#stride unbroken

[snazzy-suit]

RE6 co-op is amazing

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: High School AU Edition

In honor of my conversation with @darling-winnie about same age!Sterek, as well as my promise to @oldefashioned, here are some high school au recs!

1. Double Cherries (And 'Extra' Hoodies) by undercoverbastard

“No, no - wait - don’t tell me,” Stiles suddenly said, leaning forward and grinning at the boy directly on his right, eyes gleaming with joy and mischief as he spoke. “You want… a salmon burger, swiss, with fruit, and a vanilla shake. Eh?”

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Too bad! That’s what I’m penning you in for, Eyebrows,” Stiles said, scribbling on his notepad as he stood and began to walk away. Derek huffed, opening his mouth to give Stiles his actual order, but the only word he got out was ‘I’ before Stiles waved him off without even looking back at Derek or down at the notepad, stride unbroken, as he recited:

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

+.+.+

OR: alive hale family, alive claudia, and high school friends stiles/derek - all wrapped into one, based on a joke from a TV show i watched when i was 7, and then got wildly out of control!

Notes: adorable, I love their banter and the conection they have. Alive!Hale family is always such a treasure, and Claudia and Talia's friendship is great here. It's completed.

2. i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me) by bleepobleep

Derek gets in an accident and loses a few years of his memory; suddenly everything is different— he's not a freshman loser anymore, but a popular senior, captain of the basketball team, a shoo-in for prom king, too, and he should have everything he's ever wanted— except he doesn't seem to be friends with Stiles anymore.

Notes: Derek is not having a good time. Pookie just wants to be with his best friend but it turns out they're not best friends anymore and the world doesn't make sense because of it. A little angsty but it all works out. It's completed.

3. Don't Kiss and Tell by Hedwig221b

Paige has finally got the boyfriend she always wanted. The only thing is, said boyfriend doesn't touch her, doesn't kiss her and spends all his time with Stiles Stilinski. You'd think they were dating, or something...

Notes: When I tell you I go feral for this au every single time I read it! Hedwig has the best unhinged obsessive sterek fics and I'll swear on that, don't even try to change my mind. Poor Paige is definitely being led on here, and both Derek and Stiles are assholes in this one, but they're in love and they're completely devoted to each other, so it's okay (I know it doesn't make sense now, but it will. Trust). It's completed.

4. But Then What... by Stoney

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

Notes: Typical Jock/Nerd enemies to lovers only it's Stiles being incredibly paranoid and angsty all of the time lol. They both had me shaking my head because my babies truly don't know how to communicate, but we got there! Eventually. It's completed.

5. Just The Same by foxlavander

Something is seriously up with the captain of the lacrosse team. There's just no way Derek Hale is human. *** “I was wondering if you're even human. You move so quickly. I mean, it's ridiculously fast. No human should be able to move that fast, y'know? It's unfair for us. I mean, it's obvious you work out, and I don't, so that could be why, but like...I was just wondering if you were human, that's all.” “Stop talking, Stilinski, or I'll—” “Put me on the bench all season?” Stiles asks knowing full well that Derek Hale can't threaten him with shit.

Notes: This one is so good. Stiles is onto you, Derek! But seriously, they're so awesome in this one. And Derek bakes and he wants to open up a bakery and it's adorable. I love them and I love the Hales, everything is great. Look out for the werewolf reveal! It's completed.

6. The In Which Stiles Is Secretly Magic series by apocryphal

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

Notes: The lore for magic users in here is honestly so good. Love the world building! The Hales are alive in this one as well, which for me is always a plus. A little bit (maybe more than a little bit) angsty but it ends well. There's a few things going on, but basically Stiles is basically Deaton's apprentice and there are Rules(TM) he has to follow as a magic user. He's pretty badass though! The series is technically not finished, but both parts in the series are completed.

7. cheer up, babe by graveltotempo

He was the basketball captain. And he was a cheerleader. Can I make it any more clear? OR: Derek Hale thought he had his crush on Stiles Stilinski under control. And then Stiles decided to show up to school in a skirt.

Notes: Derek spends all 20k words thirsting over Stiles, as he should. Stiles gets to wear a skirt and be generally awesome. They are disgustingly sweet together.

8. Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

Notes: This one is very sweet. There's insecure Stiles and absolutely lovely Derek. It's abo with Omega!Stiles and Alpha!Derek, and it's actually pretty wholesome. Derek is like public enemy number one of BHHS and a jock, Stiles is a loner, and when they turn out to be soulmates they have to navigate what that means for it. It has 13 out of 14 chapters, last updated in March of 2024.

9. too busy being yours to fall for somebody else by whiry

Stiles, worried that Scott may actually leave him behind because of his newfound popularity, is desperate to cling to something away from the drama of Lydia Martin's amazing parties and the woes of high school lacrosse. What he finds is Derek Hale, a guy who seemingly hates Stiles at first, but slowly, and insistently, becomes friends with him. As their friendship grows, Stiles starts to wonder if they could ever become something more or if pushing what they have will lead him to being alone for good.

Notes: Also very sweet! It's strangers to friends to lovers, and Stiles falls out of love with Lydia without even realizing because he's fallen in love with Derek. The Hales are alive in this one, yay! The way sterek bonds over music is also so good! It's completed.

10. Stupid Over You by Wolfspurr

It's a Friday night, and instead of enjoying any of the numerous things he'd rather be doing, Stiles has been roped into dinner with his dad at the Hale's. On the plus side, Derek Hale will be there. On the minus side, Derek Hale will be there, and Stiles already has a hard enough time not making an ass of himself in front of the hottest guy in school. There's no way this can end well.

Notes: Overall amazing fic! Stiles is his oblivious awkward self that we all know and love, Derek is completely smitten with him. All this wrapped up in a dinner with the Hales and the Stilinskis. That's it, that's the fic. It's completed.

11. Six Minutes by CosmoKid

“What do you want?” Derek practically grows when Stiles is near enough to hear. He can definitely feel the werewolf vibes coming from the guy as well as the fuck off vibes that roll off him in tsunami-sized waves. Stiles has one thing he needs to say to Derek, but he also has eight million questions to ask him about the werewolf thing and he can barely sort out his thoughts as it is, let alone when there’s a ridiculously attractive werewolf who’s basically Adonis staring at him. Derek takes another drag of his cigarette and raises his eyebrows at Stiles expectantly. He shivers and blurts out, “Six minutes.” That makes Derek smirk, but it’s so condescending that even Harris would be impressed. “No offense, Kitten,” Derek starts and Stiles just narrows his eyes at the nickname. Derek keeps his eyes trained on Stiles as if to dare him to challenge the nickname. Stiles bites his tongue and resists it. “But you’re not really my type.”

Notes: This is not your typical high school au, but it's a nice change of pace. It's got werewolves, which we love, and bad boy Derek. Stiles stood no chances lol. It's completed.

12. The covalent bonds series by HaldFizzbin

Awkward Nerd Derek has been crushing on Handsome Jock Stiles since forever—so getting paired with him on a Chemistry project is definitely the best/worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Notes: I went on a little Nerd!Derek and Jock!Stiles fixation the other day so here we have it. Derek is awkward and funny and insecure and we love him. Stiles is Stiles, and he's awesome. The series is not finished, but all the parts of the series are complete.

13. It's Always Been You, Dumbass by stilinskisparkles

“Alright, cool, we should go,” Stiles says breezily, dusting off his hands as he stands. “We should?” “Yeah!” “But… Do you even care about photography?” “Not as much as I should,” Stiles plants both his hands on the table, bracketing Derek in, “You’ll have to correct my miscreant ways.”

Notes: Stiles is helplessly pining, Derek is painfully oblivious and the absolute last to find out. Somehow, they still go on like three dates together. It's pretty great, and it's completed.

14. can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time? by whirl

There's something strange about Beacon Hills. Stiles can't really put his finger on it, but the way certain classmates look at him at school and the way certain adults look at him in the grocery store has him curious. And it's not the sort of pitying looks that his mom's coworkers used to give him, but these ones are longer, more searching, like they're looking for something. Not to mention the weird noises that sometimes come from the woods when he runs, too human to be animal and too animal to be human. Plus the way the Hales have seemed to sequester themselves to the wild and give Stiles serious Cullen family vibes. But Stiles, like everyone else apparently, ignores it. Until it becomes too great to ignore and he has to investigate for himself and find out what is actually going on in Beacon Hills. +++ Or, the one where Stiles and Derek meet, hate each other, slowly get to know one another, and fall totally head over heels for each other all while avoiding curious classmates, an angry ex-girlfriend, and, oh yeah, imminent death.

Notes: This one is kinda crazy but in a good way! It's 120k words long so be prepared for that, and Stiles finds out about werewolves. Derek, pookie, I'm rooting for you all the way! Also Cora, my beloved. I adore her. Stiles is pretty confused all the time for a while there. It's completed.

15. scary stories and roasted goods by graveltotempo

“I have more, you know?” grumbled Jackson, clearing his throat. “Okay, fine. Here’s another; a man goes is staying at a hotel for the weekend. On his way to his room, he notices a door with no number on it-” “An albino woman with white skin and red eyes committed suicide in that room years ago,” finished Erica, inspecting her nails with a smirk. “We know that too.” “A babysitter goes to put two children to sleep in their room and notices a large creepy clown statue in the corner-” he tried again. “Get out of the house, we don’t have a clown statue,” said Allison, tried to hide a laugh at the flustered expression on Jackson’s face. “Two roommates in a room. Sarah says that she wants to go to a party and Mary wants to stay home-” “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn the lights on?” said Derek, and Stiles laughed, looking at him with sparkling eyes. OR the cheerleading squad, the lacrosse team and the basketball team go camping.

Notes: Another cheerleader!Stiles and Jock!Derek. I love them your honor. It's all very sweet and Derek pines as he ought to do lol. Don't worry, there's light at the end of the tunnel. It's completed.

That's all I have for this one. I probably have more in my TBR but I guess we'll find out. If I ever get there. My sterek TBR only ever grows and I never seem to be able to finish fics as fast as I find them lol. Hope you guys like these!

[gravitycavity]

Sunshine (Pomni x Ragatha) Chapter 7 - Only Human

[Click here to read from the beginning on AO3!]

Cover art by @blukiar

A thin ribbon of carpet, stretching just as far into infinity as the narrow corridor itself, explored distant depths soaked in darkness. A never-ending chain of chandeliers spanned the ceiling, cracked bulbs flickering in and out as they pleased. The experience was disorienting, to say the least — cruel and unusual torture, to say a little bit more. 

There was but a single source of reliable light in the entire hallway: the unassuming windows staged on the eastern wall in neat little quintets. Each glass-paned portal hosted a pair of tattered curtains that fluttered carelessly with the rhythm of the wind. 

Assorted furniture was scattered along the periphery, breaking up the tiring monotony of it all. An odd, uncanny energy surrounded their existence. Nothing besides the occasional lamp was mounted upon the dust-caked tables, and only a handful of random knick-knacks found home on the bookshelves. Nothing seemed to be placed with any thought or purpose in mind, as if something non-human were desperately attempting to construct a convincing facsimile of a sprawling Edwardian mansion, but couldn’t quite get it right. It understood what to place, and where — but the why it couldn’t fully grasp. 

The subtle horror made Ragatha’s insides quiver — but, all told, it could have been worse. At the very least, she was here in Pomni’s arms, where the chilling bite of the unknown was soothed by the warm glow of her touch, where the steady rhythm of Pomni’s footfalls wrapped her up in a blanket of sameness and security. 

Step, step, step. 

Ragatha snuggled Pomni’s chest, her head positioned perfectly to hear the rhythm of the young woman’s heartbeat. It was racing. Pomni must have been so tired, so exhausted, so ready to collapse in a heap and call it quits. But instead, she persisted, pushing her body and mind to the absolute limit. All for Ragatha’s sake. 

The plain little ragdoll closed her eyes. She pulled deep, contented breaths from her core, pressing her forehead firmly against the jester’s chest. If only this adventure could go on forever. If only she and Pomni could remain just like this — a helpless princess and her dashing savior — until the day they finally escaped into the outside world, hand-in-hand.

Step, step, step.

Pomni passed by another quintet of windows. Ragatha shivered as a chilly draft snuck through a crack in the glass pane. Its whistling entrance, performing in duet with the tittering of bats, chipped the unbroken facade of silence. 

“Hey. Pomni…?” 

The jester kept on moving, but her stride was a touch closer to walking than it had been before. Her gaze flicked towards her chest — or rather, the big bundle of red yarn resting snugly against it. “Yeah? What’s up?” 

“I’ve just been thinking,” Ragatha’s finger teased little circles around Pomni’s back, “what are we going to get up to when this is all over?”

Pomni hesitated. “When we escape the Circus?”

“When this adventure is over.”

“Oh. W-Well, uh…” Pomni cleared her throat, “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well, I happen to have a few ideas up my sleeve…” Ragatha smirked. It was difficult not to swoon, or snicker, or let out one of those satisfied sighs that relieved the pressure built up by a love-swollen heart. “Since we’re so…close now, why don’t I show you around my bedroom? We could have a sleepover, just you and me. Does that sound fun?”

“Um…!” Pomni’s whole body turned five degrees warmer. “S-Sure! Uh. Yeah! Okay! That could be, uh, f-f-fun…”

“You have those big letter blocks in your room, don’t you?”

“Uh. Yes…?”

“Do you use them for anything?”

“Huh? Well, no. Not really.” 

“Are they heavy?”

“Pretty heavy,” Pomni replied, squinting. She glanced down, meeting Ragatha’s flirtatious gaze, “Why are you asking me this?”

“Well, I was just thinking. Maybe you could lend me some?”

“For what?”

“Well, we’re going to need something to block the door, won’t we?”

Pomni squeaked, pale face flushing red. “Huh!? U-Um…!”

“In fact…” Ragatha grabbed Pomni’s tunic and leaned in closer. A distinct hunger roared within her, begging to be sated. “I never got to finish my lesson, did I? What if you got in a little more practice before that?”

“More…practice?”

“Mhm…”

“A-Are you serious…?”

Ragatha practically purred. “Deadly.” 

“Well, uh…” Pomni subtly leaned away, “...now doesn’t really seem like a good time, does it? We’re going to fail the mission if we don’t keep moving — and besides, we’ve got to keep our guard up for whatever it is that’s hiding in this hallway. Remember what that weird ghost lady told us?

“Hmm?” Ragatha pouted. “Oh, come on. Just one quick kiss?”

Pomni sighed. “No, Ragatha.”

Ragatha’s steady breathing lagged; the unflinching seriousness of Pomni’s tone slammed into her like a runaway train. Her plush heart shriveled, and her stitched-on eyebrows crinkled in confusion. Uh-oh. Oh, god. She didn’t mean to…!

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart,” Ragatha cocked her head, “I thought we were just playing around — I didn’t mean to pressure you. We’re not moving too fast, are we?”  

Pomni’s steady stride slowed to a halt. Her eyes brooded pensively at the floor, watching the hard sole of her boot rap softly against the carpet below. 

“No. It’s…fine,” Pomni eventually replied, “We can kiss if you want.”

“If I want to!? Do you want to?”

“I…” Pomni swallowed. “...Well, duh! You’re literally the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. What kind of idiot wouldn’t want to kiss you?”

“Pomni.” Ragatha deadpanned. The flattery tactic wasn’t going to work. “Be honest.”

“I am being honest!”

“Please. I can tell something’s bothering you—”

Out of nowhere, Pomni shoved her lips against Ragatha’s, decisively shutting the dolly up. She tore away the very next moment.

“There’s your kiss. Happy?” Pomni grit her teeth, glaring down the hallway. She sulked into the dark depths with aplomb.

“Pomni! What’s gotten into you?!”

“What’s gotten into me? We have less than an hour before this whole adventure falls apart with us stuck inside it! That’s what’s gotten into me!”  

Ragatha narrowed her eyes. She was the farthest thing from naive — not when it came to matters of the heart. Pomni had started acting noticeably off ever since they’d shared their first kiss, and Ragatha wasn’t going to just stand by without at least trying to get to the bottom of it, time limits be damned. 

“Pomni,” said Ragatha, “put me down.”

“What? You’re not serious, are you?!”

“We’re not in high school, Pomni — something’s going on, and we’re going to talk about it. Like adults.”

Pomni grumbled under her breath. Rolling her eyes, she started toward one of the many overzealous couches placed periodically along the walls — the tacky type with legs carved into the shape of animal paws. 

Gently, Pomni did as Ragatha asked, setting the ragdoll down on the silky cushions. Despite her less-than-peachy mood, she still took extra care to make sure Ragatha’s weight was well-centered, and that her shoulders were propped up nicely against the backrest — lest Ragatha end up sliding off and flopping helplessly to the ground. 

“That’s perfect, Sweetheart. Thank you.” Ragatha shifted around, settling into her seat. She looked Pomni in the eyes and patted the empty spot beside her. 

Pomni plopped down with a huff. Like a troublemaking kid stuck in the principal’s office, she crossed her arms tightly, flashing her boots a dirty look. 

“Now, if it’s alright with you…” Ragatha exhaled, hands politely nestled in the lap of her royal dress, “Tell me what’s bothering you. I’m here to listen.”

Pomni’s tightly-wound posture compressed even further. “I just…” she squirmed, making an indecisive sound that drifted back and forth between a guttural groan and a high-pitched whine. “You and me…!”

She shook her head. She flexed her soles against the carpet. She squeezed the century-old, crumbling stuffing out of the century-old, crumbling couch cushions, until…

“I just don’t get it!” Pomni snapped, “Why would someone like you want anything to do with someone like me?”

Ragatha sat up. “H-Huh!?” 

Pomni’s wilting eyes wandered about Ragatha’s body, settling on the freshest injury slashed across the ragdoll’s torso. “You’ve shown me so much kindness. You’ve protected me, you’ve made me smile, you’ve been a friend when I needed one,” Pomni sighed. Her glowering gaze retreated to the floor.  “Meanwhile, I can’t even keep a simple promise to keep you safe.”

“Keep me safe? What—” Ragatha swatted her hand over the winding tear, “—you’re talking about this? Oh, Pomni! So I tore myself up a little! It isn’t—”

“Isn’t my fault? Give me a break — I’m not stupid!” Pomni fanned her fingers across her chest, “You hurting yourself would never have happened if I hadn’t flipped my lid earlier! I don’t get it, Ragatha — why are you so afraid to stand up for yourself?”

“Pomni!” 

“Why would you forgive me after everything I’ve put you through? Why would you kiss me?” Pomni bared her teeth, eyes jumping from bad, to worse, to awful as she regarded the clumps of cotton bulging out of the broken ragdoll. “How do you not despise me?”

Stunned into silence, Ragatha placed her hand over her throat. She could feel it tightening, strangling her from the inside. 

All was quiet. 

For the longest time, Pomni just sat there, rocking back and forth, stewing in the dreadful silence. And when she finally did open her mouth to reply, she flinched as if the reedy sound of her own voice had caught her off-guard:

“Ragatha…?” she croaked, “Do you remember yesterday? When we stopped in that clearing, and that horrible tree monster attacked us?”

Ragatha’s face hardened. She nodded.

“When that…thing had me in its clutches, you didn’t run away. You fought for me. And you saved me.”

Ragatha stared at the shivering woman seated beside her. Now, it was her turn to bask in uncomfortable silence, racking her brain to think of something, anything she could possibly say. The uncertain silence stretched father, farther, farther, until she just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because. All this time,” Pomni wilted. “I’ve been wondering. Wondering why.”

“...Why I saved you?”

Pomni just barely eked out a nod. 

“I mean…do I really need a reason?” Ragatha couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “You didn’t expect me to just leave you behind, did you?”

White-hot shame simmered behind Pomni’s eyes. Head in her hands, she slumped closer to the floor, trembling voice peaking just above a whisper: “Did you expect me to…?” 

Ragatha snapped to attention, hand flattened against her chest. Pins and needles numbed the tips of her fingers.

So. This was it. 

Finally, they were talking about it.

Ragatha bastioned herself. She took a deep breath, and—

“You don’t have to make excuses for me,” Pomni croaked. She held her musketeer cap over her face, crumpling the wide brim beneath her fingers. “What I did to you…” her pupils retreated, “...it was awful. Just awful.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Ragatha shook her head. “For all of that crazy stuff to happen on your first day? Before you’d even had time to adjust? You were in shock. You were terrified.  It wouldn’t be fair to judge your actions based on—”

“How did you convince yourself that your feelings don’t matter?”

Ragatha’s face fell flat. “...Pardon?”

“I know you’re just trying to be kind. Because that’s the type of person you are,” Pomni said. “But…you need to stop.”

“St-Stop?”

“I hurt you. How do you expect to heal if all we do is dance around it?”

“I…” Ragatha’s mouth slowly shut. She felt utterly transparent — and in the span of a single second, the mental house of cards that she had so carefully constructed for years came crashing down in a big, fluttering heap. 

‘How did you convince yourself that your feelings don’t matter?’ Pomni’s blunt words ricocheted off the walls of her mind. ‘How do you expect to heal if all we do is dance around it?‘

Ragatha wilted. She didn’t know the answer.

She was so accustomed to being the first one to offer a supportive ear, the first one to provide a firm shoulder to cry on, that her own feelings had long ago been exiled to a dusty, long-forgotten corner of her mind. 

Like everyone else, she wanted nothing more than to escape the digital insanity ward she found herself trapped in — but she wasn’t naive enough to believe that desire was anything more than a pipe dream. For now, and maybe forever, her weird little found family of co-prisoners was all she had. And she knew it.

So she had to keep the peace. She had to be the neutral voice of reason, the rock solid foundation that kept everyone bound together — and that balancing act alone was taxing enough. Why in the world would she want to foil that precarious peace with her own petty problems?

But it was…fine. It was. Ragatha had always been good at regulating her own emotions. All she had to do was bury any bothersome thoughts beneath a heap of questionable excuses, paper-thin rationales, and half-baked half-truths until the pesky voices didn’t pester her so much anymore. And just look at her! She was fine. 

Totally fine. No problems here. Nope. 

Shakily, Ragatha swallowed. Her head slumped. Who was she kidding, lying to herself like this…? Why was it so difficult to just be honest about the burden she carried — the pain, the loneliness, the emotional isolation that weighed her down further each day? And why, after all these years, was she just now questioning all of this?

Her heart beat just a little bit faster. Her breathing picked up to match. Her eyes brimmed with tears as, out of nowhere, the obvious answer whisked through her mind:

No one had ever cared to ask. No one besides Pomni.

A cozy sense of safety embraced Ragatha’s heart. She didn’t care to turn away, or hide her face beneath her hands, or wipe away her rolling tears. It was okay to cry here. 

Her wandering, watery eyes heeded the disheveled nest of hat hair that adorned Pomni’s head. They admired the unrelenting dorkiness of the jester’s forced-on musketeer costume. They beheld, as if in a trance, a lovely pair of pinwheels bursting with one-thousand-and-one emotions at once. 

She smiled, warmly and earnestly. So this was what it felt like. To be cared for. 

“Okay then,” Ragatha spoke softly, forcing her mouth to take the shape of the words. She couldn’t help but squirm, tearing open the door on feelings that she’d already worked so hard to lock away. “I’m going to be very frank with you — because I trust you. And I know you trust me.”

Pomni cowered behind her crinkled cap, fingers carving crude lines across the rawhide brim. Her pupils retreated meekly toward the floor. 

Ragatha bit her lip. “Back on your first day, when you left me alone with Kaufmo? Yeah. That hurt. I was confused, and scared, and angry, and…” Ragatha swallowed, “...a-and…”

“And what…?

“And I came closer to losing myself than I ever had before.”

Pomni’s cap wrinkled beneath the jester’s tightened grip. “Wh-what!? You mean…?”

Every jumbled line of code that comprised Ragatha’s digital body shrieked at her to stop, to be a good girl, to shut her big mouth and stop causing drama. Nevertheless, she made her story heard. “I’m not that strong, Pomni,” she said, “I’m just good at hiding my weakness. Probably too good, to be honest…”

“But…but that doesn’t make sense! When I came back to you, your body was all glitchy and flickery — but you weren’t abstracting!”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about it. All of us have vastly different digital forms, — so, naturally, they abstract in vastly different ways, too. Whenever I feel myself slipping…” Another tear raced down Ragatha’s face at the thought. She crossed her bulky, dollish hands over her chest, “...it starts on the inside.”

Pomni lowered her cap to her chin, exposing her drooping face. “In your heart?”

Glancing away, Ragatha nodded. She stroked the back of her hand in a self-soothing gesture. “I could feel the threads fraying as soon as we opened Kaufmo’s door. The seams of my heart began to tear open, and this awful coldness spread throughout my body.”

“And…” Pomni hesitated, “...then I left you. All alone. And y-you almost…”

“Yeah. But, you know…” Ragatha met Pomni’s crinkled, shame-stricken gaze, and a smile — a real, genuine smile — put an end to her tears. “...I’m still here. Do you know why?”

“Well, I…” Pomni glanced here and there. Her hat sank further down to cover her chest. “Um…”

“You said it yourself, Sunshine,” Ragatha’s smile made itself comfortable, stretching wider and shining brighter. “You came back.”

 Pomni’s eyes were wide, “I...what?”

“You came back for me, Pomni.” Ragatha pressed her hands against her mouth; her grin grew and grew until it almost looked like she was laughing. “When I heard you plodding down the hall, worried sick, calling after me with that nasally little voice of yours—

“Nasally!?”

“Gosh, you sounded worried sick…” Ragatha giggled, taking Pomni’s hands into hers. “Pomni, just in the handful of days I’ve known you, you’ve proven yourself to be one of the most caring, most courageous, most selfless people I’ve ever met,” Ragatha said. Her thumb glided lovingly against the back of Pomni’s hand, “One mistake doesn’t change that.”

Pomni wasn’t looking back. Her chin quivered slightly, and her hands wriggled stubbornly in Ragatha’s grip.

“Didn’t anybody tell you what happened after that? After I went to find Caine?” Pomni sniffed. “I found a door. I tried to leave. I wasn’t thinking about anyone else except myself, and—” 

“And I forgive you.” Ragatha said. She felt the jester’s shuddering grip tighten around her hands. 

“I’m trying to forgive myself, too.” Pomni glowered at the winding constellations of slices, holes, and cuts wrapped all around Ragatha’s body. She studied their shape closely, her face warping further with every newly-discovered fray. “I’m trying as hard as I can to make up for the way I treated you, but no matter how hard I try, you keep getting hurt. And I just…” she sighed. “...I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could have saved you.”

Ragatha sighed, looking over Pomni’s hands. The poor girl was being so hard on herself — it hurt just to listen to.

Letting go, Ragatha reached into her pocket and produced a round, palm sized box. The transparent lid revealed its contents: A needle, several spools of thread, and a worn-out, heart-shaped pincushion. 

“I…what…?” Pomni blanched. She fastened her cap back on her head. “What is this…?”

Ragatha pressed the container into Pomni’s hands. “You tell me,” she said.

“A…sewing kit?” Pomni held the box up to her ear and gave it a light shake. The contents rattled around inside. “Wait a minute — you just had this on you the whole time?!”

“Uh, well…” Ragatha forced out an awkward laugh, “...kind of?”

“So I did all that work for nothing?!”

“Trust me. It wasn’t for nothing.” Ragatha winked. It was cruel — all she wanted to do was reach over and smother Pomni in a great big hug, but she knew that doing so would only strain her stitches. Confined to her half of the couch, Ragatha gazed pleadingly into Pomni’s eyes, tugging the woman’s arms toward herself with a look that said ‘please, come closer.’

In no time at all, Pomni acquiesced, letting herself be swept into Ragatha’s embrace. Ragatha draped her arms over Pomni’s rigid backside, and rested her forehead against hers. 

“Pomni,” she said, “if you really want to give this a shot, you have to know that one of us is going to screw something up sooner or later. We’re only human, after all, and if there’s one thing every human is good at, it’s #%@$ing up.”

Pomni flinched at the rare curse word out of Ragatha’s mouth — and, for the slightest moment, she even cracked a wary smile. “Yeah,” she snickered, rolling her forehead against the dolly’s. “that’s true…”

Ragatha smiled brighter. “But I know we’ll be okay. We’ll learn from our mistakes, and come out stronger on the other side. Because I love you, and if there’s one thing adventuring with you has taught me…” Ragatha closed Pomni’s fingers around the sewing kit, “...it’s that no matter what happens, we’ll always be there to put each other back together again.”

The kit’s plastic casing whined in Pomni’s ever-tightening grip. Pomni sat in stunned silence — but her tepid breath pounded against Ragatha’s neck just as before. Butterflies swooped and swirled in Ragatha’s stomach as Pomni’s hand combed through the dolly’s cherry-red curls — pinching, petting, rolling frayed twists between her fingers. 

“Ragatha…?”

“Hm?”

Pomni swallowed. “D-Did you just say…” Pomni’s fingers traced a jagged line across the stitched surface of Ragatha's cheek, “...you love me…?”

Ragatha shrugged, casual as could be, “I did, didn’t I?”

A big, stupid smile brightened Pomni’s face. “I—” she stammered, resting her weary head upon the ragdoll’s soft shoulder. “I—” she stuttered still, her weak, wavering voice crumbling to pieces. “I love you, too...”

Ragatha’s heart sang with pure joy. 

She let out a mirthful laugh, squeezing her darling as hard as she could. Pomni squeezed back, and all at once, a wonderful feeling of belonging — of finally returning home after having been away for so long — warmed the ragdoll from her very core.  

“My beautiful little ray of sunshine…” Ragatha spoke through a shuddering smile, running her hands through Pomni’s chestnut hair, breathing in her breathtaking essence. “...I love you with all of my—”

Regrettably — or perhaps not, depending on who you asked — there wasn’t much room for that kind of sentiment between the lines of the Circus’s cold, uncompromising code. Whether or not its players were soulmates, shared the same star sign, or called each other cute little pet names hardly mattered. This heart-pounding adventure was falling apart, and fast. 

Another savage quake shook the mansion’s decrepit foundation. Bricks, metal fittings, and chunks of rotten wood fell like rain. Noxious plumes of who-knows-what poured down from the ceiling. 

Ragatha and Pomni yelped in tandem. And it only got worse from there. 

Instinctively, Ragatha pointed her triangular nose toward the rumbling ceiling — but she did so just in time for a sizeable chunk of falling drywall to clonk her directly on the snout. She cried out, suddenly and sharply, from the dizzying pain. 

The abrupt noise caused Pomni, who still clung to Ragatha, to flinch and lose her balance. She tumbled off the sofa and onto the dirty floor, dragging a wincing Ragatha down with her. They landed in a heap — Ragatha on top, and Pomni squished below. 

All around, rattling chandeliers swung to and fro like crystal pendulums. Antique bookshelves teetered and tottered, vomiting their dusty contents onto the floor. A cavernous fissure split the ceiling with a bloodcurdling crack, spraying forth needles of splintered wood like lethal confetti. 

“R-R-Ragatha!” Pomni ground her teeth, hugging her girlfriend tightly. The back of her head paddled violently against the vibrating floor. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” she cringed in pain…

…but then, just as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling ceased. 

Pomni groaned, opening her eyes again. She blinked in the newfound peace, gawking at the woman laying precariously on top of her. Assorted debris coated the floor around the pair like a blanket of dirtied snow. 

“Oh my gosh! A-Are you—” Pomni hacked up a cloud of grimy dust, “— are you okay?”

“Aww. Look at you, all concerned for little old me,” Ragatha pecked Pomni’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m made of cotton. I’ve walked away from way nastier falls than that.” 

“Oh! Yeah. Right,” Pomni blushed. “I keep forgetting we aren’t exactly human anymore...”

“You’re cute.” Ragatha said with a freehearted giggle. She admired her partner’s dorky little hat, the brim of which was entirely covered in grimy mansion-dust. To be fair, though, her own hair likely didn’t fare any better — a fact which Pomni would confirm a moment later:

“Uh…by the way,” Pomni pointed to the left side of her head. “You’ve got a little something here.” 

“Oh, really? A little something?”

“Yeah. And also…” Pomni’s finger jumped around her head, “...here. And here, and here…”

 “Gosh, that’s an awful lot of ‘little somethings’...” Ragatha giggled. “To tell you the truth, you’ve also got something here,” she pointed to one side of her head, “and here. And…”

Ragatha’s voice trailed off. Deliberately, she lowered her head, eyes narrowing. 

The bank of dust atop Pomni’s musketeer cap was…moving. Spinning. All on its own.  Around and around, the miniscule particles ran an endless circuit around the cured leather brim, slowly drifting upward with each completed lap. Before long, the spinning particles had formed an upside-down cone shape — a tiny tornado of dust. Atop Pomni’s head. 

What in the world…? 

Ragatha could only stare, her mouth ajar. She watched through squinting eyes as the vortex grew tighter and taller, bending with purpose the way a blooming flower reached for the sun. She knew she ought to be used to this sort of nonsense by now, but miraculously, the deranged parade of oddities she encountered every day still managed to confound her, even after all these years. At least Jax wasn’t around to chide her for the stupid look on her face. 

“Uh, hellooo? Are you even listening!?” Pomni waved her hand in front of Ragatha’s face, derailing the redhead’s racing train of thought. “What are you staring at?”

Snapped back into the real world — or, at least, a convincing facsimile thereof — Ragatha’s gaze settled on Pomni. Words failed her, and so, she simply pointed.  

With a bewildered blink, Pomni’s eyes followed the slight downward curve of Ragatha’s finger. The jester’s shuddering gaze inched down the corridor, following the length of the swirling vortex until, at last, the anomaly disappeared into the distant darkness. 

Pomni balked, rubbing her eyes. “The #@$% is that…?”

And it only got weirder from there. 

A second whirlwind — sourced from a pile of debris on a nearby bookshelf — formed in the same way. It stretched down the corridor, fading into the pitch black just like its predecessor. A third, made from the dust coating a palisade of pulverized paintings, came next. A fourth followed suit, then a fifth, a seventh, a tenth, a twentieth — until the vast network of swirling arteries was far too numerous to count. 

Though difficult to make out in the dark, the endpoint of each vortex intersected at a single, unified point. There, an amorphous, filthy cloud began to form. It swelled larger — and larger, and larger — inhaling each and every speck of filth that had accumulated in the hallway. Then, like a mound of clay molded by supernatural hands, the cloud’s shapeless form gradually began to define itself:

A snaking, trunk-like body, made up of dozens of interlocking segments. A pair of gaunt, twitching appendages flanked each of these sections, sprouting one after the next like an infestation of wriggling weeds. A final segment, sporting two nasty spikes, capped off the end. A set of peering eyes, gnashing pincers, and twitching antennae distinguished the head. 

Ragatha whimpered, shrinking away from her worst nightmares made manifest.

It was a centipede. Filth and disease incarnate. A grotesque, fetid creature from hell, standing one foot taller than her and extending longer than her eyes could even perceive. 

The dolly’s patchwork heart seized within her chest. Jittering, black spots infested her blurring vision, dancing without a care as the narrow walls of the haunted corridor closed in. 

The hall was spotless now; every last speck of dust and debris had been funneled into the beast’s frightening form. And so, with its formation complete, the creature came to life.

“P-Pomni…!” Ragatha gasped, roughly clutching her chest. Something had snapped. Something inside of her. No. No, no, no, no, no. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. 

The centipede turned. Snap. 

The centipede cocked its head. Snap. 

The centipede creeped closer, and closer, and closer still, its long, slender legs chattering loudly against the floor. Snap. Snap. Snap.

“Pomni! P-Please…!”

The fragile seams of Ragatha’s heart popped one-by one, stretched out to their absolute limit. A cold, barren sensation slithered out of the organ with every stuttering pump, numbing all that dared to touch its toxic essence.

///

My Ko-fi - Tips are very much appreciated! :)

[First Chapter] [Next Chapter - Coming soon!]

*dies of exhaustion on top of keyboard*

[kaciebello]

One egg as the other

Masterlist Chris Rodriguez x Hades! reader (platonic) Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, mentioned) Summary: Chris visits one of his favorite campers, purely just to annoy them. Warning: Insults( nothing mean, just banter), no use of y/n, fem, sibling relationship written by an only child author note: Since someone said I should write more of them, hope I did you justice my guy. English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) word count: 1,1k

Chris busts the door open, not even bothering to knock. Normally he would have, but he had seen Luke just seconds ago helping some kids with their swords. He knew there was no danger in the room. Expect the Hades girl, but she posed no real danger to him.

“WAKE UP!” He yelled and walked in like he owned the place. The girl, who was standing near her table, turned around and looked at him confused.

“It's noon, we've seen each other at breakfast.” She said, turning her whole body to him and leaning on the table. He takes long steps toward her. His remark is dead when he sees what is lying on the table. There, under a heating lamp, were half a dozen eggs.

“Aw did you lay all of those? I'm so proud of you.” He says and pats the girl on her shoulder. Making sure she knows she did a good job. She shrugs his hand off

“Choke.”

“I rather not.” He says leaning closer to the eggs. He sees some markings on them. Turning to her, with no words he just pointed to the eggs. She sighs and gets up, walking to her bed to look for something in her bag.

“Goose eggs, some aphrodite kids gave them to me as a thank you for giving them scar cream.” She says, setting the bag aside and walking to the door. Crish gave one last glance at the eggs before following her.

He walked downstairs and into the medic room where she was now making sure the bed was tidy. Fluffing up the pillows and straightening the blanket.

“So what's on the agenda today?” He asks and sneaks behind her. Narrowly avoiding her as she walked away to grab the clipboard.

“ I am supposed to find what medicine we're running low on and report to Chiron, you are supposed to be with Luke, and if I'm not mistaken you're not at archery practice.” She says turning to him, only to see the way lying on the bed she just made. She gave him a death stare and he just gave her a wide grin.

“I will cheat physics and slam you through the wall if you don't shut up.” She said. His smile did not drop as he sat on the bed.

“How do you know my schedule? Stalker much?” He says and slicks his hair back.

“I know Luke's schedule, considering you follow his like a lost puppy, i have a pretty good idea of yours.” Crash just huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. He would say some remark. He should say some remark, but sadly nothing was coming to his mind.

“I didn't know you and Luke were like that.” He says at the end. The girl just gives him a pointer look. Just as he was about to defend himself, it was like the Bloody Mary or Beetlejuice came to life themselves.

 In walks Luke, his stride unbroken, with a smile that could be seen from miles away. Seems like they have said his name too many times.

Cris goes unnoticed by him, as his only goal is the Hades girl. When he reaches her, he grabs her by the shoulders, tips her back, and delivers the nastiest kiss Cris has ever seen. When he flips them back up again, Luke his face to him. He mumbles something to the girl. Before she could tell him they were not alone, Chris acts.

“EEEEEEWWWW.” Luke's eyes snap to him and he goes instantly red. Chris makes gagging sounds, almost making it sound like he is physically sick. Luke looks so startled he just smiles at the girl before bolting out.

“Why do you always do this stuff around me!” Chris cries out. She just turns to him with a death glare again.

“Why are you always around when we do this stuff?”

“Nah because, ya down bad!”

“You're down bad for Clarrise!” She argues back. Chris gives her an offended look.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-uh!”

Their banter went back and forth. At some point, Percy showed up at the house but quickly turned around at the door when he heard them. 

“What do you even want here?” She asked, he had to be here for something. She very much believed that Luke would let him slack off of practice.

“Oh yeah! I was kinda stabbed.” He says, turning his arm to the girl. It was obvious that his stab wound was just a scratch that wasn't even bleeding. Scab already formed on in. Nothing that the Apollo kids would even look at. She tugged his arm hard to her. Inspecting the wound.

She clicks her tongue and lets it go. Before turning around and going to her box of band-aids. fishing out one with Hello Kitty she makes her way back to him and places it on the scratch.

“Hey, I wanted the one with Spiderman.” He says looking at the bright pink bandaid on his arm. Anyone could see it. He wanted nobody to see it. She made sure that everybody saw it.

“Get out.” She says to him. He didn't even argue, his eyes glued to the bainaid. When he tried to take it off, it was like it was glued to his skin.

“What have you done?” He asked her, still trying to scřratch it off. She just smiled and pointed to the door.

“Nothing princess, now get out.” She was now pushing him out. He made sure to dig his heel into the ground to make it harder for her. When he got to the door he stopped. He stepped over the threshold and she sighed out of relive. She celebrated her victory too early tho. 

“Don't worry, Clarisse will dig it.” Just like that, Chris jumped back and grabbed the girl in a headlock. She yelped and tried to wiggle herself out. He made sure to mess up her hair into a bird's nest. When he was done he let her go. She stairgtens and gasps for air. He glances at her.

“Look, the eggs have somewhere to sleep now.” With that, he sprints away. The furthest he can get from the girl that can cause sudden death just by thinking about it. He made sure to yell that one egg should be named after him. He was sure if she had one right now, it would end somewhere near his head, if not hitting it spot on.

[mudandmire]

Contrasts

Azris Week - Day One: Contrasts

~~~ Hello hello! I found the Azris ship and the community this year and have absolutely been consumed by it. I love this idea, I love these two characters, and I love that there's so much potential between them and for them to feed and inspire such a wonderful community. I've never participated in the acotar fandom apart from this, and I'm so excited! Thank you so much to @azrisweek for putting together this event, I have had so much fun letting my brain run free like a dog off a leash with these prompts :D ~~~

Tell me

Azriel calls him tatlım, and Eris doesn’t know what it means.

It’s a secret, he supposes he can accept it—relate to it. Nooks and hidden corners itch and snarl with the weight of his own. An enchanted drawer he keeps in the washroom holds his greatest wonder and his greatest shame.

The journal weighs heavy in Eris’s mind. He traces back the parchment pages with intangible fingers during lulls in his father’s council meetings. The drone of bees, lazy and fat in the afternoon sun becomes the hushed whisper of a canyon gale through dried grass. The lines he inks, stroke by stroke, Azriel matches in full, thrumming strides. Words next to his are clean, unbroken, while Azriel’s remain thick, written in charcoal with smudges at the corners from where his fist has run over the line.

When it’s dark, a time when even shadows cannot creep and loom larger, Eris presses his own fingertips to those words. The smears of charcoal because Azriel had told him early on in their budding friendship when they were young that he can’t use quills.

“They're too thin, my hands shake too much.” A smaller version of Azriel speaks the memory into his mind. The whorls and pockmarks on his hands hidden between the gap of his thighs.

Eris had taken it as a challenge—and now he revels in it. Azriel is messy with his charcoal pencil, too free with his mistakes and smudges and it leaves Eris half a country away and entirely breathless.

‘Tell me what bothers you, tatlım.’ Azriel had written him earlier, the familiar scrawl of his heavy hand appearing stroke by stroke in the filled pages of Eris’s enchanted journal.

Two were made, Eris gave one away. He could not bring himself to regret it even if his life were on the line.

‘Tatlım?’ Eris had asked, his letters looped and coiled together in the way they get when he rushes, when he needs answers.

There was no sound save for Eris’s own steady pulse, the whistle of air through his nose as he waited for a response. And yet he could’ve swore he heard Azriel’s laugh, the breathy one, brush against the point of his ear.

The words appear in the space between one breath and the next: ‘Maybe one day, gach’lilit, I will tell you. For now, stop avoiding my prying.’

Eris places a hand on the rise of his chest. Holding in something that seems to be rising from his stomach to his throat and lands gently on his tongue like the orange and black patterned butterflies in the garden.

‘Tell me now,’ he begs, ‘and I will tell you whatever you wish, Azriel.’

‘Come back to visit me, sweetheart. That’s all I ask.’

It had formed a pause in their effortless back and forth. Eris wanted to—Azriel knew that. No, the issue wasn’t in Azriel’s plea, he knew just how much Eris longed for the little village in the Illyrian steppes. The stable in the field and the small, knobby kneed, black lamb that follows Azriel around like ducklings in the Forest House pond in spring. He misses the creeping, ruby red moss and the yellow and sage aspens that crop up from out of the golden plains like the jagged teeth of a cliff.

Most of all, most desperately of all, he misses Azriel. There is not one inch of his soul that doesn’t.

The inked tip of his quill hangs over the page, a knife poised for the final push. Through skin, muscle, bone, to the heart of everything—the rot that waits, festering under the floorboards of his adamant desire to run. It is one thing; it is also a collection of things Eris has stored like the most gruesome of trinkets, the most harrowing of trophies.

Because Azriel calls him sweetheart. He writes in his tongue letters of longing and punctuates them with words like tatlım, and gach’lilit. As much as Eris wants to stitch those given titles to his chest, he already has one.

Eris Vanserra. Heir of Fire. Son of Autumn.

Sweetheart. Tatlım. Gach’lilit.

He cannot have both. The heir who wears the crown, who feels it’s golden spiked thorns pierce the thin skin of his head knows this. Eris Vanserra was not born with room on his chest for titles other than this: his father’s son.

When his quill meets the page, a heaviness in his hand that wasn’t previously there, he knows Azriel already knows what he will write.

‘Soon,’ he lies, ‘when the festival of the summer sun comes, I’ll visit.' Eris Vanserra cannot flaunt about the wilds of the Night Court without purpose or reason. Even less if the hint of the reason is his desire to see an Illyrian male—but he can set out on inter-court business to strengthen alliances, break down information, and gather intel. Eris Vanserra cannot winnow straight from the quilts of his bed into the hay-strewn floor of Azriel’s stable.

No matter how much he wants to.

His chest pinches, a sharp point digging into the sensitive skin between his ribs when Azriel takes a minute longer to reply. The page remaining horribly empty with their spare words, their delicate dance.

‘Then I will just have to hold onto these words a little longer, besheirt. I wish for you to hear them in person, for they are as sacred to me as you are.’

Something cracks, folds then splinters and out pours a smile like evening sunlight through the painted colors of autumn leaves in the canopy. The tension building in his shoulders leaks down and pools around his feet, an unwanted puddle he completely forgets about. Eris may be an heir, a son of autumn, and child of a loveless, forced marriage; but he is also sacred. Something holy and divine by only the rights of Azriel, and Azriel alone.

Eris has his titles. The stitched corners of his heart taken up piece by piece, but he will forever play the game of keeping himself in between the two if it will let him keep Azriel.

He has his own titles to give him.

~~///~~///~~///~~

(Key for words:)

Tatlım - ‘Sweetheart’

Gach’lilit - ‘Firefly’

Besheirt - ‘Notion of a soul mate, but mostly means Intended in terms of spouse’

aH. Alright okay cool I'm so normal about them. This is a short little thing, and it doesn't follow canon lore lol sorry about that. I really loved the idea of contrasts because for me it's what first drew me to this pairing. At first it seemed like there were too many contrasts for them to even be compatible, and then through softening my perspective of both of these characters and their flaws (and no small amount of delusion in which we merely squint from afar at SJMs portrayal of these characters) I found that maybe these contrasts actually enhance their chemistry. what crazy imagine that.

[deadlynavigation]

A Night At The Inn

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Light stalking, mention of gangs, only one bed

Author's Note: what even is season 2

Do not copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works or their assets.

It’s a quiet night in Ketterdam.

Well- as quiet as it can be.

The occasional gunshot goes off, shocking the night air with the sharp noise. Drunk exclamations bounce off the cobblestones. And on the edge of it all, waves lap at their shores, washing away any trace of the day with murky saltwater.

This air, this atmosphere, is unbroken. It’s free to control the Barrel, free to control all of Ketterdam.

But like most things, its control is corrupted.

A pair of criminals stroll through the city, inviting an aura of tension that smothers the calm. The man seems anxious, his face set in a deep grimace. His steps seem uneven; perhaps a worry-induced tilt. The woman follows him closely behind, blending into the night as she drifts down the streets. However, she too is weighed down by an anxious air, her steps losing some of their stealth as she slowly gets swallowed by panic.

Meanwhile, a group of burly men take up the street behind the two. They’re dangerous-looking, the type to go after anyone who does them wrong. Gang members, too, if the matching tattoos on their necks say anything.

As they stalk closer to the pair, the woman turns to the limping man. He says nothing, only glancing swiftly back at her and picking up the pace. This does little to soothe her nerves. She glares at him, murmuring a worried statement while trying to gauge just how long they have before the gang reaches them.

He glares back, and after a minute of this staring contest, he nods sharply at an inn just down the street.

“Thank you,” she whispers. The man doesn’t say anything, opting to simply duck into the inn. She sighs, following him in.

They walk quickly towards the clerk situated in front of a cluttered desk. “One room.” Kaz Brekker stands in front of the desk, demanding and intimidating. His voice, though soft, instantly sends the clerk into a fearful state.

“O-of course, sir,” He responds, shuffling through the mess of documents for an available room number. After a moment of awkward sorting, he looks back up at the pair, holding a semi-rusted key out to them with shaky hands.

“Room 107 for the night. U-um, and the walls are thin, a-and you have neighbors-”

Kaz cuts the clerk off before he can finish insinuating anything that may make the woman next to him uncomfortable.

“Keep quiet about this, or next week you’ll wake to your family’s corpses surrounding you, their blood coating your bed. And your daughter- Anya, was it? Will be the first to go.”

The clerk’s face pales significantly. Kaz snatches the key from him, walking towards the stairs. The woman, Y/n L/n, once again follows Kaz, ascending the stairs with a deadly grace.

“They’ll still be after us in the morning, Kaz. This doesn’t change that.” She whispers.

“But it keeps them away from the Slat.” Kaz says, focusing on getting up the stairs without putting his leg in too much pain. Finally, he reaches the last step, turning onto the floor with a slight wince. She, of course, picks up on this.

“Your leg.” Y/n points out.

“It’s fine.” He asserts, effectively ending the conversation. She narrows her eyes before letting it go, stopping once she reaches Room 107.

Kaz fits the key into the door, unlocking it before entering the room. Y/n strides in as well, closing and locking the door behind her. The room is silent after that, the only sounds made by Kaz getting ready for bed. He removes his gloves, then strips out of his coat and shirt, stepping up to the large bowl of water to wash off what his cruelty can’t.

Y/n steals a glance at Kaz’s bare torso, watching his every move for a minute before shaking off her light blush and moving to the empty dresser. She drops her extra layers on it before moving to where Kaz still stands, unbuttoning her shirt as she walks.

It doesn’t escape her notice that Kaz’s eyes dart to her exposed skin before he remembers himself.

She washes Ketterdam’s filth off of her quickly, staying a comfortable distance away from Kaz. Once they’re both finished, they retreat back to the bed, ready to collapse after the long day. Before that can happen, though, Y/n places a small knife on the chipped bedside table. Kaz follows suit, laying his cane against the bed frame.

“Pick your side.” Kaz states. Y/n looks over at him, confusion knitting her brows. She would have never thought Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, would care for her bedroom preferences.

“I don’t have a preferred side of the bed.” She lies.

Kaz pins her with a disbelieving glance, then moves his dark eyes back towards the bed expectantly. He wants an answer - that much is clear.

“...I’ll take the left.”

Minutes later, the two are in bed, shuffling around until each finds a comfortable position. The lights are out now, the streets outside the inn are quiet, and the blankets are at just the right angle where it isn’t too cold or too hot or too bunched to be of any use. It’s not long before Y/n and Kaz are facing each other, both half-asleep.

“Y/n,” Kaz whispers into the night. He squeezes his eyes shut right after, bracing himself for what he’s about to do.

It takes a minute for her to respond, breaking out of the sleepy haze. “Yeah, Kaz?”

“...” Kaz stops, breathing in deeply. He decides against words, opting instead to reach his hand out to her side of the bed.

Y/n watches his every movement. “Kaz, it’s been a long day. Are you sur-”

“I know.” He breathes in once more. “I want this.”

“Ok,” And all sounds fade away, leaving only the silence of the night to reign.

Slowly, slowly, Kaz’s hand extends to hers. She leaves her own open and still, waiting to greet him.

He slides his hand into her palm, and the world stops. Then he wraps his fingers around her hand, squeezing ever so slightly before relaxing into a loose grip.

“Good night, Kaz.” Y/n murmurs.

“Night,” Kaz breathes.

Their hands stay in each other’s hold until morning.

(Navigation)

[estellan0vella]

Attention ❀ Ino (Requested) Masterlist

The late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. You sit cross-legged on the plush carpet, flipping through the pages of a magazine, occasionally glancing up at Ino.

He's seated at the desk by the window, immersed in what looks like a complicated blueprint, his brow furrowed in concentration. The sight makes you smile; he's always so focused when it comes to his work.

After a while, though, you start to feel a little neglected. It’s been hours since you two have had a proper conversation, and you miss his voice, his touch, his attention. You try to distract yourself with your magazine, but it’s no use. You want him to pay attention to you.

An idea pops into your head, and you decide to put it into action. Quietly, you get up and tiptoe towards him, grabbing a few sheets of paper from the printer on the way. You crumple one into a ball and toss it gently at him. It bounces off his shoulder and lands on the desk, but he doesn’t look up.

“Inooo,” you sing softly, dragging out his name in a playful whine. “Pay attention to me.”

The crumpled paper ball hits Ino's shoulder, but he remains fixed on his work, his concentration unbroken. You try again, this time with a slightly larger ball of paper, aiming for the back of his head. It hits its target with a soft thud, but still, he doesn't react. Determined to capture his attention, you gather up a handful of paper balls and start pelting them at him one by one, each one landing with a soft rustle on his desk or chair.

“Inoooo,” you sing again, your voice taking on a playful tone as you continue your assault. “Pay attention to meeee.”

Finally, your persistence pays off. Ino lets out a laugh, his shoulders shaking with amusement as he turns around to face you, a grin spreading across his face.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asks, amusement evident in his voice as he leans back in his chair.

You flash him a mischievous grin, holding up another paper ball. “Trying to get your attention, obviously.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, you definitely succeeded. What do you want?”

You pause, momentarily caught off guard by his question. You hadn’t really thought that far ahead; you just wanted him to stop working for a moment and pay attention to you. But now that you have his attention, you realize there’s nothing specific you need from him. You simply want to spend time with him, to bask in his presence and enjoy each other’s company.

“Nothing, really,” you admit with a shrug, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I just missed you.”

Ino’s expression softens, and he pushes his chair back from the desk, gesturing for you to come closer. “Come here, you goofball,” he says, patting his lap.

You obey without hesitation, crossing the room in a few quick strides and settling yourself onto his lap, your arms winding around his neck as you nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close, and you let out a contented sigh, feeling the tension melt away from your body.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sorry I’ve been so wrapped up in work.”

You shake your head, reaching up to cup his cheek and guide his gaze to meet yours. “Don’t apologize,” you say softly. “I know how important your work is to you, and I’m proud of you for all that you do. But sometimes, I just need a little attention too.”

Ino smiles, his eyes warm and affectionate as he gazes at you. “I know, and I promise to make it up to you. How about we take a break and do something fun together?”

You nod eagerly, a spark of excitement igniting within you at the prospect of spending quality time with him. “That sounds perfect.”

Ino’s grin widens, and he hops up from his chair, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the living room. “Great. Let’s see what mischief we can get up to.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon indulging in simple pleasures and enjoying each other’s company. You play silly games, share laughter and secrets, and just revel in the joy of being together. Ino’s attention is solely focused on you now, his work temporarily forgotten as he devotes himself to making you happy.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon and the sky turns a fiery orange, you find yourselves curled up together on the couch, Ino’s arms wrapped around you as you watch the colors dance across the sky. It’s moments like these that make you feel grateful for the love and warmth that fills your life, and you know that as long as you have each other, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

And as the last rays of sunlight fade away, you lean into Ino’s embrace, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips and knowing that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, in his arms.

[rolanastarionmycat]

Halsin Request

Warning: 18+ NSFW

Smut and a hint of fluff

The Druid's Unbroken Desire

Halsin was not like any other druid you met. For all his proclamations for his Oak Father, it was not him that was fucking her silly. Halsin was ravenous. His vigor and attention to giving you pleasure was a breath of fresh air. The pace his hips roughly moved to yours left audible sounds of your skin meeting. He filled you like no other. He aimed to please like no other.

"You taste of honey."

His voice vibrated in your ear as he held you closer to his chest as he pounded into you with deep moan-like grunts. First he had tasted her till her thighs clasped around his head. Feeling his smile against the wetness that smeared his face. Now he nipped at your shoulder as he plunged himself into you as much as he could without harm. Thrice already he filled you and he maintained his harsh pace that had ripped countless orgasms from your body already. His pace grew sloppy and longer in stride as his moans grew louder and you felt him moving within you with each thrust. Holding onto his massive arms you cling to each other as yet another orgasm overtook both your bodies. Sweat and cum dripping onto the sheets beneath you. The cries of your pleasure filled the woods around you. Possibly having been heard all the way at your camp that you have ventured far from just to have this privacy. It all did not matter as he filled you once more. Still he thrust but more slowly. Both his cum and yours mixing. His brought your lips to his for an intimate kiss as he slowly began to pull away only to thrust back into you. Your thighs held onto hips hips,grinding yourself against his rhythm. His moaned loudly as he began to harden further. His hips suddenly snapping to meet your grinding pace. It was fucking without abandon. So long he had glanced at you, thinking of how he wanted to find pleasure with you. The days were long and the nights lonely. But with the mission now done, Halsin aimed to please until you had your fill for the night. It had been so long since he had pleasure of release with another and he found himself overjoyed at the sensation of filling you over and over.

"You take me well."

He groaned against your lips. Your lower body had given to shaking as he thrust into you, another orgasm and shouting your moans as his skin slapped against yours,hitting your clit in the process. It was overwhelmingly delicious. His vigor was unmatched and you were not sure how much more you could take but it felt too good to try and wriggle away from him. The only sounds from your mouth was moans. You felt him moving within you, growing harder still again before his abruptly pulled from you completely. Before you could protest you felt his cum spewing all over you. He came with loud grunts. His cum landing on your face. Your breasts. Your belly. Some landed in your open mouth.

It amazed you how much came from him but when he finished you used your fingers to scoop some of his cum from your face into your mouth,

"You taste sweeter."

His smile was dangerous. If he had moved to enter you once more you would have let him despite your sore and tired body aching to rest. Instead, Halsin lay beside you, taking your hand to his still hard and throbbing. It was still soaked from you. He twitched under your hand, sensitive still. He pulled you into his arms, letting you play with his hardness as you cuddled. The look in his eyes was enough to know that he could still go longer. You wanted to rise to the challenge but you felt your exhaustion take over your mind and you instead fell asleep in his arms as he kissed all over your face.

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

⚔️ 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Blade of the Unbroken Circle
Weapon (longsword), legendary (requires attunement) ___ This blade is made by archdruids from the branch of an ancient tree. Rejuvenating magic pulses through it. You gain a +2 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this magic weapon. If you're a druid, you're proficient with this weapon, which can also be used as a druidic focus, and the bonus increases to +3. While attuned to the weapon, you can use your Wisdom modifier, instead of Strength, for its attack and damage rolls. In addition, moving through nonmagical difficult terrain costs you no extra movement. 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙨. This sword has 10 charges and regains 1d6 + 4 expended charges daily at dawn. If you're a druid, it regains all expended charges at dawn instead. 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙨. While holding the sword, you can use an action to expend some of its charges to cast one of the following spells from it (save DC 17): "barkskin" (2 charges), "plant growth" (3 charges), "regenerate" (7 charges), "tree stride" (5 charges), or "wall of thorns" (6 charges). If you're a druid, this version of the "barkskin" spell prevents your AC from being less than 18, instead of 16. 𝙉𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙒𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙝. When you hit a target with the sword, you can expend 1 of its charges to deal an extra 2d6 damage to it of a type based on the environment you're in. If an environment has more than one damage type associated with it, you choose which one each time: arctic (cold), coast (cold or fire), desert (fire), forest (bludgeoning, piercing, or slashing), grassland (piercing or slashing), mountain (lightning), swamp (necrotic or poison), or underground (necrotic). ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[ay-heart-collection]

Story writing: Soul of Warrior

In the ancient land of Egypt, where the scorching sun painted the vast desert in golden hues, there lived Eshe, a young and beautiful warrior. She possessed a captivating allure, her slender body curves accentuated by the intricate battle armor she wore. Her ebony hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and her eyes shone with a fierce determination that set her apart from others.

From a tender age, Eshe had felt the call of battle pulsating through her veins. Her heart beat wildly with courage and a burning faith to protect her land and its people. She trained relentlessly, honing her skills with various weapons and mastering the art of combat. With each passing day, her resolve grew stronger, and her courage became an unyielding force that propelled her forward.

When the time came for her land to face the perils of warfare, the young warrior stepped onto the battlefield with unwavering bravery. Her battle armor gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting her indomitable spirit. With every stride, her heart thumped with a resolute rhythm in her firm chest, echoing the courage that flowed within her.

The clash of weapons and the cries of warriors filled the air as the battle raged on. Eshe fought with a grace that mesmerized all who beheld her. Her movements were a symphony of strength and agility, her strikes precise and powerful. With each swing of her blade, she defended her comrades and brought down adversaries with unwavering focus.

In the chaos, Eshe's heart remained steadfast, the light of courage that guided her through the tumultuous fray. She faced formidable opponents, their strength and skill were testament to the challenges she encountered. But she met each adversary head-on, her eyes filled with unwavering determination, as she fought to protect her land and the people she held dear.

As the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the battlefield, the young warrior continued to battle. Her heart still pounding with the fire of her convictions. The dust settled around her, clinging to her sweat-drenched skin. As she stood tall, her breath ragged but her spirit unbroken.

As the battle raged on, the young and beautiful warrior found herself face-to-face with a mysterious figure. Their agility and power were unmatched, and she struggled to resist their relentless onslaught. With each clash of blades, her strength waned, and her heart ached with the weight of the fight.

Gasping for breath, the Eshe's grip on her blade faltered, and it slipped from her grasp. She watched in despair as it clattered to the ground, leaving her defenseless against her formidable opponent. Her chest heaved, her body drenched in sweat beneath the weight of her battle-worn armor. Every muscle screamed with exhaustion, begging her to relent. But she knew she couldn't give up, not now, not ever.

Her heart thundered within her firm chest, a resounding drumbeat that echoed through her being. It was a steady rhythm of determination, refusing to yield to the encroaching fatigue. She could feel her pulse racing, the surge of life force coursing through her veins, as her eyes locked with the piercing gaze of the mysterious figure.

In that moment, a wave of emotions surged through her. Fear and uncertainty mingled with a relentless determination that burned like an inferno within her soul. The exhaustion threatened to consume her, but the courage within her heart strengthen her.

With her heaving chest rising and falling with each labored breath, she steadied herself, her eyes never leaving the advancing figure. Her voice, though strained, carried a resolute tone as she mustered her last reserves of defiance.

"I may be weary, but my spirit remains unbroken," she declared, her voice laced with a mixture of exhaustion and resoluteness. "Though my body may ache, my will to protect this land and its people is unwavering. I will not falter!"

Her words echoed through the battlefield, a rallying cry that resonated in the hearts of those around her. Despite the odds stacked against her, she stood tall, her posture defiant, ready to face whatever came her way. The mysterious figure, momentarily taken aback by her resolve, sensing the braveness that radiated from her. However, her determination did not hesitate the figure.

As the figure approached, she tried to dodge the impending strike, her mind racing with strategies. However, her exhausted body betrayed her. It felt as if her limbs were encased in lead, her body knelt down, refusing to respond to her desperate commands.

Her brilliant-blue eyes widen as the opponent blade deftly danced along the edges of her armor, expertly picking it apart with each precise strike. Piece by piece, the once-protective shell now scattered all over the place, exposing Eshe's firm heaving breasts to the world.

Her heartbeat, though rock hard, not from embarrassment but from deep-seated resentments towards her powerful rival and her own self, pounded within her chest, seemed to echo through the battlefield. Its beats reverberated in her ears, a relentless cadence that mirrored her inner turmoil. With each pulse, her chest tightened, a mix of resistance and dread intertwining within her.

The figure's gaze locked onto the throbbing point at the inner side of her left breast, their eyes narrowing with an eerie intensity. As they extended their blade towards that vulnerable spot, a surge of panic coursed through her veins.

In that suspended moment, her thundering heart seemed to intensify, its pounding echoing in her ears like a war drum. It was a symphony of resilience and defiance, a testament to the warrior's unyielding spirit. But now, it was accompanied by a disheartening realization that her body had reached its limits.

Eshe's voice, laced with frustration and determination, trembled as she mustered her final words.

"I... I will not... be defeated," she gasped, her breaths ragged and shallow.

"I have fought... with all my... might... I... will not... yield…"

The cold blade made contact with her warm, vulnerable skin, a shiver ran down the young warrior's spine. Eshe seized the hilt of the invading blade, trying to block its advance. She gritted her teeth, yet feeling the blade slowly pierce into her flesh, inch by agonizing inch. However, amidst the searing pain, she remained steadfast, unafraid of the impending fate that awaited her.

Her heartbeat, once fierced with resentment, now pulsed with a mixture of acceptance and faith. She believed with conviction that the powers of Ra and Anubis would guide her soul through the darkness, leading her towards the embrace of the afterworld. With each passing moment, her body reacting instinctively with the journey of the blade, break through her sternum, slowly penetrated deeper into her heart.

One inch. A gasp escaped her lips, a sharp intake of breath as her body reconized the intrusion. Her chest tightened, as if instinctively trying to shield her heart from the impending damage. The defensive fear coursed through her veins, heightening her senses even as her physical form weakened.

Two inches. A wave of intense pain washed over her, radiating from the point where the blade had pierced her flesh. It felt as if fire coursed through her veins, consuming her with each passing second. Her muscles twitched involuntarily, a reflexive response to the trauma inflicted upon her.

Three inches. Yet, amidst the pain and the weakening of her physical form, Eshe remained resolute. She clung to her beliefs, her faith in the divine, and the knowledge that her sacrifice would not be in vain. With every beat of her thundering heart, she whispered a silent prayer, seeking the strength to endure until her final breath.

Four inches. Through gritted teeth and with a voice strained by pain, she spoke her last words, filled with a mixture of resignation and determination. "Though my body may falter, my spirit will endure," she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "I am but a vessel, a servant of the gods. In their embrace, my soul shall find solace."

Eventually, the blade pierced out from her back, declaring that Eshe's heart had been completely penetrated. Her vision blurred, lifeblood coughed out from her lips. Her once lighted body grew heavy as her life force waned, no longer responding to her will, as if acknowledging the weight of the sacrifice she was making.

As the battle came to its final crescendo, the fallen warrior's life was honored with a solemn burial. Eshe had fought bravely, but now her body lay still, prepared to be preserved as a mummy. The embalmers carefully preserved her body. Her heart, a symbol of her strength and courage, remained nestled within her chest, ready for the journey that awaited her in the afterlife.

In the depths of the underworld, Eshe's consciousness stirred in darkness, However, her senses awakening to a realm beyond the mortal plane. Before her, loomed Anubis, the formidable deity of the underworld. His presence both intimidating and enigmatic. Eshe holding her heart, bearing the scars of last battle, she approached the mighty god, her pulse quickening with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Her fingers trembling as she held it out on the scales of Libra, the instrument of judgment.

Anubis, with eyes possess the ancient wisdom, fixed his gaze upon the young warrior's heart. Its surface bore the marks of struggle and sacrifice, etched into its very essence. The heart, a symbol of her indomitable spirit, pulsed with a vibrancy that defied the darkness that surrounded them. Anubis extended his hand, his touch both gentle and all-knowing, as he embarked on the sacred task of weighing her heart against the Feather of Ma'at.

Eshe's heart, scarred from battles fought, held within it the echoes of her faith and courage. Beating with a resolute rhythm, a testament to her unyielding resolve in the face of adversity. Every scar, a reminder of the sacrifices made for a cause greater than herself, told a story of resilience and unwavering loyalty.

The Feather of Ma'at, symbolizing truth and justice, remained motionless, undisturbed by the weight of the Eshe's heart. It was a testament to her purity of spirit, her unwavering commitment to righteousness and honor. Anubis raised his hand, a gesture of approval, as he deemed the young warrior's soul worthy.

A smile, both innocent and profound, graced Eshe's face. Tears welled up in her eyes, a mixture of joy and relief, as she realized the significance of Anubis's judgment. She had earned her place in the afterworld, her soul deemed worthy by the ancient gods. The weight of her burdens lifted, replaced by a sense of peace and serenity.

With Anubis's blessing, the gates to the afterworld opened before Eshe. The celestial embrace of the heavens and the ancient gods beckoned her onward. Her spirit, freed from the constraints of the mortal realm, soared with a renewed sense of purpose and vigor.

With each step she took into the embrace of the afterworld, the spirit of the young warrior resonated with a profound sense of fulfillment. She had faced the judgment of Anubis, and her heart had emerged triumphant. In the celestial realm, she would find solace, purpose, and a place among the revered heroes of old.

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Given To The Wild [Javi Peña]

three parts, three The Maccabees songs from their Given To The Wild album.

pairing: javi peña x f!reader

word count: 2.3K

summary: "He knows her. Had seen her around—always with her head down, quiet, perhaps even tedious, and marked by an invisible link to Stechner—a connection that would normally kindle Javier's disdain effortlessly. However, this time, the sight of her distress unnerves him more than he cares to admit."

warnings: reader is she/her, drinking, cursing, overall safe to read

Part 01 - Ayla | Part 02 - Go | Part 03 - Free To Follow | Part 04 - Unknown

—

It’s late in the day when he decides to make his escape. 

Just as the sun’s starting to think about dipping low, Javier steps out, only pausing to light up a cigarette. And then, tucking one hand into the pocket of his pressed trousers, he descends stairs. There are a few colleagues congregating at the landing. Faces he’d seen before but cannot, or simply isn’t bothered to attach names to. They offer greetings; he responds with polite nods, his stride unbroken and his mind elsewhere.

The embassy itself is a fortified compound with high walls,  rigorous security checks, and guards with an eye for detail so sharp, they'd notice a pin drop before it hit the ground—except, maybe, the small pathway that snakes its way around the building. The very same one that leads to a hidden corner. 

Javier's little slice of nowhere.

The air there is stale, thick with the dust and stories of the city it overlooks—a stark contrast to the crisp, air-conditioned corridors he’s left behind. And most of all, it’s quiet.

Except, when he gets there, it isn’t. 

Javier spots her before she can catch the sight of him as she is too busy fighting a silent battle against a ghost only she can see. 

He knows her. Had seen her around—always with her head down, quiet, perhaps even tedious, and marked by an invisible link to Stechner—a connection that would normally kindle Javier's disdain effortlessly. However, this time, the sight of her distress unnerves him more than he cares to admit. 

Curled into herself against the dusty wall, her breaths are coming in short sharp gasps as if each inhale is a hard-won triumph itself. Her hands are entwined in her hair, a silent scream that her head has grown too burdensome for her neck, and her shoes lay abandoned beside her as if they’re the last of her worries. 

Javier pauses, torn between the urge to leave and a flicker of empathy that simmers inside of him at the sight. 

“Hey,” he offers before he can talk himself out of it—the gravel under his shoes betraying his approach. “You alright?” 

Her startled gaze meets his, a storm of surprise, perhaps embarrassment, swirling in her eyes. 

“I… yeah, I’m fine. Just needed to… breathe, I guess?” Her attempt to articulate her thoughts stumbles, her fingers brushing back strands of hair, some of which cling stubbornly to her sweat-dampened forehead. 

Offering advice feels clumsy on Javier's tongue. “Breathing’s good,” he remarks, internally chastising himself for the banality of his advice.

Yet, she seems to take no offence. “That much I know,” she responds with a strained smile. "I just can't... seem to catch enough of it,” her words falter, barely making it past her lips. 

Javier feels an inexplicable tug, a pull towards... something. It's enough for him to drop his cigarette and crush it under his heel as he moves closer. 

“Okay, listen to me. Just focus on the sound of my voice, alright? We're gonna breathe together. Nice and slow,” he instructs, taking deliberate breaths to set a pace for her. “Inhale... hold it... now exhale. There you go, just like that,” his tone is gentle, yet firm, encouraging.

After her breathing evens out, she's quiet. Time passes—a minute, maybe two—before she ventures, her voice tinged with vulnerability, “Why are you helping me?”

Javier, bemused, as if the answer is self-evident, replies lightly, “Why wouldn't I help?”

Her eyelids flutter open, revealing a pair of striking eyes that dart away, cautious, not quite meeting his, and Javier wonders if she’s actually not aloof or uptight as he had pegged her for.

Perhaps, she is just… shy?

Her answer is preceded by a shrug. “It’s just… I know all about the tension with Stechner… kinda makes this awkward, no?” she offers. “But, look—I'm not them. I have no interest in being them. All I'm trying to do is survive, really. Pay my bills, chase after a few dreams.”

It quickly dawns on him that she's trying to apologise for her situation.

Silly girl—he thinks to himself as he shifts a little, seeking a more comfortable position on the unforgiving concrete. He stretches out, the movement languid, and a soft sigh breaks free as he fishes another cigarette from the pack. He offers one to her, already anticipating her refusal, which comes as a gentle shake of her head.

He exhales a stream of smoke, the smirk never quite leaving his face. “If I judged everyone by their associations, I’d be a very lonely man. You're alright by me."

"That's good to hear."

He nods. She nods back.

“So…,” he starts again, his tone casual but probing, “what had you fighting for air?”

She is contemplating as she picks at a loose thread on her trousers, a colour that does no favours for anyone. “I don’t know… well, I kinda do—,” she starts, offering a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, “but it's hard to imagine you'd actually want to listen.”

“You wound me,” Javier retorts, his voice tinged with mock offence.

Twisting her fingers in her lap, she looks up, focusing on nothing in particular. “It’s just… every day feels like walking a tightrope, y’know?” She pauses as if gathering her thoughts. "And it's not just the politics, which are a labyrinth in their own right. It's the people—colleagues who smile in your face while sharpening knives for your back. The constant second-guessing of allies and the pressure to stay one step ahead of... well, everyone." She shakes her head, the weariness evident. "And when you do find the lapse, when you patch up one leak, there's always another waiting. It's... exhausting.”

Javier nods. Looks at the cigarette between his fingers, and then glances at her. “You ever think about walking away?”

She pauses, the question seeming to pull her from a sea of thoughts. With a sigh, she leans back slightly against the cool wall, the tension in her shoulders easing as she finds her words.

"Every day," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper, resonating with a mix of resignation and defiance. "But, you know, fear's got a tight grip. And hope…,” she trails off and then shrugs once more, as if she’s hoping that he’ll get the hint.

And he does. Moreover, he knows exactly what she means. 

“Yes, I get it,” he admits at last. 

"I'm sorry," she begins, her voice carrying a hint of regret, "It was silly of me to just... unload everything on you like that."

"You're fine. I asked for it, didn't I?" Javier's response comes with a reassuring ease, his tone gentle yet firm, dismissing her concern. He allows the silence that follows to stretch, using the time to savour the last of his cigarette. Then, slowly, rising to his feet, he offers her a hand. "Come on, let's get you up."

Hesitantly, she takes his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet. There’s a moment of awkwardness as she steadies herself, brushing off the dust from her clothes. Ever so gentleman, Javier then bends down to collect her shoes, and offers his arm for support as she slips them on. 

“Thanks again,” she mumbles. “But, I better get going.”

He nods in response, but says nothing, and it’s only after she rounds the corner and disappears from his view does he realise that he hadn’t asked her about her name.

—

Twelve days have passed and Javier still doesn’t know her name.

That’s not to say that she is a stranger. At least, not any longer. No, she’s a presence now. Fleeting and ephemeral. 

Their exchanges are brief—a nod of his, a ghost of a smile of hers, the brush of their elbows in the corridor’s fleeting passings; two planets sharing an orbit, if only for a moment. 

Except when they linger. 

It's in those unguarded moments across from Stechner's office, under the guise of his own preoccupations with the damn copier, that he finds his gaze seeking out for her. That's when she becomes unmistakably vivid: seated behind the desk, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, fingers deftly dancing across her keyboard.

This newfound awareness of her is disorienting and unsettling, to say the least. And as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Javier finds himself searching for her, even though they never speak again, not really.

She never shows up at that spot where their paths first crossed, not that Javier's really keeping track. Or so he tells himself. It's just routine, or coincidence maybe, that he ends up back there more often than not. He’d deny it if asked—deny that he's looking for her, deny that part of him hopes to see her again. Because it's not like him to dwell on what's probably nothing more than a chance encounter, but there he is, making excuses to check that alley, as if he's expecting something to come of it.

Sixteen days in, and Javier’s mood is thunderous, a brooding storm of frustration fueled by Stoddard’s latest stunt. He’s all but stalking towards his usual solace at the back of the building, annoyance riding him hard. The last thing he expects—the last thing he thinks he needs—is company.

Yet, there she is, a quiet presence against the wall, her lunch abandoned, book in hand, shoes kicked off just like that first day.

“¡Ostia!” The curse slips out, raw and instinctive, before he can catch it, his hand coming up to shield his eyes.

A part of him—a damned stubborn part—wants to hold on to his anger, to remain unaffected by her presence. But there’s another part, quieter, more insistent, that recoils at the thought of her seeing him like this.

He breathes out a long breath through his nose and tugs on his tie in order to loosen it.

Why the fuck is he wearing a tie?

“Want me to leave?” she suddenly asks, and only then Javier realises that he hadn’t really made an effort to go back before she had a chance to spot him. 

He struggles to form an answer—the anger, or rather annoyance at Stoddard, thickening his tongue. It's the sight of her gently marking her page with a thumb, the careful closing of her book, that jolts him back to reality. 

“No,” he says, trying to lose his voice of its earlier edge. “I’m not… it’s not you,” he adds gruffly, struggling to navigate his words while fiddling with his cigarettes. “It’s just… Stoddard has been a real pain lately.”

She nods, but says nothing as he lights up one, and takes a deep drag, raking a hand through his hair. Then, she’s speaking again, gently. “Well, if you want to talk about it…”

Leaving the invitation hanging, she opens the door for Javier—the one he’s not obliged to walk through. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he shakes his head, releasing the cigarette smoke through his nostrils.

“Nah, it’s not worth the breath,” he dismisses, yet appreciates the gesture more than he wants to admit. 

Then, with a grace that seems to contradict the setting, she is suddenly leaning over to the other side of her, reaching into a bag that Javier hadn’t noticed before. Wordlessly, she pulls out a flask, unscrews the cap, and offers it to him with a timid smile. 

“Here, might take the edge off.”

Eyebrow raised, Javier accepts it. It’s heavier than it looks, cold against his palm. 

“Now, this is a surprise,” he chuckles as he leans back against the wall, sniffing out a familiar aroma. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the type to carry whiskey around.”

“It's for emergencies,” she quips, the corners of her lips tilting up more noticeably now. “Consider this one. M'not good at breathing exercises, but this'll do.”

Javier smirks and takes a first sip.

It feels like a wordless communion as they pass the flask back and forth, the silence between them filled with the soft sounds of the city beyond their secluded spot. And it’s not a surprise that that’s exactly what Javier had hoped for when he stormed out of the office, annoyed with Stoddard, the case, with himself. 

He craved silence. No probing questions. No forced understanding. No digging deep.

After a few rounds, she breaks the silence, her voice tentative, betraying a hint of hesitance that hadn’t been there moments ago. “Are you...um, going to the bureau thing later this week?”

Her question tumbles out awkwardly, as if she's navigating through it in real-time, her eyes not quite meeting his.

Javier's response is immediate, a touch of sarcasm lacing his tone as he takes another sip before passing the flask back to her. “Probably not. Mixing private and professional?” He lets out a short, humourless laugh to a joke only he understands. “Ain’t really my style.”

“Fair enough.”

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with unasked questions and unsaid words. Then, almost against his better judgement, Javier finds himself speaking, curiosity edging out his initial reluctance. “You going to be there?”

She hesitates, her fingers tracing the edge of the flask. “I usually skip these things,” she confesses, a slight shrug accompanying her words. “But lately, I've felt...on the edge, thinking maybe it's time to stop being such a...hermit. Plus, Katie’s been kind to me.”

Under his breath, Javier mutters a curse, more to himself than to her. The words are bitter, carrying the weight of a regret he doesn't care to examine too closely—the aftermath of a one-night stand with Katie that had complicated things more than he'd like to admit.

“It's her birthday,” she adds as if she's trying to clear up the fog that sits on Javier's understanding. Then, abruptly, her calm shatters. “Oh, fuck—” she exclaims, eyes widening as they catch the time on her watch while she's gathering her things. “I've got a meeting in ten minutes.”

Reflexively Javier reaches out his hand, and this time, she doesn't hesitate to take him up on his offer to help her up. Her hand is cold against his. Tiny, too.

As she begins to hurry away, she pauses—a moment of hesitation—then turns back to him. With a small, decisive motion, she retrieves the flask, extending it towards him once more.

“Wait, why—?” Javier starts, confusion threading his voice.

“You can refill it and give it back some other time."

Javier doesn't know what to say so he nods, and with that, she's turning around and hurrying away, cradling her belongings to her chest as she yet again disappears behind the building.

“¡Mierda!” he finds himself hissing as he looks down at the flask in his palm, realisation burning his chest.

He still doesn't know her name.

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

Chapter 31: The Devil's Playground 

A/N: And we are back at it again with another chapter! Sanji Pov, will be for Chapter 32. This one was also my favorite chapter to write cause this one we get to where Doflamingo places everyone in the bird cage, we get a Luffy POV, and has listed out the 12 names. And as an added bonus… well let me not get to ahead of myself (heheh) thank you guys so much for reading and following along! Thank you for the likes, reblogs, comments, follows, interactions everything. Im grateful for each and everyone of you <3, but without further a do… lets get to it!

Word count: 

Law POV… 

A few minutes had passed since Doflamingo dragged you into this wretched room, and you were still struggling under the binds of his strings. My thoughts were interrupted as Doflamingo’s voice cut through the air, filled with irritation.

“I thought your only objective was to destroy the Smile Factory,” he said, his tone dripping with annoyance. “Strawhats are teaming up with the little people from Greenbit. Seems a bit capricious, don’t you think?”

“Little people?” I echoed, my confusion evident.

Doflamingo continued, his words sharp and probing. “While you’re at it, tell me how the Strawhat crew managed to get into the underground port. They’re doing a fine job at pissing me off.”

Y/N let out a low laugh, her voice defiant despite the pain. “Worried that your dark secrets will come to light?”

Doflamingo’s gaze darkened, and he moved towards you with a menacing stride. Before he could reach you, Baby 5 stepped forward and slapped you across the cheek. “The young master wasn’t speaking to you, harlot!” she said, her voice cold and full of disdain.

Your face remained defiant, even as you laughed again. “Baby 5, didn’t we have this conversation back at Doffy’s quarters? Unless you want to end up like that dent I just made, choose your words wisely!”

Baby 5’s resolve faltered, and she retreated to Buffalo, her face flushed with frustration. “Don’t do it if it’s going to make you cry,” Buffalo said, attempting to comfort her.

“I already told you I have nothing to do with them anymore. Our alliance ended; whatever they’re doing out there is none of my business,” I said, trying to maintain my composure despite the strain.

Doflamingo’s expression darkened as he turned his attention back to you. “Hmm, I’m not sure if you’re telling the truth or if you’re just as clueless as the rest of them,” he mused.

Without warning, he grabbed y/n, lifting her into the air. “Let me go!” y/n yelled, her voice filled with desperation. “Y/N!” I shouted, trying to reach out to you.

“Doflamingo, let her go!” I demanded, my voice raw with urgency.

“Why should I?” Doflamingo said, his smile widening cruelly. “The princess is no longer an ally of yours, which means she must have known about the plan.”

Y/N turned her head slightly, her eyes widening as tears welled, but her demeanor remained unbroken. “She saw something,” I thought, trying to piece together the situation.

Doflamingo’s smile turned sinister as he hurled you towards the wall. The impact made you jerk violently, and a cry of pain escaped you. “Y/N! Princess, please talk to me!” I called out, my voice cracking with concern.

Y/N gasped for breath, her body wracked with coughs from the force of the impact. Your labored breathing and the pained expression on your face were a crushing blow to my resolve. I felt helpless, my own restraints making it impossible to reach you.

Luffy POV… 

Zoro stayed behind to handle Pica while Violet and I managed to get away. “I’m coming for you, Mingo!” I shouted, determination fueling my every step. As we navigated through the palace, something caught my attention—dents in the walls, smashed pillars, and debris scattered around.

“What happened here?” Violet asked, her voice laced with concern.

I chuckled, a wide grin spreading across my face. “Y/N made a path for us to follow.” I could feel my energy surging just thinking about it, and I started running faster. The trail led us to a window that overlooked the room where Traffy and Y/N were. “Traffy and Y/N are in there! Now’s the time!” I got ready to burst in and kick Doflamingo’s ass.

“Wait,” Violet grabbed my arm. “You have to wait just a little longer. The Tontatta tribe hasn’t completed Operation SOP yet!”

“The what?!” I shot her a confused look.

“Never mind the details,” Violet sighed, “the point is, we need a few more minutes.”

I ducked behind cover with Violet to avoid being seen, frustration building up inside me. Every second felt like an eternity. Just then, I saw it—Mingo had Y/N in his grasp. She was struggling, fighting with everything she had. My fists clenched, and I could feel my rage boiling over.

“That’s it!” I growled, getting ready to charge at Doflamingo.

“No, you have to wait a little longer!” Violet hissed, holding me back.

“My crewmate is in danger!” I shouted, my voice barely containing my fury.

As if she heard me, Y/N locked eyes with mine. For a brief moment, time seemed to freeze. Her eyes widened, and I saw tears welling up, but even through the pain, the defiance in her gaze remained strong. Then, with a cruel twist of his hand, Doflamingo hurled her against the wall.

“Damn it!” I muttered through clenched teeth, watching her struggle to rise, her body showing signs of exhaustion. “Hold on, Y/N, just a few more minutes.” My fists shook with impatience, ready to explode the moment I got the signal.

I couldn't take my eyes off her—she was holding on, and I had to make sure that when the time came, I’d be ready to fight

Y/N POV… 

I saw him... I saw Luffy! He's finally here. I just need to buy a few more minutes. Just enough.

Doflamingo's cold hands gripped me again, hoisting me up before placing me roughly back into the chair. My breathing was labored, but I caught a glimpse of one of my blades peeking out from the binds. Slowly, carefully, I began moving my left hand toward it, desperately trying to grasp the handle.

As I struggled, my fingers finally wrapped around the blade. Yes! I thought triumphantly, working quietly to cut through the string binds. The faint sound of ripping meant progress. Just a few more...

Suddenly, I heard Doflamingo’s voice, his tone as cold as ever. “Trebol, bring Sugar to the palace, and quick.”

Trebol's slimy voice crackled through the call. “Take it easy, Doffy, they tried to pull one on me, but I’ve got it under control.”

What the hell does that mean? I thought, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I’m fine, young master,” Sugar’s voice added, her tone eerie. “The enemy is barely conscious anymore.”

I let out a low laugh, feeling the last of the binds around my legs finally snap. My mobility returned. "She’s wrong, you know," I muttered under my breath, still clutching the blade in my left hand. Channeling every ounce of energy I had left, I focused it into the blade, a faint glow illuminating its edge.

Doflamingo’s footsteps echoed as he turned his attention back to me, his predatory smile widening. "I see you're still defiant, my little princess," he purred, approaching with slow, deliberate steps. "Maybe you need a reminder of who's in control here."

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Law shouted, his voice strained with desperation.

Doflamingo was getting closer. My grip on the blade tightened as I felt the pressure of his looming presence.

Suddenly, his hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing tighter than before. I gasped, struggling to breathe as his fingers dug into my skin.

Trebol’s voice crackled through the room again, this time sounding panicked. “I gooped, I gooped real bad!” he cried. “She got scared, she got scared and passed out!”

Doflamingo's head snapped towards the transponder snail, his teeth grinding audibly. His hand loosened around my throat, and I gasped for air, my lungs greedily filling with oxygen again. He released me entirely, his fury redirected.

“Is this some kind of joke?!” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Trebol’s sobs continued, echoing through the snail. “The toys we collected for over a decade... they’re turning human again!”

Buffalo, wide-eyed, pointed to the screen in the room. “Hey, look! In the colosseum!”

Doflamingo's gaze whipped towards the screen, his eyes narrowing as the scene unfolded in front of him. One by one, all of the toys were reverting to their human forms, along with the memories that had been stolen for years.

His jaw clenched, his attention entirely absorbed by the chaos unfolding on the screen. His empire, his carefully guarded secret, was falling apart. The memories of everyone he had manipulated were flooding back, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

This is my chance, I thought, feeling my strength returning. With Doflamingo distracted, I ripped the remaining string binds from my body, finally freeing myself. I stood up, rolling my shoulders, feeling the satisfying weight of mobility return.

“Sir, all these emergency reports keep flooding in!” a guard stammered, carrying an armful of ringing transponder snails. Panic was spreading fast.

The chaos in the room was palpable, and it was almost hilarious to witness. Doflamingo, usually so composed, was unraveling before my eyes. I smirked, savoring the moment.

“Didn’t think your secret would be out, did you, Doffy?” I taunted, my voice cutting through the noise.

I stood tall now, no longer bound, my eyes burning with defiance.

Doflamingo turned to me, his eyes widening in shock as he saw that I was no longer bound by his strings. My swords were back with me—one hidden in plain sight and the other, glowing with a faint yellow light, clutched tightly in my left hand as I channeled my energy through it.

“You’re going to pay for this!” Doflamingo snarled, lunging at me with fury in his eyes.

I didn't hesitate. With my left hand still clenched, I lifted my leg, speeding past him in a blur of motion. As soon as I was beside him, I swung my right fist, channeling all my strength into a direct punch to his chest. The impact sent him flying into the wall with a deafening crash.

My body trembled slightly, my breathing heavy as I stood back, lowering my right hand and unclenching it. I smirked, my voice calm yet triumphant. “Looks like I won , Doflamingo.”

I made my way over to Law, still cuffed by the sea prism stone handcuffs. His eyes were wide, a mix of relief and frustration on his face.

“Princess, you’re so reckless, you know that!” Law yelled, his voice strained. But when I looked into his eyes, I could see it—relief. He wasn’t angry, he was just glad I was okay.

I grinned teasingly, leaning in a little closer. “Oh? Is that relief I see, Law? I didn’t know you cared that much.”

“Tch,” he scoffed, but the faint pink that tinted his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t get cocky.”

Before we could continue, Doflamingo slowly managed to stand, dusting himself off despite the impact. His gaze locked on me once more, and he laughed darkly, stepping forward with a murderous glint in his eyes.

“You think this is over?” Doflamingo hissed. “I’ll crush you!”

I clutched my blade tightly, my muscles tensing as I prepared for the next attack. But just as I was about to make my move, I noticed someone hovering above Doflamingo, ready to strike. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

“It’s not me you should be worried about,” I said coolly.

“What?!” Doflamingo snapped, his eyes flickering in confusion.

Suddenly, a voice rang out. “Kyros, my boy!” King Riku cried, his voice filled with joy and relief.

From above, Kyros leapt down, his blade flashing through the air. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, King Riku, but for the past ten years, I’ve prepared for this moment. Now, I’m here to save you!” Kyros, with precise and lethal force, swung his sword and severed Doflamingo’s head.

All of us stood frozen in shock as Doflamingo’s head rolled to the ground. Even Buffalo was stunned, his voice caught in his throat. “Doflamingo! You bastard, you’re going to—”

Before Buffalo could finish, Kyros silenced him with a swift slash of his sword. The chaos seemed to settle for just a brief moment, and then I heard the familiar voice of my captain echo through the room.

“Mingo just died?! Well, that sucks—I was going to be the one to kick his ass!” Luffy called out, his voice a mix of disappointment and eager excitement.

I turned to him, a relieved smile spreading across my face. “Glad to see you made it, Captain!” I said, slipping my blade back into its thigh halter as I hurried towards him.

Without hesitation, I threw my arms around him in a tight hug, both relieved that he had arrived just in time and grateful that he was okay. Luffy’s arms encircled me in return, and for a moment, the chaos of the battle seemed to fade away.

Just as Luffy was about to say something, we heard voices from afar: “There they are!” 

Luffy pulled back, his expression shifting to urgency. “Quick, we’ve got to save Traffy!” he said, determination evident in his voice.

I nodded, adrenaline kicking in once more. “Let’s move!”

Sabo POV…

The colosseum was in complete chaos. The transformation of toys back into humans and animals added to the pandemonium. I could see Rebecca and Bartolomeo struggling to make sense of the mess. “Now that the smoke is cleared, let’s uncover the truth, right Rebecca?” I said, as I began knocking on the floor of the colosseum. “There’s a core at the heart of all things,” I continued, my voice carrying over the chaos, “Once you find that, great or small can be undone.”

Bartolomeo looked at me, confusion etched on his face. “You lost me! You still sound cool as hell and I look up to you, but you lost me!”

With my armament haki, I cracked the middle of the ring. “Dragon Claw Fist, Dragon Breathe!” I shouted, the force of my attack breaking the ring apart. The structure began to collapse, and the water below started to pull the debris toward the center. Diamante’s voice came through, filled with disbelief. “What the hell did you do?”

I turned to face him, a determined glint in my eyes. “I got places to be, a princess to see, and a fruit to win!” I said. As the ring capsized and water surged below, I spotted the fish I had been searching for. “The treasure, there she is!” I said, grabbing the Flame-Flame Fruit from the treasure chest.

“You’re all out of bounds, which makes me the victor. Thanks for the prize,” I said, holding up the fruit. I took a bite, chewing and grimacing. “Gross,” I muttered, but the power surging through me was undeniable. As Rebecca began to fall, I rushed to her side, catching her just in time. “Brace yourself, I’m about to light things up.”

I began to remove my disguise—the beard, the shades, and the helmet—letting my blonde hair cascade freely. Raising my left arm, I felt the power of the Flame-Flame Fruit surging through me. “Ace, I take your ability!” I declared, as I unleashed a massive fire fist on the middle of the ring. The impact shattered the entire structure, sending debris flying.

As I descended from the air, Koala appeared beside me. “I got in touch with Hack! He’s waiting for us!” she said.

Works for me,” I replied with a smirk. “I have a princess to see.” We landed on the pavement below the Colosseum, the chaos of the battle still ringing in my ears.

“Be careful! Now that you’ve eaten a Devil Fruit, sea water weakens you!” Koala warned as we hurried through the streets.

“Got it,” I said, my mind already on finding Y/N. We reached Hack, who was waiting for us.

“What happened to your hand?” Koala asked, noticing the bandage.

“Oh, that? I fell,” Hack said, looking away with a hint of embarrassment.

“You fell? Are you sure you’re not hiding something?” Koala teased.

“Anyway, here are your clothes!” Koala said, handing me the familiar attire. As I put on the gloves, one of them caught on fire momentarily.

“Looks like I’ll have to get used to this,” I muttered with a wry smile.

“Who are you? Come out and say it already,” Rebecca said, with Bartolomeo standing behind her.

“Me?” I asked, grinning. “The name’s Sabo. We’re members of the Revolutionary Army!”

“So, does that mean Lucy is also with you?” Rebecca inquired.

“No, we’re both enemies of the World Government, but he’s going to be the King of the Pirates,” I said, my grin widening.

“A Pirate?!” Rebecca exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Yep, and he’s my brother. Surprised?” I said, feeling a mix of pride and nostalgia.

“Crazy, huh? And he’s still the same reckless kid I remember. Reminds me of someone I know,” I said, my thoughts drifting to Y/N and Luffy.

“Funny, I could say the same thing about you,” Koala said, adjusting my top hat with a teasing smile.

“Give me some credit. I usually think things through,” I retorted, trying to regain my composure.

“Oh really? I doubt that’s what Y/N would say,” Koala said with a smirk.

I blushed. “Now what… I—”

“Oh, so she is here in Dressrosa,” Hack said. “Can’t wait to meet the woman who makes you weak in the knees,” he said, sending me a wink.

I felt my cheeks flush even more. “Yeah, she’s here too, but—”

“Wait a second, you know the beautiful Princess Y/N?” Bartolomeo interrupted, eyes wide with awe. Tears started to well up in his eyes as if he’d just heard the most incredible news.

“Yes, I know her very well,” I said, smirking as a cheeky thought crossed my mind. “In fact, she’s pretty amazing. And, well, she has this way of making me—”

“Making you what?” Bartolomeo asked eagerly, hanging on my every word.

I chuckled, playing along with his curiosity. “Let’s just say she’s got a talent for keeping me on my toes. Sometimes it feels like I’m just a puppet dancing on her strings.”

Bartolomeo’s eyes widened even more, and he gaped. “No way! She’s that incredible?!”

“Yep, and don’t let her charm fool you. She’s got a fiery side that can be quite… overwhelming,” I teased, leaning in slightly.

“Oh man, I’ve heard stories about her, but to hear it from you…” Bartolomeo trailed off, practically swooning.

“Yep, she’s one of a kind. 

Changing the subject Rebecca’s curiosity was piqued as she listened to the reason why we were here in Dressrosa to begin with. "So, you’re here to stop the arms trade? That’s quite a mission."

I nodded, turning serious. “Exactly. This place is exporting firearms that are fueling conflict across the world. We’re here to put a stop to it.”

Hack, who had just punched a box filled with firearms, added, “These weapons are being distributed to various groups and regimes. It’s a huge problem.”

Rebecca looked concerned. 

“If we can uncover the truth, we’ll have something substantial to report to Dragon.” I said

Just then, a familiar voice called out, “Koala!”

I turned to see Koala and Robin embracing in a heartfelt hug. Robin’s smile was a welcome sight. “Robin! ” Koala said. “I thought I saw you guys back there!” Said Robin.

“Hey!” I greeted, trying to keep my composure despite the earlier teasing. “It’s Ms. Robin!”

Bartolomeo’s eyes widened. 

“Run into Luffy?” Robin chuckled, 

“Oh, he ran into more than just Luffy.” Koala said, as she teased, “Yeah, you should have seen his face.”

I felt my cheeks flush red again. “Is he okay?” I asked, noticing that Robin was with someone who was almost unconscious.

“This is Usopp,” Robin explained. 

“He should probably get some rest.” I said, as I noticed he doesn't look to good. 

Bartolomeo’s eyes lit up with admiration. “The Sniper King, right? He’s amazing!” His voice trembled as he began to tear up again.

“Cool it, you weirdo,” I said with a smirk, trying to diffuse the situation.

Y/N POV… 

“Traffy!” Luffy called out, his voice filled with relief as he barreled towards Law. “I’m here to save you!” he added with a dramatic wave.

“Oh good, you’re not dead!” Luffy said, sounding more like he’d just escaped a great calamity.

Law shot Luffy an annoyed look. “Didn’t I ask you to destroy the factory, Strawhat?” His voice was tinged with frustration. “Well, did you?” 

We gathered around Law, and I took the opportunity to sidle up close, gently cupping his face with a teasing grin. “Is that any way to thank us?” I asked, my voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “I mean, I got myself captured by Doflamingo just to lead Luffy here, and even went head-first into danger while you were out cold.”

Law’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You did WHAT?!” he exclaimed, his voice rising with shock.

“Oops, did I say that out loud?” I said, giving Law an innocent shrug. Before he could respond, a voice from the side window interrupted.

“Strawhat, Violet, I won’t let you lay a finger on—” the figure gasped, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. “Now who the hell is this guy?” I asked, looking at Luffy and Violet.

“Young, Young Master… who did this?” the man stammered, looking around in panic.

“Just a sec, I’m going to get you out of here,” Luffy said, grabbing the keys from Violet and approaching Law’s restraints.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Our alliance is terminated, so get lost,” Law said, still bound by the sea prism stone handcuffs.

“Quit being so stubborn!” I said to Law, frustration creeping into my voice. “You’re so selfish; I want to keep working with you, so deal with it!” Luffy chimed in, 

“Can you guys quit bickering for just two seconds?!” I snapped, my frustration bubbling over. The tiara, already precariously loose, threatened to fall off.

Luffy’s hands were shaking as he tried to unlock Law’s sea prism handcuffs. “Umm, guys…” I said, trying to get their attention. “You do realize that with the alliance called off, we’re enemies now. If you set me free, I’ll kill you!” Law, clearly irked, said,

“It’s hard enough to unlock these handcuffs with you squirming around. So stop moving!” said Luffy still struggling to get the key in the lock.

“Steady,” Violet said, trying to assist as Luffy fumbled.

Law’s irritation showed as he continued, “You guys weren’t paying any attention to me at all, were you? 

This is ridiculous. Why don’t you do it!” Luffy said about to hand back the Key to Violet.

“I can’t! I ate a Devil Fruit, too!” Violet said, frustration evident in her voice.

“Give me that!” I said, grabbing the keys. Just as I was about to unlock the handcuffs, a sinister chuckle filled the room.

The floor suddenly rose beneath us, causing us all to tumble. I landed right on Law’s lap as his chair toppled over.

“Law, are you alright?” I asked, still awkwardly sprawled on his lap.

Law’s smirk widened, and he looked down at me with a playful glint in his eye. His open sweater revealed his well-defined muscles and the detailed tattoo on his chest. “Well, this is quite the predicament,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “I didn’t expect you to make a move like this.”

I tried to get off Law’s lap, my cheeks flushed from the unexpected proximity. “Not exactly what I had in mind,” I said, attempting to regain my composure.

“It’s the wall guy!” Luffy shouted, drawing our attention.

“Wall guy?!” I echoed, confused.

Doflamingo’s headless body continued to laugh, his disembodied voice echoing through the room. “What a way to go, huh? That was a surprise.”

I took a cautious step back, my disbelief growing. “There’s no way...”

“Mingo’s alive?!” Luffy exclaimed, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Damn it!” I muttered, feeling the weight of the situation. Doflamingo’s mocking laughter filled the room as he continued, “The whole country should be spiraling into chaos now that all the toys have been freed. And for whatever reason, we have members of the Revolutionary Army nosing around too.”

“Sabo!” I thought, my concern for him rising. I clenched my right hand, feeling the power of my rings coursing through me, ready to fight.

“It’s a sad state of affairs at the palace, don’t you think?” Doflamingo taunted. “I’m left with no other choice but to use the Birdcage.”

Law, still chained and visibly shaken, faltered. I crouched down beside him, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Law, are you alright?”

“The Birdcage,” Law muttered, his eyes wide with fear. “You remember, don’t you, Law?”

Doflamingo's mocking laughter echoed across the crumbling palace. "Well, I suppose I shouldn’t delay this further," he sneered, ready to unleash his devastating power.

Kyros, with unwavering determination, sprang into action, his blade poised to deliver another slash. "How can you still be alive, Doflamingo?!" he shouted.

Before Kyros could land his blow, Doflamingo suddenly appeared behind him. “Kyros, watch out!” I yelled, panic rising in my chest.

Doflamingo’s voice dripped with menace as he taunted, “Do you want me to show you how to properly behead a man?”

My heart raced, and I whispered to myself, "How are there two of them?" The palace was now split in half from the sheer force of Doflamingo’s power, but Luffy, in his usual heroic fashion, managed to save Kyros just in time.

“Damn, Strawhat!” Doflamingo growled, both of his forms now looming behind Luffy.

“Luffy, watch out!” I shouted, my voice strained with worry.

“Pentachromatic Strings!” Doflamingo unleashed his attack, but Luffy managed to dodge, barely escaping the deadly strings.

“Gomu Gomu Jet Gatling!” Luffy retaliated, fists flying at lightning speed, but his punches were useless. Doflamingo’s protection remained unscathed, not even a scratch.

The second Doflamingo figure appeared, slashing Luffy across the back, blood spilling from the wound. “Luffy!” I screamed, my heart sinking as I watched him get punched with a crushing force, sending him flying into the wall, creating a deep dent.

“He made a marionette?” I whispered in shock, Violet confirming my suspicions.

Doflamingo, ever the sadistic puppeteer, turned his attention to King Riku, twisting the knife further. “Do you remember the night you betrayed your people, controlled by me? Don’t worry, I’m going to release you all.”

“Pika,” Doflamingo commanded, “I think it’s time you scatter these roaches.”

The ground beneath us trembled violently as Pika's massive form shifted. In one swift move, Pika grabbed us, his stone body towering over the shattered palace, and hurled us all into the air.

“Ahhh!” I screamed, tumbling helplessly, bracing for the inevitable impact.

“Hang on, guys!” Luffy shouted. “Gomu Gomu Balloon!”

With Luffy’s body acting as a cushion, we bounced safely onto the ground below, narrowly avoiding the harsh landing. “He took us right out of the palace,” Luffy muttered, clearly frustrated as we gathered ourselves and looked back up at the towering fortress.

Then, I heard Law’s voice, barely a whisper but thick with fear. “The Birdcage… it’s starting…”

We all turned, our gazes locking onto the sight that filled us with dread. High above us, Doflamingo was preparing to activate his infamous technique—the Birdcage, a twisted, lethal cage of strings that would trap and crush everyone in Dressrosa.

Suddenly, explosions rang out, followed by the sounds of utter chaos. “What the hell is happening down there?!” I exclaimed, as the screams of terrified civilians filled the air. The ground beneath us shook violently, and we all looked up in disbelief—Pika was lifting the entire royal palace away from its foundation.

“He’s changing the terrain,” Law said, his voice filled with tension.

Before any of us could react, the dark voice of Doflamingo boomed over the chaos. A video transmission appeared in the sky, his ominous face projected for all to see. “Citizens of Dressrosa and guests, greetings. Might I have a word?” he began, his tone dripping with malice. “Now that you know the truth, there’s no doubt in my mind that you all plan to kill me. But I’ve prepared a little game for you.”

The words sent chills down my spine as Doflamingo continued, “Your objective is to kill me. You can find me in the royal palace. Take my life, and the game ends. I die, you win. And as an added bonus, I will give you a second way to win.”

We all watched in horrified silence as the video transponder flickered, his sadistic grin widening. “I am about to read out a list of people, so get your pens ready. If you are able to bring me their dead bodies, I will reward you with a sizeable bounty for each and every head I receive. From this moment on, every person in the kingdom is a bounty hunter. The only way to survive is to take the life of another.”

Luffy and I exchanged furious glances, clenching our fists in rage, just as Zoro joined us. Doflamingo’s voice echoed across the city. “Will you join my family? Or meet my demands and hold these twelve fools accountable for the rebellion? Each of these ‘stars’ will be worth 100 million berries each. Let me read the list…”

As the names began to roll off Doflamingo’s lips, my heart sank. “Rebecca… Nico Robin… Foxfire Kinemon… Viola… and Cyborg Franky.”

I tensed at the mention of Robin’s, Franky’s and Kinemons name. “Damn,” I muttered under my breath. Zoro turned to me, sensing my unease.

Doflamingo's voice continued, unwavering and cruel. “Now, for the two-star bounties… Kyros, and Pirate Hunter Zoro.”

I turned to Zoro, frustration bubbling inside me. “He’s not making this easy on anyone.”

Zoro’s usual confidence didn’t falter. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said, his tone reassuring, though his eyes were cold and focused.

Doflamingo’s next words sent a shock through me. “Now, let’s move on to the head honchos. I present to you… the three-star bounties. Sabo, the chief of staff of the Revolutionary Army!”

My heart froze. My hands began to shake as a gasp escaped my lips. “Sabo, no…” I whispered, fear clawing at my chest.

“You know him, Y/N?” Zoro asked, his eyes narrowing. I turned to him, whispering softly, “He was… Sam from the all-male island I trained on.”

“What?!” Zoro exclaimed, his shock evident, but there was no time to explain further.

Doflamingo’s twisted voice continued, “Strawhat Luffy… King Riku… and Trafalgar Law!”

I felt like the world was spinning out of control. “This is madness…” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“And finally, the five-star bounty…” Doflamingo’s voice took on a sinister edge. “The man who has aroused my indignation and resentment more than any other… God Usopp.”

I choked on my own spit, unable to believe my ears. “Usopp?!” I exclaimed, my mind racing. “This is bad,” Zoro muttered, his eyes narrowing. Luffy stood there, just as stunned.

“Out of all people, they give Usopp the highest one?!” I said, clenching my fists in disbelief.

“We have to—” I started to say, but I was cut off by Doflamingo’s final, venomous words. “And, as an added bonus, since I’m so generous… we have the six-star bounty, worth 600 million berries.”

The transponder showed my image next, my title emblazoned beneath it: “Princess” Y/N, a Strawhat Pirate.”

Doflamingo’s smile widened cruelly. “This princess… is to be brought to me alive. That’s right, alive. For those of you wondering why… well, let’s just say I have special plans for her. After all, royalty deserves a proper welcome,” his voice oozed with menace. “And once I have her, I’ll make sure she never escapes my grasp again.”

His chilling words hung in the air like a heavy weight. My blood boiled, anger and fear coursing through me. “Damn you, Doflamingo,” I growled under my breath.

[leiawritesstories]

rowaelin fic with aelin as a model? youre such an inspiration!!💞

AWWWWWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH 🥺🥰 also HOW did i never see this??? stupid inbox 😠

i love this!! let's see.......

word count: 2.1k (whoopsies)

warnings: none!

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The metro was late.

Aelin was already running a few minutes behind thanks to an unexpected Fleetfoot accident that had required her to change her clothes while soothing the golden retriever puppy, and she'd practically run the whole twelve blocks from her apartment to the metro stop. Of course the damn train would be late on today of all days, the one day in her calendar that she couldn't afford to miss except for death or grievous injury.

The characteristic screech of train brakes yanked her out of her thoughts, and she stepped to the edge of the platform and hurried onto the train as soon as the doors swished open. She clutched her small leather mini tote against her chest and grabbed onto a bar for stability, planting her heeled boots solidly against the floor and adjusting her stance as the train moved.

Twenty minutes later, she hurried off the train, half-sprinting through the station and barely registering her frantic pace until she was out on the street. She glanced at her smart watch and released a short breath when she saw that she still had adequate time to get to her agency before she would be considered late. Smoothly, she joined the people moving along the sidewalks, her long slender legs taking fluid, easy strides as she slid through the crowds. It was a little less than ten minutes until she reached a sleek modern high-rise, all black glass and unbroken lines, strode through the front doors, and waved at the security guard by the elevator.

"Morning, Phil!"

The middle-aged man's solid face creased into a tiny smile. "Morning, Miss Aelin." No matter how many times she told him she was just an ordinary woman, he refused to call her anything else.

To the world, after all, she was Aelin Galathynius, famed for her runway walk, magazine cover model, and face of the wildly popular brand Ennar.

"You're still early, Miss Aelin," Phil said quietly as Aelin stepped into the elevator. "Good luck."

"Thank you," she murmured, throwing the kind man a grateful smile. The elevator doors slid closed with a soft chime, and she closed her eyes and took deep, measured breaths as she traveled up to the twenty-first floor.

Ding! The sleek steel doors slid open, and she released her breath, opened her eyes, and strode out into the minimalist-modern offices of the Blackbeak Modeling Agency. The familiar ivory walls, marble, neutral-toned artwork, and black-and-white photographs blurred past as she headed for her agent's office.

She knocked twice and the door popped open. "Personal service? I thought you had interns for that, Blackbeak."

"Funny," deadpanned Manon Blackbeak, a former international supermodel and a hell of a terrifying woman. She'd been Aelin's agent since Aelin entered the professional modeling world at eighteen. "You made it just in time, Galathynius."

"What's with the call time?" Aelin inquired. She took her usual seat in the ivory wingback chair across from Manon's. "It seems like an odd time for a shoot, fitting, or casting. Is it something with Ennar?"

"It's a new opportunity." Manon reached into her desk and pulled out a portfolio, which she slid to Aelin. "They reached out to us yesterday hoping we'd be interested in setting up four contracts with their brand--short-term at first, but with the potential of extension."

Aelin opened the file and skimmed through the series of glossy photos of clothing--all on mannequins. Each piece was beautifully crafted, showcasing the designer's obvious attention to detail as well as their undeniable artistry. "These are incredible," she murmured.

Manon nodded. "The last few pages are the proposed contract."

"Hmm." Aelin flipped to the draft contract and skimmed through the now-familiar pages of legal and technical jargon. "This almost doesn't seem real. Set my own hours? My own compensation? There's a 'within our schedule parameters' stipulation, but my own pay rate?" Her perfectly shaped brows furrowed. "It seems too good to be true."

"What do you initially think?" Manon drummed her fingernails against her desk. The question seemed brusque, but that was how she operated. She didn't coddle. "Part of the reason you got called in at this time was because the designer is interested in meeting with you. He's here right now."

"What?"

"I'm not a parrot, Galathynius," Manon drawled. "You'd think you were a newbie model with that big-eyed stare on your face."

"Piss off," Aelin snorted. She rearranged her shocked expression and glanced down at the portfolio. "This Mr. --"

"Just Rowan."

"Another single-name designer, then," Aelin mused. "Bold, considering this would be the debut collection."

"Indeed. Are you interested?"

"Yes." Aelin closed the portfolio. "I am."

"Good, because you'd be meeting him anyway." Manon stood and opened her office door. "Let's go, Galathynius. We should get to the meeting room before Rowan and his people do."

"Good idea." Gracefully, Aelin collected the file and her bag, stood up, and followed her agent out of the office and down the hallways to the smaller, cozier conference room. Manon flicked on the lights as they entered, illuminating the warm-toned chestnut table and plush chairs facing the presentation screen. They were the first ones there, so Aelin dropped into a chair that faced the door and waited as Manon sent off a text to the agency head.

"They'll be here in five," the platinum-haired agent said, seating herself next to Aelin. "Sorry for the short notice."

"It's just part of the job, Blackbeak." Aelin waved off Manon's uncharacteristic apology. "And there's certainly no need to say things you don't mean."

"You're right." Manon flashed her a smirk. "In that case, bundle up, because I hear this designer is cold."

Aelin rolled her eyes. "If I can deal with Maeve Bitchface, I can deal with a single-name guy who doesn't have emotions."

"Bold of you to make that assumption before we've even met," interrupted a deep drawl. Filling the doorway stood a tall, fit man with a shock of colorless hair, piercing emerald eyes, and a thick manila file tucked under one muscular arm.

"With all due respect," Aelin deadpanned, fixing her unflinching stare on the man, "you don't work in this industry for years without developing the ability to categorize designers based on what's known about them."

"Fair enough." The man walked into the room, set the file on the conference table, and took the seat directly opposite Aelin. "I'm Rowan."

"Pleasure to meet you in the flesh. I'm Aelin Galathynius; I have a last name like all normal people." With a saccharine smile, she shook his offered hand.

Rowan cracked a tiny grin. "I'm well acquainted with your profile, Miss Galathynius."

"You sound like an FBI officer." She regarded him skeptically. "Am I sure he's a designer and not an undercover cop, Blackbeak?"

Manon snorted. "I'm pretty sure he'd have to kill you if he told you that, Galathynius."

"That's correct." Rowan leant back in his seat, humor lighting up his eyes. "So why don't we assume I'm just a designer who wants to work with you, at least for now?"

"I suppose that's safe enough, at least for now." Aelin steepled her fingers. "I've seen your sample file, Mr. Rowan, and I have to say, I'm impressed. Yours might just be one of the most aesthetically pleasing lines I've seen, and if would be a true honor to wear it."

"Just Rowan, please, and thank you." A soft hint of pink colored the edges of Rowan's cheeks. "My mother used to design clothing, and it's become my passion as much as it's her legacy."

Aelin smiled, softly. "I repeat, it's beautiful."

"Thank you." He cleared his throat and nodded at the dark-haired, stone-faced man next to him. "Since I've decided that you are the model I'd like to work with, my attorney here has brought a preliminary contract." The dark-haired man slid a handful of papers over to Aelin. "Please, have a look, and we can discuss terms."

"Thanks to my agent, I've already been able to look at a draft of the contract." She flipped it to the compensation page. "Set my own pay rate? Is this some kind of trick?"

Rowan exhaled a controlled breath. "No. It's my personal policy that every model I work with sets their own rate of pay."

"Why?" Aelin was genuinely confused--the modeling world didn't run on compassion.

"I've found that the benefits--retention, quality of work, satisfaction, and all of that--outweigh the cost, and not as many people as you may think actually set an outrageously high rate."

"Hmm." She tapped her chin. "That's a surprisingly shrewd decision, Rowan. I wouldn't have expected that in this cutthroat industry."

He shrugged. "I like to think that I'm one of the good guys."

"I'll take you up on that." She penciled a number in the open pay line--a fair bit higher than her usual rate, but not outrageous. "Could you elaborate on what, exactly, my contract includes? The actual details were vague."

"Of course." He opened the folder on the table and spread out a handful of images and sketches. "I'd like to hire you as a brand ambassador. The position would entail walking in my major shows as well as wearing and promoting my brand on your social media accounts and in public. Yes, I'm aware that you work as the brand ambassador for Ennar, and I've spoken with the legal team there. This job shouldn't conflict with your role with Ennar."

"Even though it's essentially the same position?"

"I'm not asking that you focus in my line as intensely as you do with Ennar. Also, my brand is currently only clothing, while that designer is clothing, accessories, and beauty products."

"Indeed." Aelin scribbled on her small notepad. "Well, my initial response to your offer is yes. However, I have a number of personal stipulations that I am unwilling to give up for any job."

"Go ahead." He pulled out a notepad of his own and waited for her to list her rules.

"First, I will not model undergarments."

"That won't be an issue; I have no intention of venturing into that business."

"Good. Second, I have both public and private social media profiles. My public ones are managed by my team, but I have the final say in what gets posted and when, and my brand deals are strictly limited to my public profiles. So, although I'll be wearing your line, it won't be mentioned anywhere on my private pages."

"That shouldn't be a concern, as long as you aren't using your private pages as some kind of undercover scheme where you claim credit for what you're wearing." His voice was carefully controlled, but she detected the tension beneath the control. Someone had done that to him, no doubt.

She fought the unprofessional urge to hold his hands in comfort. "Rowan, I can assure you that my job takes enough of a toll that I need to keep it off my private social media. Also, my private pages are only followed by people that I personally know, and people that know me personally know full well that I can dress, but I'm hopeless are design."

"Okay." Some of the stiffness in his posture melted. "Call me paranoid, but I have to make a living somehow."

"I understand." A reassuring smile flicked over her face. "Thirdly, I don't care what kind of emergency comes up, I don't work Sundays. Ever."

Rowan glanced to Manon. "Ever ever?"

"Never," Manon confirmed. "In the eight years that I've worked with Galathynius, she's never once strayed from that stipulation. I thought it would be a deal-breaker, and it has been at times, but she never works on Sundays. No content, no shows, nothing."

"It's a...personal day," Aelin explained. Unwilling to mention her dad's illness, therapy, or anything else so close to her heart, she left it at that.

"I can work with that." Rowan wrote something down on his notepad. "It shouldn't be frowned upon to try and maintain some normalcy in this hectic world."

"Thank you," Aelin murmured. "Finally, my last stipulation is that my assistant attends every shoot and brand event with me, as I rely on her advice in public situations."

"Of course." He nodded. "Far be it from me to push anyone I work with into a situation where they feel they've been denied the chance to consult someone they trust before making a decision."

"Wonderful. Those are all of my conditions."

He nodded thoughtfully. "All right, Miss Galathynius. Do we have an agreement?"

"Just Aelin, please, and I believe we do."

"Excellent." Standing, he reached across the table and shook her hand. "I look forward to working with you, Aelin."

"As do I."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

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@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

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@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[harkonnin]

* The Willow's Purpose *

“The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow's purpose.”

As sister to Paul Atreides, and trained in secrecy to be a healer Bene Gesserit, you witnessed the rise of the Lisan Al Gaib. As you experience visions and dreams of a certain man, realising that he will be the one fighting your brother to the death changes your perspective on everything. An uncontrollable force takes over you as you revive him, questions lingering in your mind.

***

Fic on AO3

***

Chapter 4 - Loyalty

Days pass, and the uneasy truce between you and Feyd-Rautha remains unbroken. The air in Arrakeen palace is heavy with tension, every whisper and shadow a reminder of the fragile peace that hangs by a thread. Some Fremen choose to ignore you, some spit at your feet, and some try to see you as a family member of their great messiah. Your feeling of safety annihilated after a threatening message is slipped under your door overnight. You sigh to yourself in frustration and rub your temples. People were frustrating.

One morning, Gurney enters your chamber, his face etched with concern and urgency. His face was always easy to read, and this time was no different. He holds a message from Paul, transmitted from his distant location.

"Paul has sent new orders," Gurney says, his voice low and serious. "Feyd must pledge loyalty to him, or he will attack Giedi Prime and strip Feyd of his title as Baron."

The words hit you like a blow as you take the message in hand. Rage flares within you, hot and unyielding. You had seen this coming, but Paul’s strategy is clear. Ever since he took a sip from the Water of Life he had been different. More direct, strict and unlike the carefree Paul you were used to. The thought of forcing Feyd into submission feels like a betrayal of everything you’ve been trying to understand. It’s just not in your nature to act like that and certainly not after saving one’s life.

Without a word, you turn and stride towards Feyd's quarters. Gurney calls after you, but you don't stop. The urgency of the moment propels you forward, and you know you must reach Feyd before anyone else does. You stop before his chamber door and take a deep breathe to calm yourself. Anger still very much in place.

You find him in his room, pacing like a caged animal. He looks up as you enter, his eyes narrowing with suspicion and curiosity.

"Feyd," you begin, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions within you, "I need to talk to you. Now."

He gestures for you to continue, his expression unreadable. You take a deep breath and plunge into the truth.

"Paul has sent orders. He demands your loyalty, or he will attack Giedi Prime and strip you of your title." You state as a matter of fact.

You decided, against Gurney’s advice, to be honest with the Harkonnen. Assuming he never experienced someone being truly honest with him, you thought that would be the safest approach. And the only approach that would make him trust you.

Feyd's jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with anger.

"And you expect me to bow to him like a dog?" he growls as he steps closer to you, invading your personal space. "No," you reply quickly. "I came to tell you because I believe we can find another way. I don’t agree with him, I need you to know that. I need you to trust me.” Your arm extending softly towards him before deciding not to.

He studies you for a long moment, his gaze piercing. Then, to your surprise, he nods.

"For some reason, I believe you," he says, his voice softer, almost contemplative.

Feyd started to move towards one of the large windows, the sunrise already showing, painting a pink hue into the room. Before he speaks again you notice yourself staring at his form, long and slender, broad shoulders in the soft sun, and you thought he looked mesmerizing. As he turns around, leaning against the window, he glances back at you.

“Seeing as you brought me back from the dead, it’s fairly simple to see where my loyalties lie.” He simply says, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

You quickly focus your gaze on him, unsure if you correctly heard what he had just said. As he looks down, you see him remove one of his rings. He looks less menacing as he did a few seconds ago. Softer in a way.

“What are you implying?” you say, worried you might misunderstand.

He smiles devilish as beckons you to come over. Before you reach him, he gets on one of his knees and takes your hand in his. He feels warm and soft, unlike what a killer might feel like. The touch electrifying you both, as you get chills on the back of your neck and arms at his gentleness.

“I will be loyal to you, and only you lady Atreides. Should your brother decide to paint you as a criminal I shall gladly fight him again. And win.” He speaks with a hatred and confidence, but you also feel that he’s not lying.

As he places his house’s ring in your hand, he turns it over, the sigil facing you, as he closes your hand over it. You nod, understanding the gravity of his words, when he looks up at you again.

"Loyalty to me. Interesting proposition. Very well, I agree. But know this: if you betray me, I will not hesitate to end you Feyd-Rautha."

A slow smile spreads across Feyd's face, a mixture of amusement and respect. He thinks it’s quite cute how someone like you, in your position, would make threats like that to the galaxy’s known killer.

"I understand," he replies, matching your intensity.

As he goes to stand again, you extend your other hand towards him, and after a moment of hesitation, Feyd takes it and pulls it up towards his face. As he kisses it, and your house’s ring, he keeps his gaze on you, and you wonder if he can see you blush from where you stand.

“My lady.”

You swallow hard as you feel your heart do a double beat again. A strange feeling to say the least, but you shake it off as you release yourself from his soft grasp and make your way outside.

“I’ll give my brother the good news.” You say as you close the door.

As you leave his room, a sense of purpose fills you. You are no longer alone. Feyd’s loyalty to you is a powerful tool, bound by an inexplicable connection that defies logic and reason. You also had to do something about the fact that he was technically a prisoner, but first things first.

Back in your chambers, you prepare to send a message to Paul, your heart resolute. The sands of Arrakis shift beneath your feet, ever-changing, ever unpredictable. You hope Paul is persuaded enough to leave the two of you be. Feyd was hardly a threat at this point. But you never knew with your brother.

[juunobox]

──★ ˙ ̟ there really is no freedom here, is there? (nikolai gogol x gn! reader)

summary : TALKING ABOUT EXISTENTIAL CRISIS THE COMPLEXITIES OF BEING A HUMAN WITH NIKOLAI !!!!!!! HOW FUN!!!!!!!!!!! warnings : mentions of god,,, um,, nothing explicit i swear just existential crisis note : p short, and maybe absurd, my brain hasn't been braining for a while now. unlike my other fics, this one is written in 1st person pov

"Is this why you're always so theatrical, Nikolai?"

"Huh?" Nikolai turned to me, the juggling balls he'd been playing with falling to the floor.

"To mask those emotions deep inside you," I muttered, pulling up my knees to my chest.

Nikolai cocked his head to the side, his silence unbroken as he observed me. His grin then widened, and he closed the distance with dramatic, comically wide strides.

"Well, I guess I do!"

He crouched down before me.

"But you know what, dove? It never really works, if I'm being honest. No matter how much I laugh, make jokes, do magic tricks…"

Letting out a forced giggle, Nikolai held onto his temple and dramatically tossed his head back, bursting into laughter.

"Hahaha! No, no! It's not because I want to 'mask' those emotions, [y/n]! I just think if I suppress them well enough, I won't be able to feel them anymore one day. Then I'll finally be free!"

A grin spread across his lips as he flapped his arms; motioning a bird's wings. I let out a shallow laugh, shaking my head.

"Deep down, you do know that won't be the case, right, Kolya?"

His smile instantly faltered at what I just said.

"..."

For a moment, there was a lull in conversation.

"And why do you think so, dove?"

I had to swallow hard before I could respond with a nod.

"Sure, you technically won't feel anything, but boredom and numbness are still emotions in itself..." I buried my face in my arms, letting out a quiet sigh, "And I have a hunch that you're aware of that, Kolya. But, well, I'm just expressing my thoughts." I continued.

"You didn't need to remind me of that, [Y/N]..." Nikolai muttered out in a hushed voice, taking off his eyepatch and letting it drop to the ground. As it collided with the floor surface, I looked up, finding his gentle yet sorrowful smile.

"There really isn't any freedom, is there?" He said, lifting his hand towards the sky and splaying his fingers as though trying to reach something above. "I suppose we'll be trapped in here forever. We won't ever leave this warm, wet cage, for so long as we're alive."

I let the silence between us sink in for a moment.

"Being a human is so simple, yet so complicated, and so limiting, all at the same time."

A soft laugh emanated from Nikolai as he reached for a strand of my hair, idly twirling it between his gloved fingers. "Go on, dove," He coaxed, encouraging me to speak my mind even more.

"Well... and when people tell me 'your body is your own', it certainly doesn't feel like it. If it really is mine, then why does my emotions, drives and control everything that I do? If it really is mine and mine alone, why am I so controlled by my emotions? It should be the other way around, right?"

"Mhm mhm," the clown hummed, showing he was still listening.

"My emotions... they always feel... so out of control. And why am I driven by my own emotions in the first place? Is it because I'm human? Is it because an entity above me is controlling my emotions, some sort of God, perhaps?"

"..."

"Hahaha! Now, now, that's scary, [y/n]! I certainly would hate that!" Nikolai laughed out loud, the loudness startling me a bit.

"If God is really there, then this just means he can't save anyone." Nikolai's voice softened as he smiled and let go of my hair, his hand now gently cupping my cheek instead. "That's why, we need to find our own way to be free. Find the path to our freedom, in our own ways." he said earnestly.

"I will find a way to free us both," he added, "But for now... I just want to cherish your presence."

I looked at him with a soft smile and asked, "A long day, was it?"

Nikolai agreed with a nod, removing his hat before leaning against me. He slowly closed his eyes and gently took my hand, guiding it to ruffle his silvery locks. "Your touch is so comfortable, can I just take your hand away?" He suddenly spoke, his tone playful.

"I'm not letting you amputate me."

"Hehehehe!" Nikolai only giggled in response and continued to nuzzle against me. "I'm just kidding, dove!"

[bodynblood666]

Bonded Together. Ch 1: New Ghouls

Parring: Phantom and Aurora (platonic)

content: sad ghouls, slight mention of nudity (rora's breast and nipples mentioned), panic attack, and fighting. think thats it

word count: 3,317

Summary: When copia tried summoning a new ghoul to replace aether, he accidently summoned two new ghouls instead of one. the two new ghouls have a relationship unlike any other ghoul. one could say they share the same soul. but what will happen when one ghoul is put into the band and the other must hang out around the ministry?

Chapter 1. New Ghouls 

Having a Multi Ghoul get summoned is a rare occurrence. You cannot choose to summon them like you would any other ghouls. Multi Ghouls get summoned along with other element ghouls. And because of this they get bonded with their summon mate. This bond is something unlike any other. It is a bond that goes unbroken. It is stronger than a bond between parent and child, friends, and sibling. A type of bond that can only be described by two ghouls with the same soul. Multi Ghouls are like little surprises when they emerge from the summoning circle with the other ghoul. And that is what Aurora was, a surprise.   

Among the mess of quintessence energy spilling from the circle on the floor, a mixture of air and water flows as well. The ghouls around the circle look on in awe at the new summons slowly forming. From the black goop that appears on the circle, form two brand new ghouls. One is a quintessence ghoul with a frail ashy gray body, pale lavender eyes and deep purple hair with streaks of white. The other a tiny ghoulette with blush pink skin, long blonde hair, and tiny little horns. The two newly summoned ghouls slowly start to stand, grasping firmly to each other’s hand.  

Copia was not expecting two new ghouls. He did not need two new ghouls. He only needed a replacement for Aether, another quintessence ghoul. He had no use for the new multi ghoulette that stood before him.  

The bigger ghouls holds a protective grip on the smaller ghoulette’s hand. Pale lavender eyes roam the unfamiliar faces before him. A low growl starts up in his throat. It rattles around in the almost empty room. His only wish in that moment is to protect his summon mate from the unfamiliar people in front of them. For all he knows is that they could be enemies. Wished nothing else but to rip into them and eat them for dinner. 

“What do we do, Copia?” Mountain asks his Papa. Copia takes slow strides towards the new ghouls. Wishing not to startle them even more. 

“Miei cari, what are your names?” Copia asks timidly. He looks over to the ghoulette behind the protective ghoul. Her face carries nothing but fear. Fear from the pit. Fear from the unfamiliar faces in front of her. Fear from the unfamiliar environment she was thrust into. But she holds onto the ghoul like a lifeboat. Like if she lets go, she will get caught in the current and surely drown. 

Finally, after what like an eternity, she speaks.  

“A-Aurora...,” she all but whispers. “My name is Aurora.” Her grip loosens on the ghoul, but her hold is still strong.  

“It is lovely to meet you, Aurora.” Copia replies warmly, a smile gracing his face. He turns to the ghoul in front of her. Waiting for his name. 

“Phantom…” He finally speaks. His features slowly relax. But his protective stance standing mighty.  

“We are so happy to have two new ghouls with us,” Copia says and gestures to his group of ghouls behind him. “My ghouls will show you two around and give you a warm welcome. Aurora, Cirrus, Cumulus and Sunshine will show you around the ghoulette den. And Phantom, Aether will show you around the practice room and get you started on your guitar lessons.” 

Copia bids his ghouls a gentle farewell and opens the large heavy doors for the summoning room and closes it behind him with a low bang. Once the heavy doors close, Cumulus takes the initiative and slowly walks towards the two bare ghouls in front of her. Phantom notices Cumulus getting closer to them and the low growl in his throat picks up again. This time louder and more threatening. Claws retracting from his hands, and he when he hisses his long thin fangs on full display. His eyes grow dark, with a mixture of fear and rage, and this hair on his body sticks up in defense.  

Aurora reaches her hand out and gently caresses the back of Phantom’s head, trying to calm him down. “Phantom, I don’t think they are trying to hurt us,” Aurora says calmly in Phantom’s ear. “Please let them help us.” The hair on the little quintessence ghoul starts to settle down and his fangs retract back into his fingers. The anger in Phantom’s little body slowly dissipating and fear is the only thing that remains.  

Phantom looks over at Cumulus and sees nothing but friendliness and warmth in her gorgeous sky-blue eyes. When she reaches out to the two ghouls again, he lets her. No growling. No fangs. No nothing. He lets her. All she wants to do is help the two poor ghouls before her. She pulls the ghouls into a warm welcoming embrace. A scene of hyacinths and fresh morning air washes over Phantom and Aurora as they melt into the embrace. When Phantom was about to return the embrace, Cumulus pulls away from them and wraps the ghouls in velvet blankets. 

“Aurora, Cirrus, Sunny, and I will bring you to our side of the ghoul den. And Phantom, Aether and the boys will show you around their side of the den and then around the practice room,” Cumulus says as she wraps the blankets around their bare bodies, protecting their bodies from hungry eyes. “After we will meet up together as a group again and have dinner. Does that sound all right to the two of you?” 

Phantom and Aurora look at each other for a split second, then turn back to Cumulus and nod. Aurora with a small smile on her face. Phantom with apprehensive look on his face. Sunshine quickly grabs Aurora’s arm and practically drags her in the direction of the ghoul den, with Cirrus and Cumulus following shortly behind. Phantom beginnings to walk towards the door, trying to follow his summon mate. Only to be stopped by a big hand that lands on his hand with enough force to hurt his shoulder.  

He winces in pain at the contact, then turns his head to see who the hand belongs to. When he turns his head, he is greeted with a warm, wide tooth smile.  

“Where do you think you're going, Batty?” Swiss says smiling down at the young ghoul. Phantom turns his head towards the door and opens his mouth to answer, but his cut off by Swiss and Aether pushing him out the door. “We’re taking you to get some clothes first, then we’ll start our little tour.” 

After a short walk through the old hallow halls of the Ministry, Aurora is met with a big iron door at the end of a very dark corridor, only lit with a few torches that rest on the walls. Cirrus pries the hefty door open, and on the other side Aurora is greeted with a disgusted stench which made her automatically cringe in disgust. Once she entered the den, Aurora gazed upon the sight before her. Littered around the den were articles of clothing, garbage, towels, and weird stains almost on every surface she saw. 

“Is this where you sleep?” Aurora asks as she apprehensively walks round the den, trying not to come into contact with anything. 

“Hell no,” Cirrus proclaims. “This is where the boys sleep, I might kill myself if I were forced to sleep in this filth.” 

“Just over here is our den, where we sleep.” Sunshine says as she walks over to another door on the other side of the room.  

Once Sunshine opens the door, the room behind it is completely different than the one they are currently standing in. The room was basically spotless. Beautiful paintings hang on the pearly white walls. A fresh smell wafts throughout the room as Aurora walks through it. Candles sit on various surfaces in the room. The furniture looked like it had never been sat on or touched. Unlike the furniture in the room next door, which looked like it should have been thrown out years ago. 

“This is our side of the den. We had to pretty much beg Sister Imperator to add an extension to the ghoul den for us because we could not live in that disgusting place anymore,” Cumulus said closing the door behind her, keeping out whatever diseases were in the other room. “She only agreed to it when she saw how disgusting it was and said they’ll get to work on the extension right away.” 

“How do they live like that?” Auroura questioned as she turned to look at the other ghoulettes. 

“Oh, we have no idea,” Sunshine answered. “Here I'll show you your room Rora!” 

Aurora smiles warmly at the new nickname given to her. She follows Sunshine over to one of the four doors that sit in the room. Sunshine opens the door to reveal an almost empty room. The only things in the room were the necessities, a bed, a desk and a nightstand. 

 “It was Mist’s room, but she spends all her time in the pool area, so she has not used this room in months. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you taking it over.” Cirrus walks into the room after Aurora and plops down on to the bed with Cumulus following her lead. 

“Mist?” Aurora asks. “Who’s that? Am I ever going to meet her?” 

“Mist is the first ghoulette that was ever summoned. You might meet her but seeing her outside of the pool area is very rare.” Cumulus replies. Aurora hums in understanding and wonders if she would ever encounter Mist in her time here.  

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Sunshine exlaims standing up from the chair that the desks. “Over here is your bathroom.” Sunshine flies opens the only other door in the room and unveils a room that looks strikingly like the first room. Mess wise. Hair lined the floor. Hair dye, dying one of the two sinks in the room. Bottles spilling out contents on the vanity. 

“Unfortunately, you will have to share a bathroom with the messiest ghoulette. Sunshine.” Cumulus says from her spot on the bed. 

“We try and clean up after her, but she always gets her spaces messy,” Cirrus scoffs. “The only person who was able to get Sunny to clean up after herself was Mist.” 

“HEY!” Sunshine exclaims. “I only cleaned up because she threatened me and threatened to throw out all of my things!” 

“Maybe she should have kept her word on that threat.” Cirrus said, glaring at Sunshine. Sunshine returned Cirrus’ glare with a low growl in her throat, which in turn made Cirrus start a low growl in her throat as well.  

As Aurora watched the scene before her, memories of the pit came flooding back to her. Memories of ghouls fighting one another for territory, for food, even fighting for fun. Whenever Aurora encountered a fight, she would run and hide away. Knowing that she might not survive a fight with her small frame and her lightweight body. Fear started to build up in her small body, as Cirrus and Sunshine kept growling at one another. Aurora tried to sneak out of the room, trying to be as quiet as she could.  

Cumulus noticed Aurora’s frightened expression and spoke up. “Enough you two. You’re scaring her.” Cumulus stood up from her spot of the bed and went over to Aurora and pulled her into a tight, warm hug. “They didn’t mean anything Aurora. We fight sometimes but none of us truly mean anything we say.” 

“Except maybe Dew.” Cirrus pouts. 

“Well, that’s Dew. Here let's get you out of this blanket Aurora and into something more comfortable.” Cumulus burst into Sunshine’s room and starts rummaging around through the drawers of her dresser. “Sunny’s clothes would fit you better than ours, even if they’re a bit big.” 

Cumulus pulls out a frilly pink dress from one of the drawers that is filled only with cargo pants and crop tops. As well as a pair of white fuzzy socks from another drawer just above the first one.  

“Here go and try these on and come back and show us.” Cumulus has Aurora the clothes and shoos her off to go and get changed. Aurora comes back a few minutes later wearing the dress and socks. The dress is long on her, but it flatters her waist and legs. The top, however, is too big on her. The dress shows off the roundness of her breasts and a tiny glimpse of her nibbles. “Hmmm, let me see if we have a hoodie or something to cover up the top.” 

Sunshine pulls out an abandoned hoodie from off the floor and throws it over Aurora’s head, covering her breasts and protecting her from the wandering eyes of the boys or anyone else. “That should be good.” 

A small chime can be heard ringing through the Sunshine’s messy room. Sunshine pulls out her phone that was nestled in her pocket and reads whatever message she just received.  

“Mount says they’re done and so is dinner, so we should start heading to the dining room.” Sunshine says, shoving the phone back into her pocket and exiting through the door and out towards the dining room. Cumulus grabs onto Aurora’s arm and follows swiftly behind Sunshine with Cirrus not too far behind her as well. 

“Who is Mount?” Aurora asks as they pass through the doorway of the big iron door. 

Cumulus giggles and answers her. “Mount is short for Mountain. That’s what we call him, and he was the very tall ghoul in the summoning room. I’m sure you saw him.” 

Aurora gives a nod and a small little ‘ah’. After a few short minutes, they end up in a grand dining hall filled with many tables and chairs, but only the round table in the middle has people sitting at it. Or rather ghouls than people sitting at the table. The same ghouls that we at Aurora’s and Phantom’s summoning. With a quick scan of the group of ghouls, Aurora immediately spots Phantom, sitting at the table, fiddling with the ends of his ruffed shirt. Aurora smiled and instinctively ran over to him and gave him the biggest embrace. The kind you would give a loved one that you had not seen in a long, long time. 

Phantom immediately melted into Aurora’s embrace and returned her hug graciously. Aurora pulled back from the hug and sat down, right next to Phantom and held onto his hand tight and gave it a few squeezes. He smiles up at her with what almost looked like a forced smile. Aurora could tell he didn’t really want to be here. She knew Phantom didn’t like new places. He never took anything new well. He didn’t like change. She hopes with her beginning here with him will ease his to be more comfortable.  

Soon everyone started to take their seats as Mountain brought in the food. The food being a delicious looking steak ribeye. Everyone began eating and chatting and laughing amongst themselves. A few of them asking Phantom and Aurora questions. Aurora answering in great detail. Phantom with only one-word answers. Aurora’s hand never left Phantom’s during dinner. It never left his hand on the walk back to the den. It only left his hand when they had to split up and check out for the night. Phantom tried following Aurora, but the big strong hand and wide toothy smile appeared behind him again, stopping him from following her. 

“Come on, Batty. Your room is over here remember?” Swiss says directing Phantom to his room that he was showed to earlier. 

The room was dark and cold. Phantom hated the cold. He always had ever since he was a pup. He would try and snuggle up to anyone who was around to try and steal some of their warmth. Most of the time he was pushed away, forced to sleep in the cold. But Aurora had always appeared by him to snuggle up with him. Never letting him sleep alone in the cold ever again. Except for tonight. The blankets on his bed were not enough to keep him warm. Every time he tried closing his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. He would just toss and turn, trying desperately to fall asleep. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep so badly. But Aurora’s warmth wasn’t there tonight to lull him to sleep like it normally is. 

Hot tears start to well up in his eyes. A sob choking out of his chest. He hated this place. He hated the pits as well, but he would rather be there than here, in this new place. Phantom tried to bury his cries into his pillow, hoping not to disturb anyone or wake anyone up. His tail instinctively started to wrap around his leg, trying to bring him some comfort. 

Light footsteps can be heard outside of Phantom’s door. He tried to choke down his sobs, fearful that he woke someone up and they are coming to yell at him to shut up. The footsteps stop just outside of Phantom’s door, and he feels his throat staring to close and anxiety rising in his body as he starts to hyperventilate quietly. Phantom closes his eyes tight, hoping whoever is outside his door goes away and leaves him alone. 

Phantom’s door is slowly pushed open and closes quietly with a light thud. Phantom closes his eyes even tighter, letting the remaining tears in his eyes spill out and onto his pillow as he starts to hyperventilate faster. 

“Tommy?” A light and familiar voice asks. Phantom turns his head to look at whoever is in his room. His pale lavender eyes are met with the sight of Aurora standing in the middle of the room with unfamiliar pajamas on, that a definitely way too big on her. At the sight of his summon mate and the only person he truly knows here; Phantom starts sobbing again and reaches out for Aurora’s embrace. “Oh, Tommy...” 

Aurora hurries over to Phantom’s bed and embraces him. Wrapping her arms around the frail quintessence ghoul before her, burring her face into the top of his head. Aurora starts running her finger through Phantom’s head as he cries into her chest. She doesn’t speak a word. She just keeps running her nails on his scalp and through his hair. She doesn’t speak until his cries quiet down to nothing about soft little sniffles. 

“I know you don’t like new things, Tommy. And this is a very new thing.” Aurora all up whispers. “But we are out of the pits. We are away from the horrible, horrible place. And that’s something we should be very happy about. I know I’m happy about it.” 

“But this place is way too new. To many new sounds, new smells, new people. It's just too much Rory.” Phantom words are muffed as he speaks into her chest. 

“I know it’s a lot, but you’re here with me and that must matter a bit, right?” Aurora pressed a chaste kiss to Phantom’s forehead as her fingers started running through his hair again. “You know if it gets too overwhelming for you, you can always come to me. I’ll always be here for you Tommy.” 

“I know. And thank you.” Phantom replies looking up at Aurora and smiles up at her meekly. Aurora smiles back down at him, whipping his tear-stained cheeks with the sleeve of Sunshine’s pj shirt.  

Soon enough the two new ghouls fall sleep in each other’s warm embrace. Their tails wrapping around one another in a protective hold. Phantom was finally able to fall asleep in the warm embrace he had always known. And Aurora was able to fall asleep with the ghoul she had always known and always loved.