't going to answer this because I promised I wasn't going to post this kind of stuff anymore but I felt like you deserved an honest response. No, I don't believe he is sticking around. I do think we can safely assume that Oliver and Lou are not friendly with one another, but that's part of adulthood. We don't always get along with our coworkers. That's not the reason he's not sticking around though. What I would advise you to do is go back and listen to Oliver's interviews from last season. You can also read Lou's interviews that came out immediately following episode 4, those were show sanctioned interviews so the content would have been approved, unlike his cameo content. They all describe the relationship the same way. A temporary, introductory relationship. It was never billed or promoted, by Oliver or the show, as anything else. Oliver's lead is the one everyone should have been following. I know the consensus seems to be that Oliver doesn't interact with or engage in any B/T content because he doesn't like all the nastiness that surrounds everything now, and doesn't ship the relationship himself. While I think those things are true I think another part of it is that Oliver didn't want to give people false hope. He has spoken on this before in relation to Buddie content. He doesn't want to come across as encouraging something he can't promise. And in this case everyone said was temporary. There is no need for him to engage with the ship. I think he saw certain people were becoming attached and he didn't want to encourage them because he knows it's not going to be anything. I don't mean that in any kind of mean way, anon. But the reality is a certain group of shippers got carried away with something completely separate from what Oliver and the show were saying and they allowed that thing to frame their viewpoint of everything else. Pay attention to Oliver, anon. He is the one who will be honest with you. His silence pretty much tells you all you need to know. I'm sure that's not the answer you were hoping for but it's my honest opinion. Take care of yourself. 💗

Thank you Nonny! I will post this, because this post doesn't have anything to do with the fandom itself.

This is a post about the two actors, Tommy as a character and whether or not he'll stick around in season 8. I'm perfectly fine with topics like this.

This also ties in nicely with a post I made earlier today where an anon asked me a question about the BT pairing and whether or not it had a chance to be endgame.

A lot of the points Ali makes here are the same points I made in that post. The only difference is that she does it so much more eloquently.😉 If anyone is interested in that post, you can find it here.

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

#anonymous blog I love #season 8 speculation #911 speculation #insight into 911 fandom & season 7 and 8 #nonnies galore

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 4 months

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Hello, Darlings! I am back with another chapter of my Feyd-Rautha/Reader arranged marriage fic. (18+ only) Strong content warning and tags below the cut.

@richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai . Please let me know if you would also like to be tagged in future updates!

Trigger warning for this chapter: There are mentions of and references to child abuse, sexual abuse, and incest--none of it graphic, all of it occurring in the past. There is also dubcon/the Reader finding hard limits and triggers without realizing she had them. I feel like the last couple of chapters I've written were mostly smutty fun and this chapter...is not that. I wouldn't recommend going into this blind if you haven't read any of this already. The link to the full fanfic so far is posted above, and I'll cross post the newest chapter down below.

CHAPTER SIX: HIS LOVELY NEPHEW

You don’t have to wonder for too long if Feyd-Rautha wants to train you this morning. You prepare for it with nearly as much sinking dread as you felt before your wedding, pulling on your training pants and shirt that must’ve been laundered since yesterday morning and plaiting your hair. You’re about to put on your boots when Idrisa comes in with her tray and says, “Good morning, Na-Baroness. The Na-Baron will not be needing you in the Training Halls today.”

Just dressing for breakfast, then. There’s a part of you that’s reasonably certain that Feyd-Rautha likes your old clothes from your home planet, just as he likes your hair, but since your first day as a married woman the Baron has insisted that you dress only in the Harkonnen style. You can hardly imagine what he thinks of you keeping your hair. Eventually it won’t matter what he thinks about you; he’s an old man whose body has been kept intact only due to the best of Harkonnen technology and healing, but not even that can make him immortal. At least, you hope not.

So off comes the training gear, on goes another Harkonnen dress that’s snug enough that you won’t be able to wear it for long as you wonder if you’ll be able to tell when you’re pregnant. How early will your body recognize it? Will you have a moment soon in which you’ll just know , or will it take a visit from the Bene Gesserit? You certainly couldn’t begin to guess right now.

Idrisa escorts you to the Dining Halls, probably noting your silence and the nervous set in your shoulders but, of course, saying nothing. You don’t want to go in when you reach those double doors, but would normally accept your fate were it not for a split second before Idrisa’s about to open them.

You hold up a hand. Wait. There's murmuring on the other side. You lean in, walking closer to the sound until you can press your ear against the wall a couple meters to the left of the doors.

“I trust you’ve been fulfilling your marital duties, my lovely boy?” the Baron says. He’s close enough that he must not have sat down for breakfast yet. It sounds like he’s hovering with the aid of his suspensor technology.

“I have.” Feyd-Rautha’s voice, curt and hauntingly similar to his uncle’s, makes you want to turn and walk away.

“I had no doubts, of course. I’ve heard what a virile man you’ve become.”

You furrow your brow. As much as it turns your stomach to think about it, you know that your father wouldn’t talk to your brother this way.

“Those Bene Gesserit whores want you to sire an heir immediately,” the Baron continues. “So of course you’ll have to do your due diligence and make sure your little pet is carrying your son as soon as possible.”

You flush at the insult. I’m hardly his pet, you filthy old man . And not that you expect your groom to defend you, not when he sees you as hardly more of a person than his uncle, but you almost hope that he calls you his wife. After all, he likes it when you call him your husband.

There’s a moment of silence, and even through the door you can sense the tension.

“That won’t be an issue, uncle,” Feyd-Rautha says finally.

You've finally had enough; you glance over at Idrisa, who immediately looks down and opens the doors for you.

You realize that they were looking at an old portrait of the Baron lining the nearest wall that’s either far too flattering or suggests that around the time of his coronation decades ago he must’ve been over a hundred kilos lighter than he is now. You don’t know when it will be replaced with a portrait of Feyd-Rautha, who spares you only a brief glance.

So he hasn’t forgiven you . For what, you’re still not certain. You’re still trying to figure out his anger.

I didn’t cause those scars , you want to tell him, and I wasn’t mocking you for having them .

When you curtsy towards him and the Baron, you’re certain that they know you could hear at least part of their conversation, but you’re not entirely sure if the Baron either doesn’t care that you heard or how you’d react or if he feels smug knowing that he’s reminded you of your place within this Fortress, as if he’d ever let you forget. Feyd-Rautha doesn’t seem to react at all, his face a mask of cold indifference even as you can sense the tension he keeps coiled in his lean but powerful frame.

You’re almost surprised that he continues his habit of pulling your chair out for you before he takes his seat beside you, but you realize that it’s because the Baron must have picked up on this practice from your wedding reception and will immediately sniff out something to use against either of you if he senses anything amiss.

Of course, if the Baron were familiar with how marriage typically works, he’d know that spouses tend to talk to each other, especially over a meal. They don’t sit in awkward silence barely looking at one another for an entire half hour.

It’s more of the same; the Baron oscillates between being condescending to Feyd-Rautha and complimentary, offering vague comments on Rabban’s disappointing return to governing Arrakis and mentioning a possible sighting for another planet that could provide spice without a hostile population fighting them over it. The Baron doesn’t acknowledge you in part because you’re fairly certain he forgets you’re even there; Feyd-Rautha because, well, because. Because of whatever he has buried beneath the surface that you may have awakened. In the early morning, still half-asleep, you didn’t fully realize it, but two memories jump out at you as you sit silently at the table with your husband and his uncle and sneak stolen glances at them both.

“ Guess I just wasn’t pretty enough to be our uncle’s favorite .” Hardly more than a week ago; the way the very air seemed sucked out of the room when Rabban said it, Feyd’s reaction. The seed, though, had been planted years before you understood it, before you were arranged to marry into this twisted family.

“ I can’t prove it, I can’t explain it, but Vladimir Harkonnen has something going on that he doesn’t even want other Harkonnens to know. Something fucked up ,” Father had said once to one of his generals as you’d trailed in just outside of sight. “ Worse than any of his other vices .”

When you were a little younger, but old enough to consider the realistic implications of an arranged marriage, you'd feared marrying into a family in which your father-in-law liked to sample his son's bride. The Baron is as close to a father-in-law that you're getting, and you're confident that he would never do such a thing to you. Not out of honor or respect, you’ve known that he has none for you since the moment you met, but because his inclinations lie elsewhere.

You were prepared for a lot, but you didn’t expect to spend an agonizing meal wondering how horrific the Baron’s treatment of your husband has been over the years.

You'd wondered in the past what tastes the Baron must have that the mere concept of which had disgusted your father years ago. Animals? The dead? Children? All concepts that turn your stomach and when you think about the way he talks to his nephew even now, the scars on his back, the very fact that Feyd tried to kill him during his adolescence, you’re pretty sure you have your answer. Still, it just seems impossible; the two of them sit next to each other as if everything’s normal.

If it’s true, then how? Feyd-Rautha is still so subservient to him, so deferential even if he’s about as friendly towards his uncle as he is everyone else, which is to say, not at all. The closest anyone’s gotten to bringing it up was Rabban, and that was to imply that his little brother…you can’t bring yourself to think about it… slept his way to the top of his family lineage?

The very real possibility seems too awful to be real, but it’s also the most obvious explanation.

You head back to the library immediately after breakfast, returning a couple of documents and heading back to your quarters with an armful more. You could sense the librarian’s nervousness when you specified which documents you wanted, but he complied with a quiet “Yes, Na-Baroness.” It’s a little disconcerting that he’d be anxious over what information you’ll find, but you disregard the part of you that suggests that maybe it’s easier to remain ignorant. You need to know.

The door’s been fitted connecting your bathroom to his, so you’ll be able to slip into one another’s quarters with greater ease. You would’ve been far more grateful for it yesterday, back when your new husband seemed to actually want to be with you. You don’t give it another thought as you spread everything out and start reading.

You’re pretty sure that you now have all the documents that chronicle Feyd-Rautha’s assassination attempt. Fourteen, punished severely, yes, you already have that. You try to find a cause listed, and come up empty. You do, however, find details of what his punishment was.

Three days, apparently. Three days of severe beatings only to be healed with a potent elixir before being subjected to another round, but with the Baron merciful enough to his young heir to heal all of his scars except lash marks on his back. He left them to serve as a reminder never to betray his uncle again. There are a couple of renderings of him from that time; a skinny boy with a narrow face and an angry set in his jaw. It’s the eyes, though, that make you wince. It’s the bags around them that seem entirely wrong for a boy that age, the haunted look in them. Since the moment you met him there was something calculating yet almost inhuman in them. Here there’s just pain and anger.

He was just a kid. This wasn’t some underhanded tactic to seize power; it was the desperate act of an angry boy in pain.

After being spared his life, he went missing, only to be found on Lankiveil days later. He’d managed to find passage under a fake name. You look at the date, furrow your brow, and then check on the other records you’ve held onto–the date of his mother’s death.

They match up; the day the Harkonnens found and captured Feyd-Rautha was the same day his mother was found murdered.

You inhale sharply, getting up and pacing around the room, running your hands through your hair.

Are you surprised? Why? To say that the Baron’s corrupt would be to look into the ocean and say, ‘Ah, yes. There’s water in that.’

You flinch when you hear a knock at the door, feeling silly for thinking for a brief moment, It’s Harkonnen guards coming to execute me for reading about their scandals .

“Who is it?” you ask, voice breaking, and exhaling in relief when Idrisa calls to tell you she has refreshments for you. Water, fruit, a sort of lemon-ginger sparkling water as well that she claims is excellent for digestion. She sets the tray on your end-table and you wonder–-she knows something. Even if she wasn’t present, she must know details that will never see the light of day. Word of mouth endures.

“Idrisa,” you call for her, and she turns. You can’t contain it. You’re buzzing, ready to crawl out of your skin, needing to say it. “I know about the time Feyd-Rautha tried to kill his uncle. And now I know about how he was whipped as part of his punishment and that’s why he has scars all over his back. I know how he tried to return to Lankiveil afterwards, and I know how he was immediately apprehended and brought back here around the same time his mother had been murdered with no suspects, let alone a culprit.” Idrisa glances away, fidgeting her fingers in front of her, and still you press on, the words spilling out of you. “At the wedding, Rabban said the only reason their uncle favors Feyd is for his looks. I know you said that the assassination was before your time but if all the other details are spelled out except Feyd-Rautha’s motive for wanting to kill his uncle, then it paints a certain picture, doesn’t it?” you say, wanting to recoil from your own words and the implications of them.

Idrisa looks down, fidgeting with her hands that she has primly clasped in front of her. “I cannot speak ill of my masters.”

“I won’t tell,” you say. She still can’t look at you. “I’m sorry but I need to know. I once overheard my father insisting that the Baron…” you almost laugh, because it’s so uncomfortable to say. You’d almost rather not know and never have to think about it, but it’s unavoidable. “That the Baron had certain tastes. Certain appetites, not just for food.”

The way Idrisa’s face seems to turn even paler might serve as enough of a confirmation that you’re right.

“And last night, early this morning, I,” you hesitate, stammering for a moment, “I touched one of the scars on my husband’s back. I didn’t think it would bother him but it did. As awful as it is, if,” you take a breath, clear your throat. The idea of the Baron putting hands on his nephew now makes you nauseous, let alone over a decade ago, or, oh, Great Mother, eighteen years ago. “As awful as it is, if what I’m guessing is true, then I need to know.”

Idrisa’s gaze flutters as she tries to find the words. “Na-Baroness, what is in the past…”

“Still affects the present and the future,” you tell her. “Especially if it involves something like this.” There’s more silence, Idrisa biting her lip as she can’t quite look at you. “Please,” you add.

From the way her posture almost snaps ramrod straight, eyes widening, you wonder if anyone’s ever pleaded with her before. You wait, realizing that you’ve found a small crack in her armor.

She hesitates. “I began my service here when I was fourteen. The Na-Baron was seventeen at the time. I was instructed to keep my head down and not say anything. We all were. We were told that if we saw or heard anything, that no, we didn’t.”

“So you met my husband when he was seventeen?” you ask. That was nearly a decade ago. What was he like back then? Was he cruel and efficient, or was he more emotional? Had he already been turned into a killer, or would that come a little later? How much did he change in those three years? Do you know?

Idrisa nods, not quite looking at you. “And he was starting to age out of the Baron’s…preferences, but I don’t think it ended entirely for another year or two.”

It. One word to capture the enormity of what happened. Your mind goes blank. You already knew, already steeled yourself for this, but it feels as though the floor has given way under you. You sit on the edge of your bed, needing to think.

“The Na-Baron has earned the respect of his men since he’s come of age, my lady,” she adds. “They don’t think any less of him, especially not anymore.”

Why would they think less of him? He’s not the one who’s a pedophile .

“How many?” you ask instead. You can’t say the rest, How many victims? but you don’t need to. She knows. Maybe there’s a part of her that’s been bottling this up for years, desperate to say it out loud.

She shakes her head, shrugging, as if to say, No one really keeps count . “Over a dozen that I’m aware of and he’s been slowing down as he’s gotten older, so there’ve likely been hundreds over the years. All boys, mostly between the ages of ten and fifteen or sixteen. I’ve heard that the Na-Baron was his favorite for about a decade.”

Heard that . So people just…talked about it, albeit in secret, instead of doing anything.

“And everyone knows?” you ask, your voice going into a higher register out of pure incredulity.

Idrisa shakes her head again. “Not outside of the Fortress. The general populace of Geidi Prime isn’t aware of it. The Harkonnen government has made sure that they never will be.”

“But everyone else, everyone here…” you trail off.

“We see nothing,” she says again. “We hear nothing. We keep our heads down and keep the Fortress running.”

It is what you’d feared, what he won’t discuss. An open secret that festers much like an open, untreated wound. You think you’re going to be sick.

“The Baron brings in good commerce. He’s held up and improved on everything that’s made Geidi Prime such a wealthy planet. If Geidi Prime thrives as much as it possibly can under his rule, then that is what matters.”

You don’t know how to take this all in.

“Na-Baroness?” she asks.

“Thank you, Idrisa,” you tell her. “You’ve been very helpful.”

She understands this as the dismissal that it is, the need to process everything. She leaves with a curtsy.

You don’t keep track of the time between then and when evening comes; the black sun hasn’t fully set yet; you hadn’t noticed it getting darker.

You look at the renderings of your husband as he was over a decade ago. When did the pain leave? When was it replaced by something that seems far less human, or did it just retreat so far inwards that no one will ever see it again?

Idrisa comes in. Timidly, she stands, eyes downcast and hands clasped in front of her. “Dinner is ready, Na-Baroness,” she says.

You look over at her, and down at all the documents that you’re going to need to put back together and return.

How am I supposed to eat with this person and converse over dinner like everything’s normal? How does Feyd-Rautha stand it?

“And I suppose my presence is mandatory again?” you ask, voice measured, and get up, resigned.

At dinner you’ve never been less hungry in your life. You feel a humming at the back of your skull grow louder and louder as the Baron and Feyd-Rautha make casual conversation about focusing on growing the industry on Geidi Prime to make up for the spice losses on Arrakis.

How can you sit next to this man, listen to the sound of his voice, follow his orders? How do you not want to kill him all the time? you want to ask Feyd. You poke and prod at the little food you bothered to take for yourself and stare at your plate, still trying to wrap your head around the dynamic unfolding around you. How can your husband live like this?

The Baron notices that you haven’t eaten anything. “It’s a little early for nausea, young Y/N,” he says. “Or is the food just not to your liking?��

You can’t look at him. “My apologies, Baron,” you say in as measured of a tone as you can. You’re the one making me sick, you monster . “There is no issue with the food. I just don’t have much of an appetite this evening.” You think about taking your knife and jamming it into his eye. You wonder how often Feyd-Rautha has thought the same thing while sitting poised and calm at this very table.

They usually serve wine with dinner. The Baron usually indulges, and due to his size and age can drink a lot without it seeming to affect him. Feyd-Rautha usually declines, not to your surprise. Now that your monthly courses are pretty much over your plan has been to decline as well, given what will soon be the nature of your condition. Tonight, though, you accept, hoping that the alcohol on an empty stomach will numb you to what’s happening at this table and keep you numb when Feyd-Rautha comes to “fulfill his marital duties” tonight. Neither of them comment, but both look at you as you tip your glass back.

You’re not sure if the Baron can sense it, but Feyd-Rautha can. He’s a smart man; he knows you’ve been reading about his life, about recent Harkonnen memory, so he can reasonably assume that once you set him off early this morning that you did whatever research you could as to why.

He says nothing about it; he barely even looks at you throughout dinner and the quiet tension is excruciating; he knows that you know and it makes him even angrier. He also can’t take

I’m not like the people who let it happen, you want to say. I’m not your brother who called you weak or suggested you were asking for it. I don’t think you’re less of a man for this. Maybe no one else had the compassion for you that you needed but I do.

But a man like him, one raised on brutality–you’re not sure he’d ever accept your compassion if you offered. Maybe he’d be offended by it.

The hours tick by after dinner, and then after you get cleaned up for the evening and changed into only your robe. He doesn’t come by, doesn’t demand you come to his quarters. You try reading but give up after you realize you’ve been reading the same page for the past several minutes. You’ve come to regret drinking your dinner tonight instead of eating it; the faint buzz you got from two glasses of wine on an empty stomach has faded and instead left you feeling both empty and slightly nauseous, with the beginnings of a headache.

“Maybe he won’t come tonight,” you say to Idrisa as she’s getting ready to leave for the night, and the sentiment makes her hesitate.

“My apologies, Na-Baroness, but he will,” she says. “At least until you have proof of conception.

“Would you like me to stay until he arrives?” she adds, looking as awkward as you feel at the idea.

You shake your head. “It’s fine. You’re relieved. I don’t want you to have to see this, if and when it happens.”

She lowers her head in a bow and departs without another word.

You continue reading in bed, staring at the same page as you listen for any sounds, dreading each passing second.

When you hear it, a door opening and closing to your bathroom, your breath hitches, fear creeping up your spine.

You look up, watching the bathroom door, waiting, heart pounding and your breath now caught in your throat as he silently enters your bedroom.

He’s naked. For the first time he’s not erect.

You stare, frozen, your book folded open on your lap.

He looks at you and your obvious fear in your wide eyes and it doesn’t seem to amuse him this time. It doesn’t change anything, though. He’ll get what he came for.

After a moment he says, “Strip and get on all fours.”

You stare, almost incredulous at his coldness. It had been fading so rapidly over the past week you hadn’t even realized it was gone. His cruelty before came with a level of interest. His gaze is impassive, but then there’s that glint not of lust, but anger. At you, at the Baron, at his circumstances, whatever it is, you don’t want to bear the brunt of it.

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” you tell him. “We’ve done it enough that there can’t be any doubt and even if there is, we can try again later when…”

“I won’t repeat myself,” he says before you can say anything that reminds him of his past, his uncle.

You can’t really mean this. You’re not any more in the mood for this than I am, you want to tell him, as you set your book beside you and slowly unfasten your robe. You keep your eyes on him, anticipating the attack. Maybe he’ll lunge for you, you think as your heart pounds and your robe falls open. He’ll let out some inhuman noise and pounce. Your nipples pebble against the bedroom air and you notice his gaze fall there, to the exposed skin bared, but he doesn’t move.

You don’t give his cock a second look; you don’t want to know if and how aroused he is by this. You just keep your gaze on his face, impassive as ever, as you remove the robe completely, hesitating and wanting to stop, wanting to suggest that maybe the two of you talk about this.

You open your mouth, not sure what you can even say before slowly turning over on the bed, taking a deep breath, and sinking, humiliated, down on your knees and forearms.

He doesn’t move for a moment, just stands where he is, and you resist the urge to turn your head to look at him and yet you’d give anything to know what he’s thinking right now. Soon, though, you feel the weight of knees sinking into the mattress behind you. You shut your eyes, waiting for him to say something, to do something. For a moment, nothing, but then you hear him begin to stroke himself, breath hitching. His other hand moves along your hip, briefly squeezing the cheek of your ass before sliding his cock along your slit.

You’re not wet enough for this to be comfortable, and he doesn’t appear to care in the slightest. You wince at the first push of him inside of you, a hiss escaping your clenched teeth. It doesn’t hurt as much as it has before, and yet you hate it more and you whimper as he bottoms out inside of you. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t seem to respond to your noises, just thrusts again into you, deep and hard.

He can hear you finally sob, head bowed, tears pricking up, wriggling away from him before he yanks you back onto him. His breath is harsh and his hands bruise your tender skin.

I hate this, you want to tell him. You don’t know how to explain it; it’s not even the position he’s taken nor the roughness, because you can handle both. It’s the contempt and the coldness; he doesn’t want this, would probably prefer to be alone while he’s inside of you and that bruises your ego as much as it does your sensitive insides.

If you were more experienced and more confident and not completely blind-sided by the wealth of horrific information you’ve gotten today, maybe you’d try to moan, buck your hips against it, seem like you can enjoy this to try and raise his enthusiasm but you can’t. If you knew how to play seductress to make this easier for both of you, you would.

This is what you expected on your wedding night; the cruelty in his lack of real desire, but until tonight he’d been utterly transparent about his attraction to you and it’s taken until now to understand just what a difference that makes. You’d take having your wrists tied and your ass struck and his cock cutting off your airflow any night over feeling like this.

He comes with a grunt of completion inside of you like he might as well be coming into his own fist.

The tears roll down your cheeks and as you bow your head, onto the sheets below you.

I am Lady Y/N of Y/H and the Na-Baroness of Harkonnen. I am your wife . I’m not just some hole for you to penetrate and I’m not someone you can punish for existing because you can’t punish the person who really hurt you. The words die in your throat before you can even think about saying them, and you gasp as he brusquely pulls out. Some of his seed trickles out of you and starts to dribble down the inside of one of your thighs. You don’t want to look at him. You want to slap him. You don’t understand the depths of your own anger as it builds.

He pulls away, and for a moment you think he’s going to just head back to his room as you right yourself and turn onto your side, but instead he turns back to you, sitting down on the edge of the bed and cupping your chin and cheek in one hand. He forces you to look up at him with your red-rimmed eyes, your tear-stained cheeks flush with hurt and humiliation and he sees it with that same lack of emotion that makes you want to scream. White-hot rage flares up within you, and he seems to realize what you’re about to do before you do it, before you realize you’re doing it.

You’re still crying as you spit a wad of saliva directly into his face.

He doesn’t even blink.

Instead he grabs your hair roughly, jaw tightening, and you can’t help the fear lancing up your spine, but it doesn’t completely replace your anger. He has you in his grasp and your mind draws a blank on how to apologize, maybe beg for mercy, when you’d almost rather remain in furious silence.

It’s not quite anger in his eyes, not quite lust, but it’s not that same furious look he had early this morning or the coldness he exuded before he pushed his way inside of you. He brings your face closer to his as he leans further in. He presents his cheek now coated in your spit.

There’s so much you don’t understand. No one taught you this language and this man is hard to decipher, but you’re pretty sure you know what he wants without him having to say it.

You hesitate for a moment, your lips against his cheek, before darting your tongue out and licking your own saliva off of him. They’re tentative, almost kittenish licks against his skin; you sense his breath even out and feel the fluttering of his lashes as he briefly closes his eyes, feel his jaw relax as his lips part.

I don’t get it. How does a gentle touch infuriate you but being spat on calms you down? you want to ask, as his hand relaxes in your hair and he lets you withdraw. How do you forgive a decade of being violated but not me finding out about it? How do you forgive the scars on your back but not me touching them?

He looks at you another moment.

“Your training resumes tomorrow,” he says.

“Fine,” you tell him, your voice shakier than you’d like, your anger extinguished. He seems wearier than you’d first thought.

He gets up, starts to walk away, when you remember that neither of you exchanged a word about what he’s been through, and that won’t do. Not with everything left unsaid, the horrors you’ve discovered that you know, in the quiet moments in your bed, that still haunt him.

You reach for his wrist. He looks back at you. The coldness is replaced by resignation. “There’s nothing to discuss,” he says. He’s not talking about your training. It leaks through the cold edge in his voice, the finality of it. “It’s done.”

How, though? You reopened an old wound that never properly healed, and he just wants you to quietly let it fester?

You release his wrist and he leaves, disappearing back into the bathroom and beyond to sleep in his own bed tonight.

You’re not sure what understanding you just reached. It’s not something you could have prepared for, and there’s a part of you that persistently assumes that even though he won’t talk about it, this will come up again.

You’re sinking back into bed, hoping that you’ll be able to sleep tonight after everything that’s happened, when it occurs to you: once you have a son, you can’t allow the Baron anywhere near him. Even if Feyd-Rautha has learned to live with what happened to him, and maybe even loves his uncle in a twisted sort of way you can’t really comprehend, you can’t allow the same thing to happen again. So that leaves you with several options, each seemingly more impossible than the last but no matter: you’ll have at least nine months to figure out a plan.

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #feyd rautha fanfic #austin butler

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good-griief · 1 year

Text

Time ; Regret

here's part two of "time"! i'm sure you all don't want me to end it here, so even tho i think it'd be a little cruelly funny to leave it up in the air like this, i promise there will be a part three— tho that will be the last part. this part is pretty dialogue-heavy, so i hope you enjoy the 'voices' i gave the characters<33

note sorry to have to post this again but tumblr posted it at the complete wrong time from my schedule and it wasn’t the right draft :( ( some kind of phone to computer mix up idk what happened</3 )

warnings ambiguous relationship/feelings between abby and reader, reference to romance, implications of unrequited love (it's not), she/her reader, lasting effects of torture to reader, morally grey reader, mention of joel's death/torture, ambiguous/story-teller dependent interpretation of major past event between characters

tags @frogtits1 @sawaagyapong @augieee21 @sunkissedbibi @eden-nox

part one part three

link to chapter 2 on ao3

After that, Abby decided against hugging you again, knowing she’d just get emotional. She didn’t know how you’d react to that anymore, so she played her safest bet and explained what happened from a distance, offering to help you work as she did. You didn’t react, but she could tell how upset you were just because you were so quiet.

When she offered to come over that night, you agreed immediately, and when she came to your house, you opened the door with puffy red eyes and swollen lips. She gave you a somber smile. “Come on.” She opened her arms for you, holding you for a moment before she came inside. “They wouldn’t want you to cry,” she said, trying to say something comforting you might, and it coming out improperly. It made you chuckle at her attempt, making her sigh as she stepped away from you. “I’m still not the best at comforting people,” she said quietly, shutting your door behind her as she entered with a small smile. She reached out, dragging her knuckle beneath your eye to rid of any stray tears. You smiled at the gesture, gaining one from her, too.

“You’re right, though.” You blinked away your feelings, taking her hand and leading her to your room so you could sit on the bed together. There was a brief, awkward silence. “What… Uh, what happened? How did it get to this?” You asked as you released her hand, playing with your own to distract yourself.

Abby swallowed, pursing her lips. She had a feeling you’d judge her for what she did, but she wasn't going to lie. “Joel… The way we— I killed him. Tortured him in front of his brother, and killed him in front of that girl; the one he killed everyone to save. She came after us. Went through all of our friends to get to me, and… let me go.” You couldn’t tell how she felt about being left alive, but you were glad she was, placing your hand back on hers for added comfort. “Don’t.” She went to pull her hand away, but you grabbed it with both of yours. “You can be upset with me—“

“I’m not.” You shook your head, holding her hand gently. “I never should’ve given you that lead. I’m sorry.”

“I would’ve found out eventually.” She shook her head. “And I still would’ve done it…” She grimaced. “And this all would’ve happened anyway.”

“There’s no point in blaming yourself,” you sighed. “You just have to—“

“Let go? Yeah… I’ve heard that,” she scoffed, giving your hand a squeeze before she let go. “Couldn’t do it before either.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, Abby.” You shook your head at her. “You just have to accept it. It probably won’t ‘get better,’ and you’ll probably never let go, but you’ll be able to move on with your life, and not feel guilty for that. Then eventually, you’ll start to remember happier things about them, and… you’ll accept it.”

“Is that what you did? Just accept it?” Her lip sneered when she asked the question, but her brows were bent upward with a contradictory emotion.

“I wanted to go back—“

“Why didn’t you?” She asked quickly, eyes rimming red just as quickly and making you avert your gaze.

“I couldn’t…” You shrugged, forcing that same flippancy you gave Mel and Nora. “I mean… I left like a fucking coward, Ab,” you laughed at yourself. “Going back? I’d feel like a complete fool. I couldn’t face you guys— I couldn’t even face you guys four years later. The only thing I could do was keep going and try not to fucking die, I don’t know.”

“Everyone wanted you back,” she muttered, now understanding the brief encounter you had months ago.

“I didn’t think you did.” Abby frowned, the words sounding like you were singling her out. “I thought, I don’t know, even if everyone else wanted me to be there, you wouldn’t after I suggested something so stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” she said, chuckling lightly at your tone.

“It was insensitive.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t care… I didn’t even think of that, I just—“ She shook her head, sighing. “The first thing I thought when you mentioned it was that you were going to leave… I wanted to make it my choice that we wouldn’t see each other again, so I said something stupid— but if I’d just waited, let you talk, then… I would’ve realized you wanted to go together. Everyone just thought you planned on going alone.” She pursed her lips, looking away. “It was my fault everyone responded like that— don’t say it wasn’t,” she said before you could object. “No one would’ve said anything if I didn’t.”

“I didn’t care that much about what everyone else said. I figured they just thought I was going to leave you all, but… I thought you were telling me to leave for bringing it up in the first place.” You lied back on the bed so Abby wouldn’t see your face. “Even still, when I was alone, fucking terrified, the only thing I could think of was whether or not you guys were okay; how, maybe, it was better that I wasn’t there… It seemed like you guys got even closer when I saw you.”

There was a brief pause as Abby looked down at you. Clearly, you both needed to have this conversation, but it was almost impossible to have with how hard it was to sort out either of your feelings.

“The first thing I wanted to do when I realized you were gone,” she started slowly, “was go and find you; tell you that I don’t care, and if that’s what you wanted we could go. We could go to Los Angeles, or Santa Barbara, or San Francisco, or wherever the fuck you wanted to go, ‘cause I had no fucking idea what I was going to do without you… And I needed you.” The waver in her voice made you shut your eyes, taking in her words with a crease between your brows and a frown tugging at your lips. “I fucking needed you, and I just wanted to be with you, and I was scared, so I snapped at you thinking— I don’t know what I was thinking… Maybe-maybe if you knew we wouldn’t be together, then you wouldn’t go? Fuck, I just wanted you to stay with me,” she was rambling, words quick and spilling out until she caught herself, “and everyone else. Where you were safe. Where we were all safe. Together. I didn't mean to push you away.”

You had no idea what to say, staring up at the ceiling with a frown as your eyes shone beneath the warm light. You were quiet, voice small as if you knew just how wrong you were now. “I just wanted you happy,” you mumbled, hardly confident in what you used to think to yourself to justify your actions.

“Without you?” She scoffed at you. “Really?”

You shrugged, now thinking of anything that could back you up. “You had Owen.”

There was a moment of pause before Abby laughed, grabbing your pillow and hitting you with it. “Fuck you.”

“What?!” You laughed, pushing the pillow away and covering your face as she threw it at you. “You… loved him, or whatever,” you waved off, unable to hide the disdain in your voice.

“That’s what. You never liked us together.” You shrugged. “Why?”

You looked over at her, looking her up and down. “I don’t know.” You moved to sit up, huffing as you did and covering it with an exaggerated sigh. “You were my person.” There was a faint upward pull to her lips at that, but it fell quickly when she replayed the sentence in her head. She was your person, and you had stayed hers. After all those years; years of having your picture in her room or pocket, you had stayed close to her heart, but now she was nothing more than an old friend to you. “What?” You asked when you noticed her expression, reaching out and placing a hand on her thigh.

She swallowed, looking down at your hand. “Did you— Did you ever…” She stumbled over her words as she stared at your hand on her, eventually looking away. “Think about us? Any of us? I mean, you, Mel, and Nora were so close…”

You waited for her to finish, but that seemed to be the end of her sentence, so you stood. You went to your dresser, hand on your lower stomach as you grimaced but made sure to hide it from Abby. You grabbed an old jewelry box, taking it in unsteady hands and carrying it back to the bed where you set it down. Around your neck, there was a leather necklace you untied and pulled from your shirt, taking the key at the end of it and unlocking the box.

There was an old tape recorder inside. Headphones and car keys too, and a stack of photos among other trinkets.

Abby looked shocked, looking at you before reaching for the box when you nodded. The car keys, from the first time her dad taught you to drive, were tied to an old coin he’d gifted you. They were on top of an old photo of you and him in his greenhouse.

Her hands went for the other photos, looking through them and seeing how many there were of her or the two of you. You had more of your friends than you did with them; some of these photos she’d never seen before and making her brows pull together as she smiled somberly.

“When I was in Washington,” you spoke up quietly, looking at the pictures as Abby went through them. “Leah was on patrol when my group was leaving. I didn’t have many pictures of us together, so she gave me most of those… I guess she just had them with her.”

Abby smiled faintly. “She kept pictures of us with her all the time.” Her smile then fell again. “I thought you guys left immediately?”

You pursed your lips. “I needed a little extra medical attention before we could leave. She found our hiding spot.” You quickly continued before she could question you. “So I told her about how I lost one of my only pictures of us and my other tape recordings, and she just gave them to me.”

“Of us?” She looked up at you and you nodded. Abby went into her pocket, fingers digging for a wrinkled piece of paper. “I don’t have the recording with me; it's in my room, but… ” she muttered, pulling out the photo and smoothing over the water damaged paper before she handed it to you. “It’s a little ruined.”

“You had this?!” You took it, looking down at the picture and feeling your eyes burn before you moved to hug her, arms squeezing around her shoulders. “You don’t know how bad I felt about losing this, Abby.”

Her hands found your hips, awkwardly pulling you into her before her arms went around your waist to comfort you with how emotional you were getting over one picture. “It’s okay,” she tried to soothe, hand running up and down your back. “I’m glad you lost it. I finally got to keep a picture of us,” she laughed awkwardly, leaning back against your bedframe with you still in her arms. She knew you were trying to hide your face from her, so she let you stay as you were. “I actually thought you just left it behind.”

“What?” You laughed, pulling back to frown at her. She smiled at your laugh, hands still resting on your waist in case you hugged her again.

“I found it by the fire after you left.” She shrugged. “It was with your MP3.”

“So, what? You laughed again. “You thought I was burning pictures?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” She laughed, releasing you as you sat next to her with an eye roll.

Usually, you’d lean into her, or rest your head on her shoulder when you sat next to her, but now things were so different that you couldn’t just bounce back into old habits.

Every touch, every word, every glance, it was all based on feeling; some feeling that was brought up by the past before that fleeting feeling passed too, and soon, Abby was starting to realize you’d become complete strangers to one another. You hardly understood each other anymore. You weren’t certain how the other would react, or reciprocate, you didn’t even know what could be said at times. Even if you could reminisce for hours, when it came to talking and being present, there was hardly anything you could do.

It left Abby forgetting your advice and wishing she could go back to do this all over again; forget about finding Joel first and just find you. Or just go with you to California and spend the years like you did. No matter how much she wanted to go find him. No matter how much she would have regretted it.

At least you wouldn’t be a stranger to her.

Though, she had no idea how those years were for you. She didn’t know the hell you’d gone through, or the sleepless nights. No matter how much you told her that night, you didn’t tell her how you made yourself sick with guilt to the point that you had to lock all of your keepsakes away. Especially because you thought you’d lost one. She didn’t know how hard you worked to accept everything that happened, how seeing them after four years caused a rift between you and your squad to the point that they were telling you just to stay in Washington, how her showing up completely threw you off guard.

But maybe that was for the best.

Because that night, while she was wide awake, thinking of how she could find a way to know you again, you slept soundly. Sleeping through the night for once as you lied with the picture Abby left with you under your pillow.

The next morning, Abby came to the greenhouse. You smiled when you saw her, setting aside your plants to give her your full attention.

“Hey.” She smiled. “I’m going on my first patrol—“

“Already?” Your worried tone made her chuckle. “Ab, you’re still recovering.“

“I know, but I need to get back out there. I’ll go crazy if I don’t.” You grimaced, crossing your arms. “I was wondering if you’d go with me? It’s just around the island, so no combat.” You narrowed your eyes, wondering why she’d bring that up. “It’ll be quick,” she continued to try and persuade you.

“I don’t go on patrols anymore,” you told her, replacing your questioning glare with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Oh…” She didn't ask why, just nodded before reaching into her pocket. “Okay, well, I brought this with me to give back to you—“

“No, no, no. Keep it.” You took her photo out of your pocket and handed it over. “I’m sure you’ve realized these go together now. You’ve had them for years. Please.”

The way you spoke to her, so cordially it seemed formal, made her feel uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t describe. She gladly kept the items, thankful you hadn’t, but also wishing you at least seemed to want them.

“Maybe…” You looked around, all of your morning duties done for now. “Maybe I could go with you just this once,” you suggested upon seeing the look on her face.

But she didn’t want you to placate her.

“That’s alright.”

“You sure?” You frowned at the sudden change in tune.

“I’m sure there’s a reason you don’t go anymore.” She gave you a smile and you nodded.

After that day, you didn’t speak much. Lev would come for lessons, and Abby would have to get him sometimes, but slowly, she just faded into another one of your comrades; people you knew but had no relationship with. People who hardly crossed your mind on a day-to-day basis.

She overheard you with one you were closer to— one of your new friends.

“So,” she started, “you know that new girl?” She asked as Abby passed by the greenhouse on her way out to patrol. She planned to get a pouch from you, but paused to eavesdrop. “I heard she’s from Salt Lake.”

You’d hummed. “We grew up together… But I don’t really know her anymore,” you’d admitted quietly, solemn.

Your friend huffed a laugh. “You’re so dramatic. What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You chuckled. “I dunno, just… Ya know, when I did know her, she was the best person I ever met. So gentle… kind. She had a way with animals— people, too. I don’t know, she was always so perfect to me when we were younger. I probably had a little crush on her or something.” Your friend cooed at you. “But as we grew up, we were, just, so close. Her dad just took me in like family after mine was… taken.” She could hear your voice falter. “But when he was killed, things changed… Remember that tip I gave in Washington? ‘Bout Tommy.” Your friend hummed. “His brother, Joel. He was the one to kill him, and Abby… She beat him to death. In front of his brother… In front of his kid.”

She could hear the way you struggled to get the words out, biting her inner cheek. She wanted to leave, but she also wanted to know what else you’d say, waiting for you to continue.

“And I don’t even blame her. It makes me sick, but I don’t blame her ‘cause if I ever found out who destroyed my family?” Your voice darkened. “I’d do so much worse.”

“No need to justify to me,” your friend huffed, humming in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean.”

There was a pause before you spoke again “And sometimes, I wish I’d been there to see it through. To know that he’s actually dead… Or, even just to be there for her— ‘cause the girl that I knew? She never could’ve done that. I never would’ve let her get to that point; feel that way? Hurt that much but… I left her.” Your friend tried to speak over you, but you stopped her. “So, I can’t help but feel at fault for what happened to our friends. I don’t know anyone who would still want to care about me after what I did. So, I just feel like I don’t know her anymore. I can’t understand her at all.”

Abby thought of talking to you that night, telling you she overheard the conversation, but she couldn’t bring herself to face you knowing how guilty you felt.

What if seeing her made you feel worse? Talking to her made you feel sick? She’d spent all these years feeling guilty, only to find out you felt the same— and now even more so because you knew how she ended up here. Like this.

She could say the same thing about you. She thought you were perfect when you were younger, she wanted to protect you as you got older, and she felt like she failed you now. Like it was her fault you felt this way. She could say the exact same things you did, which was why she kept her distance and waited for you to come to her.

She waited.

And waited.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson hcs #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson fluff #abby the last of us #abby and lev #abby anderson angst #abby anderson ff #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x you #abby x you #tlou abby #tlou x reader

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arkiliastuff · 7 months

Text

Prologue - In a Concrete Jungle

Noah Sebastian x OFC (Aurey)

(pictures edited by me. Originals url linked on the pictures.)

A/N : I thought about this one for a while and, even though I have a lot of other fanfics that are waiting to be finished/written, I wanted to share this one in particular with you :D It's been on my mind for months, the lore maturing in my head. It's going to be a LOT different from what I usually write but I'm trying things and despite the dark mood in this story I hope you'll enjoy it as well ! :D

Warnings/Tags : Strangers/Enemies to Lovers trope, violence, blood, post-apocalyptical universe, cyber-futuristic vibe, "no god, no religion" vibe (I don't mean any form of disrespect in any religion), mention of trauma, death, loss, drugs, mental and physical abuse, trust and abandonment issues. (Just in case MDNI please).

Disclaimer : I haven’t read the comic book “Concrete Jungle” written by Noah Sebastian and illustrated by many cover artists such as Nicola Izzo, Jeremy Wilson and many more, so I don’t know much about the lore and the universe. I just got inspired by the song and the few panels of the comic book that I saw about it. The rest is a pure work of my imagination and it’s not related to anything official. Nothing is canonically official. This is totally fanfiction. And so this is how I pictured the world in the song “Concrete Jungle”.

~The little bean taglist : @valiantroeagleangel @talialovesmiw -> ask me if you want to be tagged :D

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━

She walked there, in this desolate landscape, with a strong determination. Two girls who seemed to look like her friends were following her, looking behind them briefly. Probably afraid of someone or something that will come after them. After all, they went out without authorization. They went out in this no man’s land, caused by gangs and mafias. Many civilians had perished because of this war. The survivors were hiding underground, in the subway. The reason why they went outside was because one of them, a girl with glasses and blue eyes, forgot her necklace at the church where she always went to pray. So after complaining to her friends about her precious loss, the strong-willed brunette who was among them decided to go and get the necklace back. The two other friends eventually followed her even though they were feeling nervous about disobeying.

“If we hurry, we will be back in no time” She said, trying to reassure her anxious friends.

And so, just like the bold brown-haired girl said, they arrived at the place. The church had been bombed. The two girls felt sad about the destruction, but the leader didn't seem to be moved by it. Instead, she was more focused on her mission, looking for the necklace, while making sure nobody would come to arrest them. She was in hypervigilance, almost looking paranoid. She looked everywhere under the seats and chairs that were still there until she saw something shiny. She reached for it and then wiped the dust on it. It was a crux with a silver chain.

“I found it, Faith.” She stated, calling for her friend.

The latter one walked towards her, analyzing what she found before realizing what it was.

“It's my necklace ! Thank you so much, Audy !” Faith replied happily, using the usual friendly nickname for her friend.

The latter one just nodded in silence, her focus back on her group and looking for their second friend.

“Where is Daisy ?”

The two of them looked around the ruined church before they saw the red-haired girl who was near some candles next to a shrine of prayer. She lit up a candle and prayed in silence for their sake. Faith joined Daisy, lighting up a candle as well while Audy was watching them, starting to get annoyed.

“Come on guys, we cannot stay here too long.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Daisy replied.

A few seconds later a breeze came through, extinguishing the timid flames on the two candles. From this moment, Faith and Daisy stood up and stopped praying, turning on their heels at the same time towards Audy.

“We’re done.” The first one said.

“The Lord has heard our prayers.” The second added.

“What ? Already ? But you just lit the candles a few minutes ago” Audy replied, confusion in her eyes.

“It is the way it is. It’s probably a good omen” Faith said.

“Wait.. Let me just light the candles again.” The brunette said sheepishly.

As she was going slowly to the shrine, about to light the candles with another one, both of her friends widened their eyes in shock, attempting to stop her.

“DON’T !” Daisy yelled.

“DON’T DO IT, AUDREY ! You’re disrespecting His words !”

The long browned-haired one stopped her movement in the air, the spark just above the candle’s wick reaching it slowly but surely. Then, she looked at Faith and Daisy, an angry and dead gaze in her dark eyes.

“Even if I lit up those candles again, do you think it would change a fucking thing for what happened to our city ? To our families ? To our friends ?” She replied, clenching her teeth together as she spat her words like venom, anger getting the best of her, before she continued.

“No, it wouldn’t. Don’t take that fucking breeze as a sign from your Lord, ‘cause you two know better that, if He wanted to help us, He would have done it already. We are responsible for our own downfall. For our own misery. And no Gods will ever help us. Only the demons that you’re afraid of will answer us because they're close to what we are.”

After that, she saw the shock on her friends' faces, trying to reach out to her and yelling at her that she was irreverent by saying those words. It was the shock before the sound of something falling as fast as lightning just dropped on the ruined church. And then everything exploded. Bricks of the building were thrown away at Daisy and Faith’s head, knocking them out immediately. Audrey got hit as well, feeling her blood flowing from her face before blurring her vision. The last thing she saw was her two friends on the ground, blood running from their heads. Then, it went completely white.

━─━「₪」━─━

Aurey woke up, sweating all over her body as she was panting, trying to gain some air. She put a hand on her forehead, trying to wipe the sweat away and checking it. There wasn’t any blood. She sighed in relief but not too long. She knew it couldn’t be just a dream.

“This wasn’t just a nightmare” She whispered to herself, knowing too well this situation.

She stood up, got her gear on her and packed her stuff together before leaving the spot where she slept. She knew she shouldn’t have slept there.

It was a small cave of collapsed buildings parted together which were composed of cables, metal pieces of broken engines everywhere.

It could crumble any minute. But she took the risk anyway, as she felt this one was more safe. She didn’t know how long she slept but she was aware it was late. Once she got out, she covered her nose as she smelled an heavy and toxic smoke. It was the smell of somewhat burned vehicles and trash cans not that far away. It was, probably, another threat from a gang who were arguing again in the city.

She put her customized respirator on, breathing again. Then, she started to climb up the ruins, reaching for a higher spot to get a better view. She climbed a few minutes after finding a window, which gave a great opening view from below. She took her binoculars out of her pocket and started to look around.

Through it, Aurey saw a usual wildfire in the city, on her right. She could barely hear the sound of gunshots. A lot was happening and she hoped her teammates could handle it while she went patrolling on her own. Suddenly she saw something blinking, in the corner of her left lens. She turned a bit more to her left and saw a black car entering the Nameless City. She had never seen a car like this before. This was the first time that she had witnessed new people arriving. Who could they be ? And why were they coming into this hell hole ? She made a mental note to herself to keep an eye on this vehicle and the people who were in it.

Meanwhile, Noah was lost in his thoughts as they were passing through the barbed wire gate of the city. He was just getting bored of the trip, having no idea why they got a call to come here. His partners and best friends in the car told him it was a well-paid mission, but he wasn’t really convinced by it. They had to do some cleanup as they were told. And given the sight of the city it seemed this town needed it. What was left of the police authorities were just broken cars, with no more tire or windows. They probably run away from all the chaos, just to survive somewhere else. Just being out of this mess. Noah kept staring through the window, his chin in the palm of his tattooed hand, just looking at all the clutter those crumbled buildings had made.

“A real concrete jungle…” He muttered.

Then he heard a howl. He was taken by surprise, not expecting to hear such a sound in this kind of city. He listened again, opening his window just to hear it more clearly. Another howling. It wasn’t human. It sounded more like an animal.

“ What was that ? Did you guys heard that ?” He said, his eyes widened as he couldn’t believe his ears.

"Heard what ?" Folio asked, not really paying too much attention to their surroundings.

"A howl. It sounded like a coyote. Or was it a wolf ?" Noah continued, his ears attentive to any other sound.

But the howling animal had stop. He still had no idea what his friends and him were getting into but he promised himself to investigate this strange city.

#bad omens #bad omens fanfic #concrete jungle #bad omens band #bad omens fic #noah sebastian x oc #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #joakim jolly karlsson #nick ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #jolly karlsson #noah sebastian x ofc #in a concrete jungle fic #concrete jungle fic

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scribbling-dragon · 10 months

Text

don't turn out the lights (kiss yourself goodnight)

summary:

“Hi,” Martyn continues to grin, even as it turns awkward and even guiltier. “I'm coming over. Can I come over?” Martyn pauses on the bridge then, as though just realising his presence might be unwanted after ditching him all morning. “I don't know if I should let you,” he says. It’s not an answer either way.

(ao3 link)

(7,119 words)

[hi! talking in bold so this catches your eyes ooOOooo anyway! this is the FINAL PART of this series! it's done! this is the end! meaning, everyone dies in this fic. there's your warning! there's gonna be death, injury, blood, etc. all the fun stuff! so just keep that in mind when you read it. also! it'd be really nice if you could reblog this because it took me a long time and i put a buncha effort into it! comments in the tags are even cuter- they let me know you liked it! i write for fun but i post because i want other people to also enjoy what i make, letting me know that you did quite literally makes my day.

anyway! hope u enjoy! <33]

The Isles is almost eerily quiet.

It is expected. The losses they had experienced only a day prior are enough to stun even the loudest of people into silence. It seems their world is only mirroring their mourning, not even birds singing to greet the dawn. Instead, it leaves everyone to prepare for their day, silence permeating the air around them. Even the sun appears muted, watery, as it tiredly heaves itself over the edge of the water, already beginning to chase away the deep purples of night.

He doubts any of them will be around to see another miserable sunrise such as this one.

Scott runs a cloth over the dull edge of his sword, wiping the dried blood away as best as he can manage with only a scrap of damp fabric. It’s already stained red, beyond any kind of repair. The dried blood remains stubborn, clinging to his blade as the last few echoes of others’ lives.

It flakes away as he scrapes against it with a single, sharp nail. The dried blood of friend and foe alike clumps together as it gathers beneath his nail, forcing him to stop his task and pick it out once he can no longer stand the feeling of it. He flicks it to the ground beneath him, hoping the flecks of red will become lost amongst the yellowing grass he sits upon. He still finds his eyes picking it out, like berries nestled amongst the dry stalks of grass that are determined to catch his eyes whenever he glances over.

He pauses at the sound of creaking floorboards above him, a few grains of sand pattering down onto his head. He cocks his head to the side and listens a little more intently as more creaking follows. Martyn had still been sleeping when he got up, curled comfortably in their shared bed. Scott had been tempted to stay and enjoy the peace a little longer, but his own mind was restless.

He hadn’t wanted to disturb the last few peaceful moments Martyn would probably get before this is all over, rising and attending to small tasks that didn’t really need to be done; tasks that were there to busy the hands rather than be productive. He doesn’t have that sort of time to waste, still target number one, certainly, his clock ticking down from higher numbers than everyone else, but his time is as limited as the rest of them.

His sword had been cleaned and sharpened. The blade, previously coated in dried blood so thick you could barely see its shimmer now gleams in the rapidly strengthening sunlight.

The purple hue of the skyline has been almost completely wiped away, leaving a pink sky in its wake. The light of it dyes the ocean a deep red, churning against the edges of their island as though it can hardly wait to devour it all once they're gone.

He continues to listen as footsteps echo overhead, uninterested in continuing to prepare for murdering his friends, waiting for Martyn to poke his head through the doorway and begin chattering away. He’s always more talkative in the morning, as though he has to make up for not speaking all night.

He looks over at the sound of a quiet splash, sitting up and sword forgotten as he stands a moment later. He pokes his head out of their storage room, watching as Martyn swims away from their island and towards the mainland. He dips beneath the waves a few times, swimming quickly.

Scott lingers in the doorway, watching as Martyn emerges onto the sandy shoreline, not even bothering to rid himself of the water he’d collected on his trip over as he usually would. Instead, he looks around, searching for…something. Scott isn’t certain what it is that he’s searching for – they hadn’t even had a conversation yet that morning to go over what should be done, who to avoid, who to target – and apparently not find it as he trudges into the treeline, quickly disappearing into the murky darkness that seems to cling to any dark oak forest, still soaking wet from his short swim.

Scott withdraws into their storage room, confused and more than a little hurt. His mind races a mile a minute, barely giving him a moment to process anything before he’s thinking of another potential explanation. Did they have a conversation last night that indicated Martyn was going to do something like this? Did Martyn assume he had already left and gone searching for him?

Only, Martyn had swum over there like a man possessed, like he would die if he didn’t reach the shoreline as quickly as he did. And yet – and yet – the moment he reached his destination he had looked around, as though uncertain of where to go.

Scott likes to think that he can read Martyn quite well, after the multiple times they’ve gone through these games together, and also the time they’ve spent together on this very island. He likes to think he can read Martyn well. And the way Martyn had looked around, on that shoreline, had not been with the intent of finding something lost, it had been done with the confusion of someone that had walked into a room and forgotten what they were going to do.

But, there’s no point in catching up with him yet. No reason to dive after him and catch up; see if he can shake any answers loose from the man. Not when he still has arrows to make and a bow to restring.

They can talk later. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

=== === ===

“Now, I'm not a professional,” he tells Cleo, hopping down a few more blocks and squeezing into the gap he’d left for himself. There’s no redstone involved in this, only the tiny guide in the back of his head that’s jumping between steps as he attempts to remember how to do this, struggling to reconcile the new information he had with the idea that he’d already gotten it right.

He’d done it wrong last time, his hands still stinging from the hot blast that had gotten him before he managed to shove his shield in front of himself, letting that take the brunt of the explosion rather than absorbing it with his face.

“Never said you were,” he feels a shadow fall over him as Cleo leans down to peer at what he’s doing. “Reckon you're gonna blow the both of us up again?”

“I wouldn’t stand so close,” he chuckles, feeling rather than seeing as Cleo steps back. He slowly, carefully, places another bundle of TNT into the minecart, feeling the thing rattle with the weight of how much TNT he’s shoved into it. The sculk clings to his hands as he sets it down onto the block, gripping onto him as he attempts to pull away, unwilling to release him.

He continues pulling his hands back until the sculk accepts its loss, releasing his fingers and withdrawing back to the dirt block he’d provided for it. He watches as it curls itself into the dirt block, then simply engulfs it. He has no better words to describe the way it simply spreads over the block, too fast for him to even track with his eyes, until the entire patch is made of sculk.

He withdraws even more carefully, slowly easing himself out of the hole. He’s aware of the way the dirt clings around his shoulders. One wrong move could set off the trap he’s just spent the better part of ten minutes setting up, and he’d probably be blown to bits alongside it.

Cleo waits until he’s completely free of the hole before continuing to speak. “Where’s your other half today? Didn’t think you came as a single package anymore.”

“Very funny,” he forces a laugh as he turns to glare at them. “I don't know,” he answers. Not at all bitterly. “He ran off this morning before I could even get a chance to speak with him, went off to do…something.”

He sees Cleo frown, eyebrows creasing together. “And you haven’t tried to find him?”

“He needs something, then he’ll find me.” He dismisses Cleo’s worries easily – he’s been dismissing his own all morning, ignoring them in order to actually get anything done. Dismissing Cleo’s probing questions and slightly worried glances is far easier. “He’s been acting all funny recently anyway. If he’s gone off to sort himself out, then that’s fine.”

“Wait, Scott,” Cleo moves around him, pressing their hands down onto the small tunnel entrance and blocking him from poking around in there a little more. He leans back on his heels, knees digging into the ground as he glares up at her. “That’s not at all like Martyn. He sticks around other people as best as he can, even if it means bouncing between several groups. You're telling me he’s disappeared and you're not even worried?”

“Of course I'm worried, Cleo.” He huffs out a breath, resisting for only a moment before he raises his hands to his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. It relieves a little of his stress, and also means he doesn’t have to look them in the eye anymore. “But there’s nothing I can do about it, so I just have to wait and sit tight and hope he shows up.”

“You said he was acting weird,” Cleo asks, after the silence has hung between them for a moment. “Weird…how?”

“I don't know,” he sighs, dropping his hands. Cleo stares at him. “Ugh, I guess, like, spacing out? He was acting really weird after, uh, yesterday and the whole,” he waves a hand, “canary business. But I thought that was just the shock of all that, and then all the stuff after that. I didn’t even speak to him this morning, but there was this weird air around him. It was really fucking strange, Cleo, and I don't even know what it means!”

“Yeah, alright, alright,” Cleo hesitates for a moment, before patting him on the shoulder. “I think that’s just how he gets at this point. I think he was like this last time? I’d have to repeat myself several times for literally anything to get through to him.”

“I keep forgetting you were partnered with him last time,” he huffs out a laugh. “So he just gets like this every time? Why doesn’t anyone say anything?” He pauses. “Have you said anything?”

“To Martyn? No.” Cleo glances over at a shout from the Clock Tower, then back at him. “To anyone else? …Also no. I didn’t think it was my place to pry or ask around, and I guess that’s the common sentiment. Maybe he’s done it every single time. Maybe he only started doing it last time. Who knows? Maybe he's just gone insane.”

“Pretty sure that’s Joel you're thinking of,” he jokes, and then regrets when it opens up a pit in his stomach.

“Maybe go find him,” Cleo says. They both ignore the slightly heavier air around both of them, the mention of Joel souring their moods rather quickly.

“Yeah,” he brushes the dirt from his hands. “Yeah, I will.” He stands, eyeing the inconspicuous path ahead of them. “Thanks, Cleo.”

“No problem. Hope you find him.”

So do I, Scott doesn’t say. Hope you're still kicking around when I’ve found him, he keeps to himself too. He knows the Clockers aren’t doing well for time, all of their clocks far lower than his own, even after donating some of his time to Scar earlier.

He can feel Cleo watching him. Maybe they're giving him some of their own well wishes.

=== === ===

Going onto Skynet is never his favourite thing. But he’s been poking around on the ground for long enough that he’s rather certain Martyn isn’t hanging around there. Unless he’s dug himself into a hole underground as it currently hiding there until his clock runs out, he’s not on ground-level.

Meaning, into the skies he goes. The ladder is wonky and the rungs are thin enough that they threaten to snap under every step he takes upwards.

He can feel his hands growing sweaty the higher he ascends, nervousness making him glance down and come to terms with just how high he was in the air. With nothing to support him but a quickly and shoddily built ladder to nowhere.

He hauls himself up onto the main chunk of Skynet, grateful for the ground beneath his feet; solid despite being a thousand feet in the air. A drop from here would definitely kill him. A real risk, he realises, when an arrow thunks into the ground at his feet.

He glances over in the direction where it came from, dropping into a crouch. He’s not certain whether that shot was a mistake or a warning. It could have been fully intended to send him stumbling backwards and over the edge. But another arrow doesn’t follow, leaving him staring across the gap between their bridges, the group of three staring back at him.

…Three?

He can just barely see Etho crouched behind the makeshift wall he’s thrown up, the very tips of fuzzy white ears peeking over the edge of the dirt barricade, and Tango beside him is distinctive with his hair aflame. Meaning, no, his eyes are not deceiving him; Martyn really is crouched over with the other two, watching as they shoot at him.

He straightens up, almost planting his hands on his hips and yelling across the gap then and there. For Martyn to just ditch him earlier, and then for Scott to find him with people that have been relentlessly hunting him? Unacceptable. He only holds his tongue because shouting across such a wide gap is embarrassing, and not at all conducive to a proper conversation.

He stares across the gap a little longer, before holding a hand up in the universal gesture for wait.

He then takes a very brave step away from the main landing pad at the top of the ladder, the bridge narrowing even further and leaving him running quickly across the thin branches of Skynet. He keeps his shield held loosely at his side, and can only pray that Etho and Tango – or, gods forbid, Martyn – decide to get in an easy kill and shoot him.

He gets onto the same bridge as them before they start shooting at him, close enough for Scott to start talking to Martyn, even if it means he has to yell to be heard.

“Etho!” He jerks to the side as an arrow skims past his face, close enough that he can hear it whistle as it passes him. “No need!”

He hears Etho chuckling easily enough, even hunkered down behind his own makeshift shelter, only daring to peek over the edge once a moment has passed and his heart no longer threatens to leap from his chest. Martyn, Etho and Tango all peek back at him, lined up near perfectly. Scott might be tempted to take a photo if he wasn’t so irritated.

Another arrow shoots past his face and he scowls, pulling his own bow out and firing right back at them. He sees Tango jump in place and duck down as the arrow goes right over his head, far too high to actually hit anyone.

Several arrows embed themselves in the front of his small defence within a few minutes, making it easy to reach over and collect them up, adding them to his own quiver. “I've got arrows for days!” he calls over to them, grinning and urging them to continue shooting at him.

He notches another arrow, back pressed against his barricade before popping back up again, aiming and ready to fire.

Martyn visibly startles when he reappears, halfway across the bridge connecting them. He almost falls, Scott thinks, teetering dangerously on the edge as he readjusts his balance, shield held cautiously but not protectively in front of himself.

“Martyn,” he warns, not releasing his arrow but not dropping the bow either. He keeps it carefully trained on Martyn’s face, even as Etho and Tango continue to watch the two of them curiously. Martyn glances upwards from where he’d been watching his feet, smiling guiltily. Good.

“I don't know if I should let you,” he says. It’s not an answer either way. Something that Martyn seems to realise too, as he doesn’t keep moving forward, remaining rooted in place on the stupidly thin bridges that TIES built on a whim and everyone else decided to use. “Why are you with them?” He jerks his bow towards Etho and Tango, taking it off Martyn for a single second.

A single second which is, apparently, long enough for Martyn to run across the rest of the space and drop down beside him, both of them huddled far too close behind this too-small barricade. His knee knocks against Martyn’s, their legs pressing together when he lets them. He’s twisted awkwardly to continue aiming the bow at Etho and Tango, reluctant to take his eye off of them even if Martyn demands his attention with pleading eyes.

“Because I've not seen you yet today,” Martyn’s hand is warm on his arm. Near burning at the point of contact as he pulls at him, urging him to lower his bow. He holds the string of his bow tense for only a moment longer before heaving a great sigh and loosening it gradually, allowing the arrow to fall free from where it had been notched and into his open palm. Martyn continues, seeing him giving in, “I woke up and there was no-one here. There, wherever,” Martyn shrugs. “And then I just…” he trails off, eyes sliding to the side.

The hand on his arm slackens a little, turning from a comforting grip to a weight on his arm. The point of contact no longer burns, his skin warming up and adjusting to the sudden heat of another person.

“And then you just…?” Scott prompts, frowning when Martyn doesn’t give him a response. He’s still watching something off to the side, but when Scott turns to look where he is, there’s nothing there. No person trying to kill them or mysterious floating entity that would cause the kind of look Martyn currently has in his eyes.

“Hey,” he waves a hand in front of Martyn’s face, frowning when that continues to get no response from him. He rests his hand on Martyn’s cheek, growing even more concerned when that fails to get a reaction from him, sliding his thumb along Martyn’s cheekbone. His hand slips lower to cradle Martyn’s face, bringing his other hand to pat him on the cheek, like trying to wake someone up.

Martyn blinks, eyes refocusing, and then jolts. Scott holds onto him, keeping him in place as he regains his bearings from…whatever the hell just happened.

“When’d you get so close?” Martyn asks, clearly going for joking and missing it by miles. He lands somewhere around confused and worried instead, which only concerns Scott more.

Scott pauses for a moment, considering his next step. “Aw,” he tilts his head to the side, thumb still brushing against Martyn’s cheek affectionately. “Don't tell me you got so caught up in seeing me that you forgot to pay attention?”

Martyn laughs, leaning in a little closer, close enough that their noses are just shy of touching. His eyes are completely focused now, not drifting over Scott’s shoulder to look at something only Martyn can see. It eases something in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was so tight until it loosened all of a sudden.

“Well, it really is quite easy to get lost in your eyes. The depths of them are like an unexplored ocean-”

He shoves Martyn away from him with a laugh. “Don't you start with that,” he warns, mock angry as he wags his finger at Martyn. “That’s a terrible pick-up line, and one that doesn’t even work right now! My eyes are as red as they can be, so don't be silly.”

“Then your eyes are like the ocean in the morning,” Martyn counters. “Did you not see how red it was this morning? Like the sunrise itself had spilled into the waters.”

“How romantic of you.” He doesn’t mention how this morning was the only time the waters were dyed such a colour by the rising sun. Martyn wouldn’t know that, as a late riser, but Scott has watched those waters shimmer beneath the sunrise every morning since they were dumped here.

“Get a room!” Etho very bravely yells over at them, still hiding behind his barricade. “We wanna get past you!”

“Run on past then!” Scott yells back. “What’s there to be scared of!”

“What we might see!” Tango contribute, popping up beside his teammate. “I don't know what you two’re doing behind that!”

Scott scoffs in disgust at the idea. Not only is the entire place made of dirt, but they're also miles in the sky. Not exactly something he’d jump at the idea of.

“Go the other way then!” he yells, getting to his feet. He pulls his shield up just in case, but no arrows come his way. He offers Martyn his hand as he watches half of TIES (two-thirds, his brain supplies helpfully. Two-thirds.) deliberate over their next course of action.

“Cowards!” Martyn yells as Etho begins retreating.

Scott laughs at the offended noise Tango makes, loud enough for them both to hear it. Laughing is easier than thinking about what just happened. Easier than turning Cleo’s words over and over in his mind.

Easier to take Martyn’s hand and lead him away as though none of that happened at all.

=== === ===

He can see Etho watching him as he climbs, ears twisted backwards and crossbow held at the ready. He’s just as pleased to be up here as Etho is. All roads lead to Skynet, apparently, meaning he’s back on the hellish thing, praying that nothing breaks.

“We’re just here to talk,” he assures, crouching on the lip of cobblestone just above the ladder, reaching a hand down slowly for Martyn to take. He feels it slot into his hand easily, burning hot against freezing cold.

“Promise?” Etho keeps his crossbow held tightly in his hands. Not that Scott blames them. This is the time for temporary alliances, certainly, but he doubts anyone is above faking a temporary alliance to get closer to someone just to kill them.

“Promise.”

Martyn settles onto the ledge beside him, though Martyn sits down, legs swinging off the edge as he watches Martyn. Scott remains crouched, one hand flat against the cobbles, hunched over like some kind of gargoyle.

He probably looks like one, too. Fish-like spines and fins make it rather hard to hide the changes he’s undergone since going red. The scales layering over his skin and remaining thick until his elbows make it even more so. He can only be glad that he still has his legs, or that It didn’t decide to give him some kind of tail to weigh him down further.

“Okay,” Etho takes a step closer, and, in an incredible show of good faith, tucks his crossbow away so none of them have any weapons. “Let’s talk, then.”

Scott grins, more than a little satisfied with himself. It’s always risky reaching out for another alliance this late in the game, but taking the risk is better than leaving the ending unknown. This is a way for them to have a better shot at winning.

“The biggest hour- time, thingy, is the Nosy Neighbours,” he starts. “Pearl and Grian have the most time right now.”

“And they're a pretty strong team,” Etho glances over in the direction of the Neighbours’ tower, expression considering. “There’s three of them in it.”

Martyn hums something that vaguely sounds like agreement, but when Scott looks over at him, he’s staring off into space again, not at all registering the space around them. Scott shuffles a little closer to him, pressing his hip into his side in the hopes that the contact can bring him back from wherever his mind has wandered off to. Contact has helped, in the previous moments where he’s been like this.

“And we’re two sets of two,” Scott says. He feels momentarily guilty for pointing it out when Etho looks saddened by the reminder that Tango is gone now, too.

“Well,” Etho rocks back on his heels. “I can’t find Impulse at the moment- not a clue where he’s wandered off to.”

Maybe Etho’s words summon him, because Scott watches a blur plummet down onto the Mansion, disappearing under the water for a moment before resurfacing. Even from their distance, he’s able to make out the distinctive yellow ‘i’ on his shirt.

“Grian fell from Skynet,” Martyn says, blinking back to reality.

“Uh, no,” he gives Martyn a confused look from the corner of his eye. “That’s Impulse.”

“I- what?” Martyn glances over at the Mansion, “Oh! Yeah, yeah, that’s Impulse. Yeah.”

Etho gives them a funny look, eyes squinting as he studies Martyn.

“We can summon him over here,” Scott says, distracting Etho before he can ask too many questions. He’d been hanging out with Martyn earlier, could have seen his spacy-ness. Could identify it as something to be used later. Something that Scott would prefer him not to do. “Tell him we have Etho.”

“Like some kind of hostage situation?”

“Ooh, yeah,” Martyn nods along with Etho’s suggestion. “Let’s take him hostage.”

“Or we can just go down and meet him?” Etho suggests. He doesn’t look excited at the hostage idea, go figure. “I don't want to make him climb all the way back up for nothing.

“I don't really want to climb all the way back down there,” he complains, but its for nought as Etho clambers up to where they're sitting, leading the (very slow) charge down to the base of the ladder. His arms feel shaky by the time he reaches the bottom, from both exertion and exhaustion. He feels like he hasn’t slept properly in weeks.

Scott taps out the message on his comm, feet firmly planted into the nice sandy ground below him. It’s a comfort, to be back on truly solid ground again, even with the TIES’ wonky tower casting a slightly uneven shadow over them all.

<Smajor1995> come to us

He follows behind Martyn and Etho absently as he continues to type, hopping over the small blast craters easily and circling around the larger ones just as easily. He has to pause for a moment to bat away a zombie, sword slashing straight through its chest and sending it dissolving into a pile of dust.

<Smajor1995> we have etho

He knows its an ominous message to leave it on, especially when the two of them have been separated for who knows how long. Etho chuckles a little at it, but doesn’t send a message to reassure his teammate. A sense of urgency makes for swift feet, and they want to deal with the Neighbours as quickly as possible, he supposes. Better to do it now than when their timers are about to run out.

“What do you mean you have Etho?!” Scott spins on the spot to greet Impulse.

“As a friend!” he calls back. “We have Etho as a friend!” A skeleton shoots him as he speaks, managing to actually hit him when he’s sluggish on putting his shield up. It’s enough to make him realise how surrounded by mobs they’ve gotten, closed in on all sides, each of them beating back at least two mobs at a time.

“Let’s go!” he calls out, looking around for a place for them to actually go. He only manages to spot the little cave entrance by chance, remembering the little nook beyond that they can hunker down in for the night. Martyn catches up with him quickly when he realises where Scott’s heading. “Told you framing it like we had Etho as a hostage would work.”

“Yeah, wasn’t you he tried to run through with his sword.” Martyn mutters.

“He didn’t try to run you through with his sword,” he rebukes softly, speaking quieter as they enter the cave, aware that their voices will echo over to the following pair.

“He was thinking it,” Martyn says darkly. “I could sense it; hear it in the air.”

Scott doesn’t even get to ask what the hell that means, because Impulse is suddenly slamming the door shut and saying something about “not letting the zombies in too!”

The plan is laughably easy to make, once they get over their bickering and the small taunts they throw at each other. It’s hard not to point out Impulse’s attempts to blow him up earlier, something that Impulse receives with good grace and lets go as water under the bridge.

It’s only worrying how often Martyn spaces out, only ever chiming back in with something that nearly has Scott questioning how he knows Grian is currently away from the base, or that Pearl is up on Skynet, nevermind that all of them are underground and have been for the better part of twenty minutes, formulating the plan they're going to use to try and eliminate their biggest threat. How Martyn knows this is a mystery, but not anything that anyone is questioning, for some reason?

It doesn’t stop Scott from inching a little closer, until they're close enough to touch. So Scott can make sure he’s still real, still there. Not yet gone and seeing things that only the dead are meant to see.

It’s unnerving, how Martyn’s eyes go far away when he thinks about something, considers a question that he realistically shouldn’t have the answer to.

It’s terrifying when he tilts his head to the side, as though angling himself to listen to something more intently.

=== === ===

Oh this is new, he thinks, when he enters the tower that he knows BigB is in, and there’s no-one there. He holds his sword steady, laughing a little as he looks around.

He’s not invisible, no small swirls of smoke giving away his position as he moves. There’s absolutely no indication of where BigB is, other than the faint impression that there’s a person right in front of him.

“Oh, you're invisible,” he says aloud, mostly to himself.

“Am I?” BigB’s voice comes from a little to the left, and he swings for it, sword sweeping in a wide arc as he hopes it catches on flesh. It jerks to a stop as it embeds itself in…some part of BigB. He stares hard at that spot in front of him, but his eyes refuse to focus, sliding away whenever he tries to look for longer than a second.

“You are,” he confirms, ignoring BigB’s small grunt of pain as he yanks his sword back towards himself, holding it up defensively. This entire fight just got a lot harder if BigB isn’t the one doing this. It can only be one other doing this, sabotage against him. Something to make him fall a little easier. He loses track of where BigB is, the empty tower around them making his footsteps echo and hard to track. “I'm sure this fight will be easy enough, though.”

“No it won’t!”

Gotcha.

He swings around, spinning on the heel of his foot to make it quicker, flipping his sword at the last moment and slamming the blunt edge of his blade into BigB’s side, winding him rather than slicing him in half.

He swings his sword up to block at the shing of a blade being unsheathed, feeling the invisible weapon press down against his hands, heavy and forcing him to bend beneath it. He bends his knees, sinking a little lower. BigB laughs, excited at this upper hand he’s gained.

Scott holds it a little longer, ignoring the way his arms begin to shake from the strain. Only when he’s certain BigB is pressing most of his weight down against him does he slip away, dropping his sword and darting out of range as fast as he can.

‘As fast as he can’ is apparently not fast enough, feeling the cool metal of a blade dig into his back before he manages to slip completely away, hissing through clenched teeth at the burning sensation that quickly spreads over his back.

“Hah!” BigB cheers at this small victory, even as Scott turns back to face him. The wavering outline of something vaguely resembling a person is all he has to go off of. It’s like the wavering air above stone on a hot day. “Still confident?”

“Of course,” he scoffs. He ignores the way he has to readjust his grip on his sword, hand sweaty as he backs up another step. Whatever invisibility gift this is, it’s not fair. He has a rather good idea of who is doing this, and he cusses them out silently in his mind. Maybe They’ll be able to hear his swearing. “You think I’ll go down that easily?”

He can feel the blood soaking through his shirt rather quickly. For a surface wound, it’s bleeding a lot, and really quite painful.

He still swings when BigB comes at him again, the sound of feet on the cobbles his only indicator. Swinging in such a wide arc wrenches something in his shoulder, and he swears he can feel the flesh tearing further, strained apart like the threads of a garment, stretched beyond breaking point.

In the end, BigB catches him unawares. A rather easy feat, considering he can’t see the other man.

He gasps at the feeling of a blade piercing his flesh, stumbles back – tries to stumble backwards, finds himself stuck on whatever weapon he’s just been impaled with. The weapon he can’t see, but his mind still registers the pain pain pain of a slow death. Still registers the blood blossoming around the puncture.

He can see his insides, vaguely and through a distorted lens. It warps, as though he should be seeing something other than the tearing of his blood vessels and his parted flesh. He can see organs you're not meant to see, curled around himself in the way that he is, can see the puncturing of these probably vital organs which is not a good sign for his continued survival. His flesh is darker than he thought it would be, and bleeds for far longer than he expects.

He lasts far longer than he expected, shallow breaths wheezing out of him as he crumples to the ground.

“Woah, hey,” hands he can’t see lay over his arms, the faint feeling of pressure against his skin the only thing his mind registers. He can see his skin indent where hands press against his forearms, idents that can only be created by hands holding onto him. Hands that he cannot, for some reason, see. “It’ll be over in a sec, I’m sure.”

Scott tilts his head back and allows himself a small groan. He’s bleeding out slowly and sluggishly, he thinks he can afford a singular moment of pain amongst this shitshow.

He almost reaches the point of asking BigB to just slit his throat when the room spins dizzying circles around him, and words are coming from an unseen mouth, unseen hands brushing up and down his arms in what is probably meant to be a reassuring gesture, but is actually just unnerving.

He chokes on the blood in his mouth, and wakes with it still coating his teeth.

=== === ===

“Do you want to get BigB again?” Martyn asks, turning to him with a gleam in his eyes.

Scott hasn’t decided whether he likes this new Martyn yet or not. The Martyn of earlier, with his listless expression and drifting thoughts was not fun to deal with nor exciting to observe, but the Martyn of the here and now, the Martyn with an anticipatory gleam in his eye and a pep in his step at the thought of killing someone else is also not reassuring.

“Not really,” he replies, as casually as he can. “I got my time back from him.”

“And you don't want more?”

“Uh, not really, no.” He and Martyn are alone right now, Impulse and Etho splitting off from their little group momentarily. He doubts they’ll join back together again, everyone’s clocks hanging far too low to trust someone you only made a temporary alliance with.

(For just a moment, Scott wishes they’d come back. Come and act as a buffer between him and the ally that he no longer recognises. The gleam in his eye is dangerous, it warns. A herald of what is to come. He considers, briefly, slipping away into the night and disappearing until his clock runs out of time. Until that last grain of sand in his hourglass slips through and buries him completely. He’s not sure he wants to see what will happen if it’s just him and Martyn. When it’s just him and Martyn.)

“Alright,” Martyn drags the word out, as though he doesn’t believe him. Maybe he doesn’t, with the red-blindness that seems to descend onto everyone at this point, looming over their shoulders like a particularly grim reminder. He can almost hear the clocks ticking down, beat by beat, moment by moment. “If you say so.”

“I do,” he says. “I do say so.”

Martyn considers him for another moment longer. Watches him with those red eyes that seem to hold nothing but calculations behind them. A measure of how long it would take to overpower someone, how long it would take to bleed them dry of their blood and their time. How many arrows to divert someone from their chosen path. How many swings of the sword before their time can be claimed, like the spoils after a hunt.

Scott hates it. Hates this. Hates what his friends become. Hates what it is – who it is – that makes them do it.

Martyn shrugs and turns away. His walk is casual, deceptively so. He moves quickly, off to kill whoever it is that he’s set his mind on. Possibly the Nosy Neighbours, eyes set on them as a target, like a dog with a bone, relentlessly gnawing on it as though that will force it to produce something more.

Ah, yes. That’s what it is.

Martyn watches him as though his heart no longer beats, as though he is nothing more than a chunk of flesh to be devoured for the benefit, what he might gain from it.

Scott walks in the opposite direction to Martyn and hopes, rather selfishly, that they don’t have to cross paths again.

=== === ===

All paths lead back to the clock. All lead back to the timer ticking down, hanging heavy over their heads and around their necks; a slowly tightening noose.

Perhaps it is fitting, then, with his clock at a negligible amount that they arrive at the Clock Tower. Built at the centre of their little world. Everything revolves around the clock, and the Clockers have made sure they cannot forget that.

The face of it peers down at them, despite Scott not being able to see it from where he stands now. He can feel it. Can feel the ticking of the hands, the shifting and grinding of the gears that allow it to turn. Will allow it to turn long after each of them is dead.

Martyn and Impulse watch each other warily, watch him warily. He watches them back, far less wary than either of them.

He can see how this plays out, can see the end already in the tight grip of a hand upon a sword. Can see the way such a hand refuses to release the last weapon he holds, refuses to give up his one advantage here. Can see how the hand hesitates when moving to unstrap his armour, to unbuckle the plates and let them fall loosely to the ground.

Scott undoes the strap in one unceremonious movement, only grimacing slightly at the clatter as it hits the ground, rolling uselessly around his feet.

Martyn watches him, suspicion misting his eyes. His hand continues to falter, resting over his heart and over his chestplate. One that has still to be removed. Impulse’s armour lays on the ground, too, scattered around in pieces as though he’d simply tossed it aside carelessly in his eagerness to get it off.

Scott tilts his head to the side, almost imperceptibly, watches the way Martyn tracks the tiny movement. The way Impulse does not.

There is a question in his eyes, one that he is not sure Martyn can read anymore. The Martyn of yesterday would have been able to. The Martyn that still cared to scrub his hands free of blood, the one that cared enough to clean beneath his nails, so not even the slightest speck of blood would continue to stain his hands.

The Martyn of today is not the one he has spent time getting to know better. He is not the one that could read a question in the tilt of his eyebrows or the squint of his eyes. He is not the one that would be able to read the question in his eyes right now, swimming just below the surface. Maybe Martyn reaches for that understanding he once had, but the explanation slips away easily, a fish disappearing beneath the surface once more.

So maybe he doesn’t read the implicit permission. The silent question that doesn’t need an answer. Because Martyn might not be able to read his eyes, might not be able to read anything from him at this point, but Scott can still read him. Can still see the plan in his eyes, the way it whirrs in his brain as he smooths out the crinkles and finalises it.

Still, despite Martyn’s plan being finalised, set in stone and ready to be carried out regardless of what anyone says, Scott gives him a small nod that he might not catch. A granting of permission. A better you than anyone else. Martyn might not understand it. May have lost the ability to read him entirely.

He still ends up with a sword through the heart, pulled out slowly, longingly. Blood coats the inside of his mouth, and when he coughs, feels it spilling over, it feels like a parting kiss.

#juno.writes #mer scott (+ fishfucker martyn)#limited life #limited life fic #majorwood #trafficshipping #scott smajor #martyn inthelittlewood #mean gills #trafficblr #traffic series #traffic smp #limited life scott #limited life martyn #limited life smp #trafficfic

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blacksapphhicmaddonna · 11 months

Text

CHAPTER ONE - WHAT I HAVE TO DO.

a/n: hey y'all! so, I tried to post this in response to the anon who asked for a snippet but I saved it as a draft and Tumblr ate it😭 SO THIS IS DEDICATED TO YOU, ANON, WHOEVER YOU ARE!! sorry babes!💔💖💖💖💖

its been a minute since I've written anything fully, this was fun!!! as always, please ignore any grammar/syntax/spelling. I proof read it but you feel me. I'm super excited to be writing something so long and multi chaptered and definitely out of my comfort zone! am I an action girly now? LMFAO but anyway, I'm super open to any feedback and 👀 as always, if you wanna see sum, say sum.

anyway, I love my science gays and I will stan shuriri forever. this is pretty much all angst at this point❤️‍🩹, but I truly hope you enjoy LMFAOOO. lmk how you feel.💗 (and yes, I love a good flashback real bad and ima do it every time if I can. not too much on me LMFAO)

✮ taglist: @mybonafidefeelings@zeezeecave@gr00vyminibus@lppriceisright@darkangelchronicles@princessmel-1995@xenaizogie@nanii2x, and tagging a few folks that enjoyed the sneak peak and a few shuriri/shuri/riri folks who might! @karimwillia @inmyheadimobsessed@mal-urameshi@somethingcleaverandwhitty@imjusthere2readbruv@imagineandwrite there's more but my computer glitching so we gonna get this show on the road! lmk if you'd like to join the taglist or check the link in my tagged post! love y'all, muah

✮ word count: 11,193

✮ panther divider: @firefly-graphics

✮ some of the xhosa translations are from @iinkonde! here's where you can find some of their amazing resources: 1 2 3

Shuri paced the room that seemed to be growing smaller by the millisecond around her, searching for something - anything - inside of the brain most people considered the smartest in the universe to offer the scientist in front of her. She found nothing but the desperation she had been pushing down since the moment they met.

A desperation that mirrored the effects of the herb she had reproduced, also made from the desperation to save something that she felt was slipping through her fingers at the time. Just like the herb had found its way through her body when she first took it, this feeling spread from her throat as she choked when their eyes met as she pushed herself into the dorm room she was once again standing in. Down to her chest, pulling heart strings she didn’t know she had. Plucking them in a rhythm that felt intrinsic, ancestral, almost painful in the way that they made everything feel superimposed. She resisted, but she felt her toes and she felt her finger tips and she felt the curls framing her face dance above her eyes ever so gently. It spread through every atom that comprised the panther and she could barely breathe. She felt everything and she felt nothing, like she was sinking in an ocean of clouds. She could barely look at the woman who was staring back at her with a look of confusion, and an equal desperation that she couldn't explain.

Shuri still had nothing to offer in terms of speech. She paced at a speed that had only just registered as super fucking fast, clearly adding to the concern building in Riri's eyes.

"Shuri-" Riri started, but couldn't even try to finish as her voice had triggered the awaiting and building eruption in Shuri that it always did. Riri, if she did anything to Shuri, she made her feel things she wasn't used to feeling.

"Anything you want, just name it. It's yours. I'll make it happen. I'll build it myself. Just please don't do this. Please." Shuri froze in her place, finding herself begging for something she couldn't explain. She knew she was almost yelling at the other woman, which she would never do but she couldn't find the part of her that could compose herself. She was thankful for the kimoyo beads she had scattered in the room when she entered, enabling a silencing mode and cutting through anything that the government had tapped in Riri's room.

Riri froze too, only moving to fumble with her fingers nervously. She didn't have anything to offer the panther, the queen standing in front of her. She didn't have anything to comfort her friend. The woman she loved more than she could explain. More than almost anything.

"I don't... I don't want anything from you, Shuri... We both knew this day was coming. You had to have thought about it. I thought you were.. I don’t know... It almost felt like-"

"Please, Ri. Please. Just find something and I'll do it. I'll make it myself if I have to. Please just find something else."

"I don't want... I don't understand, Shuri. We only talked about this like twice, I didn't even think you cared that much or even had time to care about it... or me, really. Just... lets just sit down for a second." Riri tried to redirect, trying to give herself time to figure out what was going on. She felt her mind trying to run back through memories and conversations the two had shared in the past year and some change, but it was few and far between that they ever really had time to talk about their lives in depth lately. At first, they talked a lot after they had finally reconnected. They had even spent a few nights together. But lately, Shuri had been working a lot and it seemed like their connection was running dry. Riri had shared her plans a few months ago and hadn't really heard much back from the woman standing in front of her looking like she was fighting a battle she wasn't sure she'd win. Riri had committed herself to this, to showing up and doing what she felt she needed to do to make up for all the ruin she had caused - or at least what she thinks she caused. And now Shuri was trying to offer her a chance out of it. She didn't know what to do or what to think. That's something she felt often with the panther, she figured out. She had zoned out for only a split second before Shuri was grabbing her wrists and looking in her eyes.

"Riri, I'm begging you." Shuri stared into the Iron Heart's eyes, searching for something she knew she was missing. Something she needed the way she needed air, she felt. Riri searched back, trying to decipher something Shuri wasn't ready to let her see.

"Shuri, you know I feel responsible... But, I just.. I don't understand what's going on. What's wrong? Please just talk to me. It's okay." Riri tried to pull them closer, tried to grab the Panther's hand but her grip was too tight around her wrists. Shuri relaxed it, she hadn't intentionally been holding on so tight but she wasn't ready to let go. She's never been ready to let go of who she loves. She saw that same resolute look in Riri's eyes that was always there when she was sure about something. It broke something in Shuri that she knew she couldn't mend on her own. One final try, she told herself.

"I will give you anything under the sun. Please just don't go to them. Don’t go to him. I- I know you're trying to help and change things for the better, and you will. But not like this. Not until it's safe. He will find you, Riri. He will do anything to get to you and to get back at me. You know this and you still choose to go? You don’t have to make this easy for him. We can figure this out a different way. Please. I will give you access to all the technology Wakanda has to offer, just please find something else to focus on, to take place of this. Please."

Riri tried to pull her closer again but the panther moved back, sending a shiver of rejection up Riri's spine.

"I don't want anything from you, Shuri... I just want you. I- I mean I just want you to-"

Shuri felt her body getting hot and somehow freezing at the same time. Riri just wanted her? But she also wanted to go on this suicide mission, which is what it was regardless of what Riri thought of it. She fought back the defensiveness she felt crawling up her throat like it always did when she was hurt. She didn't want to lash out on Riri, she only wanted to protect her. She only wanted her to be safe, alive. She only wanted her. But it was to no avail. She felt the ferocious beast pull itself through her. She scorned herself as her words burned their way through her skin, landing on Riri's.

"You just want whatever you want. You just want to fight whatever moral war you have going on because you're the one who survived! You would give up your life for what? For who? Not for my mother! Not for me!"

Riri hadn't noticed the tears stinging down her cheeks until she saw the ones pouring out of Shuri's. It was something she had never seen before. She had seen Shuri lash out, though. She knew this was just the first wall of defense the panther had when she felt hurt, afraid, abandoned. She couldn't take this personally, though she had to fight back the sting of the words as they came at her. She reached out to try and touch the woman in front of her.

"Shuri, please. Let's just ta-"

"What?! Sit and talk? For what? For you to tell me again why you have to do this, why you have to go and die? Do you care so little for me? For yourself?"

"You know that's not true!"

"Why wouldn't it be true?! Ungayenza njani le nto kum!?"

"Please just listen to me! I don't know what's going on but we can talk about it! I'm right here, I'm right here!"

"But you won't be after this! You don't have to do this! Just let me try, let me show you that there's other things to give you purpose, there’s other ways we can handle this! PLEASE!" Shuri felt herself starting to cave in, her chest becoming a cavern filled with the screams of the orphaned girl inside of her. The girl who needed her family. The girl who couldn't save her brother. The girl who was held back from her mother as she drowned. The woman who loves women, specifically the woman in front of her who was planning to give herself up. She couldn't keep it together. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think.

"That's not for you to decide, Shuri!" Riri shot back, starting to feel the same layer of armor pull itself over her. She didn't like being yelled at. It triggered something in her that she herself had pushed back as far as it would go. She just needed to get Shuri to listen to her.

"I don't care! You can't do this Riri!"

"Please stop yelling at me!" Riri gave in, covering her ears and turning her back to the panther, who felt herself go still. She hadn't meant to unleash this part of herself. She felt embarrassment mixing with her desperation, afraid she had only made things worse. Who was she to be trying to control the actions of a woman she only met a little over a year ago? Who she was just friends with, and barely that if you based it off what normal friendships looked like. They rarely even spoke for longer than a few minutes every couple days and that wasn’t even true anymore. Shuri scorned herself for the time she hadn’t spent with her, for the time she had been forced to spend trying to fix, defend or save her country. She resented her royal blood now more than ever, wishing she could be nothing more than a girl again. Maybe a student. Maybe just different. Shuri felt herself starting to crack, she felt like she would disintegrate if she stood there any longer. She had done enough damage. She and Wakanda and the Talokan had put Riri through enough and she knew that. She could see why Riri would think this guilt was hers to bare but Shuri knew better, knew more secrets. She knew that her father and his father and so on hadn’t handled things right, and no matter the good T’Challa had tried to do - maybe he didn’t do it right either. So now it laid in her hands, forced once again to stand in the way of something she wasn’t ready for. She felt bad for herself, but she felt worse for Riri. She wishes she had never sent her home with the beads, that they had never touched hands, that they had never even met. Maybe if no one ever knew about Vibranium, no one would be trying to take it. Or maybe if the world had always known, if her ancestors had done things differently, this wouldn’t be Riri’s life. She was part of the lost tribe, as N’Jadaka would call it. Maybe he was right. She didn’t know what to think, but she also knew who she was, herself. She was the most powerful person on the surface world and she was the Queen of the most powerful nation in the world. And she was in love, helplessly, with Riri Williams. She would not let her go again.

"I am sorry for coming here and making you upset." Shuri said blankly, masking any emotions she had just shattered into the room as best as she could to regain any self control she had left.

Riri turned around, tears still swelling in her eyes. She hiccuped and it made Shuri's heart pound.

"I-it's okay. I just don't like b-being yelled at. Can we just sit and talk?"

Shuri nodded, knowing Riri needed a minute. Riri turned to grab a blanket off her bed to wrap herself in as she took a seat on the floor in front of her bed. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before motioning to Shuri to sit next to her. Shuri stared at her for a moment too long, before kneeling down next to her. They sat in silence that wasn't comfortable for the first time in a long time. Neither missed this feeling, the feeling of such uncertainty between them. Sure, it was always there, biting at the backs of their minds and hearts. But they had both worked hard to be comfortable with just having what they had. But now more than ever, neither was sure what was really going on. Shuri mirrored Riri, taking a few deep breaths. Riri felt herself relax, misreading the quiet sigh Shuri let out.

"Are we okay? I don't want us to fight. I just... need you to help me understand why you're so upset. It didn't seem like you even really cared about this. I know you've been busy with what you have going on so I just figured this... I.. wasn't really on your radar anymore."

Shuri stayed silent, fighting that feeling nudging her.

"Please say something." Riri pleaded quietly after a few too many more moments of silence. She couldn't stand it. Neither could Shuri. She needed to escape. Get out of the room, out of America. She needed to run and scream and break something. She needed to kill Namor. That was her only option, once again. She knew it would come. She knew the fate of her country would be in the air again, and part of her knew she shouldn’t do it. Equal parts yes and no. Blood on either hand, regardless of what choice she made. But she also knew that Riri's life was once again in question and there was only one answer Shuri would accept. She would deal with the aftermath the same way she had been. She would accept whatever came. She knew she wasn't thinking clearly, that maybe she would be exiled or worse, but she also knew she couldn't live with herself if Riri wasn't alive tomorrow, and that was enough for her right now. If Riri wouldn't listen, then there was only one choice.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Riri. It won't ever happen again."

Riri was startled at the sincerity in the Panther's voice. She was confused why that was what Shuri felt she had to focus on in the midst of whatever the hell was going on.

"It's okay, I promise. I'm not mad at you for yelling at me. I'm just confused..."

"It's not okay. This, whatever you're planning, whatever he's planning... None of this is okay." Shuri said, pinching between her eyes as she tried to swallow the same beast from just a few minutes ago.

"Shuri... it's not like before. It's not about him. It's not even just about what happened in Wakanda. You know I'm Iron Heart. You knew I was going to start doing these things at some point. Missions that weren’t just flying around Chicago and Boston stopping robberies. And you know that something has to be done. And I can’t let this go on again when we all know it’s my fault.” Riri sighed. “We all know it is. So, please just try to hear me..."

"I have always heard you, Riri."

Riri digested that sentence with a gulp. She replied after a moment.

"Then let me hear you, for once. Tell me why you're here. Tell me why you're reacting like this. Tell me who you are and what you're feeling. Let me in, Shuri." She said, reaching out to grab Shuri's hand again. The Panther's hand was hot, almost burning. She didn't pull away this time.

"I'm here because I lo-.. Because I won't let this happen." Shuri caught herself before she said something she couldn't explain. Riri looked into Shuri's eyes with a pleading, less sure look. Shuri couldn't hold it this time. She couldn't freeze. She couldn't tell Riri. She reminded herself what happens every time she loves someone. She reminded herself of what she was capable of and what needed to be done. Regardless if Riri ever shared her feelings or not, she would swear her life to protecting the woman until the day she met the ancestors and maybe after if she could. She would do whatever it took, every time, no matter what, she resigned to herself. She squeezed Riri's hand.

"What're you gonna do? Lock me in my room, Shuri? I don't get what's going on!" Riri pleaded.

"I would never. You are not a prisoner or someone I want to control. You are free to do as you please, just as I am. Please understand that much."

"What does that mean... Wait, please don't go!" Riri tugged back at Shuri's hand again as the Panther got up to leave. Shuri looked down at their hands touching, taking in every second that their skin touched. She remembered what it felt like to reconnect after a long time apart. She wishes she could live in it like she had before. She brought their foreheads together and closed her eyes.

"I will protect you with every part of me. The cost will never be too much."

"Shuri, please don't do what I think you're about to do..." Riri pulled Shuri's hands into hers and brought them to the sides of their faces. They were so close they could feel each other's breath on their lips. Riri prayed in her head that Shuri would listen to her, knowing the strength and power the woman in front of her wielded. Shuri choked out a pained laugh before kissing Riri's forehead and pulling away, taking in the scent of Ghanian Shea Butter and the sweet scent Riri always had.

"Andizukuphulukana nawe. Impilo yami ngeke ibe lutho ngaphandle kwakho, Riri Williams."

Before Riri could open her eyes, the Black Panther was gone, the sound of a closing door shaking Riri to her core. She felt like she was in shock, having nothing to do but curl into a ball and pull the blanket around her body, covering her face as she let the rest of the tears fall silently. She laid there for what felt like an eternity until she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

"Miss Williams?" Riri jumped up, running around her room tracking down the voice. She picked up a purple and black kimoyo bead and held it up, suddenly seeing several others connect like magnets from across the other corners of the room.

"Griot?!" Riri both yelled and whispered.

"Hello, Miss Williams. Are you feeling alright?" Griot asked as the AI began taking a scan of her body to check her vitals.

"I've been better... what's going on? Why are you here? Not that it's not nice to... well you get what I mean!"

"It seems you have suffered a panic attack of sorts. Please get some water and take a seat before I proceed."

Riri rolled her eyes with a tired huff, giving in because she knew Griot wouldn't budge until she obliged. She grabbed a half empty bottle of water from her desk and sat back down near her bed, pulling the blanket up around her. She suddenly felt the absence of Shuri in her space and fought back the tears threatening to make way through her as she pulled the bracelet on, watching it activate. She had felt this way before, but it was different now.

"Feeling better, Miss Williams?"

"Just Riri is fine, and I guess. Can you explain what's going on now, please Griot?"

"Yes, Miss Riri." Griot replied as a hologram of Stark Tech floated in front of the scientist. She felt even more confused.

"Why are you showing me Stark Tech?"

"The panther has created and assigned your own AI for you, it's name is VIV. It is nearly identical to the JARVIS, or Vision, that Tony Stark had. It has been being developed for over a year, and seems to have just finished."

"What the fu-"

"The Panther also has an updated version of your vibranium Iron Heart suit on it's way to your lab location, or garage currently. She has given you access to me as well, with some restrictions. She has instructed me to inform you of this when the AI download is complete."

Riri sat in even more shock than she was in before. She was even more confused about Shuri's intentions now. More confused about her feelings, than anything. She replayed the words the panther had said to her before she left, she knew some Xhosa but it wasn’t great.

"Can you translate what Shuri said to me in Xhosa before she left, Griot?" Riri asked, hoping for some clarity. Griot calculated for a moment, before answering.

"It would seem I am not permitted to complete that task at this time, Miss Riri."

Riri felt a pang of frustration rise in her, as she let out a laugh.

"Of course not... Can you tell me where the panther is right now?"

Griot took a moment again before answering.

"The Queen was on her way back towards Wakanda as of her last status, but it would seem she has powered off her location devices. Would you like me to contact her for you?"

Riri sat for a moment, considering her options and her own feelings.

"No, that's alright Griot. We're going to my lab. Can you help me boot up VIV when we get there? We're going on a trip."

"As you wish, Miss Riri."

Riri stood up, grabbing a hoodie and sliding on some J's. Before she walked out the door, she slid on the kimoyo beads and asked a final question.

"Oh, one last thing Griot. Can you turn on privacy mode? I would like my location hidden from everyone, including the Panther. Can you do that?"

"It seems I can, but I would not advise that action Miss Riri. There are safety protocols in place that the Panther can activate for you remotely."

"That's fine, just turn it on. I have my own safety protocols."

"As you wish, Miss Riri."

"Thank you, Griot."

Riri made her way to her garage in no time, paying no mind to the world around her or the messages on her phone from MJ about their project. When she got there, she did decide to shoot her a quick text explaining that she was heading home to Chicago for a family emergency, that MJ could find her portion already done on a small drive in her room and that she had permission to break in, and that she would make it up to her later. MJ did reply, but Riri didn’t have time for that. She got to work, with the help of Griot, or the portion of him that she was allowed to operate, and booted up her own AI and implemented it into her nano suit. The one from wakanda was on its way but wouldn’t be there in time. Thankfully, she didn’t have to meet with Namor for another day and a half. She needed to think quickly but after working everything out with her suit, she was unsure where to go from there.

“Griot, can I use both you and VIV?”

“Yes, but you likely will not need me once the AI is turned on. I will be there when you need me, though Miss Riri.”

“Thank you Griot.” Riri smiled to herself, always fond of Griot and their robot voice. It made her think about the time she spent in the lab with Shuri, where they would borderline argue and Riri would laugh at them. This brought back that pang in her stomach and chest. She got to work on turning on and engaging with the AI so that it could mold to her needs, voice and patterns. After about an hour, she felt ready to head off. Except she had no idea how to get to Wakanda, let alone how to get in. She ruffled through her bookbag to find the information Namor had sent for her. A small teal envelope with her name on it, looking like it was written with a quill and ink. She shuddered at the thought of how old this man was and how intentional he had been to get this note to her. She opened it and read over it again, hoping to find more information than last time. Then, an idea came to mind.

“Hey VIV, and Griot, not that I don’t think you can handle it by yourself VIV. But uh, can you both scan this for me? I don’t have my Black light. Look for anything and everything. Cross reference what you find, if anything. Please.”

“Yes IronHeart.” “Yes, Miss Riri.” They both answered in tandem. While they got to work, Riri sat down finally to think about what she could do. She couldn’t exactly call up the avengers to help her figure this out. She had to be lowkey, she had to be smart, and she needed it to work. She had only been to Wakanda once, and wasn’t really in the know about how to travel there let alone get through the border forcefield. As she went over all she did know, trying to remember any details that would help, the AI duo alerted her.

Griot speaking first, since VIV seemed to sense a deeper trust from the IronHeart’s patterns.

“There are markings on the back that would indicate a geolocation where Namor would like you to meet.”

“So, coordinates? I can work with that.” Riri said out loud, still trying to figure out exactly how she could work with that. Until she looked over at her father’s red car, in pristine condition thanks to Shuri. And it dawned on her.

“Griot, do you have contact information for anybody besides Shuri?”

“I have contact information for Queen Shuri, and Okoye, former general of the Dora Milage.”

“Perfect. Please contact her now.”

“Yes, Miss Riri.”

“Wait, before you do, please transfer this contact information over to VIV. I’m not sure if Shuri knows that I have VIV yet, but in case she does, I don’t doubt that she would shut you down.” Riri explains to her favorite robot as if they needed it. Griot complied and sent a call out to Okoye.

Riri waited, holding her breath. She wasn’t sure is Okoye would answer, or even be willing to help. But this is what she had to work with.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Okoye answered.

“Small girl. Is everything alright?” Okoye answered seeming cheerful enough to hear from the girl but not without worry for the cause. Riri took a deep breath and explained the situation, truthfully, to the best of her ability. Somehow, as a surprise to both of them, Okoye was on her way in a matter of minutes as a Midnight Angel, with a jet that Shuri had let her keep. They both knew Shuri would be upset, but somehow it didn’t matter enough to let her get to Namor. They both knew what could happen, and what Shuri would likely do.

No time was wasted when Okoye arrived, Riri running in the open hatch as fast as she could. Okoye pulled off without a trace, both of them hoping they hadn’t alerted any American law enforcement this time.

Okoye charted course for Wakanda and they both sat in near silence for most of the ride, only sharing a few words when Riri boarded, Riri showing Okoye the letter before she began piloting. They would make it in time. Riri sat near the back, not feeling like she belonged at the mantle of the machine. She had always liked these, having begged Shuri to teach her how to fly one before they set off for war. Riri sunk into her feelings that she had been trying to keep at bay since finding out about the AI. Before Shuri came, she honestly really wasn’t sure what she was going to do or how she was going to do it. But it seemed like the timing would suggest that she was supposed to, whether she really wanted to believe that or not. She didn’t want to believe that she was this horrible monster who brought death and destruction with her everywhere she went, but sometimes she really did. She tried to fight those thoughts back and began to feel the weight of her body, sinking into the seat. Sinking was a familiar feeling to her. She tried to remember how to swim in her own thoughts. She remembered how Shuri would talk her through her episodes. How she would call right away when she sensed anything off, even if Riri wasn’t wearing her beads. She remembered how it felt to think everything would be okay, and how often that was proved to be untrue.

It was too easy to remember. Too easy to feel like it was just yesterday. Riri couldn't keep her mind from wandering back in time while the Wakandan jet made its way through the air. Trying to focus on anything else, trying to pay attention to the Dora silently flying or guarding the exit, trying to watch the sky around her. Anything. She couldn't bite down hard enough on the inside of her cheek, leaving a sore mark wasn't enough to keep her mind from its current occupation.

"What are you doing here?!" The shorter of the two screamed, almost screeched as she ran into the panther's arms.

"I had some time to myself finally. Where else would I go?" Shuri chuckled as she picked the scientist up.

"You could literally go anywhere in the world and probably... out of the world? At this point with Wakandan tech." Riri explained, seriously, as she hung onto the slim but toned body holding her off the ground with ease, not realizing she was holding on as tight as she was. Not realizing there was nowhere else Shuri would have gone. Nowhere.

"You're so... anyway, what should we do?"

"How long do we have?" Riri asked as she pulled back, not even trying to contain her wide grin that was plastered across her face. Shuri recorded it to memory, as she always did with the smaller woman's features.

"96 hours. Well, 96-ish, less now that we've been standing here debating where I could've gone." Shuri jokes as she lets go, making sure Riri found her footing.

"Shut up! Four days?! We have so much to do!" Riri definitely screeched this time, pretending to slap Shuri's arm. Fighting the urge to grab it and pull her in, Shuri picks up Riri's book bag from where she dropped it and places it in her desk chair as she walks to the bed and pulls her own bag out from under the bed.

"Exactly how long have you been here? You seem comfortable." Riri jokes as she grabs two waters from her mini fridge and hops up on her bed.

"I am." Shuri chuckles at the sight of the shorter woman having to jump to get on the bed. "And since your first class."

"Are you serious?! Why didn't you say anything dickhead?!"

"Ouch!" Shuri feigns pain as she catches the pillow Riri throws at her head and plops on the bed next to her. "I had a few things to handle, and needed to secure the dorm building. I didn't want to disrupt your day, I know midterms are coming up no?"

"Yeah, they are but you could've let a bitch know! I would've cleaned!" Riri states, noticing that she sounds much like her mother.

"I like your mess." Shuri smiles.

"Shut up. How did you secure the whole dorm building?"

"Well, I hope you don't mind. I have beads in every corner of the building. And a few around campus as well. Including in here. Is that alright with you?"

"Sheesh. Do I have a choice?" Riri jokes, but Shuri nervously answers.

"Yes of course! If it's not comfortable for you, I can sleep at a hotel. I should've asked, I'm sorry about that. Next time I'll-"

"There's a next time too?"

"Well, if you'd li-"

"Are you crazy?! Of course! And yeah yeah, that's all fine with me. I get it. Don't start worrying about it or nun. I was just curious."

Shuri's smile returns and she relaxes back into the bed. It was oddly comfortable, being that the last time she was here was before the war. Sure, they'd been talking for months over facetimes and calls. And texts. And letters.. oddly, but not to them. They were both truly as desperate as they felt, but excused it since it seemed mutual - opting to call it a mutual interest in friendship, as opposed to what it really was in the bigger picture. And sure, they had seen each other one other time, but it was so brief that it shouldn't really count - although it did, to both of them.

Shuri had arrived at an American event in Boston, forced to show face by the elders after the uproar surrounding her mother and everything. She felt it was too soon and didn't make sense to attend a tech gala when none of it was even touching Wakandan tech. But regardless, she put on her best suit and went, disregarding the elder's request for her to wear traditional royal attire. She sat there, wishing she hadn't come, while big investors droned on. The only part that peaked her interest was listening to the stories of young inventors. They reminded her of herself, so excited and in a hurry. They reminded her of someone else too. Someone she had been longing to see since she left Wakanda only a few months ago at the time.

Shuri muddled around the thought of calling Riri, or just showing up at her dorm. She knew she had responsibilities to attend to the next afternoon after she returned home, and it really hadn't been that long. Maybe Riri wasn't ready to see her yet? Or maybe she never would be. Or maybe Shuri had really made their connection up in her own mind. Or maybe she didn't? And maybe she should just call her, or maybe send her a quick text to keep it more casual? Keep what, casual exactly? She wasn't sure. She paced around her own mind anxiously the entire night, not realizing it was her turn to speak until the Doras were next to her asking if she was alright. She collected herself and headed to the stage, performing a speech much like her brother had about the importance of innovation, supporting the youth - especially the Black and Brown youth, etc. She meant what she said but she hardly felt as connected or present with it as she was when she wrote it. Still circling her mind was her favorite innovator, the scientist who made everything make sense to her. Pining so badly, by the end of her speech she had resolved to call Riri. Faking her smiles through the eruption of clapping and handshakes as she left the stage, she made her way back to her seat while the closing speech began - only to lose her resolve when Ayo bent down to whisper a reminder of their exit plan and their intended arrival time back in Wakanda.

She had known it was a foolish thought. Who even knew what the small scientist would be doing at this time? She could be working, studying, partying. God, Shuri hoped not but recoiled at her own thoughts. She wasn't heteronormative and she wasn't the toxic type. She just also felt jealous of anybody and anything that got to be around Riri when she wasn't. Which was most times. Essentially all the time. Really, she reasoned with herself, she had only been around Riri for a few days and it had been against her will anyway. Maybe she really was making all of this up in her head.

The Queen of Wakanda continued her mental pace as she made her exit, later than most guests and certainly not from the front entrance. She walked through the beautiful building with the Doras who were talking amongst themselves about logistics, seemingly all having caught onto another one of Shuri's "moods". Shuri paid them no mind, as they expected, while she began brooding. What was the point of coming to America, aside from like... the actual point, politically - if not to see her scientist? She caught herself scoffing at "her scientist", making fun of herself in her head as they headed outside and around the back when the Doras suddenly stood alert around her. Shuri looked around her and back at her beads quickly, doing a quick scan of their surroundings, only to hear a small, out of breath "Hey" from her left.

"Williams?"

"Yeah, yeah.. haha. Hoo. Crazy catching you here." Riri joked awkwardly as she tried to catch her breath from clearing having run.

"Yes, well I was-"

"Giving a speech. I saw on tv. Just happened to be in the neighborhood myself so I figured I'd uh, say hi." Riri cut the Panther off as she caught her bearings and finally made eye contact. Shuri made contact back, silently signaling for the Dora to drop their guard. Ayo looked between them but of course followed command. Shuri stepped between them and closer to the scientist, who was now twiddling her fingers and looking anywhere but at Shuri. Just like she did in Wakanda. Just like Shuri had replayed in her head a billion times over. While Shuri took the absence of eye contact as a chance to damn near gawk at the smaller woman, Riri was doing her own mental laps.

She also questioned her intentions and if she had been making this all up. She also questioned how crazy she must look, showing up here like this. She couldn't stop herself, leaving MJ, Peter and Ned in her OWN room after they had been flipping through channels and Riri caught a glimpse. That was all it took, one, maybe two seconds and she was out the door. And granted, she kind of was in the neighborhood. If you consider being four miles away in the neighborhood. She had considered grabbing her car from the garage but figured it would take too long, so she jumped in her nano suit her and Peter had been working on (that definitely still needed some work), and flew over. Of course she couldn't land in front of everyone, so she landed in a park a few blocks away and took off on foot. None of which she will EVER tell anybody, although she could barely remember her excuse to the three friends she left in her dorm as she forced herself to look back up and meet Shuri's eyes.

"In the neighborhood?"

"You could say that." Riri joked awkwardly again.

This made Shuri laugh. Riri had that effect on her, she had learned during their late night lab sessions. Even in the midst of the grimmest of days and a literal war, Riri had Shuri laughing so hard she cried a few times. They both seemed to be thinking back while they laughed together and smiled at each other shyly until Ayo cleared her throat.

"We must get going, Kumkanikazi." Both women seemed to jump a bit, having been pulled out of their staring contest. Riri shuddered at hearing Shuri be called that, she recognized it from when Okoye would speak about Queen Ramonda. She had done her best to pick up on as much of the language as she could when she was there, for some reason unknown to her - she just figured it would come in handy. But now, hearing it and knowing it meant Queen, shook her to her core. She remembered why she hadn't reached out, the guilt that sat in her bones about it. She nearly turned on her heels until she heard Shuri speak.

"One moment please."

"My Queen, we really must-" Ayo begun speaking in Xhosa but was cut off by the Panther Queen.

"Please. One moment." Shuri said, a command but almost begging, not turning to face the general one step to the side of her. She pulled at the necklace around her neck and Ayo nodded silently.

"I will ready the jet." Ayo answered and turned around, her and the two other Dora briskly walking to the jet that was just now coming into Riri's focus. She assumed it was using the new camouflage tech she had heard mentioned before she left Wakanda.

"Those things get cooler every time."

"Yeah, I suppose they do." Shuri laughed half heartedly. They both tried to speak but cut each other off.

"So-"

"I do-"

"You first." They both sheepishly smiled as they spoke in unison. but Riri insisted. "Go ahead, please."

Shuri would've resisted if she wasn't so desperate and struggling against showing it.

"How have you been? I've mis- I've been wondering. We haven't spoken since you left." Shuri caught herself, suddenly feeling like twiddling her fingers and looking at her shoes too but she resisted that too. She was good at resisting.

"Oh.. well yeah. I've been. You know, school, work. Just been trying to get through the semester. I wanted to re- well I wondered how you've been too."

"I've been, too." Shuri shrugged with a smile. She wanted to know more, everything. To devour the stories Riri could tell her, even the most mundane. She wanted to know what pencils she used to write equations and what she thought of the food in her cafeteria. Riri just smiled, feeling the weight again. She knew Shuri hadn't been good, and she knew she hadn't either.

"Can I ask you-" They both spoke in unison again.

"You first." Riri insisted again, before Shuri could. Shuri didn't like it but she also didn't have much time to waste.

"Why didn't you reach out?" She asked, leaving Riri out of breath all over again. After a second that seemed like a million, Riri answered.

"I didn't know how." She said truthfully.

"I left you beads. Maybe I should've left a note too. I'm sorry, I figured you'd-"

"No, no. Not like that. I figured that out, it was actually pretty easy." Riri smiled, thinking about how much fun it was to try to get the beads to work. Fun until it wasn't. Fun until she heard Shuri's voice message and left it for months.

"Then you didn't want to?"

"No, I did. I just didn't know... how. I didn't know what to say, or how to say it. But trust me, I wanted to. I really wanted to." Riri said earnestly and more quiet than she intended. Shuri believed her and took her answer, even if she didn't like it. Again resisting herself. Resisting Riri.

"I understand. Thank you for letting me know. Well..." She looked back at the Jet and sighed. They made eye contact before Shuri decided it would be best to count her losses in her own country, turning to leave.

"Wait, I still have a question!" Riri almost shouted. "If that's okay... of course." She said more quiet. Shuri turned around eager to hear. Hoping. Resisting. But hoping. She nodded her head.

"Well..." Riri twisted her fingers around in her hands. She still didn't know what to say or how to say it. But she didn't have much time to waste.

"Well?" Shuri asked, trying not to sound pushy but anxious to know.

"Is it too late?" Riri asked, looking back up at the woman in front of her. The face she had committed to memory, but a bit different. More mature. Somehow even more beautiful. Shuri said nothing.

"...To reach out... To talk?" Riri finally drove it home, sending a silent prayer to whoever would answer that she wouldn't further embarrass herself.

Startling the both of them, Shuri's beads lit up and Ayo's face appeared.

"My apologies my Queen, but if we do not leave in the next three minutes, you may be late to your engagements tomorrow."

"Yes, thank you. I'm coming." Shuri said back, eyes still on Riri.

Riri felt defeated as she watched the panther tuck her beads back up her sleeve. It probably was too late. And who knows. Maybe it was the right thing to do to not stay in contact. Maybe that's what was best for Wakanda or Shuri. She remembered her mother always telling her that sometimes "doing the right thing feels like shit". In this case, she thought, it felt worse than shitty.

That was until Shuri grabbed her hand. Softly, almost too soft in comparison to what you'd expect from a super powered panther. It was so soft yet sent a shiver through Riri, like electricity was coursing through her. Like her heart was beating for the first time. The eye contact was somehow not as awkward as it was a second ago when they were standing a few feet apart. It was like they were all alone.

"Use the beads. If they need to charge, just set them in the sun but they shouldn't."

"Oh- Okay. I will. I will." Riri said twice, almost like she was confirming with herself first and the Shuri.

"Good." Shuri smiled. She took a step closer before she heard another beep on her own beads. Before the General could speak, Shuri was already responding.

"I heard you. I'm coming."

She looked at Riri again and sighed, and suddenly Riri saw just how exhausted the Panther really was. And maybe something else too. Shuri stepped back again, not wanting to let go of Riri's hand.

"It'll never be too late. I'll see you soon?" Shuri said, finally letting go and letting the physical distance regrow between them, hoping that the emotional distance wouldn't grow again too.

Riri watched as the panther walked back to the jet and boarded, looking back only once, only long enough to catch Riri's small wave but not return it. The younger scientist stood there feeling disassociated, unsure of what to do next. Really, she knew she had to go back to her dorm and go back to living her real life just like she had after she left Wakanda. Although, as dreary as that still seemed to her, this time felt different. Like there was something to look forward to, if she had the balls to actually use the beads like Shuri had said. She mulled over whether or not it was an instruction or a question from the Panther as she chose not to watch the jet fly off behind her. She heard the media start to buzz again when they heard the jet, upset that they had missed the person they were waiting for. Yet, Riri stood there and stared at the ground where Shuri was just standing. She still felt that pathetic feeling, and worried that she hadn't had a chance to explain how she found Shuri or even knew she would be there. She felt the weight of grief again, after seeing how tired Shuri looked when you really looked at her. And she felt guilty, for feeling excited. For feeling the butterflies she always pretended she didn't feel. She wondered, briefly, how Shuri was feeling right now but per usual, tried not to wonder too much as to not become delusional. She knew better than anybody that assuming to know how someone else thinks is the worst mistake you can make.

Shuri, back in the jet that was flying faster than she would like, was afflicted by similar thoughts. She wondered how Riri had found her and wondered if she really was as lucky as that just felt. She wondered why the girl even came. She wondered if she thinks about her too. She wondered if Riri would use the beads. She sat awake, replaying every moment of their time together since their first encounter over and over until they arrived in Wakanda, despite the Doras concerns for her not getting rest. Shuri would rest when things were well enough for her to rest, she told herself, but even she was starting to notice the cracks. She knew she could only stay awake for so many days until her body would shut down. She had secretly tried some of the elixirs and teas that both Nakia and Aneka had sent her, and she had read what Okoye sent her after hearing everything. She had slept every now and then, but it was never restful. It was never without torment from some figment of her mind taking shape of someone she wasn't ready to face - whether that be Namor, N'jdaka, or her mother. She always prayed for T'Challa to appear, who she wasn't sure if she was ready to see but longed for the comfort of his voice or face, but each time her body fell asleep, her mind fell into a well pit of despair.

That is, until later that night. Shuri had been through her daily responsibilities after making it back to Wakanda. Once her meetings were over, she made her way to the lab. She did her best to avoid checking the status of Riri's beads, trying to keep her mind busy as she usually did. It was harder this time, knowing that she'd actually spoken to the girl. After bopping around a bit, her body started to feel the weight of the past few days. She hadn't been physically training as much as she should've the past few weeks, because she knew it would knock her out but she was starting to feel stiff. She finally let up and sat down at one of her desks in a back room of the lab after Griot had let her know her vitals. She didn't usually sit in this room, so she hadn't been aware of what was placed in there. As she lazily sifted through the papers on the desk to try to keep her mind occupied, she saw blueprints for Riri's Iron Heart suit. The same feeling of nervousness and excitement rose in her as she more hurriedly looked over them. Despite all the work they did together, she never really got to see too much of Riri's initial process from scratch. She ran her slender fingers over Riri's pencil marks, reading over all her notes to herself.

With a yawn, Shuri sat back and relished in the fact that Riri actually existed. Sometimes, when Shuri was really out of it, she couldn't believe that everything really happened. She was sometimes convinced she would wake up and her mother would still be here, or that Riri was just a figment of her desperate imagination. Sure, having her mother back would be... well, everything. But it scared Shuri to think Riri might not have been real, that she didn't really happen. She felt selfish for this, knowing that Riri's life would probably be better without the trauma she endured in Wakanda. But nevertheless, Shuri held on tight to the memories she had of the woman, hoping that they would be enough for her.

She thought about how it felt to hold Riri's hand, to touch her skin again. It was just as soft and delicate as it had been when they parted ways a few months ago. Her face looked the same, maybe more mature in some ways. She looked tired too, underneath the face she put on for other people. They had gotten past that with each other during their long nights alone working together in the lab.

She thought about what it would feel like to fall asleep in Riri's bed. The mattress probably wasn't super comfortable but she remembers all the colorful pillows she has, messily strewn across the surface. The different colored blankets would probably fit them both well, even with the little space a twin bed supplies. They would have to be close, touching. Shuri imagined breathing in sync, feeling Riri's ribcage rise and fall in her arms while they were pressed against each other. She thought about how Riri smells. She's been trying to replicate it for months. She thought about breathing her in, laying her face in the crook of her neck and sleeping. Not thinking. Sleeping. Not even having to dream. She thought about waking up next to her, seeing her sleeping still until Shuri shifted too much by accident. Riri waking up and no doubt saying something funny. Or soft. Or just saying hello. How her eyes would look. She thought about not being afraid to make it real, that in her thoughts she didn't have to pretend that these touches were by accident or out of necessity. That they could spend an eternity, wrapped in colorful blankets, sleeping and touching skin to skin. That maybe Riri would feel the same, and they would laugh about how long it took to figure it out. That they would laugh until they couldn't, and talk until they couldn't, and then they would kiss. And everything would melt away, and neither would know where their skin would begin or end. And they would kiss until they couldn't. And they'd sleep.

She hadn't realized she had fallen asleep at the desk until she heard Griot's voice.

"Sorry to startle you, Panther. But, Miss Williams is trying to contact you. How would you like me to proceed?"

Shuri was shook, unsure of what she looked like or even what time it was. She felt nervous. She felt groggy, not even sure if this was real either. Nevertheless, she answered.

"Patch me through, please."

She waited a moment with bated breath, hoping this wasn't a dream or some fluke. Until she heard a familiar voice.

"Hello?" Riri asked, sounding nervous herself. Shuri wondered what time it was there, too.

"Hey." She said, in a more relaxed tone. Even if this wasn't real, it was still the best dream she'd had in months. Maybe ever.

And they talked, for a long time. Eventually working through any awkwardness. Riri never explained how she made it to the Panther, and the Panther never asked. She did explain, however, why it took so long for her to call. Shuri just listened and let herself laugh, like she'd been dreaming about. Finally feeling free for a little bit, even if it was just for a little bit.

On the other side of things, once Riri had cleared everyone out of her room when she got back and promising to explain to MJ later, she had sat down and thought about what to do. That turned into pacing and talking outloud. She had been avoiding the beads like the plague for months, unsure of what to do. Unsure of what choice would cause the least harm, since she already felt guilty for what she had caused. She found herself awake all night feeling anxious. She left for class that morning, deciding that she would get through her day and take a nap. She would figure it out after that. What she didn't tell Shuri, is how hard its been to sleep since she left Wakanda, or really even how hard it was while she was there. But when she tried to take a nap, she realized that all she dreamed about this time was Shuri and how soft her hand was when they had touched and how peaceful it felt to talk to her, even if only for a few moments and only a few words. She decided when she woke up that even if they ended up never talking again, she would keep her promise and use the beads.

And that's what she did. And that's what they kept doing, for weeks and months. They talked, they listened, they laughed, and on rare occasion, fell asleep. Both free from nightmares, even if just for a little while. Until Shuri finally arrived.

And finally, they had some time to really figure things out. Shuri promised she wasn't missing anything important by being there, and that she had allotted enough time. Riri was still unsure about it but couldn't resist the opportunity to finally see the woman she had been pining over for months - as a friend, of course.

As Riri remembered back fondly, she had forgotten what was ahead of her until she was jolted by turbulence that was usually well controlled by the Wakandan tech in the fighter jet. She couldn't process how she could possibly be on her way to confront the man that almost killed her and did actually kill the Queen of Wakanda. She couldn't fathom that she was racing there, against her love, her best friend, to make sure she didn't kill him first. Suddenly her clothes all felt too tight, and her suit felt heavy despite being nano. Suddenly the air felt hot and her lungs felt empty and she felt dizzy. She had felt all of this before, a panic attack. Riri Williams was no stranger to a panic attack. Not before Wakanda, and definitely not after. Though, for the past few months, she had always had Shuri to help ground her. Now, she was floating in the air, literally and figuratively. Everything was moving so fast. She felt herself spiraling and cursing herself in the process, unable to stop it but ashamed nonetheless. She had worked hard, since she was younger, to have a control over her emotions and thoughts. She needed to, especially if she was going to take this super hero shit serious. Especially if she was going to be there for her mom and sister after her dad passed. Especially if she was going to make it. But she felt that control slowly ripping itself to shreds, doing a number on all the mental blocks she had in place. She couldn't lose Shuri. She couldn't be the cause of another war in Wakanda. She couldn't live with the guilt. She couldn't let Shuri get hurt, or worse, for her again. Even if it meant confronting a man much more powerful than her. Even if it meant losing. Even if it meant drowning all over again.

Suddenly, she felt a cool hand grace the side of her cheek. She felt her suit dematerialize around her until it was just a bracelet again. She felt Okoye kneel down in front of her, eyes kinder than they usually were. She felt her pull her in close and squeeze. The pressure of the embrace bringing Riri back into her body. They stayed like that until Riri could breathe again.

She went to apologize as Okoye pulled back silently, just as she had appeared, but she was cut off.

"Aht aht. There is no need." Okoye softly but firmly let her know, sitting down next to her. They had never been this close before. Riri looked over to see the jet flying itself. The first time she saw that happen she was crazy nervous, but she's grown to trust both Wakandan tech and Okoye. After a few moments of silence, Okoye spoke again.

"I know what she means to you, you know."

Riri looked at her finally, noticing how somber her eyes really looked. She had seen those eyes before, but not like this. Okoye continued, looking back out the windows.

"I was T'Challa's right hand. I saw it all, from the beginning to the end. I saw him be the panther, I saw him be the king. I saw him be Shuri's brother." Riri felt a pang in her at the use of Shuri's name. She listened.

"And I saw him fall in love. I saw him devote himself to Nakia, and I saw her unravel at the loss of him - until she left. I saw it all, as much as I could. And I often wondered why I didn't feel the way they seemed to feel when my husband betrayed me and Wakanda. But their love... it was pure. It was something out of this world, it was something built into them." Okoye sighed, feeling grief in many directions. Riri found herself fighting back tears again until Okoye looked at her with different eyes, almost loving eyes this time.

"I have seen that kind of love before and that is how I know you have it. Both of you. And that is how I know we will figure this out." Okoye looked at her and squeezed her hand again, affirming what she said. They both heard the AI tell them they were approaching in the next 5 minutes. Through her tears that were now shamelessly falling down her face, Riri gulped out a question, in true Riri fashion.

"Do you think you will ever love like that?"

"I already do." Okoye said, getting up and adjusting herself to get back to the front of the plane to chart their secret entrance into Wakanda. Riri looked confused.

"Ngudade wethu." Okoye answered again, before sitting down and being who she needed to be. Riri knew what she said, and knew that she was right. About all of it.

As they prepared themselves, Riri suited up and made her way to the front of the plane.

"Where did he say to meet?" The midnight angel asked Riri. She sent the coordinates to the jet and looked at them wistfully. She hadn't really thought about where she might actually be going to "talk" to him when she was rushing to get herself to Wakanda. She jumped when Okoye gasped.

"What?! What is it?!" Worry filled her from head to toe again, hoping it had nothing to do with Shuri.

"That bastard... We are going to have to find a way to break into the palace. He wants to meet in the throne room."

Riri was speechless, knowing that this was a tactic to try to make her feel weak. She also couldn't deny that it was working. She felt her heart rate increase at the thought of being back in there. Of seeing the place where she almost died. Of... all of it. She had visited many times in her dreams, all against her will. And now she would face him there, against her will. She knew he was doing this to weaken her resolve, much like her and Shuri did with the dehydrating jet. She knew his intent all along, but this certainly solidified it.

Riri tried to make peace with dying in Wakanda. Once again, her mom wouldn't know where she was or how any of this happened. She wondered what lie they would tell her. She wondered if she would fight or just give herself to him. She wondered what Shuri would do, knowing this wouldn't end well no matter what she did. But she held her mind together as best as she could. She knew she had to meet him before she did. She knew she had to do what she could to prevent a second war. Okoye knew too, looking at her and then pulling up her own beads to try and locate Shuri.

"The Panther's location services are currently offline." The Ai spoke to them.

"Let us pray she is behind us and not ahead of us."

"Will she know where to find us?"

"We are about to break into the most secure place on the planet earth. I'm sure everyone will know where to find us in a matter of moments." Okoye answered and they shared a look.

"I hope you know, I will fight until the end with you. I have stood with the Wakandan throne my whole life. I have stood with Shuri and those that came before her. I have stood for the safety of my people as best as possible, but I have made my own mistakes before. I will stand with you, now, Riri. No matter the outcome."

Riri felt the pull of her tear ducts again but different this time. Okoye reminded her of her own sister, and of her own mistakes. She reached out a hand and found Okoye's. They held hands until it was time to land.

Once they had maneuvered their way into the country using Okoye's knowledge as former general and her new disguising tech, which Riri made a note to recreate if she made it out of this, Riri followed Okoye into the dense jungle around them.

"The best chance we have is to stay low until we can't anymore, and then charge in. The Doras won't see it coming but they will react, with their full might as they've been trained to do. Even to me. Our goal is not to harm any Wakandans, but we have to get to the throne room before he does. I will do my best to reason with Ayo and Aneka but they will resist a meeting with him there. Once we spot him, we must draw him away from the palace. Even if it means drawing him to the sea. Remember that he is most powerful near water."

Riri nods as she listens. Okoye wishes there were another way.

"Remember that if we see Shuri, we may already be too late. We must keep them separate. I do not know if she will choose peace a second time. Not when it concerns you."

"I don't want her to do this, I hope you know. You were right. You were right about it all. I love her. But I don't want her to risk everything for me. You all already have and I can't live with that. I can't live with any of this. I don't want to die but... But I can't let everyone else die for me either." Riri spits out, hoping she's being believed. She means it. Okoye looks at her and hears Nakia's voice in her head. "I just know his spirit. It is simple in that way for me."

"Ndiyawazi umoya wakho. I believe you. And I will fight to make sure no one has to die today, unfortunately even him if it means peace."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, small girl."

"For what?" Riri asked, genuinely surprised since most of the mayhem the past few months has been a result of her actions - intentional or not.

"For giving her something to hold onto again. Something to believe in." Okoye answered truthfully. Riri didn't know what to say but she took in what the older woman said, against trusting her. After a few moments of silence, it was time.

"Stand behind me and do not fly until I tell you. If you enter the air space anywhere near the palace, you will be shot down before you can count to one. Do you understand?" Riri nodded.

She did understand. Now, more clearly than ever.

🖤

#black sapphic #riri williams #Shuri Udaku #iron heart #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #black wlw #marvel #SHURIRI #SCIENCE GAYS #SORRY FOR THE ANGST BUT I HAD TO

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drgngutz · 5 months

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P. - Coast - Luffy x f!soulmate!reader

Prologue

I've decided to cross post this from wattpad, since the teaser I posted seemed to be received so well. If you like this, and would rather get updates right away, I'll post the link to wattpad on my master list :)

I'll be starting a tag list for people who want to be notified for updates and don't use wattpad.

Hope u enjoy, <33

The bustling city created noise all around me. Over the years it's become the background for my rambling thoughts. The rapid and angry beeping of cars, which were always dodging the just-as-angry pedestrians, was as common of an occurrence as the construction going on across from the orphanage's scrawny apartment building. There was rarely ever a time of silence in the big city. The endless annoyance tended to grate on my nerves, and the days were passing slower and slower. A constantly parentless child in her last weeks of high school, there was barely enough money to make ends meet, much less move somewhere quieter. The side job at the convenience store wasn't working out, and having to care for the other kids in the orphanage with such a small amount was getting me nowhere.

Sighing, I stopped my trudging footsteps and turned my head towards the underside of my arm.

'Hey, I caught you! -M.D.L'

It made me feel worse every time I saw it; the fancy script that tattooed my forearm, close to my wrist and scribed in black ink. The perfectly unmarred scrawls used to make my stomach flip in excitement when I looked at it, but now it was just a constant reminder of what I was lacking. My own soulmate; just another person that didn't seem to want me.

Most people find their soulmates early in life, since we're gifted the markings of a soulmate at birth. The marks are hereditary depending on what kind you have, ranging from first words spoken (like my own), to seeing a glowing red string attached to their fingers; it all depends on what kind you inherited from your family. People can discover their soulmates as early as ten, though it's globally averaged they meet each other around sixteen to seventeen years old.

I was seventeen now, and in my final year of high school, so everyday that passed without hearing those words, the more nervous I got. It was possible that I would never meet them with a soulmate mark that didn't give me any information. I couldn't track them, find a picture of them, or communicate with them. Some people on this overpopulated earth are unlucky enough to never meet their soulmate; even unluckier people are born without a mark to match with someone else's. I was more scared of the first option.

No matter how many times I posted online, searched the match websites, or attended special 'soulmate conventions' where thousands gathered in order to meet new people, I still hadn't found mine. Most of the students in my classes had found theirs, and more than ever I felt the peer pressure of needing to find mine. The few friends I had whispered behind my back, some were pitiful, some just flat-out criticizing me for not finding them yet; not that they really counted as friends anymore. To make matters worse, the women who ran the orphanage often reminded me that it was only a matter of time before I would have to leave and make a home of my own. There were years wasted with foster families who I hoped would give me a way out spilled down the drain, only to never stay for too long. Then, I was back at square one.

The soonest way I could leave this place would be with the support from my soulmate.

Leaning against the railing of a bridge that I crossed to-and-from school, I stared up at the gloomy sky, feeling the beginnings of rain build up into a thin layer of moisture on my skin. The cars sped by, whirring with life as they switched between lanes or sped past others who were going too slow for their liking.

If I could speed past this point of my life like those cars, past the dullness of each passing day, past the hopelessness of my future; I would take that chance in a heartbeat. I could open a new chapter of my life, try to find some sense of self, maybe get the chance to find my passions. I loved the kids at the orphanage, them being my only 'family' left in this world, but it wasn't the same when compared to the idea of finding the one person you belong with. Someone who wants you for all that you are. I've been looking for that my whole life.

A low creak sounded, then a snap! Soon, I didn't have the support of the railing behind me.

Blinded by my brief desperation, I didn't readily take notice that I was starting to fall backwards; Stunned silent as I watched the metal rail of the bridge swing in disconnection above me. Small pieces of the metal followed my tracks as I began the plummet towards the rushing waters of the river below.

Stomach in my throat, I couldn't scream even if I wanted to. Falling silently to my death, heart racing, the delayed fear kicking in when I heard less of the rumbling cars and more of the rushing water beneath me. I finally started to understand that I was going to die.

My hair whipped around, a gust of wind blowing it into my eyes. I closed them instinctively, gritting my teeth with all of my muscles tensed so tight that they began to cramp.

I couldn't breath, couldn't see, couldn't feel.

The river below me flew and clashed with a ferocity; like the gnashing teeth of a beast.

It all went numb.

And then, I couldn't hear anything.

...

Slowly, I could register a difference. The soft sound of rushing wind around me. It was a lot warmer, coupled with the lack of the river noise from before. It was almost... gentle.

"Am I... dead?" I hadn't realized the words were said out loud until I felt my lips move, barely hearing my whispers over the wind, which was billowing harshly and picking up speed.

Opening my eyes I was met with a bright blue sky, the sun shining through the fluffy white clouds that were splattered across the scene. A small bird crossed the sky in front of me, blocking the rays of the sun for just a moment before it was out of sight again.

I blinked, wondering if I really was dead, before gazing at the (h/c) hairs that were flowing around my view.

Dazed, I took a glance below me.

It looked like a very large body of water; an ocean, to be exact.

What the hell was an ocean doing in the city?

Speaking of the city, there was none. It was vast, open space. Not a single landmass in sight. So, I was falling towards the ocean. An ocean that just sort of appeared, and not the river that I was previously about to drown in.

It took another moment before realizing the repeating danger; I was falling. Falling towards my death a second time. And at this height, a height much higher than when I had fallen off of the bridge, all of my bones would break and be pushed into my body. If the current didn't kill me, then the internal bleeding definitely would.

Tears bubbled up in my eyes. When my brain and body caught up to each other, I realized how close I had gotten to the water, and I was screaming shrilly before I could stop myself.

Terror ripped through me. After just having to accept the idea of dying in my fall off of the bridge, I was now flung into another gruesome death; but this time my brain had enough time to understand what was going on. There was no surviving this. I was either in hell, or stuck in my last moments; experiencing the fear of my own death on repeat. My vision was blurry as I choked on a sob.

The water was getting close... close, closer still.

Did I really have to go through this again? Was there no way I could survive this?

The instinctual, fearful process started again when I got within two-hundred feet of the water. I could hear the gentle lapping of the waves, now.

My teeth and eyes clenched shut, muscles tensing again to brace for the pain, heart racing for the incoming impact.

This was it. I was going to die. Again.

When the waves became the only thing that I could hear anymore, I felt a sudden pressure around my abdomen.

I was yanked to the side with a whiplash that was near breakneck speed. Grabbing at the squishy material around my waist for some sort of support, I opened my eyes right before I whacked into something solid. With a cry, we were both sent sprawling to the ground.

A low groan vibrated the object that I was now laying on, warm and firm, before I repeated the same sound; body aching from the fearful tension and then the rough collision. The surface beneath us rocked side to side, and I had to place a hand on the wooden boards beneath us to steady my trembling body before I fell over. Now on my knees between his thighs, I heard a shuffling in front of me.

Shaking my head, I opened my teary eyes to find the face of a boy right in front of mine. When our gazes met, he broke out into an enormous, adorable smile.

"Hey, I caught you!"

Chapter One

#luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #one piece #monkey d luffy #one piece luffy

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beautifulsnake2162020 · 25 days

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We have it all (Hualian adopted daughter fanfic) - Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I only do this for fun.

Premise: Not long after comforting a bullied girl named Meng Ai, Hua Cheng and Xie Lian find themselves adopting her and together they form a family they didn't know they had needed for awhile.

Story/Genre tags: Slice of life-ish (mainly), Family focused, Hua Cheng's houses finally become homes, there may be an overarching story but that's not the focus, Hualian being parents, Fengqing being uncles, Lang Qianqiu falling in love with someone who was raised by the Xianle squad, technically post-canon (though I haven't read the books so if there are some ooc moments please forgive me).

AO3 link

Follower Tags: @anonimgato1507

Chapter 1

"Congratulations to the newlyweds." A powerful yet gentle voice with an underlying enthusiasm silences the chatter in the wedding banquet. Even Feng Xin and Mu Qing had halted their banter to turn their attention to the latest arrival. They share a glance, and give each other a knowing look as they watch the new guest with concerned alertness.

With every step the new guest took towards the new husbands there were hushed whispers beginning to occur. All of which involved the same emotions of concern, amusement, awe, and confusion.

The only ones who was pleasantly surprised by the new arrival were the newlyweds themselves.

"Xiwangmu, it's been awhile since you've ventured out of your gardens. Thank you for your congratulations." Xie Lian says as he and Hua Cheng wait for her to approach them. From his periphery he notices Hua Cheng's subtle expression of curiosity mixed with concern beneath his calmness.

"Just because I prefer to stay in my gardens and spend my days with my husband does not mean I am unaware of current events. A marriage involving a Supreme Ghost King and a God is quite rare and I feel I must be present to offer my congratulations and blessing. Though I'm quite sure that you are both more than capable of having a happy one even without either." The Great Mother goddess then gives a bow to the couple. Low enough to show that she is being respectful but high enough to show that she is greater than all beings present.

The newlyweds follow the same, Hua Cheng may not have any qualms about killing any God who simply insulted his husband but even he knows better than to disrespect the Goddess whose domain is life, death, creation and destruction. Even ghosts are under her mercy. If there is anyone who could destroy a ghost for good, it is her. The fact that she showed up in their wedding banquet is either a great blessing or a great curse.

Or perhaps both or neither at all.

His instincts told him that she was being sincere in her intentions but she also had an underlying motive for showing up.

She raises her eyebrow and smirks at him.

"Don't be alarmed, I didn't feel the need to interfere in your journey to get to this point. It's why my husband and I merely watched from afar."

"Well I'm glad that you have decided to appear in our wedding." Xie Lian says in a thankful yet diplomatic tone. Only San Lang's thumb caressing the back of his hand kept him steady. In truth he didn't know what to make of her presence here. He can only hope that it is a blessing. After all neither she nor her husband had ventured beyond their gardens and rarely appeared in the heavenly court. He still hasn't met her husband. He asked her about it when she attended the banquet in heaven celebrating his first ascension into heaven.

"My husband is finished with heavenly affairs." She says as she gives him a basket of peaches from her garden. The peaches of immortality serving as a form of assurance that he is indeed immortal.

"It's why only I enter into the domain of heaven. Heaven for him only causes exhaustion of the work he used to do before he appointed a successor. I don't want to subject him to that type of stress again. But who knows..." she cuts open a peach and hands one half to him.

"Given the right circumstances you might finally meet him in the future." And that was the last he saw of her.

Until now.

"How fortunate it is then that my husband and I have a gift for the newlyweds. Something which I will discuss with you at the end of tonight's banquet. But nevertheless I have already given my congratulations, and now as I stand before both of you I shall now give my blessing for your marriage." Multiple colors come out from her palms and gently embrace the newlyweds. There was an aura of optimism, hope, and encouragement emitting from the aura she gave them. It was at this point that everyone began to relax in her presence. If she wanted to cause harm and a ruckus even a powerful Goddess like herself couldn't hide her malicious intent for long.

"There, now I shall wait till you are both ready to meet me in private for the wedding gift that my husband and I have prepared for you." She gives a small bow of her head and gives them a sincere smile before she allows herself to be lead to a place cleared for her beside Lang Qianqiu and his ward. Gradually the banquet returned to the normal fanfare celebrating the newlyweds and everyone almost forgot that the Goddess who rules over their life and death was in their midst.

Once majority of their guests have departed Yin yu escorted the Goddess to a private room with the newlyweds. She passes by Feng Xin ang Mu Qing who both bow with reverence to her. She also feels their skepticism and alertness to her presence. Something she's used to as part of the domain she rules and controls over. It is because of her domain that she and her beloved husband can afford to stay away from heavenly affairs and live a relatively peaceful life.

"We are in private now, I know you want to speak with me more directly than when we had an audience." She says with her gaze focused on the Crimson Rain Sought Flower. He gives a low chuckle as he settles himself to his Gege's right side.

"What gave me away?"

"I could sense that you wanted to dismiss formality and ask me what my real intentions were. But you couldn't out of your love for Dianxie. Well - " she opens her palms and spread them in an encouraging gesture.

"We are mostly alone now, be as direct as you want with me."

"Very well - this gift that you and your husband have for us. There's a hidden catch to it isn't there."

"Yes." Hua Cheng smirks.

"You're not going to deny it?"

"What would be the point? If you think about it everything has a hidden catch. Whether that is to your detriment or favor is up to the both of you."

"Then why give it to us then?"

"Because from what we have observed, you two are the best option to recieve this gift." This catches Xie Lian's attention.

"Let me guess." Xie Lian began. "We need to prove ourselves in some way to recieve this gift."

"Precisely."

"Then is it really a gift then?" Xie Lian asks as calmly as possible while his hand rubs Hua Cheng's.

"It is, don't worry - we are both confident that you two will pass our final test before we give you the gift."

"You don't have it with you." Hua Cheng's voice doesn't bother hiding his skepticism about her intentions. For all he knows she's the master mind and this mysterious husband of hers is unaware of what she's doing.

"Let's just say the gift will be delivered in the right time. I never said that you would receive it tonight."

"Hmm fair point."

"And you're really not going to tell us?"

"Dianxie, both of you are intelligent enough to deduce what the gift may be. Why should I do the work for you? That would be an insult to the intelligence you both possess."

"Or an excuse for you to hide your true intention hidden in this gift." Hua Cheng doesn't bother hiding the threatening tone in his voice. After what he and Gege had been through, he will be damned if they will once again be used in the games of others.

"Think what you will, but I'll tell you right now that should you pass the confirmatory test and should you accept the gift it will also be a favor to me and my husband."

"In what way?"

"Let's just say dear Ghost King, that it would save us from finding other worthy recipients - and before you refuse, I'm not allowing any refusal until you know all you need to know to make a decision."

"The decision to refuse is getting more and more appealing."

"San Lang."

"Are you really not going to tell us what it is?"

"Don't overthink it. Just be yourselves, I'm confident that you will like the gift and will treasure it."

"It better not be a useless toy for a passing amusement."

"Oh don't worry Crimson Rain Sought Flower." She says with a smug smile as she stands.

"I'm sure neither of you will see the gift that way."

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

"What are you thinking Gege?" Xie Lian was brought back to the present as he and Hua Cheng were making their way back to Puchi shrine on a horse driven cart. This time it was Hua Cheng who had the reins while he sat beside him.

"Oh just a couple of things." He says with a blush as he lays his head on his husband's right shoulder.

"Hmm, what's the first?"

"The second time we met...our first real conversation when you were in disguise."

"Like how I am now?"

"Oh be honest, you've also placed one on me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Hua Cheng chuckles and Xie Lian sneaks a kiss on his shoulder.

"It wouldn't do if people would think that you were cheating on me with someone else."

"Hmm but I love you in all of your forms."

"And I love you in all of yours." He pulls the reins stopping the horse as they arrive on front of Puqi shrine. They begin unloading the items from the cart and begin making some partial preparations for the incoming ghost month.

"What was the other thing that you were thinking of?" Hua Cheng asks as they settle down to eat their lunch.

"I was thinking that it was seven years since we got married and till now I don't think we've done any test or recieved any gift from Xiwangmu."

"She could just be bluffing. I may not know her personally, but I wouldn't put it past the Gods to not follow through on their promises."

"Still, she sounded sincere. Perhaps she and her husband forgot."

"Hmph, it wouldn't be the first time for a God or Goddess."

Then from a distance the sound of thunder rumbling emerges.

"Huh, there seems to be a storm coming. We'll need to make some final preparations before the downpour starts."

"Last I checked we'll have to prioritize wood. We could also spend this as one more stroll in the outside before we lock ourselves in?"

"I'd be delighted." Xie Lian says before leaning over to kiss Hua Cheng. Their lips meet briefly, now was not the time for a long lingering one. Once the rain will fall there would be plenty of time for that.

Hand in hand they make their way to the forest, the same forest they had to pass through when they were escaping from ghosts during their second meeting. Perhaps it is instinct, or simply a feeling, but the moment they both entered the forest they heard sobs from someone crying.

It was strange, no one would stay within this forest because of the ghosts that lived in it. And whenever the ghost month would arrive and when the worlds of the ghosts and the mortals collided, it frequently ended up with mortals spreading fear from their ghostly encounters or their deaths. The ghosts would just be more and more active in taking mortal lives.

The sounds of sobbing began to be louder in volume. They share a look of silence to pursuit it. If this is a ghost who is weeping then they will need to help it find its peace before other ghosts may take advantage of their despair.

But it was not a ghost who was crying.

On a stump, a little girl was pouring out her despair.

"I...I don't..." She couldn't help but bring a new batch of tears as the thunder begins to get louder.

"Why...why don't...why don't they like me?" She looks up to the sky. The sky was beginning to darken, and she knew that it was going to rain soon.

Better that she help the rain water the ground while she still has so much tears to give.

"Why doesn't anyone want to be my friend?! Even the creatures in this forest don't want to be my friend! What did I do wrong?!" The first few rain drops begin pouring down.

"Baba says that not everyone could see or talk to ghosts like we could. I tried...I tried to talk to the ghosts here...but nobody wants to be friends with me...what...what did I do wrong?" She brings her head back down to the stump. She feels so desperate now that she just wants to cry her heart out.

"I...I don't...I don't want to be alone...can someone...anyone, please tell me what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you." A deep but gentle voice responds. She looks up from the tree stump and sees a beautiful man with an eye patch over his right eye. His left eye gives her a reassuring look as he gives her a gentle smile. It's only after blinking a few times that she realizes that he's also holding an umbrella which protected them from the rain.

"Really?"

"Yes little one."

"Then why do they say mean things to me?"

"What do they say?"

"That because I could talk to ghosts and have mismatched eyes I was cursed at birth. And they don't want to be with someone who is cursed." She wipes some of her tears on her sleeve as she looks up at the mysterious man. Her parents did warn her to not talk to strangers but something about him was reassuring her that she isn't in any danger.

And she was tired of being alone.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, they also say that my parents made a mistake in giving me my name. Because how can someone who is cursed have love?"

"That is cruel." She was touched by his tone. But she couldn't help but bring a new wave of tears.

Why was he being so nice to her?

Isn't she supposed to be cursed?

And yet here is someone who is talking to her and shielding her from the rain.

"Would you like to know something about me?" She feels her voice become hoarse in trying to say yes. So she nods at the beautiful man and she feels herself lighten up as he smiles at her.

"I was also bullied because of my eyes."

"Really?"

"Yes, little one. Just like you I had mismatched eyes. And others would also say mean things to me."

He leans closer to her as the rain gets stronger. Bringing her closer to the center of the umbrella. Up close he could clearly see that her left eye was a vibrant blue color and her right eye had the same amber color that Gege had.

And she was just like him a long time ago.

Wanting to not be alone.

Everyone rejecting him.

And only one who didn't.

"It had gotten so bad that I thought life had no meaning anymore."

"What happened?" Hua Cheng gives her a gentle smile.

"Someone saved me."

"How?"

"He gave me something to live for."

She calmed down and she was no longer crying. She was now truly listening to him and his words. Behind her was Xie Lian sharing a knowing look with him.

"Would you like to meet him little one?"

#Family moments #Hualian #Lang Qianqiu x Female OC #Lang Qianqiu x OC #Fanfiction #Tgcf #heaven official's blessing #Hua Cheng x Xie Lian #Xie Lian x Hua Cheng #Chapter 1 #Heaven official's blessing #tgcf #fanfiction #We have it all

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wasteful-sam · 2 months

Text

Worthy [Part 1]

Synopsis:

While on their way to Baldur's Gate, Rolan and his siblings have to settle in Emerald Grove, as the lands are overrun with goblins and mysterious cultists. It is here that he meets a peculiar drow, and the story of their unlikely relationship starts to unfold.

Tags:

Slow burn, romantic, ongoing, F/M, Rolan/female drow.

Disclaimer:

This will be a long one, covering the overall BG3 story and storyline of some of the origin characters. Thus, spoilers ahead for anyone who hasn't completed the game.

The story is a slow burn that is bound to end up explicit, so, yeah. (~‾⌣‾)~

Also, English is not my first language, and I apologize in advance if the wording may sound odd somewhere in the text.

All in all, I wrote this to relax a cluttered mind, but I genuinely hope that the fic will be enjoyable for you! Yours truly, Sam.

[AO3 Link]

+++

Worthy

Part 1 | Chapter 1

The strangers

The day they arrived - chaos erupted in the Emerald Grove and, subsequently, his life. That bunch of self-important, nosy do-gooders. And to think, by this time, Lia, Cal, and he could have been halfway to Baldur's Gate. Of course, deep down, Rolan chastised himself – he should have been firmer with his siblings. After all, when did the authority of strangers become more important to them than their brother? Was he that pathetic?

"No," Rolan's ego violently interrupted his ever-emerging self-doubt, at least for now. His mind returned to earlier today when it all started.

+++

The reverberating roar of a horn was the first sign of trouble. The three tieflings were chatting by the beach when the sound startled them.

"What in the hells!?" Cal exclaimed, frantically turning his head around.

"Something's at the gate, come quick," Lia cried out, rushing up the hill.

"Stop!" Rolan hissed angrily, trying to catch up with his sister. He finally grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt near the Sacred Pool. Cal joined them shortly, breathing heavily.

"Are you out of your mind? Where do you think you are going? You two – get back to the beach and hide somewhere among the cliffs," the tiefling wizard whispered angrily.

She pulled her hand from Rolan. "We can help protect the grove. We must at least warn the others!"

"I think they already know," her younger brother mumbled. Other tieflings around them were visibly nervous, trying to figure out what was happening. Even the druids stopped their ritual, looking up toward the grove gates.

For a couple of minutes, the siblings were silent, listening carefully. Lia was the one to break the silence.

"Let's at least come closer, can't hear much from here. I promise we will run to the beach as fast as possible at the first sign of trouble," she added, noticing Rolan's growing frustration.

"Fine," he sounded defeated. "I'll go first. If I say run – don't you dare disobey."

At this point, Rolan figured that whoever attacked the grove would have broken through already if they had sufficient manpower.

After all, scouts who kept watch on the grove's walls could be barely considered fighters. Likely, just a couple of goblins stumbled upon their hideout.

He signaled Cal and Lia to stop as they passed Aaron's make-shift merchant post. From there, they could somewhat see the commotion on the bridge and hear the tinkling of swords and spells being cast. The siblings didn't dare to speak or move – all froze in anticipation.

The wait felt like an eternity. Finally, they heard Zevlor's command to open the gates. Rolan relaxed his posture. The usual smirk graced his face as he saw Aradin and his thugs running through the entrance. "Of course, these idiots have something to do with this," he concluded.

To his surprise, a group of strangers sneaked into the grove shortly after Aradin. Well, he knew at least one of them – that pompous Blade of Frontiers. Wyll, was it? He stumbled upon the grove a couple of days ago and has become somewhat of a local fencing teacher. And most tieflings found his company quite enjoyable. "No wonder these simpletons hang onto his every word – all they need is just a couple of embellished fairytales to deem someone a hero," Rolan scoffed to himself.

But no matter. He didn't intend on making new acquaintances. It was time for a serious talk with his family.

+++

The outsiders intervened just as he was arguing with Lia. The group was passing by when Rolan tried to convince his siblings to leave the grove as soon as possible.

"What's the point in blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?! We should stay. These people aren't fighters, we can help!" she exclaimed angrily.

The group stopped and exchanged glances. Rolan had no doubt they had heard most of the arguing.

"You should all stay. A single blade could make a difference," said the silver-haired drow. She glanced confidently at Lia.

Satisfied, Lia turned her head to Rolan. At this point, he knew the battle was lost - once Lia sets her mind on something, it's impossible to get through to her.

"Fine, we will stay! If we survive, it will make for a good story, I suppose," he growled, intentionally paying no attention to five prying strangers.

"We were told you have a healer. Do you know where she might be?" inquired another woman with black braided hair. Her tone was colder and tired.

"I think she will be in the chambers by the pool. It's where most druids spend their days. Just head down the stairs, you'll see," wedged in Cal.

"Please, you think the druids will have time for strangers that appeared on their doorstep out of thin air?" Rolan finally graced the group with an arrogant stare. "They are one ritual away from exiling us all from this gods-damned place. What makes you so special?"

"I don't know, maybe the fact that we slaughtered a bunch of goblins outside the gate will play a role?" replied a pale elf, injecting as much arrogance into his words.

"Alright, calm down. We will deal with all that one step at a time," the drow spoke again, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Thank you for your help! I'm Nimriel, and these are Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel, and Astarion." She pointed at each of them individually, branding an enthusiastic smile. The others, however, weren't as excited.

The tiefling woman couldn't help but smile in response, "I'm Lia, this one's Cal, and the grumpy one is Rolan."

"Nice to meet you," Cal cautiously said, while Rolan rolled his eyes and murmured, "Pleasure."

"The fight was intense, I see," Lia noted, looking at the group's dirty, bloodied clothes.

"You can say that again," the drow chuckled. "One of the bastards has thrown a bottle of grease at me, and I tumbled down the hill like the most graceful sack of turnips! Then a worg charged straight at me…"

"Nimriel, we don't have time to chat right now," the black-haired woman interrupted.

"Right… Sorry, we really got to go," the drow nodded apologetically. "Thanks for the directions."

And with that, the group bid their hasty farewells and sprinted towards the druids' chambers. The tieflings could hear how the green-skinned woman – Rolan, although surprised, was sure it was a githyanki – was scolding the drow for being too open with the "horned ones."

"What an odd bunch," Cal said quietly, watching them leave.

"They certainly are. We should keep away from them."

"What? Why? They've slayed the goblins! Who knows if Zevlor and Aradin would've managed on their own," Lia raised her tone again, her annoyance growing. "They can help us fend off the next assault!".

"Don't be ridiculous. Their arrival at the grove at the right time was either a strange coincidence or a malicious plan. Think, Lia. When was the last time you saw a friendly drow? Hells, druids killed a drow who was snooping around just last week! Not to mention a githyanki amid them," Rolan sounded firm and confident.

"If we go by your logic, all tieflings are just wretched, evil fiends," his sister paused, taking a deep breath, "I'll talk to whomever I want; it is not for you to decide."

Rolan scoffed. Arguing with Lia felt exhausting at this point. He thought she was still young and naïve, not used to being approached with anything other than concerned stares and rudeness from non-tieflings.

"I'm… I'm with Lia here," Cal gently broke the silence. "Let's just see what happens."

"Of course you are. Two troglodyte peas in a pod. Do whatever you want," Rolan turned away from his siblings, pondering.

He couldn't let anything happen to them, not when their future was at stake. At that moment, he decided to watch the strangers closely. He was determined to confirm they were no threat.

+++

Rolan saw the despised group of outsiders a couple more times that day. They were walking around the grove, talking to tieflings and druids. At one point, they approached the Blade of Frontiers, who was training kids in fencing. Judging by their body language, they have reached some kind of agreement.

Later, the tiefling wizard noticed the strangers walking into Zevlor's chambers. They left the grove shortly after, taking Wyll with them. "Maybe this is the end of the unfortunate encounter," Rolan thought, relief washing over him. Still, he wasn't convinced.

+++

He approached Zevlor later that evening. The older tiefling was just leaving his chambers to get some fresh air.

“Good evening, Zevlor. Although it could have been better if not for the goblins' stench outside the gate," Rolan said casually, a note of arrogance still evident in his voice.

"True. What Aradin did was reckless. What's more infuriating is he left Halsin behind. Who knows what's become of the druid."

This revelation startled Rolan. Indeed, with all these worries about strangers, he didn't even realize that the bear druid didn't return. More bad news – Halsin was a competent warrior and one of this grove's most significant tiefling allies. The other druids had even more incentive to kick them out without him.

"We were lucky that Wyll and those travelers helped us out. Although our position at the grove gets shakier," Zevlor continued.

"Oh yes, I saw them getting a private audience with you," the wizard tiefling responded sarcastically. "Mind sharing what they wanted?"

Zevlor glanced at Rolan’s face, trying to find the source of his concern. He smiled gently: “I know the drow’s presence may worry you. I was surprised as well at first. All you need to know is that they are not a threat to us. In fact, they can prove quite helpful in the future.”

“Riiiight,” Rolan crossed his arms. “And you know that after talking to them, what, half an hour at most? You are not being rational about this!”

Zevlor wasn’t perplexed by Rolan’s reaction. He’s grown accustomed to the tiefling’s fiery temperament. “I know enough to place my trust in them. They didn’t have to help us fight goblins. And they surely had nothing to gain from saving Komira and Locke’s daughter from Kagha’s wrath,” he concluded calmly.

The sly fox must’ve had some kind of a deal with strangers. He wasn’t shy of sweet-talking people into doing what’s best for his tiefling tribe. Although Rolan was fond of this quality of Zevlor’s, he still thought the old paladin’s judgment was clouded.

With that, he left Zevlor be. He needed to process all the new information.

+++

"Hello! Apologies, do you maybe have hyena ears stashed somewhere? I'd gladly buy, seeing as none of the merchants here are in possession of those," a cheerful male voice interrupted Rolan's concentration.

Annoyed, he looked up to see who had disturbed his reading. Of course, those pesky outsiders returned! One of them – a human, most certainly – was talking to Cal while Lia stood near, puzzled. The other two – githyanki and drow – were buying something from Dammon, whose "forge" was nearby.

"Hyena ears?" Cal was confused. "What for?"

"Why, for a potion of speed, of course!" the man stated as if it was common knowledge. "My supplies are humiliatingly sparse at the moment."

"Oh, um…, no, sorry."

"Well, it never hurts to ask," the man shrugged, his voice still friendly and pleasant.

"Any luck, Gale?" his two companions were approaching as they finished their business with Dammon.

"I have asked around, and no one seems to have what we need," he replied.

"No matter. We have no use for your magical trinkets. My sword alone will be enough to cut through weaklings of this plane," githyanki replied confidently.

"Lae'zel. Calm down a bit, will you?" the drow hissed, looking at her companion with a plea. She then turned to tieflings, her tone rapidly shifting to cheerful. "Don't mind that, please, she's just tired… Soooo, what's…new?"

"Oh, nothing much," Lia said cautiously, yet a faint smile appeared on her face. She clearly liked talking to the drow, Rolan thought to himself.

"Not that we have much to do here, just chatting, trying to make ourselves useful. Say, but you've been busy! I heard you've helped Arabella yesterday," she continued. "I knew you could turn things around here."

"Oh, you mean the little girl? The whole situation was disgusting. That Kagha is one nasty toad," the drow answered, "I thought druids would be more understanding and peaceful. What's their deal?"

"The same "deal" that everybody has with tieflings," Rolan finally had enough of this whole conversation, longing for peace and quiet. He looked directly at her, smirking. "You should know, Underdark dweller. And if you don't - ask around your Menzoberranzan cronies."

The drow looked hurt for a moment, returning his glance. Rolan's comment definitely struck a nerve. However, she promptly recovered, saying, "Yes, I know, although I'm not from the Underdark. I'm sorry I offended you."

Her response made Rolan think. It was not a reaction he expected from a drow.

"No, you didn't!" Lia exclaimed quickly. "Rolan's just an old grump. Don't mind him."

"I'm not grumpy! And not that old either!" the tiefling wizard heard himself exclaiming. He could rarely leave the teasing of his siblings unanswered. He noticed the drow giggled, reacting to his outburst. "What's so funny?!"

"Just didn't expect such a serious-looking man to react so childishly. You really are not that old," Nimriel giggled again.

"Sounds about right," Cal pointed out cheerfully, and he and Lia were now grinning.

"Anyway," Gale interjected, trying to change the topic. "Why are you in such a hurry to reach Baldur's Gate?"

After the brief episode of humiliation, Rolan felt an urgent need to brag. "My apprenticeship with Lorroakan begins shortly, I cannot be late. Yes, that Lorroakan, the greatest wizard in Baldur's Gate," he said arrogantly.

"I've heard the name before! Young man, yes? Lives in the Ramazith's Tower in the lower city?" Gale sounded excited.

"The very same."

"I heard he's a bit of a cad, but you say he's a powerful wizard?"

"Of course he is! The greatest spellcaster along the Sword Coast! As if I'd settle for a lesser mentor."

"In that case, I would very much appreciate it if you could arrange an introduction should we reach the city," Gale suggested, turning his head to Nim.

"So you are a wizard?" Nimriel wondered, staring Rolan up and down. "Should've figured by the way you seem to enjoy the sound of your own voice."

"I'm... what!?" the tiefling tensed up.

"Sorry, sorry, I had to get even," the drow raised her hands lively. All this sounds fine to me. Could you?" She looked at Rolan, smiling gently. Something about her expression made his heart skip a beat, but he chose to ignore the feeling.

"If it is powerful acquaintanceships you are after, look no further than yours truly. Few can match me in either magic or talent. In years to come you will boast of this meeting. I can assure you," he bowed his head slightly, breaking their short eye contact.

"Enough chatter already, we don't have all day," githyanki intervened.

"Right, we'd better go. Sorry, it was nice talking to you all. Will definitely see you again," with her last sentence, she squeezed Lia's shoulder a little, making her giggle.

"That was quite embarrassing," Cal nudged the tiefling wizard as they watched the trio leave.

"It would be if I cared," Rolan nonchalantly opened his book.

"Tell me, when did you become like this? So I know the exact age when I turn into a joy-sucking prick." "You live and learn, brother."

Chapter 2

Mistrust

It has been a week. Rolan still struggled to figure out what made this group of seven blockheads join forces. Yes, seven! On day three, they showed up at the grove with a tiefling, who was even more loud and obnoxious than the drow. And the Blade of Frontiers now had a set of horns growing out of his head for some reason!

Although they were sparse on details of their alliance, the group certainly loved bragging about their adventures. At least, Rolan saw it that way. All it took was for tiefling children to take a liking to strangers after those saved a boy from harpies.

Word of the rescue spread fast, and soon, the whole grove knew what had transpired. Tieflings warmed up to the outsiders, wanting to learn more about their new-found idols.

Rolan also listened to the strangers' stories, but not because he was fascinated by them, like others. He analyzed and pondered their motives, making mental notes on each. Some remained a complete mystery to him, like the silent half-elf and irritable githyanki, who barely interacted with the grove's dwellers.

Others, however, were either loud, chaotic, or pompous. The wizard named Gale was, perhaps, the most tolerable of the bunch. As a man of considerable intelligence, he was grounded enough to keep his companions from being too ignorant or obnoxious. Although, his constant monologues of self-importance grew old very fast.

But by far, the two outsiders he involuntarily interacted with the most were tiefling and drow. They talked frequently with Lia, perhaps due to similarities in character.

That drow, Nimriel, was especially odd. Whenever visiting the grove, it seemed like her mission was to come up and talk to every person she could see. It was as if she was afraid to be forgotten about. Or was sniffing out information.

Once, after Lia's friendly chatter with the two, Rolan swallowed his pride and asked directly what they were talking about.

"You're not subtle at all," his sister replied condescendingly.

"Maybe I'm just curious, ever considered that?" Rolan shrugged.

"Oh, sod off. You're using "the parenting tone." It's like Elturel all over again. Your paranoia is getting annoying. They are regular travelers."

"Travelers?"

"Well, yeah, met up on the road to Baldur's Gate and decided to travel together for safety. Like we did with Zevlor's group."

"It's not comparable," the wizard shook his head.

"Why?"

"Alright, let me spell it out to you: an aggressive githyanki, a monster hunter, a suspicious drow, and a runaway from the hells – all in one group. And the other three are quite shady, too, if you ask me."

"You know about Karlach?" Lia asked, surprised.

"It's easy to get Dammon yapping after a couple of beers," Rolan replied nonchalantly, checking his well-manicured claws, "But you're missing my point here. They are all very different, some are natural enemies, in fact. Yet, they travel together? All of them need to get to Baldur's Gate and they just met on the road like that? There's something behind all of this."

Lia sighed. She knew Rolan all too well, and such outbursts were expected. Her brother was living in a mind-made cage, keeping her and Cal locked as well. Lia knew he was trying to protect them, but treating his siblings like children was getting out of hand.

"I don't know what to tell you. They're just going around, clearing their way to the city, killing monsters, looting…. We could've learned something from them."

"Like what?" Rolan rolled his eyes, "Living as mercenaries?"

"How about just "living" for starters? We'd be better off with money if we'd take a risk once in a while," Lia insisted.

"Why risk if we're already on the way to our future home?" Rolan softened up a little. "I promise you, Lia, once I'm the apprentice, you can forget all these constant worries."

"I know, I know," she looked at him, calming down. "And you promise to relax a little, too?"

"I won't be relaxing. Wizardry is hard work, you know."

"I meant your attitude."

"The attitude is what kept us going for so long," he replied smugly. "But yes, I'll definitely be more… "relaxed," as you say."

"And you won't mind me joining the Flaming Fist then?"

The wizard bit his tongue. It was a sore topic for them. "We'll see," he replied.

+++

"Hey, Rolan!" the drow approached him nonchalantly the very next afternoon.

"Mhhm."

"Reading as always?"

"How observant."

"Seems like your favorite book! What's it about?"

"Nothing that would be of interest to you."

"You know me well, I see?" There was no malice in Nim's voice, only teasing.

He finally looked at her, "You don't strike me as someone who practices magic. I see you more as an expert magpie."

"I am interested, actually. The more we travel, the more I learn that swords and cantrips don't always quite do it in fights. I even asked Gale to teach me some of the simpler spells. But to no avail. I just don't have a talent for it like you two."

Nimriel sounded sincere, which took Rolan aback. Was she trying to sweet-talk him, or did she genuinely believe his prowess without needing any proof? He simply didn't know what to reply.

"Can I take a look at your book? I'm just curious," she smiled, breaking the silence. The drow turned her charm to the maximum, looking straight at him. Nim couldn't help it - she wanted desperately to be liked by everyone around, even this irritable tiefling.

"Suit yourself," the wizard passed his book without much regret.

Now that the spells grabbed the drow's attention, he could take a closer look at her without being discreet. Her armor was ripped in several places, blood stains adding colors of terror to an otherwise dull leather outfit. Fresh cuts could be seen where her lilac-grey skin wasn't covered by clothes. The drow was still smiling as she read his book, her pretty, animated face dissonating with the disheveled attire.

"What happened to your ear?" the worrying tone of Rolan's voice surprised him.

"Oh," she automatically reached to her left ear, "Nasty burn, huh? Luckily, it was the only one. We got to the mercenaries' hideout yesterday, and those weasels had their lair stuffed with explosive barrels. Long story short – a fight ensued, things got fireballed, and – here's the result," Nimriel told the story so nonchalantly as if describing her favorite recipe.

"Looked even worse yesterday, but Shadowheart fixed me up well. With her skills, it will subside soon, but until then – I own of the ugliest ear in the grove," she giggled, but her expression betrayed her, showing how conscious she was about the burn.

"It's not that bad," Rolan replied, but he quickly realized how it sounded. "I mean, it doesn't flaw your face much. It still looks…presentable," he added apologetically, forgetting how to speak normally.

"Aha, I see the mighty wizard is also very skilled in reassuring," Nim laughed. She resumed reading, not noticing Rolan's embarrassed scowl.

They've spent some time in silence. While Nimriel was looking through pages, he continued unwittingly studying her face. Slender, blessed with elegant features, she would look like those literary portrayals of royalty if not for her big light-violet eyes, ragged shoulder-length haircut, and battle cuts.

"Too difficult for me still," Nimriel's voice yanked Rolan out of his intense contemplations. "I think I need to learn to work with scrolls first," she closed the book, reaching to give it back, but froze. Rolan was looking at her intently, his arms crossed.

"Why are you nosing round the grove?" he asked with authority.

"What do you mean?" Nim tried to master an innocent smile, but the wizard caught her off-guard.

"Your pleasantries won't work on me. You know exactly what I mean."

"Didn't realize that people must only be cordial for a reason. But then again, the cordiality expert knows best," she sighed. "What's your problem?"

"There are talks about strange cultists roaming around, goblins taking captives to their camps… And in the midst of this all, you appear here, out of nowhere. Snooping around, making friends left and right. It is… peculiar."

"You know a lot for someone closed off in the grove."

Rolan smirked, "Unlike you, I don't have to stick my nose into every conversation to learn what I need."

"This is exactly what you do now," Nim's tone became tense. "I don't think we've given you any reason to mistrust us," she shoved the book into his arm and turned around, "Sorry for distracting you. It won't happen again."

As he watched the drow walking away, Rolan shook his head. He rarely felt bad about giving someone a piece of his mind. Why now, all of a sudden?

+++

It all ended before anyone in the grove even realized something was happening. The adventurers have taken down Kagha. Apparently, they found proof of her conspiring with Shadow Druids and confronted her in the druids’ chambers. As a result, Kagha and other Shadow Druids that sneaked into the grove laid cold on the stone floor. The ritual was swiftly stopped, putting the worries of refugees to an end.

“Serves her right,” Rolan heard his brother talking excitedly to Danis and Bex. “That witch would rather cut all our throats than let us stay!”

“We are lucky that other druids came to their senses,” Bex replied. “Maybe they will even help us next time goblins come here!”

“Now, now, don’t hex it,” Danis gently squeezed her hand.

“Let me dream a little,” she kissed her husband’s cheek.

“Hey, Lia! What’s the news? Have you seen them yet?” Cal exclaimed, seeing his sister approaching.

“We exchanged a few words, but they were in a hurry. Looked pretty tired,” she sighed.

“Pity. I’d love to thank them personally. Maybe even bake something to celebrate,” Bex glanced at Lia. “You think they’ll come back?”

“Karlach definitely will once she hears you promised a hot meal,” Lia snickered.

Rolan listened to their conversation, his face emotionless. But deep within, a shift had occurred. Perhaps he was glad to be wrong about someone’s intentions for the first time in his life.

+++

No one heard from the group for the next few days before their sudden return. They came through the grove's gates nonchalantly, as if they were regular residents. Of course, nobody in the grove knew the burden the adventurers had carried for two weeks. For how much some of them talked and interacted with refugees, they remained a mysterious seven.

The group made their regular rounds, eventually coming to Dammon for supplies. It didn't take long for a friendly conversation to start, with all the regulars among tieflings joining in.

Rolan was there as well, his usual silent self. He would sometimes look at Nim while she chatted lively with the others. The tiefling wizard still didn't figure out what he would tell her. He will not be apologizing, of course not! But he didn't want to end it all on a sour note.

She finally caught the tiefling's glance and smirked, nodding. A wave of panic hit Rolan, but he tried keeping his composure. The wizard gestured Nimriel to come aside for a talk, to which she agreed.

"Hey there," Nim said casually, her brow raised.

"Listen. The last time we spoke…"

"No-no-no," she interrupted quickly. "The last time we spoke, you glared straight at me. I believe I deserve the same treatment now".

"Alright," he straightened his pose, looking into her eyes. "I was harsh. I had my reasons to distrust you. But my concerns proved unfair," Rolan paused, trying to find the right words. It was hard looking at Nim. The tiefling could see that she was quite enjoying his vain attempts at explaining himself. A large black eye she got was quite distracting as well.

"You did well for the grove, and I was unjust."

"What an intricate way to say you are sorry," her tone was soft with a smudge of teasing, "Don't worry about it."

"Just like that?"

Nim shrugged, "It's not a first for me. I'm a drow, remember? You should know."

The tiefling felt embarrassed. She even remembered the exact words he threw at her back then. And Nimriel noticed that.

"Hey," she said softly, "Can't we just forget it and start getting along? I hate making people feel all bad."

"I can assure you, it's nothing of that sort," Rolan blabbered, averting his eyes.

"Let's be frank, it's written all over your face," Nim giggled, "You are redder than usual."

"This is just fantastic," the tiefling sounded defeated. However, a feeling of relief began to settle inside: "For your information, it's just hot in here, hence the color change."

"Suuuure, keep telling yourself that."

They chatted for a little while before Nimriel left for her camp. Some of her companions, however, stayed.

The group's elf and tiefling were talking with others by the Dammon's "forge." Rolan joined in on their conversation soon after.

"The swamps were awful," Astarion complained. "The smells, the bugs, the dirt! I'll need a full wardrobe change once we reach any half-decent townlet!"

"Oh, come on! You are so dramatic. The nature was still beautiful there!" Karlach said gleefully. "Anything's better than hells!".

"Lucky for me, I won't be comparing anytime soon," the elf replied, supporting an innocent banter.

"How are things at the camp?" Dammon interrupted. Has my old workbench found a use?"

"Yes, thank you! Things are fine, more or less." Karlach sounded a bit apologetic. "We had a small setback, but overall…"

"I wouldn't call the brawl a small setback," Astarion interrupted playfully. "It was glorious!"

"What are you two talking about?" Lia wondered.

"Lae'zel and Nim got in a fistfight, and…"

“Astarion!” Karlach grunted.

"What? It's all fine now, anyway. Let me enjoy my "socializing-outside-the-camp" time!" Astarion shrugged, putting on the theatrics. "Anyway, you know how Lae'zel can be, with all her "I'll cut you down-s and slash you in-s." Well, she didn't quite like one of our plans, and she wanted to leave. Nimriel, predictably, started to talk her out of it. And the gith had it – ripped her armor off and took a fighting position. "A weakling such as yourself won't be able to land a single hit on me!" Astarion tried to imitate Lae'zel's crude delivery, "You want me to stay? Prove your worth!". Oh, how we all gasped when Nim threw her armor to the ground, too!"

"Oh, gods," Lia interrupted, worry growing in her voice. "Why didn't you stop them?"

"And miss the show?" the elf glanced at her like the tiefling was mad. "Honestly, the only thing that could've made it better is mud brawl. But, alas..."

"Cut it out," Karlach rolled her eyes.

"Alright, alright! So, fists started swinging left and right. Screaming, arguing, the spectacle! To my surprise, Nim even managed to land a few hits on the green devil! But the results were obvious from the start – Lae'zel knocked her out – straight in the eye!" he froze in a dramatic pose.

"Aaand?!" even Dammon was invested at this point, dropping the short sword he worked on. "Did githyanki leave?"

"No," Karlach replied calmly. "In the end, Lae'zel admitted that Nim was stubborn enough to make her stay. Although, I had to knock her out and tie her to a tree first," she grinned bashfully. "They made peace for now."

"You are one twisted group of individuals," that's all Rolan could say.

"Believe me, you don't know the half of it," Astarion shook his head, simpering.

Chapter 3

The night at the Sacred Pool

The moon was full and inviting that night, laying its silver light on the grove. Shadows danced among the trees, creating a tapestry of light and dark on the forest floor. A soft breeze whispered through the branches, carrying the earthy scent of moss and pine.

If only Rolan could enjoy it. He hadn’t slept properly since the whole debacle at the druids’ chambers. The anxiety of not making it to Lorroakan on time laid heavy on him. The future at Baldur’s Gate is what his family deserves. He couldn’t afford to let them down. He sat near the Sacred Pool for the last few nights, working tirelessly on his spells. “Why waste time laying on a bedroll if I can’t sleep anyway,” he thought.

The dawn was close, and the tiefling heard the sound of bushes whirling somewhere nearby. It startled his sleep-deprived mind, and he called, “Who’s there?”

“Huh? Rolan, is that you?”

The tiefling squinted, looking in the direction the voice was coming from. He stood up, his yellow eyes piercing the dark. Someone’s figure was emerging from around the trees. At this point, Rolan thought the lack of sleep had driven him insane. It was Nim walking towards him. The drow was also squinting, holding a batch of apples in her arms.

“Nimriel?” he asked in disbelief with a hint of annoyance. “What…what are you doing here? And what’s with the apples?”

“Um…it is a little embarrassing,” she smiled confusedly. “Can I come closer?”

“Can you?” now his voice sounded almost mockingly. “Well, why not?”

As she approached, Rolan realized something dreadful and swiftly turned his head away.

“Why in the hells are you walking around here in your undergarments?” he hissed.

“Shit! I’m… well, I didn’t expect anyone to be up this early. I got hungry and thought I could quickly sneak in here for some apples,” she gabbled, walking towards him.

Nim stopped near the tiefling, close enough to see his face in the light of a small lantern the wizard brought. She didn’t quite know what she was doing – frankly, a night stroll for apples was just an excuse to clear her head. No matter how positive she tried to be, the inner worry that her new-found exciting life could end as promptly grew stronger day by day. The worst part was that she forbade herself from sharing her fears with the group. They were, after all, Nimriel’s first semblance of friends. And losing them was even scarier than dying to a tadpole.

And now, here she was – staring at the half-turned face of a tiefling whom she found pretty extraordinary. To her, interactions with Rolan mostly felt amusing – the serious, snobby demeanor contrasted too much with his short-tempered behavior. Why not use this distraction right now, Nim thought.

The situation they found themselves in started to feel very comical. Nimriel snickered, biting into one of the apples. “Did your head stuck?”

“It’s called having manners, being appropriate. Such concepts might be foreign to you, of course,” Rolan sounded irate, his head still turned away from her. He then looked around, searching for something. Getting no results, he lowered his voice as if embarrassed. “I… can offer you my shirt if you don’t mind.”

“I see you take this “having manners” thing seriously,” Nimriel shook her head playfully. However, she felt intrigued – she was sure the tiefling would just shoo her away from there. This was quite a nice gesture, “Alright, I will entertain it. Take it off.”

Rolan felt his skin tingling as he undressed his shirt. “Did she have to phrase it like that?” he thought.

Nim slipped into it with no issue, the white shirt barely covering her upper thighs. She quickly plopped onto the stone bench near the pool, chewing on the apple. Rolan sat on the opposite side of the bench, keeping the distance.

“Well, you seem quite nonchalant,” he broke the silence awkwardly.

“Why shouldn’t I be? It’s just you,” Nim mumbled without bothering to swallow her food first. “Or what, you want to scold me for stealing apples or something?”

“Never mind.”

“Oh, it’s about this?” the drow gestured her chin down to her body. “As I said, I didn’t expect anyone to be awake. Why bother dressing? Besides, I can take on anyone in the grove,” she paused, thinking. “Or scream for Karlach to help, this works too.”

“Sure,” he replied calmly, rolling his eyes slightly. “Are night apple runs a usual occurrence or…?”

“Nope, just couldn’t sleep,” Nim shrugged. “Am I distracting you?”

In truth, she was. But for some reason, Rolan didn’t really want her to leave. There was something soothing in talking with Nimriel like that when no one was around. It was as if they were sharing a special moment only they would know about. He quite liked this feeling.

“Nothing important,” he replied after a short pause.

“Would you mind keeping me company for a bit, then? I don’t want to go to sleep just yet.”

Rolan felt relieved. He may be able to entertain this peculiar situation for a little longer. “Why, nobody among your companions wants to listen to your apple-munching at the dawn’s break?”

“Back to your usual “pleasant self”, I see,” she threw back at him. Although, the wizard could tell that Nim enjoyed his little jab.

“Learnt any new spells since we last spoke?”

“Nah, we were way busy these days.”

“Busy brawling with your githyanki friend?” Rolan pointed at her black eye.

“Oh,” she giggled uncomfortably. “I see my supreme leadership skills are talked about far and wide. What do you think? Does my face still look presentable?”

Nimriel didn’t expect the tiefling to consider her question seriously. He looked closely as if calculating every proportion and curve. She now had a chance to take a better look at his face, too. Surrounded by darkness, his features seemed as sharp as ever, with deep yellow eyes – dangerous but alluring. Her cheeks started to blush.

“I can’t think of anything that could spoil a face like yours,” Rolan replied quietly. But his condescending tone made a swift comeback. “Was getting punched worth it?”

“It was,” Nim was confident in her words. “I won the argument and kept her from making bad decisions.”

The wizard lifted his brow, considering her response. “Interesting perspective. So, you are a leader?”

“Apparently,” Nim chuckled. “Why? Don’t I look like one?”

“I can’t judge that, haven’t seen you in action,” the tiefling replied.

“Wow, no sarcasm or a snarky remark?” Nimriel said, tilting her head. “I mean, I wouldn’t call myself one. Sometimes, I think they’ve chosen me because they wouldn’t talk to each other otherwise.”

“At least you’re honest with yourself,” Rolan smirked.

“Ha-ha.”

“You wanted a snarky remark, didn’t you?”

“Anyway, why aren’t you sleeping?” the drow asked lightheartedly, changing the subject. She was munching on another apple.

“Well, I…,” he stumbled a little, “Just too excited about my apprenticeship. Such a powerful wizard as Lorroakan expects a lot from me. I have been working on composing my own spells and…”

While Rolan was blabbering on, Nim seized the opportunity to look him over. For a wizard, he was very well-built. The drow was particularly interested in the ridges covering his chest and torso. She has never seen anything like it up close. A hot, pulling feeling began to form in her stomach.

Rolan noticed her staring and stopped talking immediately. “What?” he asked in a cold tone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, trying to look as uninterested as possible. “I was just curious. These protruding bones look so interesting, almost like an elaborate carving.”

“Whatever you say,” Rolan said, unimpressed. He turned his body sideways to escape the drow’s eyes. To him, any such glances from non-tieflings felt like mockery.

“I mean it,” Nim said seriously, looking into his eyes.

Rolan returned her glance, trying to figure out if the drow was trying to save face. He finally mellowed down, believing Nimriel. “It is a reminder, you know,” his voice now sounded grim. “Sins of our ancestors we are bound to carry with us forever. Marks of deformity and ugliness to instill fear and disgust into anyone that encounters us.”

“I’m sorry I disappointed you,” she paused. “It may not mean much coming from me, but I don’t see tieflings that way. And… I think I understand how you feel.”

Rolan considered her words. "Suppose you are," he nodded, remembering how he called her the Underdark dweller.

"Although," Nimriel hesitated, "It's not the same. The hate towards us is justified."

"It is," the tiefling replied quietly.

Nim shrugged, "It's the same everywhere. I appreciate your honesty, at least. Do you... does everyone else in the grove share this belief?"

"The fear of drow comes to tieflings as naturally as the fear of plague to any mortal man," Rolan looked at her, sighing, "But you don't have to worry."

"What do you mean?"

"It's obvious that they don't hate you."

Nimriel appeared relieved, "You think so?"

"It's pretty obvious that they grew to trust and like you. Many of them, at least," Rolan chuckled, "Gods, you're so shaken about this, it's quite something."

"It just... doesn't happen much," she smiled, "But I'm glad that somebody sees me just as a person."

The topic started to intrigue Rolan. Nimriel seemed as far from her kin as one could imagine. "I remember you mentioning not being from the Underdark?"

"The locals found me in the Forest of Mir. I might've been born in the Underdark, but I wouldn't remember – I was practically a newborn then."

"Hm. You were raised by humans, then?"

"Raised is a strong word," Nim mumbled uncomfortably. "But yes, I lived among humans for a little while. As you can imagine, they weren't fond of drow either."

Rolan decided not to ask further – the past clearly made Nimriel uneasy.

"And now, when it seems that I have found people who look past my heritage, it is too late," Nimriel quickly stopped talking, understanding she had already said too much.

"How come?"

"I…," she faltered. I don't really know. I can't tell these days when the time is up." She glanced at him, and Rolan saw deep sadness in his eyes for the first time. "Life has suddenly become very complicated."

At that moment, the tiefling finally recognized Nimriel for what she was – unsure and anxious, just like him. She didn't find the strength to hide it behind the usual chattiness and smile. This is probably the reason she's not sleeping tonight.

"Life has always been complicated," Rolan responded calmly. "And it will become harder," he saw her eyes starting to glisten and couldn't help but put a hand on her shoulder. "But, as I discovered for myself, if you work and believe hard enough that you deserve something, you can find happiness in your struggles, even if for a short while."

"You are harsh, Rolan," Nimriel squeezed his hand. A feeble smile returned to her face.

"I speak only of what I know. You seem capable enough to withstand the treachery life presents."

Nim's brows furrowed as she studied his expression. "Well, if you speak of what you know…It explains a lot about your behavior."

Rolan smirked. "My behavior is not of your concern."

She didn't respond, but the wizard knew, judging by her expression, that Nimriel was onto him. She saw a breach in the walls of coldness and waspishness Rolan had been building all these years. The thought of her peeking through these walls terrified him.

Still, the tiefling couldn't look away from her, nor could she. Something happened between them tonight, something they both feared and wanted.

"It was nice talking to you, but I think it's time for me to get back to camp," it seemed Nim returned to her usual, cheerful self.

She stood up, taking his shirt off. Rolan didn't make an effort to turn away this time. Their conversation made him see Nimriel in a different light. She amazed him in a confusing way: both strong and vulnerable, open but full of mysteries still. Just like that, he fell for Nim. Maybe it happened even earlier, but Rolan wasn't interested in details.

"Have a good rest of the night," Nimriel returned his shirt, smiling. She pretended not to notice how Rolan looked her over. Her drow nature immensely enjoyed that.

"You too," he muttered, watching her leave. The tiefling wouldn't see Nim for a couple of days after this night. Her return, however, would bring about a change.

Chapter 4

The paths split

He found himself standing amid a party, quite content. The outsiders, impressively so, managed to destroy the goblin camp – the final obstacle between tieflings and the road to Baldur’s Gate. And the party was, of course, in their honor.

Rolan now began to understand why Zevlor put such immense trust in them – they must’ve had an agreement all along. And so, does it mean that the adventurers were swords for hire? What a simple conclusion to a mystery he was pondering all these weeks.

The cheap wine relaxed Rolan’s mind. His annoyance subsided, and the tiefling wizard didn’t mind talking to his kin and even once-dreaded outsiders. He was chatting in the company of Wyll, Lakrissa, Shadowheart, and Astarion.

Although, Rolan was quite in and out of it, chasing Nimriel with his eyes. He didn’t have a chance to talk to her yet – the drow was prancing all over the place, talking, laughing, and hugging the temporary grove inhabitants she grew close to so quickly. Rolan was glad to see her this way. What the group achieved was well deserved.

“Say,” Wyll turned to Lakrissa, “We’ve got so many weapons from our goblin raid. I think it would be great if we leave you some, for your journey.”

“The heroic Blade of Frontiers strikes again,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “How are we supposed to get money for new armor?”

“So, you are saying that you don’t mind carrying a dozen short swords?” Wyll replied cheekily.

“Well…I was counting on my good friend Karlach…”

“How gallant of you,” Shadowheart remarked sarcastically.

“Oh, come on. We all know she is the might of the group”.

“Which makes you…?” Shadowheart raised a brow.

“Why, the charm, of course,” the pale elf said, elegantly fixing his hair.

“Bhaa,” the Blade burst out laughing. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s not my fault that the truth hurts, darling,” Astarion smirked.

“So, what do you think of my offer, Lakrissa?” Wyll broke a short silence.

“Oh, right! Let’s see what you’ve got,” the tiefling replied. Shortly, the two departed to the west side of the camp to see the group’s loot stock.

“By the way,” Astarion turned to Rolan. “You are pretty well-versed in magic?”

“Of course. Why do you inquire?”

“How about necromancy?”

“Well,” Rolan paused. “I try to indulge in learning about all wizardry schools… Depends on what you want to know.”

“Interesting,” a foxlike smile graced the elf’s face. “You see, my friend, I’ve got this book…”

“Stop nagging the man with your stupid book,” Shadowheart interrupted. “Nothing good will come of it.”

“Don’t you have another three bottles to devour? Don’t interfere while grownups are talking,” Astarion replied condescendingly.

“We should’ve left you on the swamps,” the cleric gurgled.

“What’s the issue with the book?” Rolan asked. The prospect of showing off his knowledge entertained him quite a bit.

“I think it contains some powerful necromancy spells, but the book won’t let me read them. And it also toys with your mind somehow once you open it.”

“Hm… a cursed necromancy book, how original,” Rolan contemplated for a moment. “Your best bet is to find a skilled necromancer who will recognize what curses were bestowed upon it. Until then – DO NOT open the book and don’t cast any spells onto it, the attempts of purifying it will only backfire.”

“Well, that’s… something, at least,” Astarion sighed.

“Having fun?” Nimriel sneaked in on them, her face beaming.

“As much fun as this cheap wine can afford us to,” Shadowheart replied.

“Ah, niben Nim! Maybe you will be reasonable enough to talk Wyll out of gifting around our weapons?” the elf pouted at her.

“You volunteer to carry it all up the mountain pass, then?” she smirked.

“…I hate you people,” Astarion growled in defeat.

“And you make no effort to hide it,” the cleric added calmly.

“Look who’s talking!” the elf reacted. “For your information, I…”

“Come on, Rolan,” the tiefling was swiftly taken out of the argument as Nimriel grabbed his hand. “This will take them a while. Do you mind a short stroll?”

“Not at all.”

+++

She quickly led him down to the beach, so quickly, in fact, that Rolan didn’t have much time to protest. Not that he wanted to – her delicate hand, curled carelessly around his fingers, felt so nice. Nimriel finally stopped near the water, turning to him. She had the widest smile – Rolan wasn’t sure if wine was the reason.

“Didn’t expect you to come to the party, thought you’d be halfway to Baldur’s Gate by now,” the drow lifted her brow.

“I would’ve been if not for Cal and Lia. They desperately wanted to chat with their favorite hero,” that was a lie he came up with beforehand. Of course, the tiefling would not admit he also wanted to see her.

“And you didn’t?” Nim asked playfully. She definitely was inebriated.

“Oh, please. I nearly dispatched those goblins myself, but it seems you’ve managed well enough,” even in moments like this, Rolan’s arrogance took the better of him. And the wine didn’t do any favors either. “And why wield a masterwork where a butcher’s blade will do?”

“I certainly will not miss those nasty jabs of yours,” she replied, smirking.

“It’s sad to hear that you take reasonable remarks as jabs,” the tiefling swayed his head left, keeping eye contact. “I thought you thoroughly enjoyed them, given you came back for more on the daily.”

“You are insufferable,” Nimriel rolled her eyes. “But you were helpful…”

“Helpful?” she caught him off-guard.

“Well, yes, that’s what I wanted to tell you. But let’s sit; I feel like I’m about to fall over.”

She plunged unceremoniously onto the sandy shore. Rolan followed hesitantly.

“I feel a bit foolish,” Nimriel finally said, looking at the water.

“Why?”

“I’m… I don’t have much experience talking to people. Or being sociable, for that matter,” she replied sheepishly.

“You must be joking. I doubt there is a single person at the grove you didn’t bombard with your chatter,” Rolan kept his smug tone.

“No, I mean, in general,” her tone sounded apologetic and a bit annoyed. I… At first, I thought you absolutely hated my guts. And, honestly, I’m still not quite sure if you don’t,” she giggled nervously. But I’m grateful for your advice the other night and that you spent time with me. I really needed to talk to someone then. It was a lucky coincidence that you were awake, really.”

Rolan didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t a norm for someone to thank him. And it came from Nimriel – a person he was so rude and unpleasant to. The sinking feeling started pulling on his chest. The tiefling glanced at her quickly and, to his terror, realized that Nim was also looking at him.

“You really are easy to impress if me talking does it for you,” Rolan heard himself replying. “And, just so we are clear. I don’t hate your guts. Your company is perfectly serviceable.”

“That’s nice to hear,” the tiefling saw a modest smile returning to her face, feeling relieved. “Then can I ask you to give me your hand? Like this, palm facing me?”

Confused, Rolan obliged. Nim then lightly pressed her palm against his, comparing something. “Mm, that’s about right,” she mumbled and swiftly reached into her pocket, producing a small silver ring.

“I thought you may put this to good use. It allows casting the dimension door. At first, I wanted to give it to Lia but figured – you are the wizard of the family, so it’s only logical,” Nimriel explained.

“I won’t take it,” Rolan replied adamantly.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t take handouts from anybody. All I need I always get myself.”

“But it’s not a handout… Just something that can help you on the road. I also gave Cal and Lia some supplies, and they didn’t mind.”

“You are not responsible for my family’s safety. I am. And I’m capable enough to provide it,” Rolan sounded calm but determined. His pride took the better of him.

“Guess I’ll be giving it to Lia then.”

“Oh, you are stubborn,” Rolan shook his head. “She wouldn’t even know how to use it.”

“Well, she wouldn’t need to. Her magnificent brother will cast 20 dimension doors for her at once, straight from here to Baldur’s Gate! Will be a pretty accessory, though.”

“Bitterness doesn’t suit you,” the wizard smirked.

“That’s right, bitterness is your most attractive feature, on par with arrogance, of course.”

Rolan began to understand why the group chose Nimriel as their leader. Something in the way she looks at you makes you feel and do as she pleases, as if she bewitches you with her genuineness and determination.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Maybe I am somewhat unreasonable here. If you still want to, I will take it.”

Nim’s features softened. Arguing with Rolan always felt like a small battle – frustrating but weirdly satisfying once it’s over. This tiefling was, in a way, special to her. Brutally direct but still closed off. Harsh but nice at times. Smart. Observant. Leary.

The worst part is that Rolan was right to be suspicious. She and her new-found friends were a danger to the grove, risking turning into mind flayers any minute. What would happen if the refugees, in whom she found so much comfort and joy, learned of this? Nimriel couldn’t bear to think of it. She was perceived as a monster all her life, only to be turned into another one.

“Give me your hand,” she said quietly. As Rolan obliged, Nim carefully placed the ring onto his pinky. The ring was relatively small and stuck right in the middle of the finger, where the bone protruded. The wizard looked at his hand, examining it.

“Fits well enough,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m glad we can end our little acquaintanceship on a positive note,” the drow said, relaxing.

“Are you also leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes, heading for the mountain pass. And then Underdark, perhaps. Will be interesting to see the ancestral homeland for the first time, so to speak.”

“Hm. Take more food with you. The Underdark’s flora and fauna aren’t what you are used to eating here,” Rolan responded knowingly.

“Thanks, will keep that in mind. I was also thinking… AUGH!” she exclaimed suddenly, clutching her head.

“Nim? What’s wrong?”

“Just migraine,” she burbled apologetically, although Rolan could see an immense amount of pain in her expression.

“Can I help somehow?” he asked, worry in his tone.

“No, it’s fine. Can I just lean on you for a moment?”

“Sure.”

Nimriel leaned against the wizard’s shoulder, her eyes closed in pain.

“Has something similar happened before?”

“Yes, it will pass soon, don’t worry. Give me a couple of minutes. In the meantime, you can tell me something interesting, it will help”.

“Alright. What would you like to know?”

“Mm, I don’t know…what do you like to do for fun?”

Rolan thought for a minute. He genuinely couldn’t remember when was the last time he did something most people considered “fun activities”.

“Studying magic is fun for me,” he concluded, watching her, trying to figure out how she feels. “Don’t get me wrong, it is hard work, but once you learn a new spell, it is a divine experience. You can’t fathom how body and mind so generic can create these extraordinary things. And you only grow more eager, can’t stop wondering how far your potential can reach. I hope to unlock it fully one day.”

“You describe it so lovely,” Nimriel beamed through ache, her eyes still closed. “Please, continue.”

Rolan couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Once I get to Baldur’s Gate and settle down, I’d also like to study stars.”

“Study stars?”

“Yes, they fascinate me truly. A perfect amalgamation of power and beauty. I have never felt such calmness as I saw them after leaving Elturel,” he looked at the sky to remind himself, if only just for a moment. “It would be nice to have a telescope and watch them after my study sessions with Lorroakan are over. How is your headache?”.

“Much better,” Nim replied. The tiefling felt she was drifting into sleep. “I wish I got to know this version of Rolan sooner,” she whispered.

His heart skipped a beat. A wave of bittersweet sadness covered Rolan’s mind.

“You still have time,” the tiefling murmured, pressing his tail gently against Nimriel’s back to keep her from falling. “You can visit me in Baldur’s Gate…I could…tell you more about the stars.”

“I’d love that,” was Nim’s last words before falling asleep.

Rolan sat in silence, looking at the sky. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her as if the mere act would cause her to vanish. Yet, Nimriel was still there – her form leaning against his shoulder, her breath a soft lullaby in the stillness of the night.

If only they’d met another time, another place, the tiefling thought. Not at the most turbulent point of his life, when he has nothing to show for himself, nothing to be proud of. She is so kind to him. But then again, she is like that with all the tieflings. To her, he must be just another face in the crowd. A bitter, arrogant face at that. He is a fool – to fall for someone that easily. Pathetic. But it will be over tomorrow – they will go their separate ways, and he will likely never see Nim again. Good. Time shall pass, washing away the regrets of what could have been. He must take care of the family at all costs. He can think of his own wants and desires after. It is decided.

…But the dreaded tomorrow hasn’t come yet. He can stay here, with her, just for a little longer. There is no harm in pretending they are watching stars together, happy in each other’s company.

Rolan carefully turned his head towards Nimriel. Her expression was peaceful, the migraine must have stopped. There was so much he wanted to ask her. To hear her talk to him and smile again. But he missed his opportunity, deservingly so.

Enough of this nonsensical moping. He is a grown, rational tiefling. Living inside your head gets you nowhere in life. Only a cold, emotionless mind and determination.

With that, Rolan removed the ring Nim gifted him and put it into his bag. The book on spells he showed her once was in there, too. The tiefling pondered a bit and took it out together with an ink pot and quill.

+++

Wyll was slowly going around the campfire, gathering empty bottles of wine. The party ended not so long ago, but the campsite quickly went quiet – most of his companions were plastered, snoring in their tents. But the Blade didn’t want to sleep just yet – it was a delightful, warm night, particularly in the face of what to come next for him and the group. He didn’t want it to end just yet. Wyll was thinking about taking Lae’zel’s offer. She was rough, sure, but wouldn’t it be nice to spend the night with someone, especially if it could be his last time. Besides, you have to give it to the gith – for all her aggression, she was strong-willed and direct, which are very attractive traits in Blade’s book.

The sound of movement interrupted Wyll’s trail of thought. He lifted his head and saw Rolan coming towards him. Interestingly, he was carrying Nim in his arms. The drow was deep in her sleep, wheezing comically, probably drunk.

“Hey, Rolan. Thought you all left already,” the Blade said quietly, pointing to Nimriel. “And what’s with this blazed potato?”

“She fell asleep while we were talking.” the tiefling replied, his voice sounding tired. “Can you take her to her tent?”

“Sure.”

Rolan took a fast final look at Nimriel and passed her body to Wyll. “Also, can you give her this? She will understand.”

+++

“Soooldier, rise and shine! Breakfast time!”

Nimriel slowly cracked her eyes open, reacting to Karlach’s delightful voice. The menace of Avernus was lightly pulling off her bedcover.

“Urgh-eh,” the cacophony of sounds was the first thing the drow could master after the night of heavy drinking. “Is it late?”

“Nah, Halsin’s still at the grove. So we have time for Gale’s special treat!”

“Thank gods for that man. Mystra’s a fool for throwing away someone with such passion for cooking.”

“Maybe the broad doesn’t eat normal food,” Karlach giggled. “Come on!”

As they approached a makeshift table, the other group members were lazily stuffing their faces. The hangover has been their unwelcome guest this morning. But even in times like these, they maintained their tradition of eating together.

“If it weren’t for yesterday, I’d thought you were all turning,” Nim joked, landing next to Lae’zel.

“Haven’t looked in the mirror today yet?” Shadowheart sneered.

“Nah, I’m not prepared for new nightmares,” the drow replied. “Thanks for breakfast, Gale!”

“At your service,” the wizard tried to bow gracefully, dropping his fork to the ground.

“I wonder how many bottles we emptied last night,” Karlach said, chewing ravenously.

“I stopped counting at fifth, but you lot outdid yourselves,” Gale noticed.

“What else were we supposed to do?” Astarion nagged. “I was bored out of my mind. All this hero life is not for me. I ended up wandering the woods, but that demented bard’s music must have scared off all the animals”. He grinned curiously. “Please tell me at least someone got busy last night. I want to know all the gritty details!”.

“Ha, I wish!” Karlach responded. But in my case, it would be a veeeeeery steamy sex.”

“You have no shame,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes at them.

“You too, darling, judging by your blood-shot eyes.”

“No arguing at my breakfast table!” Gale declared. “Besides, I don’t think our condition is particularly ingratiatory towards intimacy.”

Wyll remained silent, chuckling on the inside. He briefly glanced at Lae’zel, who didn’t seem to pay attention to the conversation at all.

“You are just a prude,” Astarion grimaced at the wizard. “How about our dearest drow?”

“I was way too drunk for that,” Nimriel replied, pondering. “I don’t even remember how I got to my tent.”

“That’s because you didn’t,” Wyll interjected casually. It was a good opportunity to distract Astarion from asking about the Blade’s night adventures. “Rolan carried you in.”

“Huuuh?” Karlach’s face beamed with intrigue.

Nim stumbled for a moment, trying desperately to remember. “Oh… Right, I remember chatting with him on the beach. Did he tell you something, Wyll?”

“That you fell asleep.”

“Ha, ha-hah,” The elf roared with laughter. “The man is so stuffy that even sex with him puts women to sleep!”

“Cut it out, we just talked. You think I wouldn’t know if I slept with someone?” The drow interrupted, annoyed.

“So defensive we are! Something’s definitely going on between you two lovebirds,” Astarion responded cockily.

“Wish you could fight as well as you joke,” Nim scowled back at her companion. She now could remember what they were talking about, feeling embarrassed that she nodded off during the conversation. She greatly enjoyed Rolan’s company when he was calm and open, like last night. To fall asleep in the middle of it was disrespectful. And Nimriel didn’t even say a proper goodbye.

“At least that explains why you disappeared last night,” Karlach replied. She turned her head to the elf. “Drop it already.”

“You all such bores, even you, Karlach,” Astarion pouted.

“I almost forgot!” Wyll got up, still a little disoriented from the night of drinking. The Blade swiftly entered his tent and returned to the table, carrying something in his hands. “Rolan asked to give this to you. Said you will understand,” he passed a medium-sized red book to Nimriel.

“A book?” the confused drow took it off Wyll’s hands. It was the same tome of spells she once asked the tiefling to look through. The pages were a bit shabby, riddled with Rolan’s remarks written along the pages.

“Hmm, a “Weave of Life?” Haven’t seen these series of tomes for ages, I don’t think they get printed anymore,” Gale looked at the pages over the Nim’s shoulder. “Quite outdated for my taste. But I see Rolan came to the same conclusions, judging by his markings.”

“What do you mean?”

“He tried improving the spells, figuring out how to get the most use. I’d say some solutions are pretty adequate,” the wizard nodded in approval. “Why did he leave it behind?”

“Well, I once mentioned that I tried learning some spells,” Nim smiled. “Perhaps it was his way of saying thank you.”

“Try it if you want; I can help decipher some of the writing,” Gale clapped her on the shoulder, returning to his plate.

Nimriel continued flipping through the pages, participating in conversations now and again. She paused at the last page of the book, realizing that Rolan had left her a message:

For the ring. Practice at least once a day. Hope the spells from the book will help on your journey. - R.

Short and scrupulous writing, just as she would expect from him. Still, the tiefling’s gest felt so warm and personal that Nim could not help but smile. The hot, tickling feeling rushed through her chest. She wanted to see Rolan again.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav #rolan bg3

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