#this armor FOUGHT ME the entire way through rip

[criticalrolo]

come on provolone 💚💛

[ajwild220]

"Trust me" Hero x Villain

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“Take them to their room. Now. I will deal with them myself” Villains words held a promise, making Hero’s skin crawl.

Hero’s arms were instantly enveloped in the strong grasp of two of Villain’s henchman. Their body flexing on instinct as if preparing for a fight, a fight they promptly lost as both Henchman’s grip turned bruisingly tight. It was all Hero could do to not wince in Villains presence as they were dragged down the hallway their nemesis’s eyes following them until they turned the corner.

The longer Hero was forced to walk the more they began to panic. Villain had always scared them more than they cared to admit. The very thought of them being in a room alone together with Villain having the upper hand was terrifying to them. Villain's promise loomed in the air, they would deal with them. Personally.

Hero’s mouth went dry and they tried to swallow. Now they were fighting more enemies than the ones who had their meaty hands gripping Hero’s arms. Hero fought down their own panic which was a much harder battle to win. Every doorway they passed only served to raise Hero’s trepidation as their muted powers begged to surface but it would be of no use, the henchmen’s body armor was specially made. There was no way, powers or not, Hero could free themselves from their clutches.

Finally they reached a familiar doorway. The one Hero had managed to escape from not a half hour ago. The taste of defeat was sickening. Hero’s heartbeat began to rise, they couldn’t go back in there. They couldn’t face villain alone. They struggled and immediately wished they hadn’t. A harsh blow fell across their face making their vison go white, their eyes smarting with tears from the impact before they were shoved to their knees, arms ripped behind them eliciting a small cry. When Hero heard the click, their head snapped wildly around. Power suppressing cuffs. Hero’s fighting only aided in more bruises as the cuffs clamped both wrists behind them. Any hope of a fight with Villain was banished, they were completely at their mercy. The henchmen yanked Hero up off the floor sneering as they threw them through the open doorway. As they hit the floor Hero could hear the bolt locking from the outside.

Hero couldn’t help but take a shuddering breath as the footsteps outside faded into complete silence. Their arms ached where finger shaped bruises were beginning to form and circulation was just beginning to flow again. Reluctantly they pushed off the floor, which was easier said than done with their arms securely behind them, and leaned heavily on the bedframe. The room was dark but their eyes were beginning to adjust to the moonlight streaming through the protected windows opposite them. They couldn’t help but glance around at the place of their previous captivity. It was just as they had left it, the room too lavish for any prisoner.

It was unsettling, the soft pillows and comforter, dark curtains, two comfortable chairs with an attached bathroom. How you would treat a guest, not a captive. The mixed signals had eaten at Hero the entire time they had been here just as they were now. They suppressed a shiver as they remembered the way Villain had watched them be dragged away. Eyes never leaving their face as they told the henchmen Hero’s fate.

Hero felt sick. The reality of Villains appearance in the near future was sinking into their being leaving behind a cold wake of fear. On a normal day Hero would put on a brave face and run towards the danger as any good Hero would, but today was far from normal. Normally they were an even match, now Hero was stripped of any way of defense, Villain could do anything.

Overwhelming dread and hopelessness pulsed through Hero’s veins as they began to pace. Their heart thumped unnaturally strong in their chest and their breathing started to grow harsh and ragged as they pondered what Villain’s threat could mean. Surely the pain they felt all over themselves now could not compare to what would come when they were at their enemy's mercy. That’s when they heard a thump. The telltale sound of footsteps coming to stop outside their door.

Hero tried desperately to calm themselves, but it only resulted in more panicked anticipation. As they heard the key in the lock, they bit their lip until it bled. A trickle of blood pooled inside their lips forcing Hero to swallow as they slowly backed themselves into the wall trembling and straightening their back in effort to look like they had their emotions in check.

The lock rattled and the hinges creaked as if joyfully announcing the new arrival. Hero's mouth went dry as Villain entered calmly, tall, strong, imposing as ever as their body filled the doorframe. Their eyes, eerily blue swept the room before locking onto Hero and closing the door behind them with a resounding click causing Hero to shudder.

“Hello Hero” their voice dripped into the silence. Hero’s fingernails dug into their palms to keep their hands from shaking. “Why are you standing in the dark?” it almost sounded like… genuine concern? Villain’s eyebrows furrowed a bit, and they remained still for a moment before slowly reaching toward the light waiting for any indication of displeasure from Hero. Hero remained as unmoving as possible pulse rushing wildly through their ears. The light flicked on and Hero squeezed their eyes shut against the brightness.

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The first thing Villain noticed was Hero’s eyes, once adapted to the light they were wide, skitterish and their pupils were dilated. Hero was watching them with an emotion they had never seen from them before, their back pushed against the wall and their hands behind them. The whole thing was odd, normally Hero would stand tall, eyes daring them to fight or make some sassy comment. This seemed like an entirely different person. That’s when Villain noticed the blood, barely present on Hero’s swollen lip. Villains face darkened as they took a step into the room. “Hero, who—”

Before Villain could ask which henchman had dared lay hands on them Hero did something entirely unexpected. As soon as Villain stepped forward Hero stifled a whimper and cowered away. Villain froze. Everything clicked at that moment. The look, the posture, the eyes; Hero was terrified of them.

That had never been Villains intention. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Hero had been placed here for their protection, Supervillain’s heist was happening this week and Villain had begged to keep Hero somewhere where they would not cause problems. Unbeknownst to Supervillain, Villain just couldn’t stand the thought of sweet sacrificial Hero getting caught in the crossfire. They had never intended for something like this to happen.

“Hero?” Villain almost whispered.

Hero kept their eyes solidly trained on Villains boots and Villain could see their lip almost trembling. Villain took another step forward this time, much more slowly as they spoke “Hero, listen to me.” Another step, another whimper from Hero. “I am not going to hurt you.” Villain was not known for being reassuring but something about seeing Hero, their Hero, so broken, eyes like a kicked puppy, something tugged at them. They were so close to Hero now, almost close enough to reach out and touch them. Hero’s head was down, shoulders slumped as if to protect themselves but their hands remain decisively behind them. Something was behind Hero.

“What are you holding?” Villain couldn’t help the slightly suspicious tone. Perhaps this was all a hoax, a farce to get Villain close enough for Hero’s scheme. Hero didn’t answer.

“What are you holding, Hero?” the sympathy left Villains voice and they stood up straight again, tall and threatening. “Show me. Now.” Hero’s wide eyes met Villain’s a moment before Villain struck. Villain closed the distance between them grabbing Hero’s shoulders and turning them forcing their chest against the wall. Hero’s breathing hitched as Villain held them firmly in place. Villain instantly examined Hero’s hands, freezing at what they saw. They hadn’t asked henchmen for the power restraining binding.

Guilt flowed through Villain as they began to feel Hero’s body shudder under their grip. Villain wanted to apologize, to say sorry. Instead, their grip loosened as they traced the moon shaped indents Hero’s nails had made against their restrained palms. “I didn’t know” they fully released Hero who immediately tried to put space between them. “I didn’t ask them to put those on you, believe me.”

Hero swallowed as they took a step to the side their voice shook but they tried to resemble the Hero they were. “Don’t ask me to believe that Villain.”

Villain’s eyes raked over them, disheveled, shaking and still fighting back, even if it was just a little.

“Even if it’s the truth?” Villain tried to step closer, but Hero moved back.

“If it’s the truth,” Hero took a shaking breath. “Prove it.”

The room was still as they both stood silently, Hero just beginning to think maybe they had made the wrong move. Then Villain sprang into action. Determinedly they began to close the gap between them, it was unexpected, and Hero tried to move away but Villain was ready this time. Before Hero could register what was happening their back hit the wall at the corner of the room with Villains body blocking all escape.

Hero’s ears burned red at their proximity and heartbeat faster knowing they were completely trapped. They wanted to put their hands up as a barrier, a separation between them, but they couldn’t. They couldn’t fight back; they dropped their gaze, breath once again shaky at Villains mercy.  

Warm fingers gently directed their chin upwards, Hero tried to pull out of Villain’s touch but Villain wouldn’t let them, fingers still gingerly holding Hero’s chin as they waited for Hero to relax enough to look them in the eyes. When Hero finally complied Villain hummed in approval,

“In order to 'prove it' you have to let me near you, Sweetheart.”

Villain could feel Hero’s breath hitch at the nickname. Villain continued “I didn’t put those cuffs on you, I don’t have the key so I can’t just let you out.” Hero stiffened “but hold on relax I wasn’t finished.” Villain waited for Hero to breathe again. “I know how to break you out, the thing is,” Villain finally dropped their fingers from Hero’s face. “You have to trust me and stay still.”

Hero’s fear of Villain was only surpassed by the insane desire to be free. They offered Villain a small nod. It was still hard for Hero to think with Villain’s body so close so entrapping and warm, but they didn’t have another option in sight.

“Alright then. But first—” Villain delved quickly into their pocket and retrieved a clean white handkerchief. Unfortunately, all Hero saw was Villains raised hand and quick movement. They flinched in anticipation of a blow. When it never came, they opened their eyes slowly and upon seeing the contents of Villain’s hand realized their mistake. Carefully they met Villains gaze, it was not angry as expected, more of an emotion they couldn’t place but it seemed almost like disappointment.

Villain broke eye contact this time as they folded the handkerchief and held it up almost shyly. “For your lip.” Villain paused a strange weight coming between them,

“We’re not in uniform, I wouldn’t hit you like that.”

Hero studied Villains face and upon seeing truth, nodded slowly in understanding.

Villain offered a half smile devoid of actual happiness just to show they were glad they were understood before raising the cloth, slower this time, in Hero’s direction. Hero pulled away their voice small, “could we wait until after you take the cuffs off?”

“Would you let me clean your lip if both your hands were free?”

Hero paused, “Yes.”

“Liar.” Hero's lips almost quirked at how well Villain knew them. “I can see what you can’t, it will be better if I do it…Or do you not trust me?”

It was a trap and Hero knew it, if they said they didn’t trust them how would they ever get the cuffs off. And if they said they did Villain would do what they wanted anyway. It was a lose-lose situation.

Villain could sense the inner conflict and interrupted “Just trust me. Please.”

Hero took a shuddering breath, once again they were posed with a choice that wasn’t really much of a choice. “Ok, go ahead.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You wouldn’t like my answer,” Hero retorted. “be content that I’m allowing you to do this.”

Villain who had given Hero more space in the last few moments closed the gap and rested their hand on the wall behind Hero’s head “Since when are you in control of this situation?”

That shut Hero up pretty quickly. The forgotten fear had come back as they remembered exactly who they were sassing. Villain didn’t wait for Hero’s thoughts to catch up rather brought the handkerchief up to Hero’s face, wiping away the little blood that had stained their bottom lip. Hero’s face was beet red, and they didn’t know where to look. Villain was so concentrated, and their hand was impossibly gentle. Hero tried not to move, much less shiver at Villain's touch.

Villain finished cleaning the drying blood and they refolded the handkerchief to a clean space. One hand moved to cradle Hero’s jaw and Hero tensed as Villains thumb calmly caressed Hero bottom lip.

“Relax.”

It was quite hard to relax when Hero’s heart was practically beating out of their chest. No one had ever held them like this, much less been this gentle. They would have wanted to lean into the touch had they not remembered just who’s hands they were in. Their arch nemesis, Villain, the one who had put them here, the one they were afraid of! Hero’s mind screamed at them to pull away and stop the mixed feelings, but Villain interrupted,

“Am I hurting you?”

Hero’s eyebrows furrowed “What?” they practically whispered.

“I asked if I was hurting you.” Villain asked matter of factly.

Confused Hero shook their head, “No.”

Villains thumb resumed lightly rubbing Hero’s lip

“Then please relax so I can see your cut. It’s mostly on the inside.” Hero’s lips only relaxed a bit with the information. Villain looked at Hero with a longsuffering glint in their eyes. “Would you please let me help you? I’m not trying to hurt you.” Hero didn’t want to give in, to trust the person before them but something in Villain’s tone reminded them, they were safe. What an odd word to use while in a situation like this. However, Hero took a deep breath and allowed Villain to assess the damage.

Villain was careful, painstakingly so. They wiped away the fresh blood and put a small amount of pressure on the miniature wound. Hero winced.

“Sorry” Villain seemed to wince with them. Just as quickly as it had begun it was over. Villain ran a thumb over their lip one last time before dropping all contact from which Hero had to hide their sigh of relief.

Stuffing the handkerchief back in their pocket Villain took a step back before sitting down in one of the cushioned chairs leaving Hero standing dumbly in the corner.

“You were really that scared of me?”

Hero gave a confused look.

Villain gestured to their own lip. “The bite. You must have done it right before I came through the door.”

“I-I well what was I supposed to expect when you said you’d deal with me personally?”

“Well I thought I would come in and have a deal of fun with you.”

Hero’s features contorted at the implication before Villain realized their mistake.

“No no no that’s not what I meant” they almost rose from their seat before taking their face in their hands “that was not what I meant at all, I misspoke. I meant I was going to congratulate you on your escape and I thought we would banter like we always do. I didn’t think you would see me as the threat and…I wasn’t planning any of this.”

A long pause followed Villains outburst, the quiet calming Hero as they could sense the almost fond attitude Villain had towards them. In fact, if they didn’t know better they would even say that Villain was embarrassed by the things said in the last few moments. Villain sat stick straight looking vastly uncomfortable. Hero couldn’t help this strange feeling inside of them, perhaps it was their Heroic instincts or maybe just the fact that they truly understood that Villain was not planning to hurt them at the moment. Whatever it was Hero did something they hadn’t done the entire time they had seen Villain. They closed the gap between them and unquestioningly turned their back and held out their hands.

“I trust you.”

Part 2

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.196 thoughts

[Lucky Number Seven]

(Contents: speculation - power system/lore)

"I'll talk about Unbreakable vs. Unbreakable next week," I said, "surely it'll wrap up then," I said...I say it every few weeks, but I really need to stop trying to predict what's going to happen next...ah, am I Untrust?

Funny thing about this week's chapter: last week, I had the thought completely unprompted:

"Huh. y'know, even with their Rules, there isn't any good reason that the Negators are superhumans most of the time. Like just because Andy can't die, that's no reason he should be able to control the flow of his blood. Shen and Feng's martial prowess and inhuman strength are completely unrelated to their Rules, same with Billy's trick shots. I wonder if maybe their non-Negator abilities are somehow tied to their souls"

And I considered bringing it up last week, but it didn't really seem super relevant to what was going on, so I omitted that section cus I didn't want to get super sidetracked, especially with something that was just a wild shot in the dark

AND NOW IT LOOKS LIKE I'M JUST TAKING CREDIT FOR A PREDICTION I NEVER MADE!!! TOZUKA, YOU'RE MAKING ME LOOK LIKE A JACKASS FROM ALL DIRECTIONS!!!

Anyway...this is such a sick development!!! It's a subtle change, but the difference between using one's will to activate their abilities and using one's soul carries such a significant implication for how the power system will develop going forward

For one, the ability to manipulate, shape and project the soul changes the meta drastically since it adds a completely new wrinkle to how battles are fought, basically adding a new tool to everyone's kit in addition to things like Artifacts and teaming up with UMAs while also adding a potential new weakness to every encounter

I get the impression that souls are meant to be immortal since people get reincarnated between loops, but Ruin said that anyone he kills as a Regulator is removed from the loop, implying he can completely kill souls. But is this a unique trait to him, or is it something that anyone can do if they're able to target souls and he's just familiar with the technique?

Then there's the fact that Fuuko was able to impart Unluck without any tools, simply using her raw soul to go straight to meteoric levels. What can everyone else do to augment or circumvent their Rules? Could Chikara project his vision through his soul to lock down enemies from multiple angles without needing to worry about his eyes drying out? Or could he see a target's soul and prevent them from using their powers entirely?

Can Rip damage souls directly and keep them from recovering? Can Billy learn how to copy Rules better by witnessing them directly? Can Shen get a better read on his opponent by seeing their soul's intentions? Can Haruka harden her soul into armor OR harden her body since it's technically external to her soul? Can Sean make his soul Unseen or project parts of his soul to turn others invisible at a distance?

It'd be pretty boring if everyone just started generically making soul chains and soul guns, but if everyone is able to level up their Rules in unique ways, that'd be a great way to further develop the power system beyond what we've seen so far! I honestly wouldn't be surprised if we found out that Juiz has been using her soul to read peoples' visions of justice this whole time, and we'll probably see that in more detail when Julia gains Unjustice

As fun as it is to develop the power system, though, the real question for this chapter is who were those souls with Fuuko? I think it's fair to say that most if not all of us have concluded already that they're the previous holders of Unluck, who have presumably followed Fuuko to watch over her, but that raises a bunch of questions in and of itself

We know that Juiz and Victor never had families, so their continued existence between loops changed nothing (side note: this is a good indicator that Ruin has in fact been present since Loop 1 since he claims to have been created by God directly, which just further goes to show how hard he sucks as a villain), and that Juiz's eventual death led to her soul being incarnated as the child of a childless couple. From this, we can conclude that because Fuuko did not die in L100, her parents didn't have children in L101 as her soul was not present to be born. If these other six Unlucks have been staying with Fuuko this entire time, then that means that none of them were born in L101, as the chain of succession for Unluck could not be reset. How sad! Their ultimate fate was to not be able to live the lives they wanted even in the final "perfect" world! I guess that's still true of any given Negator prior to the current lineup, though, but still, that's tragic in and of itself, isn't it??

Secondly, though, what do they mean they chose Fuuko? All this time, I thought God picked the Negators based on what would cause the biggest tragedy for them: the world's greatest doctor inflicts irreparable wounds, the world's greatest psychic can only tell lies, the world champion ends his career by killing his opponent, a child drops his only living family from a cliff, a husband's only memory of his wife is her death...you can't tell me that these are because of the previous Negators!!! The Gods making those choices makes sense because they're both sadists, but the Negators themselves??? No, there's something more going on here

The Isshin family makes sense, at least, since their ability doesn't carry tragedy in and of itself, though it's possible that they're just maximizing its effectiveness by keeping it exclusive to smiths. I suppose the previous Untrust going for Latla also makes sense in that regard since giving it to someone with inaccurate predictions wouldn't change the trustworthiness of their conclusions. Unrepair is best used in the hands of someone with an understanding of anatomy, Unstoppable is best used by someone with good reaction time, Unchange is best used by someone with a strong desire for consistency, etc.

I think what it might be is that the previous users are also trying to find who can best make use of their powers in the interest of defeating God in the long term, it's just that God still decides when the power is transferred. I don't know what the previous Unlucks saw in Fuuko, but I highly doubt they said "that girl sure loves her parents; wonder how good she'll get with Unluck if we kill them." No, they probably heard her say or saw her do something that implied an interpretation of luck that they saw potential in, and didn't anticipate just how much destruction that she'd be able to cause

Bear in mind, there's no indication that Juiz ever executed any of the previous Unlucks, nor was she particularly worried about who would get it next after Fuuko. This implies that Fuuko's potential for Unluck is uniquely dangerous; the ability isn't a threat, she is, and whatever it is that made her that way is what made the Unlucks choose her

This brings us to the matter of the loop itself: why do the same people get the same abilities every time? My original thought was that either A) God designed the system that way for consistency so the looper would be able to make decisions based on experience, or B) once someone became a Vessel, the Rule was inextricably tied to their soul, so it would be drawn to them specifically if they were available when the ability next transferred. There may still be some truth to these ideas, but with the understanding that the previous Vessels have at least some say in the line of succession, it seems likely that upon reset, the first user gets it back and then deliberately passes it on to their chosen successor upon their death because they know it'll eventually lead where they want it to

This in turn further suggests that memories are carried in the soul. We've seen this multiple times, with Julia remembering Juiz's life and Sean/others choosing to be born earlier/later, but for the Vessels to consistently choose the same successors, it gives the impression that once they revert to being souls they remember everything and know what they need to do next. I wonder if they communicate with each other at all to coordinate their reincarnations and selections?

If nothing else, we can conclude that Remember probably accesses the memories present within the soul rather than psychometrically reading their past or storing the memories itself like other Artifacts do. I wonder if Remember's reverse ability actually erases memories or just suppresses them? I'm inclined to the latter, since one could feasibly use the obverse in a later loop and get erased memories back as well, and Victor's memories weren't actually erased. That said, Victor may be a fringe case since losing his memories completely could be a form of ego death, and therefore would be negated by Undead. Victor's not a very good sample for understanding the mechanics of Remember, is the point

I won't guess how long it will be before Tozuka revisits this concept and explains it in more detail, since again, I'm always wrong in these things, but I'm very excited for when he does! I've seen a lot of people concerned about the implications that the Vessels are responsible for the tragedies, and I would like that misunderstanding cleared up ASAP

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

[calextheneko]

Mario RPG Post Game Bosses Quick and Dirty Guide

Okay, so I can't promise the tactics I'm going to suggest here are the best effective tactics in the game for defeating each of the bosses in the post game. But I will say they let me roll through all of them pretty fast. Also bosses are pretty much in the order I encountered them. If at any point you're unsure if what boss you should be fighting you can go talk to Frog Sage at tadpole pond to be hinted at where to go.

Before Any Fights

Make sure you've fought and defeated Jinx three times and beaten Culex in Montro town and got the Jinx Belt and Quartz Charm accessories.

Level up as much as possible. You can buy the EXP Booster from the frog coin merchant in Seaside Town which doubles the XP of the person who has it equipped even if they're not in battle. The Lucky Egg bought from the Treasure Hunter in the Moeville Item Shop can be used to double your XP earned a lot for the party if you're good at the shuffle game.

Buy the Earlier Times item from the Frog Coin Merchant in Seaside Time. When RNG just goes bad or you mess up this will let you restart the fight right away rather than having to slowly die and resume from the last save point.

Make sure you have a Feather. If you didn't get won from beating Dodo in the statue mini game you can buy one, or if you want a second buy a second one from the Treasure Hunter in the Moeville Item Shop.

Make sure yo have the Lazy Shell (Weapon and armor) and Safety Ring.

Get as many Kercolas, Red Essences and Rock Candies that you can.

Practice timed hits and perfect blocks because both are required for multiple boss fights and will be the difference between life and death.

Consider getting the Star Egg from Grate Guy's Casino if you can stand the torture that is winning 100 Games of Look the Other Way. It deals a flat 100 damage to all enemies so isn't the best damage but it's reliable and reusable so comes in handy when you need something to damage everyone.

Now to the bosses.

Belome

Fought in Belome temple. Don't be an idiot like me and immediately run through all of Kero Sewer and then have to do Midas River because he's not there. Frog Sage told me he was up to his old tricks. So old tricks made me think the sewers. It was the temple. Travel to Monstro Town and enter the temple from there to get to him instantly.

Belome is frustrating but easy. But you can get rid of most of the frustrating part. Take any party members you want but I recommend including Peach for healing like I will for every fight. You don't need any special preparations to beat him but immunizing your entire party to sleep will save you a lot of grief. I did not, I only had Peach immune to sleep. She had the Safety Ring. Belome spams Sleep attacks so Mario and Geno went to sleep A LOT.

Belome's main gimmick this time is that he can't be injured by any attack as long as he has a clone out. He'll basically bounce back and forth between creating a clone, attacking and attempting to put the party to sleep. If you're prepared (unlike me) and immune to sleep 90% of this fight is solved. Just need two characters who hit hard to rip through the clone as soon as it comes out and beat down Belome. He doesn't really have anything dangerous and aside from not taking damage and so much sleep spam is really not that different from previous fights.

Jinx

Since I was already in Monstro Town decided to go visit Jinx yet since based on the wishes I read on the Pink Stars (You'll see them when you start the post game and follow the story leading to the boss rematches) that he was one of them.

Preparation

Jinx is going to spam mortal blows on your party. Accessories like the Safety Ring and the Quartz Charm are absolutely mandatory unless you have flawless mastery of timed hits to the point you never miss, even so good to have them for safety on the occasion you mess up and they're both really good accessories. Party members, someone, anyone that you're really good with their timed hits and Peach for healing.

Jinx is a bit different in that you're not looking to deplete his HP. All you have to do is use a Team Attack and you instantly win. But before you try to be a smarty pants and go in with a 100% gauge prepped he will set your gauge to 0 when the fight starts. It doesn't matter if the team attack actually deals damage, Jinx wants to duel you to see how to get in synergy with your partners to do a team attack and so you will instantly win as soon as you use any attack. Recommend Lazy Shell and Safety Pin go specifically on Peach.

Jinx hits fast and hard as usual. Anytime you miss a timed hit rather it be attacking or healing Jinx will counter with an instant death attack. This is why you want protection from Mortal Blows. Basically, this entire fight is just a practice of your timed hits and defenses. His attacks can deal massive damage and sometimes one shot characters but all of them can be negated to 0 damage with a properly timed block. There's really no trick to it beyond that. Just used timed hits and blocks to build up your gauge and fire it of as soon as its full. Make sure all party members are up and able to perform the attack. Summoning Toad is not what he needs, you need all three party members. Peach with the Lazy Shell and Safety pin will survive anything he throws at her, so just use her to heal up and revive anyone that goes down while you build up that gauge. Don't lose your cool and keep that timing up and victory will be yours.

Punchinello

Preparation: Not a whole lot you can prepare to do on this fight. Like Jinx this fight is going to revolve entirely around getting your Timed Hits right. And you'll mostly be dealing with attacks that can kill you instantly if you fail to block. But they're not guaranteed 9999 damage like some later bosses they're just really strong attacks, might be survivable with something like Lazy Shell + Ghost Medal. Speed is probably the most important factor here though so the Lazy Shell armor can be a liability. Since Speed is important Geno is naturally one of the best fits for the party. And again I make Peach the third for reviving and healing others.

The Fight Itself

So like I said this game revolves around timed hits. You can't damage Punchinello directly. You can only attack the bombs he throws out. If you do a perfectly timed hit, the bomb will change the direction its facing and face him. Then when the bomb goes off it will explode on Punchinello and damage him instead of you. Be careful to watch the bombs before you attack them some of them will already be pointing at him leave those untouched. This is why speed is important. You only have four party members and he'll drop four bombs. And of course only perfectly timed time attacks will turn them around so if you screw it well hope you can go again before that bomb goes off. The bombs can be killed if enough damage is done but this is kind of a last resort sort of thing and you're more likely to kill one on accident from it taking damage when you damage all enemies with your perfect hits. Mastering the timing for a perfect block against the bombs is mandatory to survival. If you have a hard time feel free to use Earlier Times if you have it to restart the fight until you get it down. Basically hit A right before the bomb hits you. But if a bomb hits you and takes you down you either have to swap that party member out or waste a turn reviving them and lose up to two attacks possibly resulting in more bombs going off on you. Because your timing has to be perfect you they won't spin around loses happen sometimes. Just, best of luck with the perfect blocks and perfect timed hits.

Boster

Preparation

I hate this fight, with all of my hate. This is the first fight to kill me in the entire game. You must bring Geno for this fight, and equip him with a Feather to boost his speed. This fight is just... not a good fight, and is absolutely terrible design in an otherwise wonderful game because there is a very specific solution to the fight and it's just, screw you if you don't know it. Super fast Geno is that solution. Bring Peach for healing, and give Mario the Quartz Charm for damage.

The Fight

So at the start of every round Booster will start building his train. If it gets to his turn he will finish building the train and crash it into your party for 9999 damage. Coincidentally, every turn one of his Sniffets will cast Morale Boost that increases his speed every single turn. See why I hate this fight? The trick is Booster must be attacked before his turn each round to interrupt his building. Which is why you need Geno because the fight will quickly get to the point where no one can out speed him but a speed boosted Geno. Make sure he gets interrupted each round. Then I murdered the Sniffets next, in hind sight it might have been easier to go straight for Booster. Either way just deal as much damage as fast as you can. Rock Candies are useful to deal significant damage to everyone, Geno Flash, Psych Bomb (but only if Peach doesn't have the lazy shell) and of course if you're good at it Super Jump is always amazing. If you're not, kick a lazy shell into them. Just kill the Sniffets or Booster as fast as possible and be aware you might have to restart. If your backline party tags in I recommend immediately restarting the battle with an Earlier Times (You can buy it with Frog Coins in Seaside Town) because Mallow and Bowser will not be fast enough to really do anything unless Booster is low on health and they can finish him off right there. I don't know his HP but you can always have Mallow use Thought Peak once to see his HP if you go for killing Booster first to track the damage on him and know how close you are to killing him. Also, can charge a team attack before coming to the fight and swap Peach out for a turn to Mallow or Bowser to do a damage dealing team attack. I do not reccomend swapping out Geno because you want him there to interrupt Booster from building when the next attack starts. Roselina freaking Luma this fight is easily the hardest in the game for me and just so obnoxious. Best of luck.

Now then whose next... I honestly forget so I had to go google the post game fights. And it turns out it's the freaking cake again in Marrymore. Make your Portal references now.

Bundt Cake

Preparations: Not a ton of prep work here, Quartz Charm and Black Belt are recommended. Peach will put this fight into easy mode so should be included for something other than her healing. Other than her big your favorite damage dealer. Probably put Safety Ring on Peach as usual. She won't be focusing on damage.

The Fight

So the goal is to put out the candles just like last time. The catch this time, the chefs are there and will keep lighting the candles and if they light all the candles bad things happen. Which I never found out what would happen because I never let them get that far. So, you need Peach or as many sleep bombs as you can carry. Peach is better, because you're going to cast Sleepy Time to put both chefs to sleep. I believe if you spin the stick enough to max it out it's 100% chance of putting both of them to sleep but I'm not 100% sure. All I know is I never saw it fail when maxed out in the fight. I also never failed to max it out.

After you put the chefs to sleep, it's just a matter of dealing damage to the cake and healing up as needed. Chefs will wake up every now and then and need to be put back to sleep but as long as you keep them under control this fight is easier than the original fight with the cake. No wonder I forgot this one. I don't know when I actually did it. Just make sure to play it safe and keep yourself healed up and those chefs asleep and you'll be good.

Johnny Jonathan Jones

Preparation

This is going to be a one on one fight between Mario and Jones. Prepare accordingly and equip Mario with your best accessory. Quartz Charm is my preference. Can also do Lazy Shell Armor and Safety Ring if you want to try to turtle your way through the fight. Just a quick warning, there's no way to heal in the fight at all. You can't use items, and only Mario can fight. I guess Jones is a Melee player. Anyway before the fight you'll be asked to choose which party members you want cheering you on. You won't get anyone to fight but you will get buffs from the party. Best way to beat Jones is to take him down as fast as possible so I took Geno and Bowser for damage up and I guess defense up but mostly damage go up.

The Fight

This fight was the second one to kill me. It can be rough. It's going to test your ability to do perfect blocks. Jones will attack with both spells and physical attacks so you need to be ready to block them... And that's really all there is to this fight. Be able to block his attacks and strike back till he's dead. He doesn't have a lot of HP thankfully since the fight is 1 v 1. If you're a master of Super Jump you can probably kill him in one turn. I don't know I'm not good at Super Jump. Though I finally found out it was because unlike what Toad told me it's not hit the button right before the attack lands but actually when it lands. So with that new knowledge I will have to go back and try super jumping things again and get to 100. Right back to Johnny. So, again it might take you a few tries but you just keep practicing his fight until you can block all his attacks with the correct timing and then take him out. There's not really any shortcut or trick to this fight (Besides Super Jump) just gotta learn the timing.

Culex

Preparation: Here's the one we've all been waiting for. Let's get down to it. Culex is the main course and all the other bosses were just an appetizer before him. So first off, Lazy Shell and Safety Ring on Peach. Second, Geno with Quartz Charm and Mario with Black Belt or Safety Badge. Might want to also consider Zoom Shoes or Feather on Geno and give the Quartz Charm to Mario instead depending on how you want to play it. Finally, go into the fight with your Team Gauge already charged to 100%. We're going to be using Mario, Geno and Peach's Team Attack A LOT this fight. Savs-Us-All blocks the next attack each party member takes and will work on anything.

The Fight

Culex is as expected a beast. And the third and final character I have met my end by. Oh wait, no I didn't because every time I was in danger of dying I used Earlier Times. HA! Take that Culex! You technically never sent me to the game over screen, and I technically beat you on my first try. Anyway, his newest jerk move is to use an HP that deals your max HP -1 in damage. This is important. His new spell Meteor is not HP to 1, it is your max HP -1. If you have even a single point of damage on you the spell will kill you. Now, after he opens the fight with that he'll use it every five turns and give you a counter, and responding to that is going to be a large part of our strategy for how to beat him. Finally, make sure you are maxed out in your inventory on Red Essences, Rock Candies, Kercolas, and Pick-Me-Ups.

First off, surviving the first round is the most important and hardest part of the fight. Once you make it past the first round the fight becomes a lot easier. The largest problem is that depending on your set up there is a high chance that Culex will open the fight dropping your party's HP to 1 and then the Wind Crystal will go off and use an AoE killing your entire party. It's that kind of fight. So, you have two choices here, can keep using the Earlier Times item to restart the battle till you have at least two characters alive or can give Geno the Feather pre-fight so he can move faster and have him use a Kercola. Regardless of which method you use Geno will go first and use a Kercola to get the two or if if you're really lucky your entire party up to max health. Peach on her turn if anyone is dead use Come Back unless the living characters are in need of healing because they will get KOed if you don't keep yourself healed up. Basically priority is as follows

Negate or Survive Culex's Meteor Attack > Heal HP > Revive Down Allies > Deal Damage.

Now, on negating Culex's attack. There are a couple ways to do it. Peach should be going last each round while Culex goes first meaning she'll always go off before him. When the first Cooldown hits 1, have Peach use the Team Attack Save-Us-All on her turn and you'll just straight up negate Meteor when Culex uses it on 0. Other options is once you have someone guaranteed to go after Culex is to use Kercolas, but remember you only have three. Another is to throw a Red Essence on Peach and then have her heal everyone and the two others use Max Mushrooms as needed. Try to save Pick Me Ups for reviving Peach if she dies and use Comeback to revive your other allies, but if you need to get everyone up fast use it. Anytime you have your team gauge fully charged use Save-Us-All with Peach right before Culex casts Meteor. Obviously it won't be charged every turn and that's why you'll need to make do with Kercolas and Red Essences. Save the Red Essences for Peach you don't have enough of them to use on your entire party and last till the end of the fight.

Now... As for actually defeating the enemies. I recommend starting with the Wind Crystal it's weak to special attacks, all special attacks so Geno Flash or even just Geno Beam will make quick work of it. If you're good at Super Jump you can probably take out the Wind Crystal right away.

From there I took out the Water Crystal but I think it may have been a better choice to go after the Earth Crystal. One of them can summon Bowyer's button locks and seal one of your commands. I think it's the Earth Crystal that does it but not 100% sure. Fire Crystal felt like the least threatening of them so saved it for last.

While this is going on always be aware of when Meteor is coming and prepare accordingly. Remember that if Meteor goes off any character with damage on them will die unless Save-Us-All is active. Mario and Geno should focus on damage and killing as much as possible. In the rare event the party doesn't need healing on Peach's turn she should use a Rock Candy to damage everyone, or if you run out of those the Star Egg. You can also use the Fire and Ice bombs just be aware the naturally a the fire crystal resists fire and the water crystal resists water.

Once all the Crystals are down the fight becomes much easier to deal with. Culex will replace Meteor with Final Claw, an attack that deals 9999 damage, but it only targets one person, and it can be blocked with a perfect block. Timing is a bit tricky but it can be done. But either way losing one person is a lot better than the entire team and you have a countdown till he uses it just like Meteor so whenever Team Attack is charged can just use Save-Us-All and bam no Final Claw. So like the previous fight when Team Attack is charged always pop it with Peach when Culex's counter is on 1 to just negate his ultimate instant kill attack. At this point it's just a matter of keeping yourself healed and beating Culex down. Keep persisting and use that Team Attack anytime its charged to negate Final Claw and victory is finally yours.

And with that, you get a completely useless key item per Final Fantasy Superboss tradition that just says you beat the hardest boss. Huzzah! Hope that helps. Not a perfect guide by any means but this is what worked for me.

[climbthemountain2020]

Hope of Spring - Chapter 23

Also on Ao3! Chapter 22 here :)

BRING ME BACK, he roared, swinging his fists blindly, the sobs tearing from his throat and the panic overtaking his senses as he fought against Rhys and Azriel.

He fell to his knees. “Rhys, please.” He sobbed. “He’s going to kill her!” Rhys only dropped his head.

“She made me promise, Tamlin. We cannot go back.” Rhys had placed a shield around Tamlin, holding it tightly in place to prevent him winnowing as he slammed his fists against it.

“I’ll never forgive you for this! How could you? How will you live with yourself when she’s dead?” Tamlin screamed, his fists bloodying against the walls of the shield.

“It was the only way, Tamlin. She knew it. You know it.” He joined him within the shield to put his hand on Tamlin’s shoulder as he heaved.

“I didn’t say goodbye. She didn’t–” He could barely get the words out. He tugged on the bond, finding it still there, flaring with power.

Suddenly, Tamlin shot up from the ground, knocking the shield and nearly Rhys. “We have to go back.” He shouted, turning, wide-eyed.

“Tamlin, I already told you we–”

“No! The carranam. You read about the carranam!” Rhys straightened. “She has his power, but he can’t die. They’re evenly matched while she has it, so she needs more, right?”

Rhys was following, Tamlin could see the realization dawn on his face. “I can do this for her. She and I are mates. Our magic is compatible. You have to bring me back.”

Rhys hesitated. One second. Two.

“Tamlin, she will never forgive me if I bring you back.”

“And I will never forgive you if you don’t.” Tamlin held firm. “Please, Rhys. What if it were Feyre?”

Rhys closed his eyes, sighing. He knew Tamlin was right. He would rip the entire continent in half if it meant Feyre’s life or death. He looked across the killing fields. They weren’t losing, but they weren’t winning either. He could see Helion in his beast form in the distance, ripping into the flanks of the Hybern castoffs. To the other side of the lake, Eris’ beast form of a large black dragon shimmered in the heat of the flames Tilly threw off across the shores. They were still swamped on all sides.

If Tamlin were right, this could be the thing to turn the tide in their favor.

He hated to break a promise to her. He’d sworn he would uphold his end. But he could face her ire if it meant she was still here to give it to him.

“Okay.” Tamlin’s red-rimmed eyes shot up, filled with heartbreaking hope. “Okay, let’s go. Do you have a knife left to make the cut?” Tamlin nodded, and Rhys reached out a hand.

“I will never forget this, Rhys. Never.” The world warped around them, bringing them slamming back to the ground where they’d left only moments before.

Penny, still drenched in now-drying blood, was fighting with everything she had. She was throwing great swaths of dark power over her shoulders at the Death God, who was holding each blow with shields of the same dark magic. She looked exhausted–sweat running lines through the blood on her face, her armor half-ripped off her shoulder, and a deep gouge through her thigh. In that moment, she caught sight of them, her face a look of absolute horror as they saw her mouth no.

All it took was the single moment of distraction for Koeschi to find an in. His power lashed at her, striking her straight in the chest and flipping her backwards to the ground, chest smoking with the hit. Fuck. Tamlin was running to her, and without thinking twice, Rhys launched in to draw his blade against Koeschi.

Tamlin raced to turn Penny over, holding her in his arms. She looked up at him, crushing fear and relief both present in her eyes.

“You weren’t supposed to be here.” She whispered, her voice cracking.

“I couldn’t leave. I can’t believe you thought I would leave.” He said. Penny laughed, tears squeezing out of her closed eyes.

“I can’t beat him. I can’t break the box.” She started to cry in earnest. “I thought I could win. I needed there to be a way for us to win.”

“There might still be.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Do you remember when Rhys found the passage about the carranam?” As with everything else, Penny knew what Tamlin intended immediately.

“Are you sure?” She asked him, tentatively.

“Yes, I am sure. Take my power and destroy the box. I know you can do it.” He pulled out the dagger from his side sheath and slid it across his palm, holding it out to her. She grabbed it and slid it through hers, immediately pressing their hands together. The power hit her with a force so unlike Koeschi’s that its softness startled her. It was a deep breath of rushing wind, a fast river of warm water, a deluge of rain over hot skin. Her power recognized this one, and it held it close. This power felt limitless, felt ancient, felt eternal.

She winnowed with Tamlin, grabbed at Koeschi while he fought mercilessly against Rhys, let his horrid power fill her again, and brought her focus to the box. They joined hands once more, and he stood behind her, holding her to him. She held tightly to the threads of Koeschi’s magic, amplified by the addition of Tamlin’s, and filtered every remaining part of herself into the box. She screamed as the strength of it barrelled through her, worried that she would give it everything and still, it would not be enough.

But then, a crack formed. Then another. Lit from within, the box began to shatter, like glass breaking. From behind her, she could hear Tamlin as he spoke into her ear.

“You’re almost there. I love you. I know you can do it. I’m so glad I met you, Penny. I’m so glad you fell into my manor. I love you.”

With a final dig into her power that left her staggering and breathless, she shoved the last bit of her magic into the box and collapsed as it exploded into a million fractals of light. That light, as though forced into a vacuum, disappeared as dark waves of black rushed from the box in violent waves.

RHYS NOW. She mentally pushed towards him, the words too difficult anywhere outside of her mind, and hoped to gods he’d heard.

The sword Rhys held arced through the air, cutting straight through Koeschi’s neck. Before his head even had a chance to hit the ground, the Death God’s body began to disintegrate into ash, floating on a cold breeze as if it had never existed at all. His head followed suit until he was nothing more than dust on the wind, leaving behind only a shattered box, now a broken, empty shell.

The rattle of power rippled over the battlefield, knocking some of the humans to the ground. In the distance, the castle on the lake began to collapse on itself. The humans began to surrender, and what remained of Hybern’s armies attempted to flee.

Rhys fell to his knees, exhaustion settling over him, horror overcoming his features as he looked towards Penny. She could barely make it off the ground. Since she’d fallen into Spring, she’d never felt so weak. Even after her last burnout, she could still feel the bond gently thrumming through her. Now, she felt so empty it was like her bones had hollowed out. She reached to Tamlin’s hand, made to pull them both up, then faltered.

She realized, then, why she felt so empty.

Tamlin’s eyes stared, unseeing, towards the gray skies.

Choking, she pulled at the bond to find nothing at all, not even something to grasp.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t get the air in. She fell next to him, fingers shaking and running over his jaw, his face covered in dirt and blood. She blinked. Blinked again. Like her body and her mind couldn’t reconcile and connect what she was seeing and feeling and understanding.

Then she began screaming.

It was the worst sound Rhys had ever heard. He was distantly aware of people beginning to gather, drawn by the sound of Penny wailing.

No no no no.

Rhys knew she’d never forgive him. She might even kill him herself for allowing this. Even trying to block her out, her mental shields were so shattered in her grief that she was practically shrieking her anguish into his mind. He felt another kind of pain, this one through his own bond, and he knew Feyre had arrived. Of all people, his mate knew this pain, could recognize that horrid, feral screaming that accompanied only the emptiness that could come with the cleaving of a bond.

Perhaps they could resurrect him the way they had when he’d died reforging the cauldron. Perhaps they could find some way to bridge that immortal leap where his soul had already departed and yank him back. Feyre had had the same thought, already gathering the High Lords. He saw them gathering, and realized in that moment that Varian was stepping up, glowing faintly. Tarquin didn’t make it, Feyre whispered sadly into his mind. Cauldron save us all.

Then, in a moment of truly horrendous timing, Penny herself began to glow. The magic was choosing her as she gripped and shook the corpse of her mate. She had been chosen as the High Lady of Spring, proven worthy on the battlefield, no doubt. She panted, hyperventilating as the power coursed up her body.

“No.” She moaned. “No! I don’t want it,” she wailed, shaking her hands as though to dispel the magic elsewhere as she threw her head down on Tamlin’s motionless chest. “I don’t want it if you’re not here.” Her sobs broke something deep and fundamental within Rhys. He could hear Feyre gathering the High Lords still, pulling them all forward, explaining the intent. It didn’t take much. They wouldn’t even need to throw the spark this time, simply touching Penny’s shoulders should do. Rhys understood that if it didn’t work, if his soul was already too far gone, the damage would be irreparable. She would not be coming back from this. She had intended to die today, and if Tamlin were gone, well, all the more motivation for her.

Six High Lords gathered around a new High Lady, the picture of grief. I don’t know if this is going to work, Rhys. She can’t feel the bond anymore. Rhys sighed, his eyes burning, grasping for Feyre’s hand. “We will do everything we can.” They stepped forward, all ready to lend their power to Penny to save him. Tamlin had given all of himself to save them; he and Penny both had. The ultimate sacrifice.

The power flowed through Penny as the bridge of power built, her sobs still wracking her body as she pushed the light into his chest.

“Please, Tam. Please.” She gasped, gripping the tunic beneath his armor like it was her only remaining tether to this planet. “Please, I can’t do this without you,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me here.”

The light guttered out, and so did their hope.

The silence stretched across the battlefield, as Penny stared at some undefined spot in the distance, eyes glazed, breath shallow, swaying.

“Rhys.” Feyre said beside him. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

It hadn’t worked.

“Rhys.” Feyre nudged again, and he saw what she did. Penny was shifting, unconsciously, flowing through various attributes. The wind began to kick up around her as her breaths became deep, heaving pants. “Rhys, she isn’t in control of her powers. She's going to hurt herself.” Penny’s armor cracked as she shifted into a great beast entirely, the new High Lady of Spring, but the roar from her chest was broken, anguished. She bellowed her grief, then collapsed, a low whine coming from her.

Rhys looked up to find Nesta sobbing into Cassian’s bandaged chest. Emerie, Mor, and Gwyn, though injured, were crying too. Rhys could feel the devastation ripping through his mate.

“You need to knock her out, Rhys. Now.” It was Azriel, limping to his side. “She’s going to hurt herself. We need to get her back to Spring. She can mourn him after she’s rested.” Rhys couldn’t swallow the knot in his throat. They had just begun to repair the rift, and now Tamlin was gone. Gone. How would he ever be able to look Penny in the eye again? He’d promised her. She started writhing on the ground, still rapidly blinking back and forth between forms.

“Rhys.” Azriel growled.

With a twist of his hand, the beast fell still, slowly morphing back into just Penny, draped over Tamlin one last time.

“She’s never going to forgive me.” Rhys realized he’d been crying.

“We can cast a preservation spell. We can give her time to properly say goodbye, but we need to get her back to Spring. We need to let her rest.”

Azriel went to grab Penny, having to slowly pry her fingers from where they were twisted in Tamlin’s shirt–one last desperate grab to bring him back to her. “Have someone bring him back to Spring and I will take care of it now. Do the debrief, and then bring everyone back to Spring that needs to be there. Gwyn and I will be waiting there with Penny.” He nodded to Gwyn and she joined him, her hand on his arm.

With a last nod to Rhys, they winnowed Penny back home.

[the-monkey-ruler]

Hi I Don’t know if you have seen sun wukong in vs battle wiki in fandom and I was wondering how accurate you think his powers are the journey to the west

Battle wiki? Never heard of that that but I'll take a look.

Hmmm those are sure numbers and letts I'm not sure what they mean.

But I read each one and it looks like they have a good idea what they are listing! Esp enjoy there are so many references and explanations for each power. Have to say that a lot of these powers could be subjective depending on how people in modern times would try to define these powers to fit a proper power level.

You have to remember that Wukong is as powerful as the novel needs him to be within each arc and yes that is like anti-plot armor but with how strong Wukong is in the book, a lot of expectations and magic items are used on him as a means of counteracting how many powers he has. That all being said the powers he gains in the end could be limitless all things considering and depending on how a person interpts his powers could even lead to further interpretations of these powers as well.

This was a fun read! Maybe @journeytothewestresearch would know more about the details since he has measured Wukong's greatest feats but it looks fine with me.

Superhuman Physical Characteristics

Stealth Mastery

Regeneration (Mid) - I would say this should be higher, he made himself a new head within a minute.

Acrobatics (Used Physical Exercises while inside the body of a monster)

Martial Arts (It is hinted that his martial prowess is comparable to his magic ability in importance. He's fought thousands of trained Gods and Divine/Heavenly Warriors that are millions of years old. He even fought on par with a clone of himself, which was a Six-Eared Macaque. Its stated they have precognition, and without even moving knew every event within thousands of miles of themselves instantly)

Weapon Mastery (He taught his Monkey Army how to proficient with all kinds of weapons. His proficiency with his staff impresses Gods and Demons throughout the story)

Breath Attack (Can blow out winds so strong they destroy forests and create tsunamis the size of mountains)

Attack Reflection (Sun Wukong can use spells so Water, Fire and Thunder cannot harm him. He can also repel them)

Statistics Amplification (Can change the composition of his body to protect himself. Sun Wukong and his transformations, in general, have shown that changing your form can make you stronger)

Cosmic Awareness (Can hear up to Heaven and into the Underworld. With his eyes he can see if something is true or false, good or evil, wealthy or poor. He also states he is capable of seeing the entire World)

Enhanced Senses (He can see things like a dragonfly's wings precisely even if they are a thousand miles away. Capable of seeing through transformations and illusions along with shapeshifters)

Underwater Breathing (Type 2: Stated he cannot be drowned)

Purification (Type 2: Having mastered The Great Way, Sun Wukong would be capable of spell's that purify both his mind and body)

Forcefield Creation (Sun Wukong can create barriers by drawing on the ground. He can also use magic to create a barrier around his body)

Immortality (Type 1; Sun Wukong is stated multiple times to have eternal life. Type 2; He can live with and jokes about fatal wounds like being beheaded or having his body ripped open just for fun. Type 3; He can actively regenerate himself from fatal injuries such as being beheaded or being ripped open. Type 4; He has an extra life for each one of his transformations. Type 5; He is incapable of dying with death no longer applying to him)

Elemental Intangibility (Can turn into Ether)

Non-Physical Interaction (Fights evil spirits throughout the novel, which are confirmed to be nonexistent, and constantly interacts with things that are non-physical such as clouds)

Life Manipulation (Sun Wukong can create life from his hairs and turn them into creatures with special abilities such as sleeping bugs. He can also transform them into beings such as Thunder Spirits)

Light Manipulation (Can generate light from his eyes)

Limited Subjective Reality & Information Manipulation (It is stated at some point Sun Wukong began to utilize Dharma Power, which is Subjective Reality and Information to manifest his powers)

Self-Sustenance (Type 1 & 3: Does not need sleep, he has no issues in space and is capable of travelling through the cosmos)

Power Nullification (Has shown the ability to destroy magic)

Sleep Manipulation (Can force people to sleep for weeks)

Water Manipulation (Can overturn rivers and stir up oceans. Shown he can manipulate water to an extent)

Astral Projection (Sun Wukong can transform between being a spirit and having his normal body at will. At the same time he keeps the properties of his normal body as a soul/spirit. He is capable of using his staff, killing and touching Ghost and Souls, speaking to them, etc.)

Reincarnation (Sun Wukong in his True Spirit state is capable of reincarnating through any birth outlet)

Air Manipulation (Can create a planetary storm. Can also use wind to make others and most likely himself fly)

Social Influencing (Can speak to and befriend animals)

BFR (Having mastered The Great Way and The Daoist Way, Sun Wukong should be capable of banishing souls like his master)

Body Control (He can control his body and change its shape)

Biological Manipulation (He can invoke seizures onto other people) - don't remember this but sounds right

Danmaku (Can attack with tens of thousands of flying cudgels at once to counter millions of projectiles)

Dimensional Travel (Can go to the underworld and leave it as he wishes. He can also travel to Heaven)

Elasticity (Can have his head squeezed to the point it's shaped like an hourglass)

Duplication (Can turn his hairs into exact clones of himself. He can create billions of clones and they in turn could do the same seemingly endlessly. If Sun Wukong is cut into pieces one of those pieces will become himself and the other pieces will turn into clones)

Durability Negation (Sun Wukong's Cudgel can ignore durability)

Invulnerability (Sun Wukong has stated he is invulnerable and his body cannot be damaged, his invulnerability and immortality is merged with his body. This was further refined into his being. And by mastering The Great Way he would have an Indestructible Body. He's also stated to be capable of using magic to protect his body. He has only been damaged if he wished to be or by things with Immortality/Invulnerability Nullification)

Spatial Manipulation (Can instantly shorten the distance between locations for himself, and others)

Flight (He is capable of flying. Can travel through space and the cosmos)

Magic (Learned all sorts of magic)

Shapeshifting (Is capable of transformations. He can shapeshift other beings as well)

Size Manipulation (States he can grow so large he would fill the Universe or become smaller than a piece of hair. He can also control other people's size)

Summoning (Having mastered The Daoist Way, Sun Wukong should be capable of summoning Immortals to his side. This is shown we he summons the Northern Dragon King. He summons Gods and Deities throughout the Novel)

Invisibility (He can turn Invisible)

Resistance to Soul Manipulation (His Soul keeps the properties of his normal body. He survived the full brunt of a weapon that melts souls and causes the spirit of who it hits to leak)

Resistance to Cosmic Radiation (Can travel to Heaven which lies on top of the cosmos)

Resistance to Death Manipulation & Life Manipulation (By removing his name from the Register of Births and Deaths, Sun Wukong is free from Life & Death)

Resistance to Fate Manipulation (Alongside being free from Life & Death, Sun Wukong is also free from Fate as the Register of Births and Deaths determines and controls that as well)

Possible Resistance to Mist Manipulation & Electricity Manipulation (Sun Wukong stated that once they delivered the scriptures, they obtained bodies that could not be harmed by Fog, Thunder, or Lightning) - this is true, not a possibility.

Resistance to Mental Manipulation, Perception Manipulation. Empathic Manipulation, Madness Manipulation & Sense Manipulation (Sun Wukong's mind became enlightened and mastered the Great Way before he became a Buddha. Those who are enlightened obtain a special mindset allowing them to bypass all mental projections. Mental Projections in general include all types of perception. This includes ones based on vision as well as others that are shaped by memory and learning. This further includes mental events which are thoughts, feelings, decisions, dreams, and realizations)

Resistance to Disease Manipulation (Having learned the Way, he is free from all diseases. Fought against the entirety of Heaven yet was uninjured and couldn't be executed by them. That would include the Five Plagues. These are suggested to be phenomena that make your eyes bleed, nose bleed, ears pus, jaw lock & make anything you taste seem foul)

Resistance to Corruption (Sun Wukong stated that once they delivered the scriptures, they obtained bodies that are incorruptible)

Resistance to Conceptual Manipulation & Elemental Manipulation (The Five Phases are stated to be a force alongside the Yin-Yang which is responsible for human's natural endowments. Natural endowments would include things like intelligence and strength or their gifts, talents, etc. Consisting of Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal & Water they are thoroughly linked with the Yin-Yang. It's stated they formed creation itself as the Five Phases make up the entire Universe. Even the forms of Monsters & Demons are molded to match the Five Phases. Sun Wukong states he has transcended The Five Phases, which puts him beyond their dynamics)

Possible Resistance to Dream Manipulation & Subjective Reality (When the Dragon King of Jing River broke the Laws of Heaven he was to be executed. The execution occurred in a dream and then became reality. Sun Wukong not only broke the Laws of Heaven yet even after being captured could not be executed by them)

Possible Resistance to Darkness Manipulation & Light Manipulation (Fought against the entirety of Heaven yet was uninjured and couldn't be executed by them. That would include The Gods of Darkness and Light. Gods are shown to able to use the abilities of what they are the God of)

Possible Resistance to Time Manipulation (Fought against the entirety of Heaven yet was uninjured and couldn't be executed by them. That would include The Gods of Time and the Guardians of Time. Gods are shown to able to use the abilities of what they are the God of)

[shadowsshowdown]

Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown: Chapter 23

The One Called Navras.

Detroit. Laura's apartment.

Laura struggled furiously but the attacker did not give her a chance to escape, much less a counterattack. He was amused by the insults he heard from her lips, but for his safety, he still held her hands tightly. The woman fought furiously for her life, but her every move was just another loss of strength.

"You haven't changed a bit, Little Orchid," he said, counting on that the woman will come to her senses before she completely exhausts her strength in this pointless hand waving.

Miss Werner suddenly stopped fighting as if a spell had been cast on her with those two words. She slowly analyzed what she had just heard, not believing it could be true.

"What kind of sorcery is this?!" she growled, growing suspicious again. She tugged her entire body a few times, slowly looking up at the face of the man who let go of one of her hands to remove the dark purple hood from his head. "Navras..." she whispered and in a split second, she became as gentle as a lamb.

"Well you finally said something sensible," he muttered, taking a step away from her. "And now..." "Joe! By all the plagues of the world!" she screamed furiously. "Where the fuck have you been all this time?! Answer me, or I'll rip your balls off!" Laura started punching him with anger, not controlling what she was aiming at. "I needed you! Now you dare come in here like nothing the fuck is wrong?! You have no idea what I've been through!"

Navras just stood there and let her vent her anger. "Beat me! Humiliate me! Say dirty things to me. Oh yes, that's just the way I like it," he muttered with amusement while removing his black gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his black fancy-cut coat, which glinted purple in the light. With that gesture, he revealed his cybernetic prosthetic arms. "A little more on the back, please," he said with sarcasm in his voice.

The man hoped that in a moment she would get over it as she usually did, but not this time. He sighed in boredom, seeing that Laura wasn't going to stop beating him at all. Fortunately, he was an aug, so her furious blows were barely a tickle to him. Navras’s dermal armor was absorbing each successive blow, but it was also becoming gradually depleted in a process. Well... Not this time.

"Control yourself, dammit!" he always tried being calm when dealing with Laura, but there came times like this when his patience was abused. "Instead of wasting our time and your strength you better tell me what's going on here."

Laura, tired of blowing off steam at Joe, looked at him with the gaze of a spoiled brat, then suddenly she wrapped her arms around his waist tightly and snuggled in. The man sighed again, put his arms around her, and tousled Laura’s hair, now tied in a high ponytail. He was about twelve inches taller than her, but that didn't bother him at all.

"Unfortunately I don't have much time. Coming here was very risky anyway, but I had to do it," he said in a bass-baritone voice that could be deep and after a while makes her shiver with its lightness. Laura loved listening to him in every version, and he knew it perfectly well.

In silence, they walked together to the living room and sat on the violet sofa close to each other. Joe didn't want her to turn on the light. Laura had a gut feeling he was as afraid of what was coming as she was, but he didn't say it out loud because he wanted to be strong for her. He had always been like that – steadfast, concealing fear, mysterious. She had known Joe for so long, and knew very little about him, while Joe knew all of her secrets. The woman cuddled up to him quite freely, inhaling the oriental-spicy scent of the perfumed water with the top note of ginger. He had used it since they met. Navras leaned comfortably against the backrest of the sofa tilting his head slightly back. Laura noticed he was still pinning up the dark brown hair on top of his head into something resembling a bun, leaving a few loose strands that fell freely, accentuating his well-defined cheekbones. He hadn't given up the braid on the left side of his head either. Joe was just as she remembered him, completely as if time had stopped for him. Navras gave himself and her some more time because he didn't know when or if they would ever see each other again.

"Kratos is hunting me," Laura said quietly. She hoped he would care about what she said, that he would at least be interested in this fact. Miss Werner was aware of his cold indifference which was only apparent.

"I know little one. He tracked me down too," he muttered, reluctantly taking up the subject. "I have to disappear once again. That's why I came." Joe felt her hand tighten on his loose, light violet  shirt. He knew he was causing her pain because Laura was hoping for something completely different. It was selfish, but he had to see Evie before leaving forever.

"Don't leave me... Please… Adam doesn't want me either because I'm a rag and slut. Kratos is threatening me. I've been raped, nothing makes sense, and you only came here to tell me that you’re leaving," she said in a voice full of regret, one that moved him to his core. Nevertheless, he had to stick to what he decided.

"Believe me or not, but of all the people you know, I understand your situation best. I've been there for you, lived through those moments, and shared your pain. Now I must disappear. If you care for me, you will let me go. I wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t serious. Trust me," Joe was able to adjust his voice perfectly to help him get the right message.

„We can solve our problems together as we always did. I will help you as much as I can. I…"

„No, Evie," Navras stopped her from ending the sentence. He knew the words that would come next. She would beg him, and that was something Joe didn’t want to hear.

"Say you'll come back at least. Please say it, promise me. I must have a hope I can cling to! I must have ANYTHING!" Laura’s voice was unbearable to him. That scream tore Navras apart, but on the surface he was indifferent, he had to. "I need to have anything to… stay alive," she said quietly.

"Evie..." he interrupted her firmly. "I would like to give you the whole universe, but that’s beyond my power. I would like to say what you want to hear, but that would be cheating. I don't know what turn events will take. Be strong, I know you can."

Laura hugged him tighter and began sobbing like a child. Navras looked at her with a violet gaze of synthetic eyes. After a moment his cybernetic fingers began softly wiping the tears from her cheeks, soon his fingers were replaced by his soft, warm, thin lips. The woman wanted to protest, but in the end, yielded to him. If this indeed is their last meeting, she won't take those few moments of happiness away from Navras. The man's lips slowly slid down her cheek then joined with her’s in a long, farewell kiss. His beard scratched her skin just as it had before, and had the exact same shape. It started under his lower lip just in the middle. The narrow, dark brown strip was reaching his chin and splitting in both directions along his jawline to curl up just at the corners of his mouth. Joe didn't have a mustache, though Evie had told him many times that he should grow one.

"Joe..." she wanted to say something but Navras put his index finger on her lips.

"I know, Evie. Forgive me for this weakness," he whispered.

She wanted to tell him she had decided to find Kratos and return to him for everyone's sake, but she knew he would want to stop her. Therefore, she remained silent. Navras was right, it was their last meeting, but he would not die, and neither would Adam, though she hated him now with all her heart. No one would ever die because of her again.

"And by the way, I'm not small at all," she muttered offendedly.

Joe smiled squinting. He regretted they had to end up in such dark and hostile times again. He wished he could change it, but he didn't have that power. Even all of the augmentations that were done to him in the past didn't make Navras a god. He was still a mere mortal.

"Remember when you said that someday we would go somewhere far away, to the other end of the world?" she asked, lying on her back and resting her head on his thighs.

"Mhm. It was a long time ago. We were young and..." he sighed in exasperation. "Evie, please don't be a child. You need to leave your dreams locked tight behind the gates of that fairy castle along with carefree life," his voice was now a rough, fatherly tone, the one that always brought her down to earth and let her endure anything.

"You were not the one sitting in the basement, chained to the wall. You were not the one being raped by Kratos and his fucked-up friends over and over again through… years. You weren't the one left alone in the world and you weren't the one abandoned by someone you started to trust," she pointed out mercilessly.

Each of those words really hurt him. The woman was right, she had been through hell, which is now claiming her again. But through all this time, she had not understood one simple thing; there were others in this world, not far away, whose lives were not all roses too. That's why it irritated him so much when she constantly emphasized her grievances. That was why he preferred to remain silent rather than argue with her.

"Yes, not me," he replied, choosing his words carefully to get out of this conversation without conflict.

Evie shifted uneasily. She wanted to get up, but he wouldn't let her, gently yet suggestively catching her by the shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Joe... It was selfish, I didn't mean..." she tried explaining herself somehow, but she had no adequate argument to justify her stupidity.

"Stop it, or I'll kiss you again," he threatened her, this time trying to joke.

She wanted to say: "Adam would punch you hard in the teeth for this," but remembered Adam was gone and he wouldn't come back. Laura remembered how fleeting happiness can be. One day it's there, the next it dies in an accident. One day you see it as breakfast, a smile, or a crazy party, the next it's killed by fire. This should have taught her to appreciate small gestures, but it made her run away from everything good.

"Do you like me a little bit at least?" she asked looking at his face when Joe intertwined his hands at the nape of his neck.

"No," he answered shortly. He knew what was about to happen.

"OK, whatever..." she burbled displeased, and turned her back on him.

Navras laughed out loud. He deliberately provoked her to such behavior because he liked to see her offended expression.

"You're asking stupid questions, you know?"

"Mhm."

"One good thing," he muttered amusedly.

"And don't call me Evie."

"Why? After all, that's your name," the man raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Here I am Laura. No one knows that's a fake name," she explained as briefly as possible.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time? Don’t you have enough problems with Kratos?" Navras raised his voice slightly. He had hoped he would be able to walk away from here with the peace of mind that Evie was doing well. Meanwhile, Damien was hunting her, and she still managed to find herself new problems.

"Nothing special, just a broken contract," Laura changed position back to sitting and pulling bent legs to the belly she shrugged. "The superiors will probably claim for their own soon, but I don't care," her voice was carefree.

"What are you talking about?! What superiors?!" he was furious now.

"They didn't introduce themselves, everything was a top-secret and hush-hush basis. I was supposed to gather intel from Sarif Industries, and that was it. I met Adam in the middle of the task and well…fucked it up," she explained as briefly as she could.

"Evie..."

"Laura!" she interrupted him. "Learn at last."

"I don't have to, but so be it, Laura. Why did you break your contract?" he asked, not really understanding what Adam had to do with all this.

"Because after a while I found it strange they wanted anything from me and didn't have specific guidelines. Besides, the Chief of Security was nice to me and I didn't feel right spying behind his back."

Her explanation did not satisfy him at all. "The hacker's job isn't like walking in the park and holding hand with your sweetheart. You have to be more resilient, otherwise, you will give up the task because of anyone who is nice. Then you expose yourself to someone on the top and then what?"

"You're right, Joe," she admitted with a quiet sigh. "This was an exceptional situation. You know I always get things done," she continued trying to defend herself.

"Yeah, I remember one of our contracts very well. Alex saved our asses back then because you insisted on stealing the data no matter what," he reminded her of the old days. "Police, half of the security, two local gangs..."

"And that mad butcher with his dog," she completed the list. "Come on… The big fuss of nothing," she waved her hand carelessly. "Only one little boom."

"Oh, of course. The tiny explosion that blew up a subway station, a chunk of the sewers, the bigger one, and an entire research facility. Everything looked like New Year's Eve fireworks in Dubai."

"Lovely view. It's not my fault that Alex likes to act with a flourish," she shrugged. "And do you have any info from him at all?"

"Unfortunately he went underground which is quite disturbing knowing his ideas," Joe stated, though it was hard to sense if he was worried. His voice masked his emotions well.

"Like that chain of grenades to stop an armored truck?"

"More like firing a bazooka straight into the wall, behind which they kept the tankers filled with flammable materials."

"Those were the days. Nothing could stop or separate us," she daydreamed under the influence of the memories. "Long live my lame hospitality. I didn't even ask if you wanted coffee or tea. Maybe you are hungry?" she asked embarrassed. "Although I can tell by your belly that you're not starving," she stated teasing him.

"Thank you for the offer, but I should be going anyway," he replied quietly. "Besides, I don't have a fatty belly at all, just well-sculpted muscles."

"Mhm, as soft as a pillow."

In response, he began tickling her mercilessly and didn't stop until she was out of breath from the non-stop laughter. Navras felt so comfortable in her company that he was in no hurry to leave at all. Anyway, he had to wait until the woman went somewhere or fell asleep. He already had the opportunity, but he missed it. The clock chimed midnight, Laura yawned.

"Get some sleep. You're tired," he suggested with concern in his voice.

"Not at all."

Navras didn't reply just started humming a song she knew well.

Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in Like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in And carry you over to a new morning

After a while, the woman was already asleep as if he had cast a spell on her. Joe smiled as he looked at her calm face.

"Goodbye, Little Orchid," he whispered, stroking her hair.

Laura woke up as the clock chimed the full hour. She didn't have a phone near so she had to get up to check what time it was. She rubbed her eyes noticing that Joe had covered her with a blanket and made her lay comfortably on the sofa.

"Navras are you here?" her question remained unanswered. "Joe?!" she ran around the house looking for him but was left alone.

The faint lights entering the living room through the windows illuminated her depressed face. Everyone was gone, there was nothing left. Laura crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her gaze. She missed Adam, so damn much that her whole body ached. What he had said to her, all those words couldn't be what he thought. Evie didn't know him very well, but still, this sudden turn in behavior was strange. When she looked to her left, she noticed that the same flier she had gotten at The Jackdaw was lying on the coffee table. Suddenly she realized that the man in the hoodie who was sitting by the window and the one who had bumped into her was one person. The one who had just left. She was angry at herself for being unable to link such simple things. Laura let Navras go without the second thought.

It was only seventeen minutes to four in the morning when Miss Werner decided to return to Faridah. She changed into her jeans and the random sweater, swapped her shoes for comfortable boots, picked up her coat, and left. Closing the door, she thought about how Joe had managed to get in at all. When asked, he would probably reply that he had his ways. It was still dark outside, the lights of the lanterns barely illuminated the darkness, one of them was flickering on and off with a loud hiss and crackle. Instinctively she looked up, but the shutters at Adam's apartment were lowered. On the way to Malik's apartment, several drunken men passed her. One of them grabbed her arm, mumbling something unintelligible. She jerked away and quickened her pace.

Fortunately, Laura knew the entrance code, or else she would have been sitting by the door until morning. She typed it in and carefully opened the door. The woman quietly took off her shoes and coat, then slowly walked into the living room. Evie decided to sleep on the couch so as not to wake Faridah in the middle of the night. She reached the table where they were eating their meals when suddenly the light came on.

"Where have you been all this time?" she heard Malik's voice, not at all pleased. "I was worried about you! You are irresponsible and selfish!" she growled furiously.

"I left my phone at the company," she lied. "Then I went to my place," Laura replied with a depressed voice.

"And now you will tell me what happened between you and Adam," she insisted, not giving her friend the opportunity to retreat.

"Nothing," she muttered, wanting to go to the bedroom.

"Oh no. Come sit next to me. Neither of us is going to bed until I know the truth."

"Faridah..." she sighed.

"Don't Faridah me. This is a serious matter."

Laura reluctantly walked closer and sat down on the sofa. The mere thought of telling everything that had happened between her and Jensen made Laura’s hands began to tremble. And the memory of what Kratos was doing to her made her nauseous. Malik gave Laura no choice. Even if she tried withholding some of the information, sooner or later Fly Girl would find out everything. It would be even worse because she would break her fragile trust. The woman sighed loudly feeling her friend's urging gaze.

"Let's start with the fact that you should know what Adam already does. I didn't want to tell him, but he insisted," Laura didn't know what to do with her hands. First, she kept them bent on the knees, then she hid them behind her back, and finally intertwined them on her chest. "Damien was raping me," she said after a moment.

The words continued to flow on their own, merging into a stream of hot, black tar that seemed to stick to the entire room. Faridah hoped it was some kind of sick dream, and Laura was about to say: "It is just a fragment cut from a movie I had once seen." Malik already knew everything would change after that night. Miss Werner was very thorough in her story. She recalled what, where and how they did to her, she talked about the collar, the humiliation, blood, and the pain. They treated her worse than an animal so no wonder it was so hard for her to trust anyone now. Especially Adam, who at first is very rough with new people he meets and sometimes even with friends. The whole story overwhelmed the Chief of Pilots. She wanted to ask how Laura got out of there and who helped her rebuild her disturbed psyche, but she gave up. The rest of the story didn't get any better. Faridah flew into a rage.

"How could he say something like that after you opened up to him?!" she screamed waking up the cat.

"Faridah... Look at it realistically," she said quietly. "I'm just a regular slut. I can't compare to Megan. Imagine how Adam must feel and his shame when he introduces me to someone. I should have told him earlier," her voice broke and she started to cry.

"That doesn't explain him. He's not like that. First of all, if he wanted to break up, he wouldn't point out to anyone where he belongs. Try to talk with him tomorrow. One last time," she encouraged her and handed her a tissue.

"All in all, I have nothing to lose anyway. I won't fall any lower."

"Let's go to sleep. You'll be worrying tomorrow," she said, putting her arm around her.

"Go first, I'll be there in a minute," she replied, wiping her eyes.

Malik nodded and went to the bedroom. Laura didn't want to go to sleep at all, so she searched the fridge and all the cupboards in the kitchen. When she gathered everything that was needed, she thought about baking some kanelbulle. After finishing, the auburn-haired woman picked up her laptop and continued writing the security code for Washington until morning. A moment ago she was looking forward to this trip, and now it is the worst that could happen to her.

As soon as Faridah got up, she shouted at Laura, reminding her that she should take care of herself and not overwork as recommended by the doctor. Firstly Laura didn't listen to her at all, and secondly, the smell of kanelbulle calmed down Fly Girl immediately.

"Take some of these goodies and give them to Adam. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Maybe then he'll tell you what's going on," she encouraged, even though she did not believe it would change anything.

"That's a good idea," she nodded completely indifferently. Laura sat with a bowl of Crunchy Pirate in front of her but ate barely two spoons.

The thought of going to the company terrified her and talking to Jensen unleashed the urge to crawl under the carpet and not come out until she died. Before leaving, Laura put some kanelbulle into the orange cardboard box where she had placed the napkin earlier. She closed it and tied it with a ribbon.

Malik didn't know what they could talk about, so they were silent the whole way. Washington, Adam, ball, all those topics were forbidden now.

"Laura, I just remembered something," she spoke up once they were walking down the street.

"Mmm?" she only muttered, looking straight ahead.

"I have a ticket to the cinema for Saturday's showing of ‘The Good, The Bad And The Ugly.’ I won't be able to go because Sarif has an important flight. Why don't you go instead of me?" she lied because she wanted to comfort her somehow.

At first, Laura didn't feel like going out at all, but eventually, she decided it was better than sitting at home and thinking. The woman squeezed the box tighter in her hands after each step she took as she walked through the lobby.

"Don't be so nervous, or you'll ruin your present. Have faith," she encouraged Laura and patted her lightly on the back as they parted on the second floor.

Miss Werner went up the stairs to the third floor and after a while down the corridor. She already saw Adam's glass office, so she slowed down. Once she was close, she noticed Adam and Megan coming out from the inside. They couldn't see her because she was approaching them from behind.

"So we'll see each other at the ball?" asked Dr. Reed.

"Yes, of course. I'll be very pleased," Jensen replied, escorting the woman to the elevator.

Laura stood motionless not far from the office entrance. When Adam turned around and walked closer, he noticed her. The auburn-haired woman was piercing him with an emerald gaze full of flowing tears. Jensen saw her trembling hands from which an orange box had fallen. He didn't have time to catch it. The ex-SWAT also didn't have time to react either because Laura immediately ran away. The Chief of Security crouched down and picked up what she had left. The ribbon prevented the content from falling out onto the floor. The smell of cinnamon made him immediately guess everything. She came to him after everything he told her. She came to see him with Megan and find out that he was going to the ball with her. It wasn't supposed to be this way, not at all. Jensen locked himself in the office, put the box on the desk, and brewed a mug of coffee. He sat in the armchair, wondering what to do. Finally, Adam slowly untied the ribbon, removed the lid, and gently took out one of the kanelbulle. After closing his eyes took a bite. It didn't taste as great as it did in Uppsala. It was bitter, more and more with each bite. Adam ate all four very slowly. He treated them like a punishment, like a lash of the whip on his bare skin. One bite – one scar. Something inside him was slowly dying.

"I never asked for this..." he whispered to himself and his hand clenched into a fist.

Unfortunately, Sarif hadn't given him the day off so Adam had to postpone his meeting with Rupert until the afternoon. Persevering for those few hours was extremely difficult. Fortunately, he didn't have to discuss anything with Laura today. Jensen had already been thinking about how he would manage to cope in Washington, but at the meeting, they had agreed they would work as two independent groups, so their contact would be cut to a minimum. That's just a small consolation. The mere sight of Laura triggers the impulses in him that he must restrain, strangle and kill for her safety. If only he had a clue, an anchor point, anything. Even while working as a police officer, he had never felt as helpless as he does now. Suddenly, like a pack of rabid dogs, the thoughts about whether he had done the right thing by listening to this psychopath caught Adam up. Maybe he had just opened the way for him to abduct Laura? Avoiding her in fact only makes the whole process easier, but how can he be close and yet keep the distance?

Miss Werner ran to her office. She was fed up with this company, the people, and most of all, Adam's lies. She had already made the only right decision. Laura booted the computer pressing the button furiously. She had the impression that today it was starting up exceptionally slowly as if it was doing that to spite her. Evie cursed under her breath a dozen times. She wanted to see Jensen dead at her feet. She wanted to see him bleed slowly and in agony. She wanted to see him suffer as she does. She wanted… She wanted everything to be like before again. Back then, when they slept in bed together, it was so magical and amazing. Yes, she would like to move farther if she had the opportunity if they both wanted it, but the most important thing was his closeness. Breath hot like a dragon’s breath on her naked skin, warmth as he hugged her, tickling of his beard. She even liked it when the scent of his perfumed water mixed with the smell of sweat. She remembered perfectly those sensual and mysterious citrus notes, a bit bitter and tart but broken with a hint of vanilla, there was also something spicy in them. Laura knew how it would all end, and yet she let herself be drawn in and enslaved by his gray-blue gaze and soft, wonderful lips. After a few deep breaths, she began to write what she should have finished long ago. Moments later, with a page of the paper, printed with rows of words, she was walking briskly to Pritchard's office. Evie was determined and was not going to back down. She didn't even knock, she did no longer care about it.

"Princess Laura forgot to knock?" Pritchard greeted her from behind the desk.

"I don't give a shit if I should knock or not," she growled. "I won't waste your time, so let's get it over with."

Frank got up from his armchair, walked over to the devices, the same ones she had once helped him fix, and checked the cables while mumbling under his breath. "You're already wasting it anyway by being here for some unknown reason, and better mind your tongue. You're lucky I'm in a relatively good mood today so I'll forgive you this impertinence. What do you want?" he got a little interested.

"No big deal," she shrugged. "Just read these few words," she said, handing him a piece of paper.

"Did you bring that corrected fragment which was fucked up by your subordinate?" Pritchard was almost happy, or at least his expression was different from the usual grimace of anger, disgust, and indifference.

Laura watched how Francis swallows the text, word by word, with his hungry eyes, frowning, squinting, and twisting his lips in a grimace of rage.

"No way!" he yelled. "I don't agree to any termination; you understand?!" Frank furiously tore apart the piece of paper. He nearly threw it on the ground and started jumping all over it.

"That's my right. I want to leave and that's it," Laura insisted. "I have to be here for three more months anyway."

"Listen to me, you brat! You have to stay at this company because I will not tolerate such bratty behavior! You WILL fly to Washington and get the job done. Then you WILL politely go to the ball even alone if Adam doesn't want to invite you," he hissed. "Well I don’t think he does," Pritchard added. "That is an ORDER! Understand?" It was a long time since he was as angry as he is today. Even Jensen had not managed to bring him to such a state.

Laura lost her temper and slapped him in the face with an open hand. "I will not go to any ball. Forget it," she ended the conversation, slamming the door behind her.

"Wait! I'm not done with you yet! " screamed Frank, rubbing his cheek.

The woman heard him perfectly as she walked along the corridor. She reached out her hand towards his office, showing the middle finger. Pritchard decided not to leave this matter and unleash hell. He knew who was responsible for what had happened and was going to take appropriate consequences. Hacker immediately went to Jensen's office and rumbled on the door for a good ten minutes before the ex-SWAT decided to give up and open the door.

"Listen, flatfoot, ex-cop, plague, and asshole! A moment ago Laura was at my office and handed me a piece of paper," he said in a raised voice.

"So what?"Adam muttered. He pretended to write something by tapping on the keyboard keys.

"It was her TERMINATION!" Francis yelled.

"Oh… Well, I am not surprised. Working with someone like you, Frank, is demanding. But it’s still not my concern."

"It IS your concern! You are the one responsible for all this, not me. So you will go to her now, say whatever you see fit, but the effect is to be as follows: Laura will stay at the company, take care of Washington as good as she can, and then politely go to the ball. Because that's the way it's supposed to be. That's all."

"You forgot about something," he said in an indifferent tone.

"About what, smart guy?!"

"Stomping your foot."

"Stop being cheeky! You know Sarif will gut us all out if anything goes wrong. Laura's trying to sabotage everything right now, and she's certainly doing it because of you."

In fact, everything that Pritchard said was the truth, but Jensen couldn’t admit it aloud. It wasn’t easy for him to just sit and listen that Laura is leaving because of his actions. Adam cared and care is not always fluffy and nice. If only he could predict Miss Werner's actions, he would try to prevent all of this from happening. It is very possible they will never see each other again. It won't be a few days, a week, a month. It means a whole life spent drowning in the midst of remorse. He wouldn't be able to live like this.

"She's your subordinate, do something yourself. If you can't control your employees then you're a lousy boss," he kept going, even though he now wanted to run out of the office straight to Laura and tell her to stay.

"You'll see I will. I won't leave it like that," Pritchard growled, and left, hitting Faridah who was just walking towards Adam’s office.

Malik decided she'd better knock because of screams heard before. Yes, both Jensen and Pritchard never got along, but the situation was extremely strange.

"I'm not interrupting?" she asked, ajar the door.

"Did you come to yell at me too?" he muttered.

"Depends on what you've romped," she tried to joke, but Jensen didn't look like he was in the mood for it.

"Don't pretend, after all, you already know that Laura gave Pritchard her termination, and he came to me with it."

"She did what?!" Malik raised her voice.

"Great, that means you're going to take it out on me too," the ex-SWAT sighed.

"I should because what you told her was, to say the least, inappropriate. If, on the other hand, I am not to play with choosing nice words; you acted like a motherfucker.

"It's still none of your business, much less Francis'."

Malik walked to the desk and sat down on it. "You know very well it's different. Uppsala changed us, carried us to a new phase, bound. Back then we were able to…"

"That was then, this is now. Past is in the past. If that's all, please leave." Faridah noticed the orange cardboard box standing on the cabinet behind him. It was empty. She wondered if they had been talking or if something else had taken place.

"Okay, but when I cross the threshold you might consider you just lost another person. If you can live with that, no problem," her tone was a mixture of icy indifference and reproach.

Adam knew she was not joking, and he needed help. He had to keep her at least, have Fly Girl on his side. Before he made up his mind, the woman was gone. Time was slowing down, torturing him and punishing him for what he had done. Jensen hardly survived until he could leave the company. He didn't go to lunch because of Laura, but he didn't feel hungry anyway. The urge to smoke grew more and more, but the Head of Security decided not to smoke before meeting with Rupert.

Detroit. Rupert MacKenzie’s house.

Adam closed the office and walked briskly across the hall. He ran down the stairs, entering the lobby in a split second. On his way through, around the desk, he answered Cindy's goodbye, not wanting to be rude. Jensen pulled up the left sleeve of his black coat and then brown sweater intending to check what time it was. He had a smartphone with him, but the old-fashioned part of his personality that was attached to traditional solutions spoke up. Another reason was that the smartphone remained turned off in order to limit any possible attempts to spy on him. Jensen decided to take the subway because Rupert lived in west Detroit, too far from the company, so walking was out of the question. When the ex-SWAT arrived at the station, he looked up at the electronic display, that informed which number was to come, which departed, and which would be in a few or so minutes. There were not many people on the platform, some of them standing, others sitting on a bench against the wall. The girl standing a bit behind Adam laughed when her friend told her a joke. Jensen was lucky because he reached the station just minutes before his line arrived. Keeping his hands in the pockets of his coat, he went inside and immediately headed to the very end of the wagon. There was no one there. Adam sat down, plugged earphones into the MP3 player, and closed his eyes. Soon the door closed with a hiss, and the Head of Security felt that they were finally on the move.

If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one Drying in the colour of the evening sun Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away But something in our minds will always stay Perhaps this final act was meant To clinch a lifetime's argument That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could For all those born beneath an angry star Lest we forget how fragile we are

On and on the rain will fall Like tears from a star like tears from a star On and on the rain will say How fragile we are how fragile we are

On and on the rain will fall Like tears from a star like tears from a star On and on the rain will say How fragile we are how fragile we are How fragile we are how fragile we are

For half an hour of the ride, he thought about what Laura had told him. He analyzed all the information again and sighed heavily. Miss Werner lost her parents when she was practically still a child. He didn't know who raised her, but he certainly couldn't replace her real family. Then there was Damien who kept her in a basement, raped her, humiliated her, and sold her like an object. Laura was most likely deprived of true love and care. Once she received it from him, she was again abandoned like a broken doll. He would not and could not justify himself. He had acted meanly.

He deals the cards as a meditation And those he plays never suspect He doesn't play for the money he wins He don't play for respect

He deals the cards to find the answer The sacred geometry of chance The hidden law of a probable outcome The numbers lead a dance

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier I know that the clubs are weapons of war I know that diamonds mean money for this art But that's not the shape of my heart

He may play the jack of diamonds He may lay the queen of spades He may conceal a king in his hand While the memory of it fades

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier I know that the clubs are weapons of war I know that diamonds mean money for this art But that's not the shape of my heart That's not the shape The shape of my heart

If I told her that I loved you You'd maybe think there's something wrong I'm not a man of too many faces The mask I wear is one

But those who speak know nothing And find out to their cost Like those who curse their luck in too many places And those who fear are lost

Three short bell-like sounds signaled that they had reached the destination. Adam got up from his seat and got out of the subway wagon. He crossed the platform, squeezing through the thickening crowd, and climbed the stairs. He found himself on a long street on either side of which stood rows of red brick houses with white windows and box gabled roofs. Jensen remembered perfectly where Rupert lived, although it had been some time since his last visit. After a few minutes of brisk walking, he arrived at number 101. Two low stairs led to a small, square, covered porch.

The man pressed the doorbell, and a moment later a cheerful female voice could be heard from the inside. "Just a second, Mr. Jensen!"

It still amazed Adam how Demelza knew it was him and not someone else. Yes, he had an appointment for an exact time, but that does not exclude the possibility that someone else could come at the same time. Mrs. MacKenzie, who had just opened the door for him, was a fairly corpulent woman, close in age to Rupert, who was in his mid-fifties. She had curly red hair tied up in a bun at the back of her head, blue eyes that seemed to be laughing, and full lips embedded in a face with a pale pink complexion. She was wearing a flowery green dress and was wiping her hands on a frill-decorated kitchen apron.

"Rupert is already waiting. I'm glad you finally visited us. I baked cookies. You can't refuse," she said in a singsong voice as she led him through the narrow, long hall along which were the doors to the rooms. The walls were made of gray stones of various shapes and sizes and covered with portraits of ancestors, clan coats of arms, and deer antlers hanging on them. Several dark wood cabinets stood there as well, with decorative vases and bowls on them. Adam took off his coat, already wanting to hang it on the coat rack, but the woman interrupted him in mid-motion.

"And don't worry about the vase, boy."

"What v..." he did not finish because while hanging his coat he had just hit one of them. The vase fell to the wooden floor, shattering to pieces just like his life. "Sorry, I'll try to buy it back."

"I told you – don't worry," she reminded. "I have to watch the cookies. You know the way, right?" she asked, staring at his embarrassed face.

"Yes, of course," he replied, walking slowly towards the door in front of him.

Above them was a wooden plaque with an inscription: Temet Nosce carved on it. Adam was pretty sure he saw a similar one somewhere before. After a while, he recalled it was at Laura's apartment above the entrance to the kitchen. Jensen hesitated for a moment before finally knocking.

"Oh come in Adam and stop with these games of politeness," muttered an offended MacKenzie in a Scottish accent when Jensen entered the study. He actually preferred the Gaelic version: MacCoinnich, but he had to get used to the more common one.

"Yes, I know, forgive me. It's been a while since I've been here. My habits from the company spoke up," he tried to explain.

"Adam..." sighed the man sitting behind the massive desk, removing his thin-rimmed glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You'd better sit down before you come up with something stupid again," he said with a hint of playful annoyance, pointing an armchair upholstered in dark green fabric placed across from him. "Unless you'd prefer the standard session on the chaise longue," he offered, pointing the piece of furniture standing more against the wall by the bookshelves that reached up to the ceiling.

Rupert had gathered here an impressive collection of books containing some unique specimens. He was interested in history, geography, he read crime novels and horror stories, he reached for fantasy, but he did not touch psychological books for anything in the world. Of course, this concerned the non-professional sphere. Because when it comes to the professional part of him, he had read most of the literature about the human mind, behavior, or impulses that stimulate them.

"How was your day?" Rupert asked, which did not remind Jensen at all that he was visiting a psychologist at the moment. It always seemed to him that such a visit was mostly about answering a series of questions, looking at pictures of awkward shapes, and completing tests. The Scot completely changed his perception of this area of medicine.

"Fatally," he replied briefly but truthfully. MacKenzie could sense when he was lying so there was no point in concealing anything. Besides, he came to him for help, so he should be honest with himself first and foremost.

Rupert frowned, seeing that Adam wants to but cannot tell him everything. "I know a better place to talk," he said in a friendly tone in which even a shadow of a professional note could hardly be found. "Come with me, please," he encouraged with a hand gesture, rising from behind his desk.

On the left side of the study, was a narrow passage leading to the other part of the library where two armchairs stood, the same as the one Adam had sat in earlier. Between them stood a table and on it a lamp with a white pleated lampshade. MacKenzie walked freely, holding his hands behind his back. He was wearing tartan trousers having a green and dark blue pattern with white and red lines crossing each other. The man fixed the sleeves of a loose, light cream-colored linen shirt laced at the neck. Jensen looked at the brooch pinned to it depicting a flaming mountain surrounded by a belt with a gold buckle with the inscription: Luceo non uro, which meant: I shine not burn. When they sat down in the armchairs, Rupert reached for his pipe and lit it with almost ritualistic gestures. The ex-SWAT admired Scot for paying attention to such small things, which for him were common. Rupert did not smoke because he wanted to kill problems with it, he treated it as a form of art, celebrating the moment, savoring the aroma of tobacco. Before they started talking Demelza brought on a tray a plate of the freshly baked raisin and chocolate cookies, two porcelain cups, a jug with milk, a teapot of tea, and a sugar bowl. The not very tall woman did not say a word. She gave them both a cheerful smile once she had arranged everything on the table and left. This was another surprise for the Chief of Security. The woman knew perfectly well when she should enter in order not to disturb or hear something she should not know.

The Scot unhurriedly poured tea into cups. "Some milk?" he asked, to which Adam nodded affirmatively.

Jensen stirred the tea slightly with a silver spoon and set it down on a saucer, which he picked up along with the cup. He slowly took a few sips and closed his eyes. He did not know where to start and how to say it so that it was true, but at the same time not reveal everything. He was afraid he might expose Rupert as well, and he would not want that. "I doubt if anyone can help me," he muttered looking across towards the bookcase. The books were arranged thematically and then in alphabetical order. The most valuable specimens were enclosed in glass display cases, and copies took their place among the rest of the book collection.

"The lost boy doubts before he told me anything. Such little is your faith in people?" he asked with a note of indignation in his voice.

"It is all terribly complicated. I don't know what I should do. I care about someone pretty damn much, maybe even too much," he confessed quietly, leaning back comfortably against the backrest of the armchair. "Unfortunately for her sake I had to give up my feelings and stay away. I'm the only one who knows the truth, the others think I'm a monster."

MacKenzie mused for a long moment. He took a few sips of tea. "Try the cookies first, then I'll tell you something."

Adam wanted to say he didn't want those damn cookies, or tea, much less sitting around wasting time when Laura might be in danger. The Scot's narrow lips twisted into a slight smile, and his high forehead wrinkled lightly. The man ran his fingers through his red-gold short hair, which was always tousled. He knew Jensen was consumed with anger right now, that he was drowning in helplessness and frustration. He had to wait it out or else his story would just be words thrown to the wind like a handful of feathers, and he did not like to talk pointlessly. Rupert looked to his left towards the window, it was slowly getting darker, but not yet enough to turn on the light. The remnants of the sun were coming through the window in narrow streams, illuminating a few spots on the brown carpet. The neighborhood was unusually quiet as if Scot's house was in some other dimension.

Jensen reached for a cookie that instantly reminded him of the kanelbulle. He was unaware that the Scot, even by the way Adam held and ate the cookie, could read what he was feeling and thinking at any given moment.

"Sweets must be associated with pleasant memories," he stated in a measured tone that had the calmness and matter-of-factness of a psychologist. "At the same time, they cause you pain, why?"

"L... She..." he began, but Rupert interrupted him immediately.

"She has a name," his voice took on a roughness. "In this case it is important."

"Laura baked some kanelbulle while we were in Sweden. It was only two days, and I have a feeling that at least ten years have passed. It's been a long time since I felt so wonderful and alive," Adam began to open up to the therapist.

"And yet you fell and burned your wings," remarked the man while biting his cookie.

"I fell, but not of my own free will. I was forced to do this," he admitted openly, though he didn't want to.

"Listen to me, boy. I'm going to tell you something, and you will do what you want with it because I can't dictate to you how to interpret my words," MacKenzie glanced at the Chief of Security, who nodded slowly. "Not much more than thirty years ago there was a boy who was becoming a man. This boy soon met a pretty girl whom he loved with all his heart and soul. They met at every possible opportunity, celebrated every moment as if it were their last. They were planning a long life together somewhere in Scotland with a bunch of children by their side, beyond any civilization," he paused for a moment, taking another sip of the already chilled tea. "Everything was like a fairy tale, but when he came to her with the ring on which he had spent most of his savings, he saw her lovely pale pink, freckled face all in tears. In one moment he realized something bad had happened."

Adam listened attentively, casting all his problems aside. He focused his gaze on the framed photos standing on the shelf between the books. They looked like family photos.

"The girl was promised to be a wife, and her husband supposed to be some rich man over twenty years older than her. The boy was forbidden to see her. He wanted his beloved back, but he didn't know how to do that. He faced a force beyond his power, so he fell into the darkness. The boy raised sturdy walls around him and pushed away everyone close to him. When he thought all was lost, his friend came to him. At first, he furiously reminded the boy of how foolish and selfish he was, then they had a very long conversation. His friend told him one thing before leaving: United we stand and divided we fall," Rupert paused again, this time reaching for a cookie. "It was he who gave him strength. He had contacts, had unused favors with them, he pulled all possible strings, and thanks to that they managed to win the fight. The boy regained his beloved, but the rich man hurt her severely, so their dream of children was lost. Nevertheless, they are still together and have an affection that nothing can destroy."

"You were talking about yourself and Demelza, right?" Jensen asked quietly when the psychologist finished telling his story.

"It doesn't matter, Adam," Rupert let out a long sigh, focusing on the Chief of Security's face. "If you have friends, go to them. If you love – fight for it to the end."

"The last person I could call my friend left me this morning," he muttered.

Rupert shook his head, intertwining his arms across his chest. "True friends don't just go away. They only give us signs that we are straying. They always are and always will be. They wait when we realize our mistakes and learn from them."

"You still don't understand, do you? That's what friends do – they help each other." Adam was stroke by a memory of Laura’s words. What did he do for her? First promised to move heaven and earth, hire the police, SWAT, FBI, CIA even the INTERPOL and in the end, he abandoned her. The man bit his lip hardly in grief.

MacKenzie looked at the Chief of Security in silence, but with a smile. That sadness and grief were a sign of catharsis, understanding, and moving on. The lost boy’s wings are healing and soon he will be ready to fly again.

When they had finished drinking their tea, the Scot walked to the key-locked cupboard on the far-right side of the room. He took out a bottle of Girvan 47-Year-Old whisky and two glasses. Rupert poured the beverage into both of them, raising his glass in a gesture of silent toast to what each of them wished.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked savoring a sip of whisky.

"Better. I think I've figured out what I need to do, or at least how to start solving the problem," there was some optimism and a willingness to fight in his voice now.

"You're finally speaking with sense," he admitted with a smile.

"There's something else I'd like to ask, but I feel obliged to keep it a secret..." he tried to explain, but Rupert interrupted him.

"Let's start with what your intentions towards this person are," the man tried to guide Adam to make his goal clear and specific.

"I care about her. I want to help," he replied, crossing his legs.

"You have a huge heart. You can't help yourself, and yet you care about others," the Scot admitted appreciatively and took another sip of whisky. "Okay, let's put that aside. Sincere intentions, in this case, may justify breaking a secret. Besides, you know very well that everything you say is safe with me."

"How to deal with a person who was..." Jensen paused, because saying this word caused him both pain and rage. "Raped, probably for an extended period, and yet I have a feeling that somewhere deep down she is defending the perpetrator? My knowledge is quite limited, but I know of such reflexes under the name of Stockholm syndrome."

"This is what it is called in the textbook, but you know very well I don't like closing anything into terms. It would be easiest if she came here. If you don't convince her or she finds it unnecessary, there's not much you can do. Of course, support and understanding are helpful too, but not always effective. Sometimes it takes a strong jolt for a person to realize they are doing the wrong thing."

"I see," Jensen nodded slowly in thought. "I will respect her decision, whatever it would be. Although personally, I would like her to accept your help, so I will offer her this solution if at all…"

"Enough!" MacKenzie raised his voice. "You haven't even left this place, and you're already using those awful words."

The ex-SWAT smiled with the corner of his mouth. "You're right, I didn't even try to fight, and I'm already giving up."

"The three of us can always meet on neutral ground. You will not tell her who I am, maybe she will gain confidence and decide to come by herself. I know it's a little cheating, but the intentions are good."

"We'll be in touch. I'll let you know when I know something, but in the meantime, it's time for me to go. It's getting late, I'd like to take care of one more thing."

"Perhaps we can meet soon for a game of chess at Crann Tara," he suggested.

"With pleasure, Mr. MacCoinnich," Adam replied, and Rupert smiled at the words.

"I'm glad you're leaving my place changed, Adam," he said as they shook hands.

"Thank you, Rupert. The credit is all yours," Jensen replied, managing to smile a little.

The Scot shook his head. "You're the one who helped yourself. I only showed you the way. Hold on to it, and you'll see everything will be easier than you think."

As the Chief of Security was putting on his coat in the hallway, Demelza came out of the kitchen and handed him a box of cookies.

"It's really not necessary," he said with embarrassment. "Thank you."

"Everything in this world has a purpose. So if I gave you these cookies, it would be definitely for a reason," the woman smiled and walked him to the door. "Do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

Adam decided he had to act and not allow to be intimidated by Damien. The subway trip was terribly long, he hoped Faridah would still be at the company. From what he remembered, she was supposed to stay longer today. As soon as the door slid open with a soft hiss, he moved with a quick step to the exit, squeezing at times quite brutally through the crowd of people.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the company, he did not look around and did not let anyone stop him, cause at the sight of him several people already wanted to approach him with something. With a quick motion, Adam entered the code to his office and without taking off the coat he began to think how he should let Faridah know they needed to talk. He thought about asking Pritchard for help, but he would grumble too long. The box of cookies and Demelza's words began to combine into a logical whole. When telephones, the Internet, and all electronics were not known yet, people used letters for communication. Adam started looking for a scrap of paper and a fountain pen. When he found them, he wrote a few words and put the note in the box of cookies. Adam locked the office and headed to the second floor. Fortunately, there was light in Malik's office. He knocked, though he rarely did, and slowly stepped inside after permission was granted.

"What are you doing here? You should be sitting in a cozy apartment a long time ago," she muttered to him, still angry about what had happened in the morning.

"I came to apologize," he said completely calmly, handing her a box of cookies.

"Do you think you can bribe me with what's inside? Forget it," she snorted scornfully. "You acted like a simpleton and a boor."

"I did, but I'm sure you're curious about what's inside, like every woman," saying this, he looked at Faridah very suggestively, letting her know she should listen to him.

Faridah sighed. "You're such a pain in the ass," she replied, opening the box. Adam was a little afraid that the woman might pull out the card, but she didn't. "You brought me cookies. Do you want me not to fit into the flight suit?"

"You’re far from it," he muttered.

"Not bad," she admitted eating one. "But you'll have to try harder to please me," she replied, closing the box.

"I didn't count on you forgetting right away. You're probably tired and some boor is wasting your time. I'll go now, until tomorrow," he left pretending to be worried.

Adam might be paranoid, but he didn't really know how Damien worked. If he could somehow see and hear his conversation with Fly Girl, that way he would know everything. Adam hoped it came off naturally and if indeed this motherfucker had access to the cameras then he wouldn't get suspicious. Jensen had to take that risk, though originally he wanted to keep everything to himself.

A dozen or so minutes later he was at home hanging the coat on a coat rack. The man paced around the living room, smoking a cigarette. He turned on some music to calm the nerves a little. Adam sat down on the sofa and waited in the dark room, slowly losing hope. He got up. What if Rupert was wrong this time? A quarter of an hour passed, which the ex-SWAT had spent on further wandering aimlessly across the apartment. Ten minutes later an electronic voice announced he had a visitor. Jensen hurried to the door, beaming at the sight of the Chief Pilots.

"Come in, please. It's good to see you," he invited her inside and closed the door.

"Whether it's good remains to be seen," she muttered as she entered. Faridah took off her jacket and hung it next to his coat.

"No one followed you? No suspicious people? Did you turn off your phone?" he asked with a hint of concern.

"Just my shadow. No one but it. Yes, I turned it off," she replied shortly, shrugging. "You dragged me here for some unknown purpose. I'm tired so to the point please."

"Where is Laura? Is she safe?" Adam ignored her words.

"You suddenly care? Seriously? After all this?" Malik was outraged and had every right to be.

"Sit down and listen to what I have to say and then judge. Agreed?" he offered as calmly as he could.

"Agreed, but on the condition that I get a mug of coffee," she announced sitting down on the sofa. Why is it so dark in here? Do you have a power cut of some sort?"

"Safety reasons," Adam announced from the kitchen. After a while, he returned with two mugs of coffee. He handed one of them to the woman, then took a seat next to her.

"Adam please..." she began but he interrupted her.

"This is not a joke. The matter is more serious than we thought," he tried to explain everything as simple as possible.

"Of course it is! Laura was repeatedly and brutally raped and you...!" she didn't finish, she just let out a loud exhale.

"And Damien started threatening me!" he couldn't stand it and raised his voice, rapidly getting up from the sofa.

Faridah raised her eyebrows surprised by his words and blinked several times. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. What do you mean by ‘threatening’?! What are you talking about?!"

The Head of Security walked towards the window but instead of a view of the city, he only saw black shutters. "If you'd let me explain, we would have gotten this over a long time ago. Can I speak?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest and turning his head towards her.

"Yeah, sure," she said with a soft voice. "Forgive me for being so rude," Malik added apologetically and took a few sips of her coffee.

"It started with a lock of hair and a note that someone had taped to my door the same evening I walked Laura to your place. I determined that I wasn't going to give in to some blackmailer I knew nothing about. I've known similar cases. They always hit a sensitive spot hoping that the person will succumb." Jensen returned to the sofa, sat down, and rested his elbows on his thighs. "The next day passed calmly so I was convinced even more that it was just a clumsy attempt of intimidation, nothing more. Unfortunately, the last time Laura and I worked together at my office, he decided to show himself again. We call him Damien but we don't really know who he is. We were supposed to go out for lunch when I got the message. He ordered me to watch as Laura dies," the ex-SWAT looked at the woman who didn't know how to react. "I saw it with my own eyes. She fell lifeless to the ground," Adam said, trying not to raise his voice. He stretched out his arms slightly in front of him, palms open towards the ceiling, wanting to accentuate his words, emphasize their importance. "He told me to stay away from her. So I obeyed."

"You didn't have to tell her all that. Laura now punctuates that she's a slut in every spoken word. I know that doesn't help you at all, but I tell it like it is."

"Yes, it was mean, inhuman, and beneath my dignity, but I wanted to be believable, to push her away… Anyway, you're right, I don't have a good explanation for that. I don't expect everything to be like it used to be, I am aware of it. I just want you to know," his husky voice was filled with pain and remorse.

"You had no choice, you wanted to protect her," she said softly. "It must be awful living with this," she bit her lip, set the mug down on the coffee table, and ran her fingers through her cropped black hair. "I have no idea what to do. How is it even possible that he has control over her?"

"I asked Frank about it. I thought he could somehow control her through the prosthetic leg, but the hacker denied it. If that wasn't enough, Laura heard my conversation with Megan about the ball."

"I persuaded her to talk to you. She took a few... With her... Oh, fuck…" Malik cursed quietly, covering her face with her hands. "What have I done..."

They were both equally broken and helpless, but at least Jensen wasn't left alone with it all.

"Laura can't leave the company. I won't let that happen," the ex-SWAT growled. "And she has to be at that ball. I don't know how to do it, but I'm not allowing any other possibility."

"Apparently Pritchard is incredibly mad at her. He ordered Laura to be at the ball but knowing her temper... You know best yourself."

"I know. Laura is ready to leave me with all this Washington mess. Anyway, it is the least important. She doesn't even care that Sarif will close her doors to all companies with one nod." the man looked down blankly at the floor and carpet.

"Adam, look at me," she ordered him calmly. "This was beyond your power. You can't predict someone else's behavior," she tried to lift his spirit as he looked in her direction. "I'll try to persuade Laura to go to the ball, but I doubt she'll agree. How long are you going to listen to this psycho anyway?"

"As long as it takes," he answered shortly and firmly.

"You know... I'm not going to lecture you, after all, you worked in the police, but you have no guarantee that Laura will survive." Maybe you're just helping him carry out a sick plan?"

"I've thought about it for a very long time, but what choice do I have?" he asked irritably.

"Tell her?" Faridah suggested the simplest solution. "I can do it myself. Damien will suspect nothing."

"Out of the question," Jensen protested firmly. "Assuming Laura will believe and understand, she will definitely want to do something stupid, or at least tell me not to worry."

"So I have to remain silent until further notice, and you will wait for the situation to resolve itself? Great!" she snorted.

"That's exactly what you're supposed to do. I shouldn't tell you anything at all. But..." Adam suspended his voice, rubbed his temple.

"But?" Malik looked at him attentively, waiting for him to finish.

"I treat you like someone I trust, like a… friend. That's why I decided that you should know and perhaps manage the situation properly when I can't," he said, feeling the words are struggling to pass his throat. "Of course, I don't require anything of you," he added.

"I will try to control the chaos, however, we cannot wait forever.

"Give me time until the ball. Then I'll try to explain it all to her myself somehow."

"You said that guy wrote to you. Show her the messages. That's your best option," she suggested while sipping her cold coffee.

"I don't have the messages. He deleted them. I don't know how or when, but they're gone," anger mixed with fatigue could be heard in Adam's voice. "I thought Frank would help me find a clue but alas."

"There has to be a trace, anything. It's impossible to be that thorough. Maybe Pritchard missed something?"

"I'll try to talk to him again tomorrow, but you can understand how hard it is to talk about a problem in a way that you can't tell who is involved. Besides, I doubt he'll want to do anything after today's row." Adam sighed lighting a cigarette.

"Approach him tricky. Tell Francis that thanks to this Laura will stay in the company, and if he starts asking questions, you can gracefully tell him to keep his fat nose out of your business." Malik grabbed Adam's left wrist, on which he wore an elegant watch. She wanted to check what time it was, at which the man raised his eyebrows as if to ask what she was up to. "I'll go now. I'm falling off my feet, and more flights tomorrow. No flight today? Flight tomorrow! There’s always flight tomorrow!" Faridah mumbled while getting up from the sofa. "And you shouldn't smoke that much. You won't solve any problems with it, and you will only harm yourself," she instructed him, at the same time reminding Adam that someone had said similar things to him not so long ago.

Adam wanted to believe that it would get better and that everything would somehow sort itself out. Unfortunately, there were no signs of that. When Faridah left, he took a quick shower. Jensen felt a little better when he shared his burden, but at the same time, the thought that he had dragged another person into this overwhelmed him.

Detroit. Faridah’s Apartment.

Laura was sitting on the sofa sipping hot cocoa and stroking Stalker who was napping in her lap. She was wearing gray sweatpants and an orange t-shirt that Faridah had to lend her. She had stuffed the one from Adam deep in the closet, not wanting anything to do with it. The woman was just listening to a broadcast on a new radio station called The Masquerade. She knew Malik would be back late, so she could afford to spend time in the company of cheap, romantic stories with a drop of vampire blood. Besides, whoever told these stories had an unearthly, deep voice that made her shiver. Clutching a pillow with a blush on her cheeks, she sank into this unreal world.

 "The fire still burns brightly in the marble fireplace, fancy shadows fall on the floor and furniture, fueling the mystery of this place. The silence foretells the arrival of someone long-awaited. You are alone here, but you get the feeling that someone is constantly watching your every move. As you try to figure out how you ended up here, there is only a void in your mind. You can say what you have been doing all day, with whom you have been meeting, and what you talked about, but if someone asked about this particular detail, only a quiet 'I don't know' would come out of your mouth. You hear the steady ticking of the antique clock, standing against the wall and the creaking of the parquet floor as you step carefully across the room. You stand on an arterial blood-colored carpet that features a sword crossed with a scepter, both embroidered with gold thread. For you, they are just drawings, but for the master of this house something much more important. You walk to the armchair covered with blue fabric, you touch the armrest and the bat wing that adorns the upper part of the backrest. You walk behind the armchair, your fingers brushing over the other wing. Above the fireplace hangs a painting depicting Cain who killed Abel. Next to the armchair on a round wooden table, you notice a bottle of the noble 18-year-old, 0 RH- Quality True Blood, and you become more and more anxious.

 "What is going on here?" - you ask yourself.

 Unfortunately, your question will remain unanswered for some time."

Laura felt disappointed that the story was already over, but the announcer comforted her with the news that there would be a continuation tomorrow. She further added that the mysterious voice would stay with listeners for longer because it funds the ‘Rendezvous with V’.

Faridah returned about half an hour later. Only now did she turn on the phone. She looked like human wreckage, so Laura took care of her again, rushing to brew some tea, for which the woman was extremely grateful. Malik went to take a shower and wash her hair which gave her a huge relief after everything she had heard from Adam. At least she was assured that Jensen had no ill intentions and the methods he had chosen were a necessity. Dressed in a loose gray blouse with long cold-shoulder sleeves and black boy-shorts with orange trim she returned to the living room.

"I heard you were leaving the company," she said as she sat on the sofa next to Laura and took a sip of Earl Gray's hot tea.

"Do we have to talk about this?" she asked displeased.

"Yes, because you are making a huge mistake and I'm going to remind you of that until you start thinking logically and rationally," she said firmly but without anger.

"It's my decision. I'm an adult..." she tried explaining, but Malik interrupted her.

"Then act like an adult. Adam acted like an idiot and you want to give him the satisfaction and walk away? Seriously?" she tried appealing to her explosive nature, to bring back that old desire to compete with Jensen, even hatred. Anything just to stay and channel those feelings in the right direction.

"I don't care," she muttered squeezing the pillow tighter.

"Show him what he's losing, let him see, let his jealousy eat him up. He's just a guy, and his main command center is between his legs. Bring him on his knees. Revenge is a dish best served cold," she encouraged her, though perhaps a little too strongly.

"I'm not Megan," she said indifferently.

"It is true. You're better than her, different. You can have anyone. Adam isn't the only man in the world. Don't give him the satisfaction, be like you were at the beginning."

Laura was starting to believe Faridah's words. Why should she be the one to give in, tuck her tail, and walk away? Let Jensen suffer as much as she does now.

"I'll stay at the company, but I have nothing good to wear at the damn ball. I spent most of my money on... Never mind."

"Tomorrow we will calmly review all the options and decide what to do next. Maybe I can lend you money. Just don't protest."

Laura nodded slowly and headed for the shower. Faridah's phone a moment later signaled that she has a new message. She reached for it thinking it was Adam curious as to how her conversation with Miss Werner had gone.

 "You want to have her blood on your hands too?"

All  chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

[decaeysa]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮  ?

DANDELION.

You grew up too fast and all you know is the calluses on your fists and the thousand invisible scars that you pretend don’t ache. Your anger burns so bright, so hot or maybe not at all, so deep you could never tell it was there. You are yours and you will defend that to the death after so many years of being ripped apart and denied your own agency and maybe you are still facing the bastards who stole your innocence but you will survive because that’s the only thing you know how to do without breaking, the only thing you know besides protect, protect, protect, protect, yourself or sometimes those few others you claim as yours. You are a thousand sharp edges but impenetrable, a traumatized child so covered by thorny armor that you promised yourself you’re grown now, you’re stronger than anyone who has ever hurt you. You’re safe. Nothing will ever hurt you again. You’re so alone though sometimes, in a world that sees you as too much or too broken or too angry or too hurt, and you want to scream with the too-much of it, prove that you’re okay, that you’re self-reliant, that you are strong enough to stake your claim on your body, on your mind, on your heart, on your people, and protect it from any who dare take it away from you. You are the sea in tempest, a howling sky, a tsunami in motion, a force of nature, no matter how much you sometimes yearn to be still, to be safe, to be small. You are a dandelion, stubborn and determined to grow in the rockiest of soil, and bloom again in spring.

YOU GREW UP TOO FAST AND ALL YOU KNOW IS THE CALLUSES ON YOUR FISTS AND THE THOUSAND INVISIBLE SCARS THAT YOU PRETEND DON’T ACHE .

i have a headcanon somewhere about akali’s upbringing and training but the tldr is  :  shinobi are trained since the moment they can stand . akali never had a normal childhood , and knowing kusho’s leadership , it wasn’t a particularly good one . that paired with being the daughter of the fist of shadow , as well as being exceptional at what she did , she had a lot of pressure on her for her entire childhood . not only was it difficult mentally , but physically she was also worn out and put through a lot so this line… the invisible scars… yeah . fucking oof .

YOUR ANGER BURNS SO BRIGHT , SO HOT OR MAYBE NOT AT ALL , SO DEEP YOU COULD NEVER TELL IT WAS THERE .

I RECENTLY WROTE ABOUT AKALI’S ANGER , and the first part is exactly how she is . the latter part i can also see , where she’s so angry that it’s just become a part of her . she internalises a lot of things , tries to control her emotions more than they control her , so in a particularly rough period i can see her burying everything in order to achieve a constant numbness that feels comfortable for her .

YOU ARE YOURS AND YOU WILL DEFEND THAT TO THE DEATH AFTER SO MANY YEARS OF BEING RIPPED APART AND BEING DENIED YOUR OWN AGENCY AND MAYBE YOU ARE STILL FACING THE BASTARDS WHO STOLE YOUR INNOCENCE BUT YOU WILL SURVIVE BECAUSE THAT’S THE ONLY THING YOU KNOW HOW TO DO WITHOUT BREAKING , THE ONLY THING YOU KNOW BESIDES PROTECT , PROTECT , PROTECT , PROTECT , YOURSELF OR SOMETIMES THOSE FEW YOU CLAIM AS YOURS .

this hit me like a truck because it matches my original verse for her exactly . again , a tldr  :  she was kidnapped and experimented on by a cybernetics company , and her soul was transferred into an android body . she had no control of herself and her memories had been locked away for four years . everything about this just hurts when i think about what she’s been through in that verse , how it hits the nail on the head and is exactly what she needs to hear .

it also works for my other verses , albeit a bit more loosely . being part of the kinkou left her with no agency and she fought against it to choose her own path . akali will not let anyone control her , she belongs to herself and will give up opportunities readily if it means she has to submit . there is no way that she will ever allow herself to feel inferior to anyone else regardless of the circumstance  –  even in the face of world ending villains , she would rather face them with arrogance than kneel .

YOU ARE A THOUSAND SHARP EDGES BUT IMPENETRABLE , A TRAUMATIZED CHILD SO COVERED BY THORNY ARMOR THAT YOU PROMISED YOURSELF YOU’VE GROWN NOW , YOU’RE STRONGER THAN ANYONE WHO HAS EVER HURT YOU . YOU’RE SAFE . NOTHING WILL EVER HURT YOU AGAIN .

akali has put up so many walls around herself  &  her heart it’s near impossible to get in , and that’s without the exterior she keeps up to make sure people don’t get close to her . she’s told herself she’s fine so many times that she believes it , that this is just who she is and if people don’t like it then screw them . no one can ever hurt her . no one can even touch her without her permission , let alone get close enough to do any real emotional damage . being impenetrable is safe for her , it means no one can get to know who she is behind the mask when she doesn’t even know what’s behind it herself . her entire personality is this sharp , violent individual that will not put anyone above herself . she’s selfish , but at leat she’s safe .

YOU’RE SO ALONE THOUGH SOMETIMES , IN A WORLD THAT SEES YOU AS TOO MUCH OR TOO BROKEN OR TOO ANGRY OR TOO HURT , AND YOU WANT TO SCREAM WITH THE TOO - MUCH OF IT ,

loneliness is akali’s only real companion , the only thing that she can trust to be consistent with her . she’s embraced it for the most part . butting heads with shen gave her a poor view of other people , and often feels as though everyone sees her a certain type of way . and then she thinks ‘ well if that’s who they think i am , that’s who i’ll be ‘ and she just proves people right by living very recklessly and letting her emotions rule her . she gets overwhelmed easily and being alone is the only place she feels comfortable letting it out .

PROVE THAT YOU’RE OKAY , THAT YOU’RE SELF - RELIANT , THAT YOU ARE STRONG ENOUGH TO STAKE YOUR CLAIM ON YOUR BODY , ON YOUR MIND , ON YOUR HEART , ON YOUR PEOPLE , AND PROTECT IT FROM ANY WHO DARE TAKE IT AWAY FROM YOU .

the whole arc i plan to take akali on with my writing is her proving herself , finding meaning for her own life and finding peace with who she is . she knows she can make it on her own , that by living for and by herself she can control everything she does and execute it perfectly . she owns herself , she owns everything she does and only she can control what she does or doesn’t care about . any time any of the above feel threatened , she’s the first to strike . even if it’s being overly cautious or hostile , if any of her autonomy feels encroached upon she will defend it with violence and a sharp tongue . she’s willing to do anything for herself and maybe the one or two people she cares about . she’ll die for them , just as she’ll die to keep her own freedom .

YOU ARE THE SEA IN A TEMPEST , A HOWLING SKY , A TSUNAMI IN MOTION , A FORCE OF NATURE , NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU SOMETIMES YEARN TO BE STILL , TO BE SAFE , TO BE SMALL .

sometimes akali has moments of wanting to be a child again , to be safe and not be completely alone . she longs for someone to just take care of her , maybe once every now and then . she dismisses these thoughts almost immediately , but they do linger at the back of her mind . it doesn’t affect her actions , though . she will fight through anything just to prove herself or protect herself . she doesn’t care how she appears to other people . despite being ‘just a human’ she has an inner strength that only someone who’s really in tune with themselves can harness . as at war as she is with her emotions , akali knows how to use her inner turmoil to her advantage . she can calm herself at a moment’s notice in order to unleash the most deadly displays of violence . even in her chaos she likes to have control whether it be over herself or the things around her .

YOU ARE A DANDELION , STUBBORN AND DETERMINED TO GROW IN THE ROCKIEST OF SOIL , AND BLOOM AGAIN IN SPRING .

stubborn and determined . need i really say more  ?  akali truly will face any challenge in order to prove herself , in order to make room for her own way of living . she doesn’t listen to anyone else and certainly doesn’t take no for an answer . if she wants something she will fight tooth and nail to get it . there is no backing down . she falls , but she gets back up and keeps on fighting for her own sake . i also think dandelion is fitting for her because… it’s not special . it’s not the prettiest of flowers . it’s a weed , really . but it doesn’t know that . it doesn’t care . it’ll force its way into existence and bloom no matter what .

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Seized

An addition to Approval. Do not read this until reading that first. 

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader // Damian Wayne x Batmom

Summary: What happens when Talia Al Ghul learns that someone has stolen the affections of her past lover and her son?

Word Count: 3,000 [One Shot]

“Delinquents have been detained. I can hear the sirens,” Damian stated calmly in his comms.

“Good work, Robin. You know where to meet me. You have a minute,” Bruce responded as he whipped the bat mobile through Crime Alley to grab his son.

Just as Damian opened the door and hopped in, an alarm went off within the vehicle.

“The Manor,” Damian thought aloud as he read the screens with his father.

Bruce ignored his comment and was calling Alfred immediately.

“Master Wayne,” the butler instantly picked up. “I followed protocol, but they were already gone when I arrived.”

“Y/N…” Bruce immediately asked.

“They took her,” Alfred told him, distress clear in his tone.

Damian’s head whipped to his father to watch his reaction.

But Bruce’s jaw only tightened and he sped the batmobile even faster.

Returning faster to Wayne Manor than ever before, Bruce jumped out of the batmobile and up the secret entrance to get to the main house.

Damian was hot on his heels. He’d already sent an encrypted message to his brothers, informing them of the situation. It was only a matter of time before they were at the manor as well. Though Damian suspected Jason would not come, instead already starting to scour the streets of Gotham for Y/N and her captors.

Alfred was already waiting for them. “Master Wayne, I am so sorry.”

Bruce ignored him and walked to the master bedroom. Y/N would’ve been sleeping when the attack occurred. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been awake, she had no training in self defense. She was merely an innocent civilian.

“Father,” Damian muttered quietly.

Bruce turned around to find his son ripping a shuriken out of the door frame.

They shared a look, both recognizing the particular shape and color.

“The League…” Damian muttered quietly, saying what they both were thinking.

——————

Y/N was barely awake.

They clearly had drugged her with something to make her more compliant. Everything was foggy and muffled.

Yet they still tied her hands and ankles together, as if her brain could even manage to get her body to move.

But Y/N could feel the effects of the drugs losing their strength, yet keeping their hold on her.

She squinted as she looked around. The air felt different. It was colder and dryer, making Y/N believe that she was no longer in Gotham. Little did she know, she wasn’t even in the country any longer.

“I do not know what he sees in you,” a woman hummed from somewhere in the room.

Y/N blinked as he listened, but her eyes could not adjust to the low lighting and she didn’t even have the strength to turn her head.

“You are weak. Ripped from your own bed without so much as a fight.”

Then she heard the grunts and clashing of metal.

The woman smiled. “Right as expected, my son.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed at ‘my son.’ Then she finally lifted her head and took in her surroundings. There were swords and other weapons stored everywhere, and there was armor hung from the walls.

“Talia?” She whispered.

The woman chuckled. “Weak, but not utterly foolish.”

Then the door of the room was thrown open.

Y/N looked to see Damian in his Robin uniform.

“My son, finally returned," Talia greeted with a smirk.

“Mother.” Then his gaze flickered to Y/N. Very subtly, he was scanning her body to access any possible injuries.

His gaze turned back to his mother. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You have forgotten where you come from, Damian. You are not just the heir to the Wayne family. Before anything else, you are my son and the heir to Ra's al Ghul’s throne.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Damian said with a gesture to Y/N.

“She has everything to do with this,” Talia snapped. “She has made you weak.”

Damian said nothing.

“She has taken you both from me,” Talia growled.

“Father does not love you,” he growled.

“A small lapse in judgment on his part, but not something that cannot be remedied. Our love gave us you, and I fully believe he will return to me.”

“His heart belongs to someone else. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can give up your fantasy.” Then he hesitated to say the next part. “I never plan on returning to The League of Shadows. I wish to stay with father.”

Talia’s amusement vanished at her sons words.

The next second, she unsheathed her sword. “Perhaps I should just kill her and remind you of your place, my son.”

With that, Damian rushed forward and intercepted Talia’s attack with his own sword.

“Do not touch her,” Damian growled.

Their swords continued to clash as the mother and son fought each other. The fight raged on for what felt like forever. Too evenly matched, but also both too terrible at hiding that neither actually wanted to kill the other.

In the distance, Y/N could hear even more fighting. She could only assume it was Bruce fighting his way to her and his son.

Talia and Damian’s swords locked again, both of their stances shaking from the hold.

“Do you really think you and your father stand a chance against the entire League? Why do you think we lured you all the way here? You are outnumbered.” Talia hissed.

“You think us foolish enough to come alone?” Damian smirked right before there was a boom that shook the entire compound.

Talia’s focus slipped half a second, allowing Damian a window to go on the offense.

He flipped his mother’s sword out of her grip and held his own to her throat.

“Yield,” he growled down to her.

“You truly choose her over your own mother?” The hurt in her eyes was clear.

“You abandoned me, used me as a tool to disrupt father’s life. She taught me that there is more to life than killing and destroying. She loves me and care for me, even when I gave her no reason to do so.”

“And it will be the death of you,” Talia warned.

He glared at her. “Yield!”

But he knew she would never. So he whipped out a dart and blew it to her neck – a sedative.  It knocked her out within seconds.

Waiting until he was sure it had worked, Damian sheathed his sword once again and ran to Y/N’s side.

With a knife, he cut the ropes around her wrists and ankles.

“D-Damian,” her voice was still slurred from the drugs and she was weak. How long had she been here without food or water? “I don’t think I can walk."

Damian helped her to her feet. “Y/N, please try,” he begged as he wrapped her around around his shoulders. He was still just a boy, one that was shorter than her. But he wouldn’t give up that easily.

There was another explosion.

“What’s-What’s happening?” Y/N asked as she dragged her feet and held on tightly.

“That would be Todd, most likely taking his job of distracting to an unnecessary level.”

“You all came?” She asked in shock.

“Of course,” Damian scoffed.

Suddenly an object came flying at them and Y/N cried out in pain.

“No!” Damian bellowed as he looked up to see that another League member was attempting to stop their escape. And with it, they had thrown a shuriken that had landed in Y/N’s side.

She dropped to the ground.

Damian screamed as he unsheathed his sword once again and charged the assassin. It wouldn’t take him long. He knew that every minute spent fighting was a minute Y/N was bleeding out and edging closer to death.

He didn’t hold back like he had with his mother and quickly disarmed the enemy. Then thrusting his sword into a nonfatal area of his body, enough to neutralize him. 

Damian rushed back to Y/N’s side, where a pool of blood was forming from her wound.

He knew it was useless, but he still tried to lift Y/N into his arms to carry her. He cried out in both panic and frustration.

The building had now caught aflame due to Jason’s explosions. Damian would need to call for backup, hoping one of his older brothers could help.

Then a shadow was cast over him.

Damian tensed, believing it to be another attack.

But he looked up to find his father standing before them.

However, Bruce’s gaze was on his unconscious girlfriend.

With the arrival of his father, Damian’s cold and calculating disposition melted.

“She’s hurt,” his voice trembled and tears formed in his eyes. “Help her.”

Damian rarely cried. He cried less than grown men. He was raised that way. It didn’t help that his father was not a great example of healthy emotional expression.

But Bruce knew what his sons tears were for: Damian was frustrated, he felt weak, and he thought he had failed his mission. But most of all, Bruce knew his son was crying for fear of Y/N’s death. Because the boy had grown to love her.

As if there were a world when Bruce wouldn’t give his own life to save Y/N.

Bruce bent down and carefully brought Y/N into his arms.

Damian heard her mutter his father’s name, though still delirious from both the drugs he’s sure his mother pumped into her and the blood loss.

“Red Robin, get the jet to my coordinates immediately,” Bruce instructed through his comms.

Damian wondered how his father could be so calm when the woman he loved was bleeding out in his arms. This wasn’t bat business, this was personal. But Bruce spoke like it was just another night of patrol.

A few minuets later, Damian and Bruce had fought their way through the flames and burning compound.

Tim lowered the platform of the jet.

Damian made sure his father and Y/N got on before he followed. He turned and gave one last look at the burning compound that would no longer exist come morning. He did not fear for his mother’s life. He knew someone from the League would come for her – if she didn’t save herself first.

When he boarded the jet, his father already had Y/N on the surgical table that elevated from the jet floor.

Bruce had taken off his cowl, allowing Damian and his brothers to study his expressions.

Damian had been wrong about his father handling the situation like any other mission. For now he could see the terror and worry in his father’s eyes, despite him trying to control his emotions.

Damian looked to Jason, who still had his Red Hood helmet on.

“My grandfather?” He asked his brother.

“Escaped,” Jason muttered.  

Damian stepped forward to help Bruce with Y/N’s injuries.

“She’ll be OK,” he muttered to his father.

All of them had high-level medical training to know.

Thankfully the assassin’s aim was not great and didn’t land in lethal place on Y/N’s body. But she still lost a lot of blood and would need many stitches.

All the brother’s shared a look when Bruce ignored the statement. 

———

Y/N woke up to someone gripping her hand. She recognized from the smell and the feel of the bedding that she was in Bruce’s bed at the manor.

She winced as she opened her eyes to find Bruce was the one holding her hand as he sat in a chair only inches away from the side of the bed.

“Hi,” she whispered to him with a sad smile.

“Hi,” he said back with a smirk.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.”

Then Y/N looked past Bruce to realize there was someone else in the room.

Damian passed out on the velvet chaise that was pushed against the windows.

“He hasn’t left your side,” Bruce told her. “Dick had to convince him just to take a shower for 5 minutes when we first got back.”

Y/N’s heart melted at the revelation.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The sound of Bruce’s voice as he said it made Y/N’s gaze snap back to him. Had it shook? Or was she imagining it?

Y/N squeezed his hand that was still wrapped around hers. 

“I know,” she told him with a sympathetic look.

He hid it well, but Y/N knew Bruce. And she knew that her being kidnapped from his own home probably drove him mad with guilt. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already designed an entirely new security system to prevent something like that ever happening again.

Bruce took in a shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

He wanted to say that he always feared her being with him would put her in danger like this. 

He wanted to say that maybe she should stay away from him. 

He wanted to say that him and the kids didn’t deserve her. 

He wanted to say that the only reason this happened is because Talia hated that she loved her son better than she ever did.

But Bruce had never been good at saying how he actually felt – or even acknowledging he had any feelings at all.

So Y/N brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Bruce, I know,” she said once again.

“I won’t let it happen again. I promise you,” he told her evenly.

“Bruce, I knew what I signed up for when you told me you were Batman. If I wasn’t willing to face the reality of it, I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“No one would’ve blamed you if you hadn’t.”

There was a knock at the door and then it opened a second later.

Damian jumped awake at the sound. But then he quickly brought his attention to Y/N. “You’re awake.”

But everyone’s attention was on Dick, who was standing at the open doorway.

“Hey,” he greeted Y/N, surprised to see that she was awake. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Tired. But I’ll be alright.”

He seemed to relax from her answer.

Then he winced when he looked at Bruce. “They put the signal up.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

He was about to open his mouth to ask them to handle it, not wanting to leave Y/N alone now that she had woken up.

“Go, Bruce. I’ll be OK.” Y/N told him, reading his mind.

“I think it’s the Joker,” Dick added with a serious frown.

“Bruce, go.” Y/N repeated.

And he saw the sincerity in her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, deciding he didn’t care if his two sons were witnesses to the intimacy.

Then Bruce kissed her forward. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Alfred will be here if you need anything. Do not hesitate to call.”

Y/N nodded.

Bruce stood up and acknowledged Damian and Dick. “Let’s go.”

Once they were ways down the hall, Bruce heard Damian stop.

“Father?”

Bruce and Dick both turned to face Damian.

“I wish to stay with Y/N.”

Bruce and Dick shared a look, and then Dick decided to give the two a moment alone and muttered something about waiting in the cave.

Bruce walked back to his youngest son.

Damian’s gaze was glued on the floor. “Mother truly would’ve killed her?”

Bruce sighed. “Most likely, yes.” He saw no point in lying to his son.

“Because she knows that you and I love her?”

“Yes.”

Damian was quiet for a moment. But Bruce knew he had more to say.

“I used to think I had to earn it.”

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Mother’s love. I had to earn it. Win in combat. Successfully execute a target. Outsmart a puzzle or challenge.” Damian looked up at his father with a broken expression. “Her love always came with a price.”

Bruce kneeled down to his son.

The boy shook his head. “But Y/N made me realize that I don’t have to earn anyone’s love. I don’t have to prove that I’m worthy of it.” He bit his lip. “She’s not my father or my brother. She didn’t have to love me. But she does…even when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Everyone is deserving of love, Damian.” Bruce gripped his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for not teaching you that myself.”

Damian nodded. “So, may I please stay with her tonight? I don’t want her to be alone.” But then he quickly corrected himself. “Unless of course, you require my assistance, father.”

Bruce smirked at him. “I think we will manage, Damian.” Then he squeezed his shoulder. “Look after her for me, alright?”

Damian relaxed and quickly nodded his head. “Of course, father.”

When Bruce returned hours later, Damian was cuddled next to Y/N in the bed. But clearly laying in a position to be mindful of her injuries. Both were fast asleep. The bright television was the only thing lighting the room, as it played a Pixar movie.

Bruce couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“I got him,” Dick whispered to him before stepping into the room and carefully lifting the boy in his arms, clearing the space in the bed for Bruce to join Y/N.

Bruce moved about the room as he changed into cotton shorts and went without a shirt.

Y/N woke slightly as he joined her in bed.

“Everything OK?” She whispered sleepily.

“Everything’s fine. Did Damian keep you company?”

Y/N smiled and shifted her body so she was cuddle into him. “Yes…my little protector.”

Bruce smiled at that. “Don’t let him hear the ‘little’ part…”

She chuckled. “Good call.” 

And then she was fast asleep once again.

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

Please, please, please let me know what you think! 

[noneatnonedotcom]

Dark rwby smut:

Raven has Yang and Weiss hostage and won’t release them. It’s up to Jaune to challenge the bandit leader for the sake of his friend’s freedom.

A knight strode into a bandit camp with purpose.

It sounds like the start of a grand story, some fairytale you’d tell children before bed.

The truth was very different. Jaune Arc had long since abandoned the ideals of heroism. But there was one idea he held onto even now.

An Arc always kept his word.

That’s why he was doing this, he’d sworn to help his friends no matter what and by the gods if he had to take on the most dangerous bandit tribe in fucking Minstral then he would do so. An Arc NEVER went back on his word.

He ignored the squelching mud under his new boots. Or the way his armor sat a little heavier on him than he’d like. The new gauntlets were closer to a robotic hand than the armor most people thought of. A side effect of telling ruby that he was off to save her sister. He’d only just avoided muscle armor. Still, there were worse things than having a suit of armor tailor-made for you by the best blacksmith this side of the afterlife.

It at least let him look the part.

Still, he’d stalled long enough, time to deal with reality.

Raven stood before him.

“You’re a long way from home, boy,” she said, not looking up from the drink she was enjoying. The scantily clad Weiss poured for her. Both her and Yang were chained around the neck.

“I’m here for them”

“Then you have the ransom?” she asked with a raised brow

“Yeah, I'll just be giving it to you in steel rather than gold,” he said, working hard to keep his voice calm as he drew his blade. He didn’t deploy the shield; he'd need the element of surprise if he wanted any chance of surviving this.

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Raven was worried, she’d heard about the arc family, hell she’d gone to school with the boy's father. There was a good reason why the area around the arc ancestral lands was so safe. Everyone who crossed the family died, or worse.

And his mother was definitely worse. A tribal just like her she’d fought Arc to prove a point, now thirty years later she was still a breeding sow for the family. Her warrior stock probably only made them more powerful. And now here he was ready to take her daughter and the Schnee.

If she had it her way she’d just give the boy both and be done with it. They weren’t worth her head. But that wasn’t an option. No, instead she’ll just have to offer something better than the satisfaction of her death.

“Very well boy, I'll take your steel. And if you manage to beat me I’ll even give you my body as well”

She only prayed that the Arc would accept it

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Jaune wasn’t sure what to do, frankly, he wanted nothing to do with a woman who abandoned her daughter but if he didn’t take the deal then he’d likely be jumped by her entire tribe, who had begun forming a circle around the last patch of dry grass that hadn’t been turned to mud from them walking through it.

“Fine,” he said, annoyance in his voice, he just wanted Yang and Weiss back home with the team where they belonged now he’d have to deal with this too.

He took his place across from her, taking his sword in a two-handed grip that his father had tried teaching him when he was a boy. It was Pyrrha who taught him how to fight with a shield. Who taught him to protect others but jaune wasn’t looking to protect here. Only to slay.

There was no signal, Raven just rushed him. Normally he wouldn’t have been able to react to the speed. But months with Nora had taught him to use her peripheral vision. The added context to the attack that was about to hit him prevented panic and allowed him to dodge the blow as an ear-splitting screech tore through the air as dust-enhanced steel met angled armor. It was only sheer luck that let his pommel slam into her chin.

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The boy was strong, Raven had a habit of toying with those weaker than her but for strong opponents, she tried to end it in a single strike. Using her aura to launch herself like a rocket at her enemy then causing another boost of aura to swing her blade fast enough to make a sonic boom like a bullet.

Not only had this jaune blocked it, but in the same fluid motion, he’d counterattacked. And now he was coming at her.

Gods’ why didn’t she just give him the girls?!

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Jaune stumbled forward catching himself just in time to almost run but not quite. Still, he was out of time bracing his shoulder he jumped forward slamming into her gut just as her sword would have split his head.

He’d told ruby he needed a helmet!

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Raven was knocked on her ass and fear began to take hold, she couldn’t die here, this boy, this man was too strong and

NO!

She would defeat him, rolling to her feet she charged as much aura as she could into her blade and swung down, she’d be exhausted but the monster would be dead. Off to the side, she noticed that her daughter had freed herself and the Schnee. That would be a problem but it was too late for her to save her little boy toy.

Just as her daughter screamed the world went white

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Jaune felt more aura coursing through him than ever before. And down there in front of him, on her back trying to crawl away in fear was raven.

“I give up!” she screamed as jaune lifted his sword, “please just take them and go!”

Jaune glared at the woman “I’d love nothing more than to leave your weak tribe and be fucking done with this” he said honestly. The longer he stayed here the more likely it was these guys would jump him. And even if he got lucky with raven he doubted he could take all of them “but unfortunately I made you a promise”

With that, he began to unarmor himself. Taking a step toward the retreating woman with each thunk of the heavy armor falling away until as he stripped his pants and showed off his cock to the world he once more sighed pulling raven back by her legs to him. He hoped yang and Weiss weren’t watching, he was pretty average and didn’t have much to show off. Then again, he didn’t have much to compare him with.

All the guys at beacon refused to shower with him in the locker room

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OF COURSE THE BOY WAS A MONSTER, HE WAS A FUCKING ARC!

He was carrying around a foot of cock and it was surely gonna ruin her. But as Raven tried to crawl away, her own aura utterly depleted she felt him drag her back in front of him by her ankle. Her hands pulling up tufts of grass in vane as she tried to avoid her fate

“Just hurry the fuck up and strip raven, I have better shit to do!” came the annoyed voice of the monster behind her

What?

She froze and jaune growled in frustration ripping her clothes apart and lining himself up with her snatch

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She was tight, that was about all Jaune could say on the subject as Raven squirmed and struggled underneath him. He really wasn’t enjoying this. She was too shallow, too unused to him and SHE KEPT FUCKING CRAWLING AWAY!

Like, he got it, it was probably annoying to have to deal with him shoving himself into her, but damn it this wasn’t his fucking idea. And an Arc always keeps their word, so here he was trying to hold this whining bitch down so he could finish up and be done the entire fucking thing.

Finally getting tired of her bullshit jaune wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled her back into him. She screamed louder as he hammered into her, probably pissed that he was touching her hair like yang would be. Damn it he was starting to lose his boner! Think about Ruby Jaune! Think about that big, bubbly, Rubooty!

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Raven was going to die, she was sure of it, his massive cock was sticking out of her stomach and she could feel her body struggling to accommodate him as he shoved that fucking pillar deep into her. Having already gone as far as her womb.

Then he told her he was halfway in! The fuking idiot didn’t seem to get that there was NO MORE FUCKING ROOM FOR HIM.

She screamed as her body was flooded with pleasure as he pulled her hair. Bringing her back into him as he fucked her like a common whore. Her daughter was watching with her friend and… oh gods he just got bigger!

He must have seen Yang masterbating to this.

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He smacked Raven’s ass, disappointed it didn’t jiggle like Ruby’s when she ran, and struggled to maintain the fantasy. With a grunt, he pushed in deeper and held her there as his first orgasm finally came.

Thank the Gods’

Only two more holes to go.

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Raven thought it was over when she felt herself fill with cum, groaning in relief as jaune pulled out of her now leaking cunt. Ruined for all the world to see. But then she felt herself being pulled up by her hair. And suddenly she was being throat fucked, her vision filled by a sneering Jaune.

She felt herself cum again as he used her

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It was official, raven sucked at this. It was a fucking blow job! How hard could it be? Nora had given him plenty when she was bored on the road and Ren couldn’t keep up with her anymore. Let alone when he imagined Ruby to be able to do it. No, that wasn’t fair. Maybe she was just out of practice. After all, it's not like many guys around here would give her the time of day.

Okay Jaune just lay close your eyes and imagine Ruby, you can do this

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He was thinking about someone else, Raven was sure of it now, the way he kept his eyes closed. The way he tried to force her deeper. Was it Yang? Was that why he was here to save her? She didn’t know she didn’t care. Right now that massive dick was being used for her, it was hers!

Her nose filled with his scent, her tongue slipping out from her mouth to lap at his balls. Oh gods what a man. To take her so utterly. To ruin her and have her be just another of his conquests. She wept with joy as she felt him cum down her throat.

She couldn’t give this up

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Jaune stared down at the clearly delirious Raven, he was a little worried that he’d gone too far as he had forgotten to let her breathe. Normally he’d just wait for the tap on his thigh but she obviously didn’t know about that.

Oh well, just anal left and he could head home with yang and Weiss. He hoped they weren’t too bored.

“Turn around slut,” he said, trying to sound authoritative. He’d heard girls like that, and he was willing to try with Raven since it didn’t really matter if she didn’t like it. Not like he was ever gonna see her again

He was pleasantly surprised to find he was right as he watched Raven squeal in glee before she put herself face down into the grass. Huh… good to know, maybe Ruby would like it if he used his leader’s voice?

Lining up with the older woman’s ass Jaune decided it was about time to wrap this up so he wasn’t gonna go with the slow and steady pace he had before

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Raven’s world was one of sensations alone as she felt her master slam his cock into her ass. Her eyes swam with colors and her body twitched as she felt orgasm after orgasm. Pain and pleasure mixing in a delirious cocktail that her brain drowned in. and her hands, no longer being used to hold her up, Rubbed along the imprint his cock made in her. Trying to give him the same pleasure she felt

Every breath was praise for him.

This was heaven.

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Raven was annoying as hell.

“iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouILOVEYOU!”

“Please just shut the fuck up Raven!” Jaune screamed back as he tried to finish himself off. Groaning in relief as he felt another set of mouths on his balls. Turning around he saw Yang and Weiss doing their best to help him through this chore. They were great friends and jaune owed them for this.

What they lacked in skill they made up for in enthusiasm. And Jaune soon found himself about to cum slamming home in the bandit queen jaune moaned in relief as he flooded raven’s body with his seed. Slowly pulling the still hard cock out of the twitching mess of a woman and letting Yang and Weiss try to clean him up.

Oh yeah, he owed these two a lot. Though he did come to save them in the first place. But that was only to help his friends so yeah, he’d still owe them.

Nodding in agreement with his train of logic, he said out loud “welp time to go home” to his surprise the Raven opened a portal to …. Qrow?

OH HEY, THERE WAS RUBY!

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Ruby was a very happy girl, her sister was safe, as was her bestie Weiss. And Raven had even learned the error of her ways. Yeah, today was great.

It was also great because she was slamming her nice thicc ass back on Jaune’s dick like nature intended. Honestly, what was Raven thinking trying to take a dick this amazing with an ass like that? At least Yang had the common sense to use her tits to get jaune off. And Weiss…. Weiss was willing to help however she could.

So that’s why she let her sister and friend join in on her fun with her boyfriend.

Slamming her ass down on his dick faster, Ruby relished the attention that was on her as Raven whimpered in the corner.

Yeah, Yang and Weiss got to help, but Raven had to study hard if she wanted to be a good slut. That’s why she was being forced to watch her and Jaune go at it for hours on end.

It totally wasn’t because ruby liked putting the snobby bitch in her place. Ruby would never do that.

Moaning in pure pleasure as she arched her back and Jaune came inside her. Ruby smiled before resuming her work with a kiss from Jaune.

And they all lived happily ever after

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

How To Calm Your Witcher

i am shit at titles please forgive me i know its tacky lol. the Goob Squad gave me like an ounce of positive reinforcement for purring Geralt and tbh this was v good for the wack ass day i had so this is what yall are stuck with.

Warnings: overwhelmed potion geralt, description of said overwhelming sensation, kinda anxiety attack adjacent but theres some BIG comfort, purring witcher. 

__________

Geralt marched through the halls in a huff, Jaskier keeping pace but lagging behind just a bit as they made their way to the quarters that this particularly obtuse lord had not so graciously assigned them for the duration of the hunt. Geralt had prepared for a menacing beast, potions and all, only to find some delinquents faking a mauling because they’d had too much to drink and got bored. They’d probably never drink again after the scare Geralt gave them, but the lord wasn't satisfied. Geralt assumed he never was. 

The only reason Geralt didn’t slam the door when they made it through the maze was that Jaskier was behind him. He was shaking, all that adrenaline with nowhere to go made his hands curl into tight fists and he could hear too many people. The floor above them was relatively empty but below must have been the kitchen or laundry and it was starting to drive him insane after only a few moments in the room. 

He ripped his armor off, hoping that removing the tight bands of leather keeping it in place might make him feel like he fit within his skin again. It only made him cold. 

Jaskier picked up the pieces he’d chucked  and laid them in a pile before carefully stacking logs in the ridiculously sized hearth. Geralt barely registered him hauling blankets and furs out of a chest at the foot of the bed, too distracted by the noises and every single one of his hairs shifting as he moved. It felt like he was covered in spiders and wading through water all at once. Everything was too slow and too detailed and he just wanted to charge back into the dining hall and beat the lord with his ham bone. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice couldn’t even be called a whisper; it was so faint, “Can you come light this please?”

Geralt cracked his neck as he turned and stalked over to the hearth. He didnt need to cast such a dramatic sign, but fuck he needed to do something. Jaskier was already standing back, seemingly prepared for his outburst. 

“Can you sit down so I can unlace your boots?”

Could he? For that velvet soft voice he could do anything. His boots were rather soaked too, and he could feel the beginnings of a blister forming where the new leather had yet to soften. He let Jaskier lead him to a specific pillow and settled onto it, extending his legs and glaring into the fire. The pops and hisses of bubbling sap was helping to mask the sounds from below, but it didn't feel like nearly enough. Jaskier slowly tugged off his boots, keeping his touches deliberate but soft as he replaced the waterlogged woolen socks with a warm fresh pair. Geralt wiggled his toes a bit, happy with the feeling of something soft against the tops of his toes. 

Jaskier settled in behind him and raked his fingers through Geralt’s hair, “How does this feel?”

Geralt hummed, honestly not sure of his answer, and continued to stare into the fire.

The bard quickly braided his waves off to the side, very practical compared to his usual work, and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder, “What’s too much?”

Geralt only snarled. It was a stupid question. Everything was too much. 

“Is it the noise?”

A nod.

“What about your skin?”

Geralt swallowed hard and forced his words out, “Little hairs.”

Jaskier shimmied back to lean against a heavy leather chair, pulling Geralt with him before draping blanket after blanket after blanket over them; finishing the stack with a bearskin. They were cocooned in soft, but not sticky fabric that kept all Geralt’s hair pressed to his skin and a weight that made his legs feel hollow and filled with lead. He could finally take a slow deep breath, feeling his back press into Jaskier’s stomach as his lungs expanded. 

“Better?” Jaskier breathed, placing a gentle kiss to Geralt’s temple.

He nodded, turning his head into Jaskier’s chest to breathe in his scent. 

“What else do you need, love?”

Geralt’s hands resting on Jaskier’s thighs beneath the blankets involuntarily squeezed when someone dropped what sounded like a dragon sized cauldron on the level below, “Hum for me?”

Jaskier immediately started humming one of Geralt’s favorite songs, pressing a kiss to his hair as he did. The soft rumbles of the bard’s voice and his heartbeat gave Geralt something to focus on other than the cacophony from below. As Jaskier’s voice grew gradually stronger there were gradually less and less distractions, only the pleasant, comforting sound of his lover’s voice and the gentle vibrations emanating from his chest. Geralt shifted slightly and pressed his ear to Jaskier’s sternum, sighing at the warmth of his bard’s skin against the side of his face and the loud, reassuring thrum of his heartbeat. Jaskier clasped his hands together over Geralt’s stomach and the little bit of added pressure did wonders. 

Before he knew it, his eyes were fluttering closed and there was a deep rumble accompanying the rise and fall of his chest. He stayed pleasantly pinned to his lover as they waited for the potions to leave his system, purring in accompaniment to Jaskier’s soft singing. Geralt’s purrs started to fade as he drifted closer and closer to sleep, still not entirely feeling clean, but clean enough.

“How are you feeling?” Jaskier’s whisper, coaxed him back from the edge of consciousness just before he was about to fall. 

He purred louder in response, something that always made Jaskier smile. 

“Alright, let’s get you into the bed, yeah?”

Geralt let himself be propped up on his feet while Jaskier peeled his breaches off and tucked him under the covers before laying the heavy bearskin over him yet again. 

“Jask?” Geralt’s voice was more of a croak as he lifted his head off the pillow to search for his bard, “C’m to bed.”

“Already here, love.” Jaskier shuffled over under the covers, pressing himself to Geralt’s back and tucking his thighs up under Geralt’s.

Geralt started purring again as Jaskier pressed a kiss to the base of his neck and snaked an arm around his waist, “I love you,” he sighed, making sure Jaskier could feel just how happy he was through the vibrations in his chest.

“And I you,” Jaskier hummed, giving Geralt a light squeeze, “Now sleep, darling.”

He fought sleep as long as he could, wishing he could stay in this moment forever, but eventually Geralt stopped purring and fell into a deep, restful sleep. 

[cheeky-kookie]

Overruled | KTH

Taehyung/Reader | Angst, Slow Burn, Royal!AU | Prince!Taehyung x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 12.4K

Summary: You always knew that you were viewed nothing more than an asset when it came to the heart of men. The luxury of meeting someone who saw you for you almost didn’t exist. It just took your whole life being ripped apart to find yourself lucky enough to come across one.

Warnings: Language | Violence | Blood | Imprisonment | Mentions of Death | Non-Main-Character Deaths | Taehyung Risking It For The Biscuit |

AN: This took me forever but thank you guys for sticking with me and waiting for it! I have so many ideas and just not enough time! Keep your eye out for the others I have coming.

Tonight, like many other nights, you sat at the main area with your father. Your eyes wandered the crowd gracing the ball floor. It was a mess of gowns and bodies spinning and turning to the time of the music. It was the same thing every time one of these was hosted. You watched as the nobles enjoyed themselves and drank until there was no care left for them in this world.

If you looked closer within the mass of fabric swirling in front of you, you can see the smiling faces of the ladies as they were enthralled with the idea that the handsome men spinning them on the floor wanted to dance with them. Every one of the couples synchronized with not only the music but with the others as well. All weaving around each other with ease.

This event, like the others, was only for the nobles and other royalties to butter up to your father and win his good graces. They wanted that slim chance to marry you, for that matter. If they win you, they win the crown and unite their kingdom with yours.

Your eyes landed on a man, whom you recognized as one for the princes from the neighboring kingdom. You had only met him once before in passing, but you had to be good with faces. He was making his way through the crowd of people, in the direction of where you sat. Once in front of you, he bowed to both you and your father.

“May I ask the fine lady to dance?” He asked, offering his hand out to you, though you weren’t entirely sure if he was asking you or your father.

A curt nod from your father made your decision for you. You stood, returning his bow with your own, “I would be honored.”

Taking his hand with your own, he led the way onto the floor. Turning you in his direction, he placed his other hand on your waist. Soon, both of you were in sync with the others letting the music guide your movements.

In the many years you had been alive and the many dances you had to endure, you realized no one liked to actually talk. You were nothing to these men who ask for your hand and drag you around the floor. To them, you were a transaction. You were just one step of a bigger picture. Nothing more than an item looking to be sold to the highest bidder.

You didn’t blame your father. He didn’t like doing this to you. It was just how it had to be.  

So, you stayed quiet keeping his eye contact as he led you around the floor. You felt many eyes on you as you two spun throughout the crowd, not needing to look to confirm whether they were really. Your movement was always watched whether it be from your people or the lady-in-waiting who does your bidding whenever you call. You held the smile on your face so the eyes watching would think you were having a wonderful time, and maybe if you smiled enough you could will the idea into existence.

Oh, how you wished it were willed into existence.

A large bang was heard loud enough to be heard over the sound of music and the chatter of socializing. You stumbled as the man directing you halted with no warning. The music slowly dwindled to nothing as each person playing grew curious of the sound. The sound of people talking and whispering amplified by the newfound silence.

Another loud bang.

This time, you felt your heart rate raise a little as you watched as your father motioned to a knight near him and spoke to him as few knights slipped out of the many doors in the room. The man next to you seeming more alert than before though you were more preoccupied with the look in your father’s eyes. He looked put together but his eyes held the one thing you never thought you’d see in them. Fear.

A third one.

With the sound of that one, the room fell into chaos. The doors flung open, splinters and chunks of wood scattering into the air from the brute force of the entry. Unknown figures entered through the destruction armed and ready to attack any and all.

You watched as the men that were attending the ball unsheathed their weapons and jumped into the mess of intruders to help the many knights who have been overwhelmed. The man whom you had been dancing with had left you alone amongst the scared guests.

The whole room was filled with the clanking of metal and yelling, but it was drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat as your adrenaline took over. You realized you were in the open and maneuvered your way toward one of the many columns scatter throughout the room. Once behind it and in cover, you let out a shaky breath you had no idea you had been holding.

You peaked around the pillar; your eyes scanned the room for your father. You noticed him on his feet, fighting against some man who you assumed had entered with the intruders. Deciding to try to make it to him, you searched the rest of the room.

Your eyes only met destruction and bodies; some being the enemy and some your own people. Your eyes even found the image of a small child crying into the chest of his mother who laid on the floor covered in her own blood and unmoving. You leaned your head back against the pillar trying to erase the image to no avail.

With an uneasy breath, you started to head toward your father. You eyed the hand of a dead body as you moved through the chaos, grabbing the dagger from his lifeless fingertips. Once in hand you grasped the hilt, not noticing your knuckles turning a shade of white from the amount of force you gripped it with.

You took a step backwards to avoid a scuffle that was coming from your left, causing you to trip over some debris. You kicked yourself back against the wall as you tried to avoid being the next person lying on the ground in a pool of their own blood. The knight fought against the other man, neither aware you were even there.

You stood back up looking for your father once again. You found him mid fight with the same intruder as before. Closer now, he noticed you were still in the room. He locked eyes with you, which seemed to be all the distraction the other man needed. The blade was shoved dead in the middle of the king’s chest and his eyes grew wide and he grasped at the sword. Once out of his chest, your father fell to his knees and then to the ground.

Your whole world shifted as you felt the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision. Amongst the terrified screams and fighting, your own gut-wrenching scream could barely be heard. Instead of falling to your own knees like you wished you could, you fought against the feeling of your lungs collapsing as you gasped for air; having it knocked out of you from the metaphorical blow.

You started to make your way toward his body when multiple of the heavily armor-clad trespassers noticed you. You couldn’t hear what the one yelled over your still coursing heartbreak, but they started moving in on you. That’s when you took one final look at your father and ran.

You hopped over the heaps of bodies that now scattered the room and ran out one of the broken doors, barely avoiding the swing of a blade that ran astray from a battle you pasted by. Once out of the main room, you found the fight was still going on in the halls as well.

You desperately looked for a way to escape. Deciding the left was arguably safer, you hurried down the corridor. You rounded the corner, knowing there was a passage a few halls further that exited out into the garden where you could hopefully find shelter. You felt two hands grab you and you weren’t entirely sure if he had come from in front of you or behind. Pinned to the wall, you tried fighting him off. You shook your arm free and, with dagger still in hand, you thrusted it between his helmet and chest plate. His eyes grew wide as he released you, choking on his own blood.

You stood frozen, eyes looking between the man now on the floor gasping for air and your own hand now soaked in red. Just as quick as you froze, you were brought back into reality. You switched the blade into your other hand as you wiped the blood off your hand onto your dress which had already been ruined.

It felt like hours before you made it to the passage that lead outside but, it had only been mere minutes. Opening the door, you sucked in a breath of fresh air; something you felt you had been deprived of for too long. You leaned against the now closed door. The newfound silence only broken by your staggered breathing and the sound of your kingdom aflame in the distance.

You heard a conversation in the distance, it not being loud enough to understand. You hoped the dark of night would conceal you from those who you didn’t want to see you. Your breath hitched as you heard the voices come nearer. You had gotten so far, and it wouldn’t mean anything if you were caught. You decided to risk it.

You ran for the hedges, hearing the men now hurrying toward you. You were almost to shelter. Almost. But your foot landed on an uneven patch of ground, causing your ankle to twist and you to tumble down to the ground. On impact, the dagger flew from your hand. You searched the ground for it, but it was too late.

You felt your heart leave your chest as two men grabbed your arms pulling you up from the ground. Kicking, you tried fighting against them, but their strength was too much for you. You didn’t give up, even if it was a useless task.

You were pulled back into the building, which was oddly quiet. It only confirmed the worst, that your kingdom had now fallen. You assumed whoever wasn’t dead was taken as prisoner. The halls became familiar as they tracked back the way you came to the grand chamber.

Once there, your eyes landed on the mass of bodies being moved into a pile at the end of the room. Then they found your own father’s. He was surrounded by a few men, one obviously the king of the intruders and the other, you could only see the back of.

“Your majesty, we found her fleeing. If I’m not mistaken, this is indeed the princess.” One of the men holding you hostage announced.

but to disgrace your father and irritate you. Angered, you demanded they let you go and continued to do so, hoping annoying the poor men would work.

“What would you like us to do with her, sir?” The other asked.

“Shut her up, will you?” He asked, exhaustion dripping from his voice.

You saw the man next to you raise the hilt of his sword and swing it down at you. You couldn’t say what happened next because you in fact had no idea because your whole world went black.

When you woke, you expected to be laying in your bed under your duvet. The hard surface you found yourself laying on was not your bed and it was a rough reminder of the events that took place before you were knocked unconscious.

You opened your eyes being met with the sight of the dirt floor. Pushing yourself up off the ground, you groaned as the pain in your head increased with the new position you now sat in. Your dress was dirty and ripped around the bottom. You weren’t sure if it happened while you were running or when they dragged your unconscious body to where it is now. You noticed the blood you wiped off your hands had darkened as it dried into the fabric of the skirt.

Slightly disoriented, you looked around trying to focus on anything other than your ruined dress and the pounding of your head. You made out an old wooden bench that probably would fall apart if too much pressure was put onto it. Above that, a small window. There was barely any light flowing through but enough for you to determine that it was early morning. Turning your head the other way, your eyes focused on the metal barring you within the small room.

You pulled yourself onto your feet only to trip from the rush of pressure that went to your head. You gripped the bench and pulled yourself onto it hoping that it wouldn’t buckle from the weight. Once sitting on it you leaned your head against the wall and closed your eyes. Your vision still blurring in and out whenever you concentrated to hard on something, you hoped closing them would relieve some pain.

Your mind flashed back to your last conscious memory. The image of your father on the floor and the man standing over him looking at him like he was just some pest that finally got what was coming to him. And then, you were locked away in your own dungeon. You had never really ventured to the castles personal prison on your own accord, so you had no idea what it looked like until now. The only confirmation that you were still within the walls of your home was the residual smell of smoke from the town that was burning the night before.

Tears ran down your cheeks as you let your body fall sideway until you laid on the bench. You didn’t even try to hide your cries, for no one was around to hear you. The impact of your world exploding seeming to be too much to handle and the only thing your mind knew to do was send droplets out of your eyes and sobs from your chest. The only sound to comfort you being the echo of your own cries in the empty dungeon.

What you noticed while you were in your own personal hell that time seemed to blend together. You seemed to wake and sleep whenever your body wanted you to. The only indication of time you had was the little bit of outside you saw through the window. Even then, you weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been locked up. If you had to guess, you would say you were there for maybe a week at the most. The only interaction you had with anyone was limited to the guards bringing you food. Other than that, it was just you alone with your thoughts.

It gave you time to grieve the loss of your life and what you had always known. You spent the first few days crying, having the only words of wisdom being the guards telling you to shut it whenever they decided it seemed fit to feed you. You cried less, though you felt like the hole in your chest would never be filled. You had never gotten to say goodbye and that broke open healing wounds whenever the thought crossed your mind.

You were sitting, staring at the bars from the bench when you heard someone entering the area. You perked up, confused. This was too close to the last time you were fed; it didn’t seem right.

You watched as a figure found its way in front of your cell. From what you observed, he had no idea you sat a mere few feet away. The lantern he held in his hand lighting what the small window of your cell didn’t reach. The back of him looking oddly familiar, but you knew you had no clue who this was or why they were amongst the prisoners of the castle.

You stood, curious of the man. You studied him as he searched the area, finding an old wooden chair. He kicked it into the corner farthest from the cells before setting the lantern town next to it. He proceeded to then sit in it, resting his hands on his legs. His eyes focused on the ground.

You reached the outer wall of your enclosure, lacing your hand through one of the bars as you peered through it in his direction. He seemed almost as if he was overwhelmed or tired; maybe both.

“You seem down,” You croak out, surprised your voice didn’t fail you. You didn’t think it would fail you because you were afraid but because of its lack of use.

His head slowly lifted, reaching your eyes for the first time since his presence was known. Your breath hitched just from the intensity of his glare. His dark locks fell around his face in waves resting right above his eyes, casting a shadow onto them. His head turned to the side ever so slightly as he examined you from the distance.

“I am,” He spoke; his voice as deep as the glare he still held on you.

For a moment, you let the silence take over. His eyes never broke off of you as his words sunk into your being. It wasn’t much of a reply, but it was a reply. It was more of a response than you’ve gotten within days.

You swallowed trying to wet your throat before speaking again, “I didn’t expect you to respond. No one does.”

His eyes didn’t waver away from you as he took in your words. Another silence set in but now that it had been broken, it seemed so much heavier than before. Part of you wondered what could possibly be going through his mind as he stared so intently in your direction, though you knew better than to ask. So, instead, you waited for a response if there would be one.

“Well, surprise.” He said, leaning back.

He rested his upper half against the back of the wooden chair, his body finding a more relaxed position. Even then, his eyes still held on you. For the first time in days, you wondered what condition you were truly in. You assumed you were full of mud, possibly bloody and bruised. You felt exhausted and you knew your face showed it. Not once did your appearance come to mind, but under his intense stare, it was a passing thought you couldn’t shake.

Still unsure if you had full trust in your voice, you cleared it before hesitantly adding to the very short conversation, “Why are you down?”

He didn’t seem to hear you, or well, he chose not to acknowledge your question because he didn’t attempt to reply. You couldn’t quite blame him for his lack in communication. If the roles had been reversed, and you found yourself on the outside looking in, you probably wouldn’t have even batted an eye in your direction.

You let out a quiet sigh, knowing full well whatever socialization you had been gifted had come to an end. Even so, you were oddly satisfied that someone had given you the time of day. It might have been the bare minimum, but it wasn’t nothing. For that you were grateful.

You pushed yourself off of the bars of the cell, letting your hand drop from the one you were grasping.

“Is that dried blood?”

Shocked from his question, you looked down at where you had wiped the mess that had been on your hands days prior. You had almost forgotten about the stain adhered to the fabric you had been wearing, but without a doubt when you looked back down there it was.

You leaned back forward to look at him through the gaps between the bars. He was still looking in your direction, though his eyes seemed to soften as he waited for a response.

“Yeah,” You let out a shaky breath. Memories of that man pinning you against the wall flooded back to the front of your mind. You felt your w burn as you fought the tears, “Yeah, it’s dried blood.”

Silence fell again, which seemed to be a reoccurring theme within the conversation, though this time you weren’t yearning for it to continue. You looked away from him and blinked, hoping the brimming tears wouldn’t cascade down. It was quiet enough you could make out the sound of faint footsteps getting closer to your own cell. You pushed off the door again, this time actually making it to the only seating within room.

You could tell he too could hear the footsteps. He sighed, standing up from his sitting position. He then gripped the lantern that had been comfortably sitting next to his feet the whole time. Just as he did so, a guard rounded the corner, food in hand. You assumed the food was for you.

A peak out the small window of your cell told you more time had passed that you expected, and that it very may well have been time for them to bring you food.

Taken aback by another figure, the guard halted. The unknown man nodded at him in recognition.

“Ah, we have been searching for you,” The guard announced, “The king is in need of your presence, sir.”

You watched as the gentleness in his eyes he had shown you moments before disappeared, only to be replaced with the same tired look he held when he first sat down in the chair. You felt bad for him even though you were the one imprisoned. You wondered if him wandering the prisoners ward was him escaping whatever thing was wearing him thin.

“I’m always needed,” He sighed but still proceeded to maneuver around the guard before disappearing the way he had come.

The guard shook his head disapprovingly, before sliding the food into the cell with little to no care. He muttered something to himself you couldn’t quit make out from your seat on the bench and then left you on your own.

If you hadn’t lost track of the days before, you had now. It had been a few days, or maybe a week, since you had found yourself in the company of the unknown man. You weren’t entirely sure how long it had truly been because you barely noticed the difference between the warm rays of the day and the soft light of the night.

It was hard to focus with your mind being so numbingly bored. You actually started to look forward to the times they brought you the god-awful slop they fed you. The guards, though not the best conversationalists, still bought a difference into your very dull life. They at least bought something to the table that the dirt floor and the rusted iron bars could never do.

You found yourself mindlessly picking at your fingers. The amount of mud and dirt caking to them had become quite evident and you weren’t exactly fond of the idea. You felt disgusting having been in the same clothes days on end. You had come to the conclusion that you’d be wearing this torn up garment until there was nothing left of it.

You heard the squeaking of a lantern echoing from down the hall. It was late, past the last feeding of the night. The guards should have left you down there to drown in loneliness by now. Your eyes fell on the light making it closer to your cell. Even within the small haze of the lamp, there was no mistaking the eyes of the man approaching. He wore a simple shirt contrasting the more up done one you saw him in the first time. Even late in the night, he looked well put together.

Once in front of your cell, you watched him locate the chair he sat in before. He then proceeded to grab one of the torch sticks, lighting it with the fame of the lantern. He stuck it back on the wall, it lighting not only the hall but the cell you were confined into.

You slowly stood up off your seat, curious as to why he was down here again. Or better yet, you were just curious of who he was. He shot you a passing glance as he then bent back over, grabbing something off the chair. You made your way slowly to the barred off area, peaking through the gaps between them. All you saw was his back and the way his shoulders moved under the fabric concealing them. You felt a wash of familiarity come over you like before, but you would have remembered meeting a face like his.

You quickly adverted your gaze when he turned back around, not wanting to admit you might have been staring at him for a tad too long. He walked forward, hands holding what seemed to me a mass of cloth. He stopped inches in front of the bars, his gaze meeting your eyes. He threaded his arm though the bars, handing you what was in his hands.

“It’s not much,” He paused, releasing it to you, “But I figured it would be better than wearing what you are currently.”

You stood silently, excepting his gift. You were taken slightly aback. You had been attacked, chased, and knocked out. You had been thrown in your own castles dungeon and fed like a dog. You didn’t know what to expect but an act of kindness from anyone wasn’t it.

Hurrying back towards the dimmer end of your cell, you set the clothes down on the bench and examined them. The whiff of clean clothes enticed your senses, making your heart race. It was foolish to be so excited over a clean set of clothes, but you were.

Uncaring to whether you had prying eyes, you began to strip out of your dress. It dropped to the floor, along with all the horrible memories it kept reminding you of. You didn’t care that the white shirt that he gave you was eerily similar to the one he was wearing. You were just glad to be out of the thing now laying in a lump on the floor.

Once in fresh clothes, you walked slowly back to peak through the gaps. He sat in the corner, same position as the first time you saw him; arms resting on his legs and head hanging low. You made the conclusion that most likely didn’t try to steal a glimpse of you changing. You watched him for a moment, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts.

“Thank you,” The words come out as almost a squeak, voice being weakened by the lack of use yet again. He lifted his head, eerily similar to the time before yet no intense glare. His eyes were soft, and you were able to see they were a dark brown when not consumed behind the metaphorical mask he wore. He straightened up, running a hand through his dark locks.

“Wish I could have done more,” He said, voice quiet but the silence of the hall amplifying every word that left his lips.

Your heart panged at the kindness being shown for it was a nice change, but the constant state of fear you had come to know gnawed at you like a gnat.

“But why?” Your voice hoarse but you forced the question anyways.

He hummed to himself for a moment, as if contemplating whether he wanted to give you the answer before looking you in the eyes once more, “I wouldn’t want to be wearing someone else’s blood.”

Silence fell between the two of you as you absorbed his words. Your eyes drifted to the dress in the corner before looking back at him. You didn’t know what his reasoning would be, but you never thought it would have been that. You also didn’t expect him to break the comfortable silence, but he seemed full of surprises since you met him.

“What happened?”

You saw the way his eyes caught the refection of the torch fire as the flames danced within them but behind that you saw what you only could decipher as concern, or guilt.

“I was attacked. I did what I had to.” You spoke, his eyes still trained on you.

He nodded in understanding. He then slowly stood up from the chair and reached for the lantern on the ground grabbing that as well. He started to walk towards where he came but stopped in front of the bars of your cell.

He glanced over, “I hope you’re able to get rest.”

The odds of that happening were slim to none, you both knew that. Still, it was another nice gesture that he in no way needed to do, especially to someone who was imprisoned. You wondered why he seemed to be so kind to you, but maybe he was just that. Just as quick as he turned to look at you, he started to leave all the same.

“Can you at least tell me your name?” You ask but it comes out more as a plea. He halted his movements and turned back to you. You watched him turn to look at you once again, this time you watched as one of the corners of his mouth perked up ever so slightly.

“Taehyung.” Was all he responded before both he and the light had disappeared down the hall.

Part of you, almost all of you, wanted something to grasp onto, even if it was just a name.

Fresh air.

The concept seemed so foreign to you now. You were used to the damp and the musk by now, but your mind traveled to that night where everything went downhill. You remembered the fresh air you had inhaled and the slight smell of roses that had engulfed the night.

So, there you were on the tips of your toes leaning dangerously close to the edge of the bench. Your fingers grasped the edge of the small, barred window of your cell. You had been hoping to possibly get a breath of fresh air from the open window.

Somehow, you had propped yourself up enough to barely see out of it. You were surprised to find that your window was located by the very garden you had been fantasizing about. Honestly, you were surprised at yourself for not trying this sooner. Seeing any color other than the brown walls of the dungeon was welcoming enough.

You felt the suns rays hit your face and you closed your eyes in satisfaction. You felt a cool breeze kiss your face and the smell of roses wafted in your direction. You sighed in content, just happy to feel something from the outside world once again.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice broke the silence you were enjoying, scaring you. Your grip on the ledge failed as you tried not to stumble off the edge of the bench. You fell onto the dirt floor despite your attempts not to.

You sat up slowly and turned to the source of the voice. Your voice dry as you responded, “I miss outside, Taehyung.”

You had grown accustomed to his sporadic visits. Ever since he had bought you a change of clothes, he seemed to show up more often though it was never for long. You noticed that he was not much of a conversationalist, but you believed that to be because he always seemed to have something on his mind distracting him. You could see it in the way his eyes never felt they were in the present moment.

He looked away avoiding your glance, “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

The room grew quiet as you watched him walk towards the seat he had claimed as his own. He seemed a little more dressed up than the past few times he had decided to grace you with his presence. His hair though, still fell across his face in waves of black.

You pulled yourself off the floor and walked towards him, leaning against the metal to look at him better, “You always seem so distracted.”

He looked up from his hands and bit the inside of his cheek. He looked as though whatever was on his mind was on the tip of his tongue and he was biting it right back down. He directed his attention down the hall and away from you and your observation. He obviously having no intentions of responding to your statement.

You dropped to the ground, sitting with your legs crossed, “I didn’t notice that my cell was one of the ones located by the garden. I could smell the flowers when I felt the breeze hit my face. I used to walk the garden with my father before, well...”

You raised your arms, motioning to your cell. Taehyung’s eyes found your eyes once again. You let out a  laugh, finding the irony of the situation funny. Here you sat caged away when right outside your window bloomed freedom and life.

His eyebrows raised at your laughter obviously surprised by your outburst. He watched as your smile faded, and your eyes glossed over.

“I miss him,” You sighed, “He wasn’t the best, but he cared.”

“I’m sorry,” He said, and you felt as though he was apologizing for more than just your father’s death.

Your hand traced one of the iron bars in front of you feeling the cool metal under your fingertips. He watched as you did so, finding your ability to be so calm when everything you had known had crumbed to be quite astounding.

“I’m sorry can’t fix what has already happened. I just wish he had gotten a proper burial.” You sighed, looking away from your hand and finding Taehyung’s figure against the wall, “So, why do you hide down here with the prisoners?”

“You’re better company,” He responded, which surprised you. You weren’t expecting him to answer your question because up to this point he had been a master of keeping the focus off him. He always somehow flipped it back onto you and if he couldn’t do that, then he grew silent.

“Me?” You asked not being able to hide the innocent shock that laced your voice, “I’m sorry, but I’m sure there are plenty of people who could keep you in good company that aren’t locked away.”

He chuckled dryly, “You speak to me like I’m real. Up there, it’s scripted. They’re too afraid of what might happen if they said the wrong thing. It’s ‘yes sir’ and ‘anything for you’ but I never hear people’s wants and their feelings. No one wants to have a conversation.”

You felt a wave of familiarity in what he was saying. You felt as if things started to finally make sense for the first time since he began visiting. From the guilty look in his eyes to the kind gestures he had shown. He had felt familiar, but you never knew how until that moment. Your eyes widen at the realization.

“When your father’s the king, you don’t get to just talk.” You replied almost monotoned, knowing too well the way people treated the offspring of royalty even if they were royalty themselves.

His body stiffened at your words. You could tell he wasn’t expecting you to make the connection and it threw him off guard, body going defensive automatically.

“How did you-“ He paused with a loss of words.

“Because that’s how I felt,” You sighed as you remembered the countless nights sitting up hoping someone would truly want to treat you like a human being and not some figure or purchase, “I knew you looked familiar. I- I couldn’t quite place it. I knew I hadn’t met you before. I’d remember a face like yours. I did see you though, standing over my father’s body before I was knocked out.”

“If it were me, none of this would have happened,” He said, gaze falling on your position on the ground.

“You can’t help who your father is,” You reassured not completely sure why you felt the need to, “But, if I were to be frank, your father is a piece of shit.”

For the first time since he had begun coming to your cell to keep you company, you heard him truly laugh. It wasn’t one of those fake ones he had shown you, but a genuinely bubbly sound. It flowed into his whole face, brightening it.

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it,” He responded, a boxy smile gracing his lips.

He began to visit more, and you hated to admit you waited for him. Every time you heard footsteps come toward you the idea that it could be him crosses your mind. Your heart rate would quicken and the bit of energy that your body would produce was evidence enough that you hoped it would be him instead of a guard there to feed you.

You couldn’t blame yourself. If it weren’t for him, you probably would have gone mad from isolation. It wasn’t hard to understand why the prisoners your own father had held for information gave in so quickly. Being alone with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company and entertained could drive anyone mad.

It led you to think of why you were in fact, still alive. You would have thought you would have been discarded by now since you really had no more use. Taehyung’s father had successfully taken over your father’s kingdom from your understanding. Your own father having no siblings of his own left you useless for there was no one to barter you off to. There was no gain from keeping you.

With you deep in your thoughts, you had not been aware that Taehyung had found himself before you. He watched you as you fiddled with your hands, eyes not focused on anything specific. Your mind somewhere far off.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?” He asked, pulling your thoughts back down to earth. You realized he liked to ask you about your thoughts on things and actually hear them. It was much different than the way many had treated you as you grew. You were so used to being a pawn that being treated like a human was refreshing. It was different, but nice.

“Why am I still here?” You asked voicing the very thing that plagued your thoughts, “Your father has nothing to gain from keeping me imprisoned.”

He hummed, “My father doesn’t share anything with me. If he does, he had made the decision long before telling me. He’s never trusted me with much more than simple duties. He thinks I’m troubled.”

“You seem far from troubled,” You responded, finally moving from your spot on the bench. You followed his voice.

Taehyung stood, leaning against the wall directly across from your cell. His arms were crossed across his chest. Normally, you would find the stance intimidating but the way his body was relaxed with no tension made you feel the opposite. A smirk formed on his lips as he let out a halfhearted scoff, “He just doesn’t like anyone who disagrees with his point of view.”

“Your father is warped,” You shook your head, “He would have gained much more from this if he had just sent you to court me. Alliances are worth far more than enemies.”

His eyes found yours at your words and you watched as emotions flickered through them before settling on anger, “My father doesn’t look for the most profit; he thrives in power. He takes joy in destroying cities and taking them as his own. Yes, it would have been smarter to align ourselves, but he would have drowned knowing he didn’t have full control.”

You watched as he shifted uncomfortably in front of you, running his hand through his hair. The conversation not being one he was enjoying, obviously.

Unsure on exactly why you felt the need to, you shifted the conversation, “What do you take joy in?”

“I enjoy going to theatre and viewing artwork,” He responded after pondering for a few moments of silence, “Actually, despite my father’s distain towards the bards, I also quite enjoy their music.”

Your mind wandered for a few moments at the idea that he enjoyed any form of art. It opened up a new layer to him you had barely had a grasp on before. Oddly, you felt elated at the tiny reveal.

“I used to like wandering the garden after raiding the library and finding a quiet place to read. My father didn’t let me leave the castle very often but sometimes he would take me to see a show. I also quite enjoy them.” You responded, a soft smile laying upon your lips at the memory.

Taehyung couldn’t keep his eyes off you as you babbled about what you liked. He also couldn’t help but mimic your small smile though his was more out of guilt than fondness. You seemed so full of life, the one thing he craved from others, and yet you were thrown behind bars to rot. It didn’t sit well with him.

Clearing his throat, he pushed off the wall to move closer to your cell, “Um, I actually bought you something. I figured you were getting tired of the same stuff they’ve been feeding you.”

You watched as he rummaged around in his pocket for a second before pulling out a small wrapped package. He then reached through the bars separating the two of you, placing the item in your hand. His hand barely grazed yours, but you could tell it was warmer than your own.

Curious, you unwrapped the paper surrounding whatever he had smuggled you. Your heart raced at the sight of it. It wasn’t something you normally would be ecstatic about the small piece of pastry in your hands said otherwise. You then took a bite, closing your eyes at the sweet taste and the rich flavor.

“Thank you,” You say softly once you finished chewing.

“It’s nothing,” He said, “I have to return, but I’ll be back. Keep your head up Y/N.”

He gave a small wave before disappearing. You let out a deep breath, eyes finding the pastry still in your hands. Even though he had been gone only moments, you already missed his company.

Trying to do the one thing Taehyung requested was probably one of the hardest thing’s you could have done, but you did it. The only thing keeping you head above water was his visits and the stories of life he brought back with him. It seemed silly but hearing about the minuscule drama that flowed through the halls of the castle gave you entertainment. It made you feel alive still.

From what he had told you, it had been about two months since the total takeover of your home and your very own imprisonment. He does his best to keep you in the loop considering losing track of time down in the dark and the musk was easy to do. You appreciated him for it.

You’ve grown fond of him and you could tell by the way the small smile that never seemed to leave your lips when he was around or the way your stomach twists in knots whenever he told stories he was fond of. But you were definitely certain you had because even when the two of you sat in silence, it was just as comfortable.

Even now, no words between the two of you were being shared but you were in no rush to break the silence. His presence was enough.

“You don’t deserve this,” He sighed from his seated position on the ground, obvious hurt in his voice.

You felt for him. He was a man who was taught right from wrong but forced to stand behind a man who lived for chaos. The same man that drove him to find solace in the dark of the dungeon and confide in you.

Even then, he didn’t say much. You just noticed he would come down bothered and watch to make sure the guards didn’t follow him. Once comfortable, he would fall into what you had come to find as his true self and a very kind man.

Ironic considering who his father was.

You sighed, “This isn’t on you.”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for it,” His response quick and slightly irritable.

You could tell he had worked himself up. His eyes locked on the ground and his leg bouncing endlessly to ease the tension through his body. The need to touch him to help calm him down shot through you but passed quickly when your brain deemed it impossible to accomplish. You settled by placing your hand on the metal in front of you, not comforting you or him in the process.

“Tae,” You breathe out, afraid to be any louder, “I’m still alive, therefore, I still have a chance to get out of here free.”

You spoke words that neither of you really had faith in. The odds of you walking out of the cell alive were slim, let alone alive and free. The fact you were even still breathing was a wonder in its own. Though he knew it wasn’t plausible, you still watched as his leg quit bouncing and his eyes broke from the dirt. He still opted to stay quiet.

“You deserve more,” You said filling the silence, “You’re a good man. I’d hate to see your father take that from you.”

You looked away from him decided to give him some privacy. It was odd; the way he got so worked up over the idea you were still behind the iron bars. The very bars under the touch of your fingers. Even abnormal as it was for his reaction to be the way it was, especially since your situation wasn’t a new one, he didn’t deserve to be ogled.

You felt warmth envelop the outer of your hand. The idea of pulling your own hand away flashed through your thoughts, but when your eyes met with another resting on the top of yours all feelings of that were lost.

Taehyung had moved closer, enough to where he could touch you. His thumb grazed your skin in a soothing movement, and you felt the tension you didn’t even know you had flee.

“I’m not sure how but,” He paused, and you surprised yourself with how fast your heart had begun to beat, “I’ll figure something out. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

The warmth of his hand gone in seconds and part of you longed for it to return. Instead, you watched as he pulled himself off the ground. He didn’t need to announce he was leaving. You knew. He brushed his pants off once standing and you watched dust fly into the air in the minimal sunlight. He then started his way down the hall.

“Don’t do anything to get you hurt,” You pleaded loud enough for him to hear you. He paused his step and turned to look at you from the distance. It ironically reminded you of the time you asked for his name though this time the smirk didn’t grace his lips and his eyes didn’t light up in amusement. You felt as though your voice would fail you as you somehow managed to speak the last bit out, “Please.”

He nodded his head and disappeared. Part of you, if not all of you, had a hard time believing he wouldn’t.

Kim Taehyung wasn’t the one for business meetings. He had been through his fair share of them and they all were so boring and drawn out. He also wasn’t a fan of family dinners. There was too much baggage to weigh him down within one for him to enjoy it. And frankly, he wasn’t a fan of his father. So, when his own father had announced that he had invited important clients for dinner and he was expected to show, he was in no surprise very indifferent. Could anyone blame him? It was the trifecta from hell.

He had really planned on skipping out, but with his father specifically seeking him out and asking personally it meant business. No one, not even the kings son, would go against him; or could for that matter.

A light knock on his bedroom door echoed into his silent room.

“Yes?” Taehyung asked, his eyes flicking to the door that remained closed. He really would rather had not been bothered, but he couldn’t ignore it.

“Sir, your father wished for me to remind you to be in the dining room before the guests arrive.”

As he always did. His father didn’t think he could get dressed for the day let alone show up to a meeting on time. It was all for appearance. He wanted people to know he had an heir to his thrown. He wanted people to know that once he was gone, there would be another to stand in his place. His empire would still run strong.

“I’ll be there.” He called back to the staff, feeling bad for the poor woman.

Once he figured she had disappeared into the massive castle, he proceeded to fling his legs off his bed and go to his wardrobe. He dressed in his less formal clothes, but they were put together enough for his father not to feel like he was bringing shame to his name.

He then made his way out of his temporary sleeping quarters and turned down the corridor. He had gone a few doors down when one in particular caught his eye. He paused his step, looking at it. The door itself wasn’t the thing that caught his eye. Actually, it looked exactly the same as every other in the castle. The archway that framed the door was the reason he had stopped.

Taehyung moved in closer, seeing lines etched into the stone of the doorway. His hands reached out, touching the lines carved in deep enough he could feel every bump under his fingertips. A small smile formed on his lips when he realized they had to be height marks. He was under the impression that you were the only child, so he assumed it to be yours.

“Ah, Sir, there you are,” A voice said causing his eyes to drift away from the notches on the wall to the person in question, “I was just going to check on you.”

Taehyung cleared is throat and let his hand fall from the wall, “I was already on the way. Have they arrived?”

“No, but the king requested me to go fetch you.”

“Well, it’s only down the hallway,” Taehyung sighed, “Or does he have you escorting me there as well?”

The man took a step back and bowed, leaving him to find his own way.

The eating quarters only took moments to walk to and when he rounded into the room it was still empty except for the staff fluttering about making sure everything was ready for the arrivals. He sighed, fully taking in how long of a night it truly was going to be.

The guests arrived a while later, leaving both him and his father to greet them before all taking a seat at the table. He had taken in that the guests were royalty from a few kingdoms away which struck him confused because his father wasn’t one to be social to others. From what he gathered his name Prince Lee and he brought along his own son.

The dinner went as neatly as it could have. Barely anyone had talked, which wasn’t a surprise to him in the slightest. If they did speak, it was to address the staff. No one decided to speak until the short wait for the dessert.

“So, why did you ask us here?” The Prince inquired, causing Taehyung’s eyes to leave and look at the guests.

His father stared at them for a second eyeing the man before responding, “I am aware that your sister was the queen of this kingdom before her passing, am I correct?”

Taehyung felt his stomach drop. He hadn’t realized the royalty his father had invited was in fact royalty related to you. He glanced between the two men. Both were obviously overconfident and neither showed any emotion.

“Yes, you are,” the Prince said taking a drink from his glass and setting it back down, “But as you said, my sister has passed and long before you became in possession of his kingdom. So, why am I here?”

His father chuckled, “I have something you might want.”

Taehyung choked on his drink, which summoned a glare from the king next to him. He sent a small, closed mouth smile to his father in attempts to apologize, not that it would matter in the long run.

“And what might that be?” He asked, eyebrow pulled up as he questioned.

“You are aware they had a child,” the king hummed. Each passing moment made Taehyung want to leave the room, but he had to know how this would play out. He had to know if you would be safe, “I still have her if you were interested. Of course, there would be a price.”

The silence that fell over the table was deafening and Taehyung was afraid that they may hear his own heartbeat which had been pounding since the mention of you. He itched to fidget with something to ease his growing anxiety, but he couldn’t, so he kept glancing between the two.

“What makes you think we want her?” The other questioned.

“She is your kin, is she not?” His father responded causing Tae’s eyes to follow where the sound came from, “I thought I would show good faith and offer you her life. You should be honored I even thought to.”

“She would be dead if you didn’t think you would get something out of this exchange, so what were you thinking? Tell me, and I will deem whether it is worth it.”

The staff came into the room. The hands maneuvered around the room picking up dishes that were done, refilling drinks, and placing the dessert down onto the table. Tae’s eyes followed them around appreciating how it was so well choreographed. Each person moving in and out without interference from another. Normally, he wouldn’t have paid much attention, but he was looking for anything to distract him from the tension in the room.

“I was thinking of an alliance. I heard there were talks of conspiracy against me and my kingdoms. I would be a fool to ignore them. So, I offer you the girl for your arms if need be.” Taehyung’s father offered, his eyes scanning the man across the table.

The other laughed, “Maybe you are a fool if you were to believe my father would ever ally himself with someone of your nature. The girl may be royalty of our blood, but she isn’t worth the risk and embarrassment of being associated with you and your tyranny.”

Taehyung grew cold at your uncle’s response despite how much sweat he had been producing. Without a reason to keep you alive, you would be executed. Both himself and you knew that would be the case despite his denial. He had never felt more shame than in that moment. His own father was the reason you weren’t worth being saved. They had no idea who you were so none knew how worth it you truly were.

He’d risk it if it were him.

“It’s better to keep me on your side rather than not, though I see you made your decision,” The king warned causing Taehyung to cringe internally. Threats were all his dad was good at.

The man on the other side of the table rose, his eyes locking with the other’s, “We are more united than your makeshift kingdoms and unreliable loyalties. Know that if you try, we will take you down. My welcome has worn so I will take my leave.”

Both king and prince watched as the guest exited the dining hall. The silence within the room was eerily loud. Taehyung wouldn’t dare try to talk as all he would get in response was the anger buried deep within his father from a deal that fell through. Not only that, but he was afraid his own voice would give away how shaken he was from the encounter.

“A public execution seems fitting for a royal, don’t you think?” The King voiced to no one in particular. Taehyung swallowed hard at the image that flashed through his mind.

“Isn’t that a little drastic?” He asked, a risk in itself.

His father turned his head and locked eyes with him, “I refuse to let them make a mockery of my name. They will regret their decision.”

The King then stood, slamming his hands against the table. Taehyung flinched back at the action. He then watched as his father exited the hall, leaving him alone with the dining staff. All of them wearing the wide eyes as they too felt the fear he had.

He cleared his throat shaking all of them from their trance, “I am done. You may proceed.”

As he stood, the staff began to clear the dishes and clean the table. He barely noticed the routine they had placed amongst themselves this time. He was too distracted with the knowledge that you had just been officially given a death sentence.

If his father had done this closer to when he had forced himself into power, Taehyung wouldn’t have been so torn. Yet too much time had passed, and now he was drawn to you. He found himself wanting to spend his time with you, even if it was within the dungeons of the castle.

He wouldn’t be able to witness seeing you hanged.

The dungeon was quiet, as it has been for the past week. It was just you, the bars that held you within, and the drunkard that had been thrown within a cell a few down from you that didn’t know begging wouldn’t get him anywhere.

You hadn’t realized how reliant you had become to the Prince’s visits. It was lonely being there with nothing but your thoughts. You tried your hardest not to let them consume you because you’ve seen what isolation does to a solid mind.

Time seemed to still be a foreign concept to you. The only way of being able to tell was the small window that would fade from light, to dark, to back again. Though, when you looked out from it, you were able to see that your garden was indeed looking less vibrant than before. You assumed that autumn would be on its way soon.

The rickety bench laid beneath you, somehow still able to support your weight despite the use it had endured within the past few months. Your arm found rest laying across your eyes shielding the sun that peaked through the window. Your mind wandering to daydream about freedom. Something you knew would most likely always stay a dream.

The clearing of a voice broke through the silence, “Am I interrupting?”

Your mouth opened slightly at the familiar voice. You removed your arm from your eyes as you went to push yourself into the sitting position. There he stood on the other side of the bars. His hair was disheveled and hung into his eyes.

“Not much for you to interrupt, is there?” You respond, standing up and walking towards the metal. The closer you got, the easier it was to see that he seemed concerned behind all the fringe. Despite his obvious distress, he gave a weak side smile at your attempt at a joke. It fell almost instantly. You cocked your head to the side slightly, trying to meet his brown irises, “What’s wrong?”

He stayed silent at your question, his eyes finding the dirt floor below him. His weight shifted from foot to foot as he tried to process what was on his mind. You didn’t push him as you figured that he would end up letting what fogged his mind out into the open. He wouldn’t look so troubled if he didn’t plan on telling you.

Yet, there was no need to tell you. You already knew from his actions.

“There was a meeting a few nights ago,” He started, his eyes finally finding your own, “I was surprised he wanted me to attend. When I found out that it was a prince from a near kingdom it made more sense. He wanted to look the part of a great king. When he arrived, I come to find out that he was the brother to the queen, your mother. My father offered him a deal. Your life, for an alliance.”

You nodded, taking in the information. The corners of your eyes stinged as you held back tears, “And they didn’t take the deal.”

“No,” Taehyung swallowed hard, “My father plans on making an example out of you. He scheduled a public execution within the next few days. I- I don’t know what to do.”

A tear slipped down your cheek at your solidified fate, “Nothing, there isn’t anything you can do. This was always going to happen.”

It was your turn to find comfort looking at the dirt below as another tear slipped. You told yourself that you were never going to get out of this situation alive many times, but the reality was finally hitting. Your will seemed to dwindle within seconds as you watched the hope you shouldn’t have held onto get crushed under the news.

Taehyung reached through and grasped your hand, enveloping it within his own. He tried to sooth you the best he could with the barricade in the way. He would have brought you to his chest if he could have, but alas, it was impossible. It was almost painful to see you so distraught.

“I figured you’d want to hear it from me,” He said, the sadness in this voice evident.

You looked up at him. His eyes were red and glossy from him holding back his own tears, you could tell. You almost wanted to thank him for being so strong because you just couldn’t anymore. He pulled the hand he had within his own through the bars and up to his lips, placing them gently against your skin. If only you were able to relish in how they felt on you then on your own impending doom.

He pulled away, letting your hand go gently. You pulled it back to you and laced your fingers around the metal in front of you, “If only we had the chance to meet in different circumstances, Kim Taehyung.”

“I agree,” He voiced. He straightened his body and bowed to you, “Princess.”

Your heart ached and this time it wasn’t for your life, but for him. Your whole life, you knew that you were nothing but an asset in a bigger game. Men came from many kingdoms to be in your good graces, and your fathers, so the families could merge and become a greater force. You always knew that a prince would come and sweep you off your feet, even if it was just for their profit.

But this prince in front of you was nothing like the ones who always stared over your shoulder seeking your father’s approval. He yearned for the day to shed the foul taste his own father left in many’s mouths. He was thoughtful and understanding. He saw you as a person. That was something no one seemed to be able to do. Even now, with your dirty clothes and matted hair, he bowed to you as if you stood before him in a gown looking to be courted.

When he stood, he held a sad smile, “I have to make an appearance, or they’ll send out a witch hunt for me.”

“Do what you must,” You respond. He nodded and turned on his heels, “Thank you.”

His movements halted more a minute at your thanks before he then continued down the hall.

Taehyung couldn’t shake the sick feeling he had in his stomach as he stood behind his father in front of the towns people. It was only a few hundred, far less than home, but he assumed the night his father came parading into the town there were many casualties. They might have had more in number before then.

He was used to the dirty glares; He had gotten them since that night, not that it was new then either. The staff that hadn’t died in the attack continued to work within the walls for the new royals, though the stares and cold air were obvious. Yet, the look of the commoners faces as they waited for the king to speak in itself spoke wonders. None of them wanted to be there. None of them had respect for the new King.

Taehyung didn’t blame them one bit.

He shifted his view from his father slightly to the right. His eyes landed on the execution stage, causing his stomach to churn. It was simple, which was all it needed to be. The rope hung slightly too high for your small figure to reach, which he assumed why a step stool lay not too far off. A man stood there, dressed in black, readying himself for his job.

It didn’t take long for the King to grab the crowd’s attention, them fearing that if they weren’t their village would go right back up into flames, “We are here for the execution of the only blood left to from the king before me.”

As he said that, you were dragged onto the scene. It was almost a mockery as they cleaned and dressed you up as if you didn’t just spend months within the confines of a cell. Your hands were bound, making it easier for the guard to drag you around. They also gagged you, so you weren’t able to speak. Taehyung assumed it was so that your words couldn’t influence the town into a revolution, and so no one could hear you scream.

The crowd itself seemed shocked; most probably assuming that you had already perished with the first attack. They didn’t know about your blood-soaked gown or the will you used to even survive that night.

The walk to the execution stage seemed to take so much longer than it should have. Taehyung could have blamed it on you struggling within the guards arms, but really, he knew the real reason was the anxiety of what he was about to witness.

He wondered if this was what the people who had loved ones on death row felt as they were forced to watch them hang.

But then, you were on the stage standing under the rope. The struggling had stopped. If there were a chance for you to escape your fate, it would have happened before then. You scanned over the crowd, exceedingly calm for what was about to happen.

Taehyung could hear his heartbeat in his ears as your eyes found his and stayed on him. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going through your mind at the moment. He couldn’t even properly filter through his own thoughts; he couldn’t imagine yours.

The executioner then placed the bag over your head, cutting your eye contact off and shielding the onlookers from the gore that was about to occur. Then, the rope was placed around your neck and tightened. Then he left you there, alone, as he went to stand by the lever and awaited his orders

Taehyung’s mouth went dry as his father demanded the attention of the audience once again, “Your kingdom was a disgrace when I came. It didn’t take me but moments to take over and make it my own. We are cleansing the kingdom with this execution. With my actions, we will rise to become untied and undefeatable. It’s time we-“

The King’s words fell off as he coughed, blood splattering onto the ground. The crowd erupted into a murmurs and screams as the sword that punctured through the king’s chest was withdrawn, leaving him without support. He fell to his knees holding the wound that was now profusely oozing blood.

Taehyung stood, sword still in hand. The blade itself was drenched with the blood of his father. The guards that surrounded them drew their own weapons, pointing them at him. He kept his composure, though honestly he felt anything but that. The sound of his father hitting the floor echoed in the silence.

“Stand down.” He voiced outload to the guards. It came out far more steady than he thought would have, but he wasn’t complaining.

He watched as the men debated doing as he demanded, though the shallow breathing of his father seemed to be proof enough for them to still stand strong. His eyes risked a look down at the dying man. The pool of blood under him continued to grow beneath him, staining the wood he laid on. Then, his chest seemed to have stilled.

Taehyung always knew his father would parish from the hands of someone he had wronged, because frankly, he was a horrible man. Yet, Taehyung didn’t know he was going to be the one to perform the fatal blow. It didn’t surprise him that he felt no remorse.

“I said stand down,” Taehyung said, more power within his voice, “As King, I demand you to stand down.”

The guards still seemed hesitant, but one by one they sheathed their swords. Taehyung followed suit, placing his own bloodstained weapon back in it’s cover. He glanced once more at his father’s corpse before turning to it. He pushed the body with his foot as if to double check that he was in fact dead. He then refocused his attention on what was important.

He jumped off the platform and hurried his way over to the execution stage. He waved off the executioner from the lever, making sure there could be no mistake.

He sighed to himself at the image in front of him. He had watched quite a few executions in his time, having the father he had, but they all were faceless. He didn’t know them, but he knew you.

He reached out and pulled the knotted rope from around you neck, freeing you from death’s possible grasp. Once freed, the rope swung freely though it would soon still once more. The bag thrown over your head was next, giving you back your sight once more.

Light flooded into your vision, confusing you. Your eyes adjusted slowly, and they found the familiar eyes you had come accustomed to seeing while you were imprisoned, though this time there were no bars obscuring his face. He was just as handsome as the last time you saw him, maybe even more now that both of you were out of the dimly lit dungeon.

He reached around you, untying the knot that tied the gag. You looked at him, “What did you do Taehyung?”

His eyes hardened a little at your whispered question as he moved to work on the ties on your wrists, “Nothing that wasn’t going to happen anyway.”

Your eyes then focused on the body lying in the distance and you sighed. Of course.

Once your hands were free from the restraints, he moved back within your line of sight. He only spared a second of a warm glance before addressing the crowd, “You were brought here under the assumption that there will be an execution today. I’m sorry that the plans had changed. The princess is not sentenced to death anymore. Please return to your normal routines.

As much as he sounded like a true leader, he looked nervous and shaken. With your now free limbs, you shuffled over toward him taking the chance to lace your hand within his in attempt to lend him strength and comfort.

He looked over at you, eyes once again softened. A soft squeeze of your hand telling you that you had made the right decision.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, appreciating the dress you were wearing. You never thought you would miss the process of getting dressed up in extravagant dresses to socialize with other royals. After being a prisoner for months with nothing but one change of clothes the whole time, you didn’t necessarily mind now.

To be honest, you thought you were dead. It wasn’t hard to deny the awful truth when the days behind the bars turned into months. What solidified it was when the bag was placed over your own head and the noose tightened around your neck. It was hard to deny anything at that point. You were going to die.

But nothing came despite the obscured vision and the rough twine rubbing against you.

Your savior being none other than the man you had found comfort in for months. Meeting his eyes comforted you yet again despite all your confusion.

You never thought that he would have taken his own father’s life just to save your own. He literally risked everything to save you, even his own life. You owed him far more than you ever think you could return since everything you owned in your life already belonged to him.

He still was king.

A knock echoed into your room, breaking the comfortable silence. You peered over at the door as it creaked open only to close after the new presence was within the walls.

The man leaned against the wall taking in the view, causing you to feel as though you needed to hide from embarrassment. A boxy smile crossed his face at your reaction. Trying to ignore him, you returned to your reflection making sure everything was in place.

“Why haven’t you gone down to the event?” You asked, taking a peek at him from the corner of your eye.

Taehyung let out a small chuckle at the idea you proposed at him, “A King shouldn’t ever enter an event without his Queen by his side.”

A small smile crossed your lips as you turned and walked towards him. He excepted you as your wrapped your arm around his own. He leaned over placing a gentle kiss upon your head before he escorted you out of the room and down to the hall.

-   -   -

Thanks to @ggukkieland for giving me support this whole time! Here’s your tag love!

-   -   -

[flightlessangelwings]

Grant a Name to a Buried and a Burning Flame ~ Chapter 3 (end)

Hades!Din Djarin x Persephone!Reader (gender neutral, no y/n)

Chapter 3/3 (previous chapters in my masterlist)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Hades/Persephone retelling, historical setting, soulmate AU, fluff, angst, character death (kinda sorta, just trust me I don’t want to spoil anything), happy ending

Moodboard made by me

~

Ever since Din took you to his room on that night, you had spent every night since with him. For a man who had killed without mercy, he was always so gentle with you, and you never felt safer than when you laid in his embrace. And the more nights you spent with Din, the more you fell in love with him. The pull you both felt towards each other was finally calmed with your union, and neither of you had ever felt this happy or content in your lives.

Time flew by and before you both knew it, your last night in Din’s kingdom was upon you. With a sigh you nuzzled yourself into his arms and you felt him squeeze you tighter. The two of you lay nude in his bed, and yet you felt as if you couldn’t get enough contact with him. Din also felt the desperate need for as much skin to skin contact as possible. It was as if he could never get enough ever since the first night you spent lost in pleasure with him, especially since you were the first skin to skin contact he had in his entire adulthood.

You wish you had spent more time with him in bed, since it took you some time to let your walls down around him. But since those walls came down, the emotions poured out, and you found yourself more drawn to him than ever. And Din felt the same way about you. He took in a deep breath as he held you in his arms and savored the warmth of your body against his and the soft smell of flowers that you always had.

“Din…” you broke the comfortable silence with your soft voice, “What do you think would happen if I didn’t go back.”

You felt his chest rumble with a questioning grunt as Din shifted himself to look at your face, “You would stay? With me?” he paused, “For me?”

You couldn’t help but smile through your sad eyes, “I would,” you gazed into his soft brown eyes and you saw the same sadness reflected in them as you felt. 

Din was surprisingly expressive with his eyes, which was something you did not expect from a man who hid his face from everyone except for you. Whether it was his body language or the way he looked at you, you almost always knew what he was thinking. After several moments of silence, he spoke again, “It’s risking a lot, with the deal we struck…”

“I know,” you sighed as you rested your head back down on his chest and just listened to his heartbeat for a few minutes. “I know this wasn’t exactly what I wanted at first… At least that's what I thought,” you let out a short laugh as you thought back to your unconventional first meeting, “But what about what I want?”

“What do you want?” he asked right away as he hand flexed against your skin.

A half smile flashed across your face; Din was the first person in your life to ask what you wanted and you did not take that lightly, “You.”

Din held you even tighter somehow as he placed a soft kiss to your head, “I’ll protect you, no matter what happens.”

“I can take care of myself, Din,” you quipped back softly without malice in your voice. You had always been tough, and people always underestimated you. People saw your appearance and your flowers against your skin and immediately thought you were weak, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. And during your time with Din, he made sure to show you self defense techniques just in case you needed them. You were definitely a force not to be reckoned with.

“I know you can, my love,” he replied as he brought a hand under your chin to tilt your head back up, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t defend you with everything I have. You mean more to me than anything else.”

You genuinely smiled at his words, “Since when were you so poetic?” you kissed his lips, “But I love you regardless,” you whispered against him.

“I love you too,” Din said your name with such affection.

Outside the window, you could see in the distance that your kingdom looked to be in such disarray. The once bright and lively fields looked dull and dim, and you could tell that nothing much seemed to grow in the lands. In fact, the Underworld seemed to be more lively than your home kingdom. Vaguely, you wondered why that was, and you did feel a pang of guilt at the sight. No doubt your people felt the consequences. Yet at the same time, you had never been happier in your life, and you wanted to chase that happiness. You were stuck between two impossible choices, and though your heart knew what it wanted, your head was conflicted. 

You had made your decision before you fell asleep that night, and the next morning you sent word to your mother that you would not return home. You stood at the window, lost in thought as you stared at your old home in the distance when Din came up beside you and slipped his hand in yours. Since you were closed off in his chambers, he had forgone his usual hood so you could find some comfort in his face.

“I’ve got you,” Din reassured you as he gave your hand a squeeze before you both fell into a silence again.

Demeter, of course, was not pleased with the news. She answered back with a warning message that promised war if you were not delivered by the end of the day. For the first time in your life, you were truly terrified and you couldn’t stop yourself from trembling as you read the note. But you couldn’t go back, not when you found love and finally felt like you belonged somewhere. And you didn’t think your mother would actually follow through with her threat.

“Whatever you decide, I’m here,” Din whispered in your ear. He could see the conflict in your eyes, and as much as it would pain him to lose you, he would support your decision. You both had your people to think about too, although it was a role neither of you wanted, you still couldn’t just escape that responsibility. 

“I want to stay,” your voice was barely audible as you looked at him from where he held you in his arms, and you felt him give you a squeeze in response.

Unfortunately, Demeter was true to her threat and in no time, Din’s little palace was set ablaze. Din sent orders for his people to flee and hide to try and minimize casualties, and the palace took the major brunt of the attack. It helped ease your guilt to know that your mother did not seem to want to harm innocents, but tears still filled your eyes and you and your husband fought side by side against the invaders in your halls.

You each had a sword in your hands and you and Din worked so well together in combat. The two of you seemed to move as one as you easily took down soldier after soldier. But just as the first wave of men fell, more seemed to emerge from the shadows. As they shot at you, Din jumped in front of you and used his armor as your shield before he grabbed your hand and led you down the hall.

But it was fruitless as more of Demeter’s men blocked the exit and shot at you again. This time, Din was not fast enough to jump in front of you and a spear grazed your side. You screamed in pain as he caught you and dragged you down another hall. The shouts from the enemy soldiers didn’t even register in his head, nor did the faint smell of flames.

Din took you into a secluded room and locked it, and from the window, he could see that the soldiers had lit his palace on fire. With you injured and guards at every exit, he knew you were both trapped and he couldn’t help the panic that ran through his veins. This wasn’t how this was supposed to end. He was supposed to protect you. You were supposed to live and be happy.

Tears filled your eyes as you smelled the smoke start to creep into the little room you were currently trapped in. You glanced up at Din and you could tell even behind his covered face that he tried to come up with a plan to get you out of here, although you knew it was useless.

“Din,” you called out to him in a hushed voice, which made him drop to his knees as he ripped his hood off.

He said your name as he kissed you and wrapped you in his arms as just let you cry. Tears of his own pooled up but he refused to let them fall. Even in these last moments, he was determined to be strong for you and protect you as best as he could. Heat rose in the room as the fire quickly started to creep through the door.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried into his arms, “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Now we....”

Din held you close as he hushed you with your name, “It’s ok my love,” he whispered as he placed soft kisses to the top of your head as the flames engulfed you both, “This isn’t the end. And I will find you in the next life. I promise, through darkness and flame I will always find you. Nothing will keep you from me, my love.”

You woke up with a jump in the cold bunk that you found yourself in for the night. This was the fifth night in a row you had that same dream, and it only got clearer and clearer the more nights you saw it. If you didn’t have the threat of a bounty on your head, you would have spent more time trying to decipher what it meant, but you had bigger problems to worry about.

You had spent the past few months on the run throughout the galaxy as you hopped from planet to planet. It wasn’t what you had planned or wanted as next in line for the throne of your home planet, but since your parents decided to ally with the Empire, you couldn’t take it. You didn’t want to be associated with them, and you didn’t want to trap yourself in that life, so you ran. With nothing more than the clothes on your back, the weapons on your belt, and a necklace around your neck with a pendant of your favorite flower, you ran.

At least the planet you found yourself on now was a beautiful one. Naboo was everything you imagined it would be and more, and you only wished you could actually take the time to properly explore the lush forests and gardens and rivers. But you had to stay in the shadows as much as possible to avoid being caught. You had outrun and outgunned several bounty hunters who were after you, and you had to keep your wits about you if you were to stay free.

What you did not count on, however, was that a Mandalorian would come after you. Though you had never met one, you knew about their reputation, and this one in his shiny silver beskar definitely lived up to the legend. He cornered you before you even saw him and though you tried to put up a fight, he easily overpowered you. During your scuffle with him, he managed to graze your side where you had a large scar-like birthmark. You didn’t think much of it at first, but the spot throbbed and burned more than it should have for such a light hit that you took.

When he spoke for the first time, different words came from his mouth than his usual “bring you in warm” line, “Through darkness and flame I will always find you.” Under the helmet, Mando linked several times and was shocked at his own voice. Where did that come from? And why did you look so familiar though he had never met you before?

At that, you froze. Those were the exact last words that the man you were in love with in your dreams said. The Mandalorian took advantage of your state and easily dragged you back to his ship. For some reason, though, he chose not to cuff you and instead just held you by your arm and dragged you behind him. Both of you were silent as he led you away, both completely lost in thought and equally as confused at your encounter.

When he reached the Razor Crest, he was greeted by a small green child with big ears. The child looked up at you both from where he sat and cooed inquisivelty. You stared at him in silence for a few moments; he too felt so familiar to you, even though you had never seen his species before. For some reason, a name popped into your head as you and the little child stared at each other. But, for now you kept that to yourself. 

The Mandalorian scooped the child up in his arms before he tugged at your arm and led you up to the cockpit. Without a word, he sat you down in one of the empty seats before he sat in the pilot’s chair and took off. The child sat in the other chair in the cockpit and happily babbled at you as if he knew who you were. You sat there, unsure of what to do next or even what to think. You couldn’t see his face, and yet he felt so familiar to you. After a long, tense silence, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why did you say that to me?” you asked as you clutched your side where that scar still burned.

Din was silent. Truthfully he had no idea why those particular words came to him, but there was something about you that felt familiar. Not to mention you had a striking resemblance to the person who he saw in his dreams lately. He kept his body still as to not let on how conflicted and confused he felt underneath the armor.

You felt a familiar tug in your chest as you watched the Mandalorian in silence until you opened your mouth and spoke a single syllable, “Din…”

At that, he turned around and faced you. How did you know his name when no one else did? He stared at you from behind his visor when suddenly everything just fell into place. You must have realized it too as you both realized that it wasn’t dreams that filled your minds, but memories of a past life. Without a word, Din stood and wrapped you in his arms and you couldn’t help the tears that flowed as you collapsed in his arms.

“You found me,” you whispered into his chest. In this life, you and Din had just met, but your souls had been in love since before you were born. And the two of you fell into each other as if it was the most natural thing in the galaxy. From his seat, the little green child cooed and giggled as he watched you both embrace each other as if he could also sense what was going on.

“I found you,” he echoed.

The circumstances of your meeting were far different than before, and neither of you knew what would happen moving forward. But you both knew that as long as you were together, you could conquer anything. And this time, Din was determined that your story would not end in flames.

~

Notes: Thank you all SOOOO much for the love and support with this piece!! I hope you all enjoyed the ending and that it wasn’t too much angst there lol. I came up with that ending because it was the original concept I had for the story until I figured out that I finally wrote so i incorporated it as an ending. And it’s open enough that I could write it one day if I want to and if y’all want it ;) And for those who were on the Hades!Din only taglist, please let me know if you’d like to be moved to the Din or Pedro characters taglist!

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Face the Darkness

Prompt 2 for @greenfiredragonfly's Angstember prompts-- "Go. But I'm not Leaving." This time I've gone for some War in Heaven angst! Technically a slight AU as you'll see in the end, but I'm assuming most of the rest works out as in canon.

--

The Fortress trembled as the ground shifted once more, cracks splitting the desiccated plain in an ever more complex spider web. Solid stone walls vibrated, pouring streams of crushed stone from every corner of the ceiling. The air was thick with dust. Already the loyal forces of Heaven had withdrawn to the distant hills to watch, silent and impassive.

The War had ended. The Fortress of Lucifer had begun its Fall.

The first of the four watchtowers collapsed, shattering across blasted plain. From the wreckage crawled the rebellious angels, bodies already twisting into more animalistic shapes: talons and fangs, scales and gills, rotten flesh and oozing sores.

Outside the walls patrolled guards in solid plate armor wielding swords and spears and whips; in an instant, they descended on the few who had escaped, driving them back towards the gates, towards their fate. More beings inside fought and screamed, clawing at the guards only to be pushed back again and again. Voices raised, accusations shouted at soldiers, at leaders, at God Herself.

The guards were not of the heavenly legions. When Lucifer’s last army was routed, he had declared that all of his rebels would share in his punishment. Those who kept the frightened masses in check had been promised prominent positions as the Lords of their new domain, while the would-be deserters risked punishments more gruesome than anything the enemy had done.

Still, they tried.

Some few managed to pass the final ring of guards, to strike out across the plain that moved and reformed under their feet, cracks and crevices opening wide, whole sections of land suddenly dissolving, raining down into the realm of darkness.

They fled, running across uncertain ground, leaping treacherous drops, praying for forgiveness with every breath, holding out their arms to the loyal armies, beseeching their friends to intercede, to stay the Hand of Judgment.

Those who reached the hills and were welcomed into the protection of Heaven found themselves restored, their flesh returned to normal, bodies untwisted, souls pardoned.

The rest… well, they reached their final destination a little sooner than the rest.

One angel stood alone on a watchtower, eyes scanning the chaos below through a shifting curtain of bright red hair.

The scuff of a footstep, barely audible above the screams. The angel turned slightly—a single glance back—just enough for a glimpse of familiar white feathers.

“Shouldn’t be here,” the angel said, turning back to the destruction.

“Neither should you.”

“This again?” A twist of lips, too bitter to be called a smile. “You’ve already told me what you think. Eons and eons ago.”

“And I haven’t changed my mind.”

The angel clutched at the stone parapet, or tried to; it fell apart, sending another rain of dust towards the frightened crowd below. “And, what, you’re here to offer me salvation? Take my confession and determine if I’m worthy? Enact vengeance for all those I’ve destroyed?”

“My dear friend. I’m here to save you.”

Briefly, there were tears in the angel’s eyes; but already those eyes were changing, restructuring into a new shape. “Don’t deserve it.”

“I say you do.” A soft hand landed on the angel’s shoulder, offering a squeeze of comfort. “There is no wickedness in you. No cruelty. Even at the height of the War’s atrocities, you never lost your kindness. You are only here because you were manipulated by Lucifer, caught in his lies. That is no judgment on you. He could just as easily have swayed me, or Gabriel, or anyone else.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?” With a rumble louder than any thunder, the ground below fractured once more. The fortress rose and fell, another tower crumbling to a chorus of screams. “Come, we don’t have time.”

“What must I do?” The first angel didn’t move, but the second breathed a sigh of relief at the question.

“Cross the plain, no more than that. If you reach the other side, if someone is willing to intercede on your behalf, you will be forgiven.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, my dear, oh, it’s so simple. I will be beside you every step of the way, to guide you, to keep you safe. You can’t possibly fail.”

The angel nodded, still looking down into the broken courtyard. “Tell me this: why me? You could save anyone. Why me?”

A brief, shocked silence. “That’s—why would I…? Because I love you.”

“And what about them?” Down below the future Lords of Darkness moved through the crowds, grabbing weeping angels by the jaw or the neck, inspecting them, claiming their favorites. Torments would begin soon, pains that would become familiar to them all. “They were tricked by Lucifer, the same as me.” One pale, scruffy creature grabbed a trembling, crying being by the hair, dragging them towards a dark door. “Do they deserve this fate because they don’t have the love of a Guardian?”

Flinching, the pale figure pulled back towards the shadows. “That isn’t fair.” Little more than a whisper. “You know they don’t. But I can’t save them. Only you.”

With a deep, shaking breath, the angel finally turned, eyes now glinting gold, pupils stretching into lines. “No. You can’t save me. Not if I don’t want to be saved.”

“What are you talking about?” Hazel eyes shining like earthlight as the darkness closed in. “How can you not—”

“How can I go back? Tell me that! How can I ignore the things I learned? Not everything Lucifer said was a lie, that’s why he was so successful. How can I be happy when I’ve seen things for what they truly are?” In a softer voice: “How can I follow a God who would throw so many away just because they’re unloved?” A sob shook those narrow shoulders, but no tears fell. Never again. “If there’s a way, please, tell me. Because I can’t—”

The entire plain rippled like a wave. Another tower fell, and the one they stood on tilted perilously.

“Dearest, we can talk about this later. We need to go now.”

“Go.” The angel turned back to the courtyard. “But I’m not leaving.”

“No!” The Guardian hauled the angel back, as if ready to fly them both to safety or be destroyed trying. “Don’t—you can’t! Don’t you understand what’s happening? What it all means?”

“Better than you!” The angel turned with a furious growl. “I’ve spent countless ages among them already. I know what they’re like, I know what they’ll do to us, and I don’t want that. But I can’t go back.” Narrow hands reached out, clutching the other’s elbows. “Aziraphale, please understand. I can’t go back. Not with… everything I know…”

They embraced, the Guardian blinking back tears. “You could… you could ask God to take your memories. It would be as if you’d never…”

“I can’t.”

“Not… not even for me?”

“I would forget you, too.”

“But I’ll remember.” Aziraphale leaned back, eyes pleading. “And I will still love you. Nothing will change that.”

“But I will change.” The angel scowled again, though this time not from anger but from the desperate search for words. “It’s… not the memories themselves. I might lose them anyway. I’ve already lost my name; I’m losing my form. I’m Falling. And whatever Falling does to me, whatever I become, I will still be me. But. But to willinglygive up the knowledge I’ve earned. To turn my back on it… I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

The next tremor started, and didn’t end.

“I don’t understand,” Aziraphale wailed. “But I don’t have to. If… if this will make you happy…”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again.” One last desperate embrace as the surrounding plain began to crumble. “It’s time. Go.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Aziraphale!” But the Guardian only held the angel tighter. “You—you can’t Fall!”

“I do not believe I will. God knows Her own.”

The outer walls vanished, tumbling into the nothing below, bringing wave after wave of bodies with them. “No, She’ll just rip you out of my arms at the cruelest possible moment.”

“Where you see cruelty, I see kindness. Every second with you is a blessing.”

“Aziraphale!”

“Quiet, love. I’m praying.”

The ground shook, lurched, dropped away—

The Fortress and all within it Fell—

All except two angels, wrapped in each other’s arms. Held aloft by Aziraphale’s wings, they did not Fall but meandered gently downwards.

“What?” The nameless angel looked around in confusion. “How…?”

“I told you. Kindness.” Aziraphale’s eyes were closed. “I asked Her for a few more minutes with you. And a chance to spare you from some of the darkness you must face. I know you don’t think you deserve it, but I think you do. And in the end, that is what mattered.”

“Aziraphale…” Quite without meaning to, the angel smiled in wonder. “I love you.”

When the Guardian’s eyes opened, the tears rolled upwards, leaving a trail of droplets back to Heaven. “I love you, too. And it was worth any price to see you smile again.”

“Price? Wait, what price?”

“All my memories of you.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes. I was quite happy to exchange them to buy you these few minutes of peace and a guarantee that we will meet again. Though I’m afraid after that, things will be up to you.” Aziraphale’s incongruous smile began to fade. “What is it?”

“I… I just… I told you I wouldn’t… and then you…” Golden eyes drifted, staring into the suffocating darkness on every side. “What must you think of me?”

“I think you are the most wonderful being in all Creation. I wish for you to be you, in whatever way feels most genuine, as an angel or… otherwise.” Far below, the Fortress ruins came into view, lit by a strange blue glow. “I think you will have a hard enough time ahead of you without such complicated regrets. And I think,” another tear floating upward, glowing like a distant star, “I truly think, this way things will work out for the best.”

“You’ll forget me! Forget us! Everything we ever talked about, or… or…”

“But you’ll remember.” A gentle kiss on the forehead. “And I will still love you. Nothing will change that.”

The Fortress had landed in a boiling pool of sulfur. Aziraphale carefully set the former angel down on solid ground, a safe distance from the edge, then immediately began to float upwards again.

“Wait!” Desperately clinging to those soft hands, the last bit of comfort in the entire realm. “Don’t go!”

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t belong down here anymore than you belong Upstairs. We will meet again in the world to come.”

“But what if… without your memories… you’re different? More like the others?”

“Oh.” For the first time since the Fall, Aziraphale looked troubled. “I suppose you… may see some changes you don’t like…”

“No, not that. I’m not going to love you any less. But… you’ll think I’m just another Enemy.”

“Nonsense. I love you, dear boy. And I have the opportunity to fall in love all over again.” The upward pull began to draw their fingers apart. “Only, I don’t know how long that will take, so… be patient?”

“Aziraphale…”

“Take care of yourself, love.” Their grip on each other failed and Aziraphale drifted away, rising faster and faster. “I will see you again! I promise!”

“Aziraphale!”

Silence, broken only by the stirring of creatures rising from the sulfur and slinking into the shadows.

Hands still warm from the loving touch of an angel, the demon turned to face the darkness.

[fettsvette]

Never Worn White (Part Two)

Cloud City, Bespin. Boba Fett is on the hunt for a casual fuck before he cashes in on Han Solo’s bounty. You’re a naïve virgin, saving yourself for an adolescent fantasy… and it just so happens that he’s in town. Upon encountering the object of your infatuation though, you didn’t expect he’d be so willing to help you out.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 6.8k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Loss of virginity and unprotected sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology

 vaar’ika - little runt

  nehutyc’ika - feisty one

 cyar’tomade - fans

   -

  “Your boyfriend’s at the Atrium.”

  The words were like a lightning strike through the very fiber of your being, your whole body vibrating, no matter how teasingly and sarcastically they were meant. Your head jerked up so fast from the holopad screen you’d been gazing at that you felt as if you had just given yourself whiplash, and your blood pressure instantly skyrocketed, leaving you feeling light-headed and dizzy. Your roommate grinned lecherously at you, their eyes glinting mischievously. They were one of the few people to know about your feelings for Boba Fett, and it was obvious now that they were torturing you, feeding you false information and getting your hopes up just to watch you fluster and squirm like a giddy schoolgirl. Of course, they didn’t know the extent of your infatuation, and what you were planning if you ever happened to cross paths with the infamous bounty hunter during his unprecedented stay in Cloud City. You didn’t intend to allow them to find out, either.

  “...What are you talking about? Stop it...” You replied faintly, gazing up at them dumbly from your perch on the couch, uncrossing your legs and attempting to knead the life back into the prickling muscles. Your gaze drifted to your hands as you did so, trying futilely to get them to stop shaking just so your flatmate didn’t have something else to rib you over, and then skirted over to the wide window looking out over the city. Neat rows of transports crisscrossing in every direction lined the nighttime sky, carrying Cloud City’s citizens and tourists alike to where they needed to go. You couldn’t help but direct your vision towards the vicinity of the entertainment district, its bright lights plainly visible from your apartment. The Paradise Atrium was only a short distance away from your apartment on Figg Avenue, even closer than the landing bay where the Slave I was still docked. There was no way. It was too good to be true, simply meant to be. He was coming closer and closer to you.

  “I’m not kidding. Boba Fett’s at the Paradise Atrium, right now . I had to stop there on my way home to drop off a couple containers of glitterstim my boss owed the slimeball that owns that place, y’know? I walked in and he was literally right there in the cantina, just sitting at one of the booths in the corner… the ones they always reserve for the really top-tier VIPs.” They explained seriously, and you envisioned the layout of the lounge in your mind, an establishment you had visited quite often. Your thoughts brought you to the very rear of the adjacent and aptly-named Paradise Cantina... into the recesses of a shadowy booth, where sat an imposing figure in a battle-worn suit of Mandalorian armor, reclined against the plush backing of the stall, legs spread almost obscenely wide. His codpiece was mysteriously absent, and you could see everything . He beckoned you closer with the twitch of a gloved finger ...and you shook yourself from your reverie, acutely aware that a cold sweat had started collecting on the back of your neck. You fought the urge to slap yourself across the face, the imagined mercenary still calling to you from your subconscious.

  “Okay, okay… crik. Are you absolutely sure it was him?” You pleaded desperately, and your roommate openly rolled their eyes in your direction, shaking their head incredulously. You needed to be sure . You’d heard of the Fett imposter Jodo Kast, and even though the presence of the Slave I on-world was an immediate indication that the visitor was the real deal himself, there was still a niggling disbelief in your mind. This just could not be happening right now.

 “Of course I’m sure! Kriff, how many Mandos do you think are just walking around Cloud City? Beefy-looking buckethead wearing green scrap metal, more weapons on him than stars in the sky. Poor kid they had serving him was terrified, the guy was shaking so bad he almost dropped a whole tray of brinebrew on the graysuits that were in the booth with him. And - okay, are we just going to ignore the fact that I called Boba kriffing Fett your boyfriend and you didn’t even blink? Honestly, I really can’t believe you sometimes…”

  You didn’t even wait for them to finish. The fact that there were apparently high-ranking Imperial officers meeting with this mystery man was all the information you needed for any seed of doubt in your mind to be crushed. The holopad fell from your hands to land screen-down on the floor, entirely forgotten. Leaping up from the couch and power-walking towards your bedroom on tremulous legs, you flung the door closed behind you and hurriedly began rooting through your closet, looking for something halfway presentable to change into. You stripped yourself of your sweatpants and ripped t-shirt, having instantly settled on a glittering shimmersilk dress that you’d impulsively bought as a present to yourself after your last pay raise. You paused as you pulled the thin material over your head, debating whether or not to put on a bra before you dressed any further. With a curt sigh at yourself, you continued to slip your arms through the straps, smoothing the bunched fabric over the swell of your breasts. There was no point in bothering with one of those itchy, lacy garments you owned, that only you had ever laid eyes on - if all went according to plan tonight, your bra would just be coming off sooner rather than later anyway. You bent to slip your bare feet into a pair of plain black flats - you’d considered heels for a brief moment, but decided against them on the off-chance you had to make a quick getaway - when you were interrupted by the bedroom door colliding with the wall as it was unceremoniously flung open.

  “...And just where the frozz do you think you’re going wearing that ?” A disbelieving voice intoned harshly from the doorway, and you looked up to see your roommate blocking the light flooding in from the living area, a panic-stricken expression written across their features. You paused, your arms hanging limply at your sides, staring determinedly back at your roommate, whose face was beginning to reflect a dawning sense of horror and understanding. 

  “ Out. ” You answered in a bland monotone, snatching your handbag off the bed and peeking inside of it, making sure that the keycard to your apartment door, as well as your credit chip and a healthy pouch of physical Imperial credit coins, were tucked away safely inside. Your roommate strode forward, grabbing your forearm and squeezing tightly, causing you to wince as they forced you to look them in the eye.

  “Out where ?”

  You didn’t reply, your plans already dangerously close to unraveling. Your roommate’s grip tightened to the point of pain, and you were stunned to see that their eyes had filled with tears of fright. You knew you should feel guilty for putting them through this sort of duress, for worrying them to the point of weeping over your safety, but the only thing you found yourself feeling was a sort of grim pleasure. The fact that someone you had grown so close to in your years of living in Cloud City, a creature you considered to be one of your closest friends, could be frightened to this level by the thought of you becoming somehow entangled with the notorious Boba Fett, did nothing but give you a sick sense of satisfaction deep in your gut. It heightened the swirling arousal that was already building deep in the pit of your belly, fantastical images of what this night’s adventure could possibly bring already brewing in your mind. Your roommate finally loosened their vice grip on your arm and shook their head unbelievingly, backing away from you as if you were tainted.

  “Oh, stars … I know what you’re thinking. Please don’t do this. This isn’t some game of Droids and Guards, you fool, he’s dangerous .” They begged, seeming nearer and nearer to tears with every word. 

  “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to get myself into a situation I can’t handle, I just… I just want to see him.” You adjusted the strap of your handbag on your shoulder and heard the childish, lovestruck pleading in your voice. You hated yourself for it, for letting yourself get this much in a tizzy over a mere man - but this truly wasn’t just a man, was it? You could very possibly wind up in bed with none other than Boba Fett by the end of the night, if the galaxy was kind to you. He was going to be the first to ever claim you - as you pushed past your roommate and headed for the door, you were certain of it. This was your darkest, deepest fantasy come true, something you had been pining for and secretly dreaming about since you were old enough to even fathom the concept of sex, of virginity. Boba Fett was the only man you’d ever thought about giving yourself to for years now, and this was quite possibly your only chance. There was no turning back now.

  “Didn’t you hear me say that he was surrounded by Imps?! High-ranking Imps ! He kills people for money! He’s here working for the Emperor, I know it, and that big brute Vader’s still lurking around -” You held up one hand to silence them, and to your surprise, they immediately stopped, wild-eyed and staring at you imploriously, hands raised above their head. You had never seen your friend this keyed up, this stricken by concern for your wellbeing. It felt strange to say, but other than mynocks in your stomach from thinking about how the rest of the night could go, you didn’t understand just what this panic was all about. You weren’t stupid enough to interrupt important Imperial business, and it wasn’t like Lord Vader himself was going to be sitting at the bar, nursing a drink - right?

  “Just… don’t wait up for me tonight. Okay?” You quietly begged your friend, your voice sweetly soft and as neutral as you could manage. A long moment passed between the two of you, no words spoken, just gazing into each other’s eyes. Several beats passed in silence, only the traffic outside interrupting the heavy tension that filled the room. Your roommate was the first to break, their shoulders sinking, defeated. You felt a new burst of energy and smug satisfaction, but couldn’t help but feel somewhat remorseful at your reaction towards their obvious distress. The feeling passed quickly, however, when your roommate bowed their head, the ghost of a smile on their lips as they clucked their tongue and shook their head at you.

 “Dank farrik… you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that? ...But okay. You win.” They sighed. You kept your expression even, although you were screaming with joy on the inside, and were about to reach out to embrace them, when they took a step back and pointed in your face. You felt yourself going slightly cross-eyed, following their finger down the bridge of your nose, and had to stifle an ill-timed giggle. “But if you’re not back by sunrise, I’m contacting the Wing Guard and reporting you missing, and I’m going to tell them who you were trying to meet up with. I’ll get Baron Calrissian and the Alliance involved. Don’t think I won’t.” They continued, and your heart skipped a beat. You certainly weren’t expecting that turn of events, but weren’t exactly surprised either. With how sympathetic your roommate was to the Rebel Alliance, especially concerning the events of the past week and the installation of what the locals were beginning to call the ‘Iron Blockade,’ it made sense that they would threaten you with action involving the Rebellion, even if it was just out of concern for your safe return. It wasn’t that you didn’t support the Rebels yourself - their crushing blow to the Empire in the form of the destruction of the Death Star had reinvigorated your hope in their cause, especially after the horrific obliteration of Alderaan - but the purely selfish, immature side of you wondered what would happen to Boba Fett if the Rebellion were to come out the victors of this current Galactic Civil War. He was one of Vader’s most loyal hunters, and you had a feeling that the Rebels wouldn’t smile kindly upon his transgressions against them. Especially since one of their most famous generals, Han Solo, currently had a bounty on his head large enough to buy an entire spice mine, and it had been speculated on the HoloNet that Fett was one of the many mercenaries attempting to cash in on this coveted prize.

  You walked past your roommate without another word, slipping past them in the doorway of your bedroom, and padded easily across the living area carpet, knowing now that they’d had put their last word in and would no longer attempt to stop you. Settling your hand upon the doorknob leading into the hall, you were about to let yourself out into the night when you heard the Aruzan softly call your name, and you turned. They stood in the center of the room, smiling sadly, arms folded across their chest, a look of intense worry upon their face as they watched you exit, hoping they would find you back home in the morning. Their last words to you rang in your ears as you made your way across the night sky in the space taxi that would deposit you right on the steps of the Atrium.

  “Good luck.”

  -

  You stepped into the main lounge of the Paradise Atrium and instantly felt incredibly out of place, and exorbitantly underdressed despite the expensive shimmersilk you had draped yourself in for this special occasion.

  The room was filled with regal-looking creatures from all over the galaxy - a large group of Twi’leks sat on a couch in the far corner, smoking from a hookah and emitting large columns of purple and green smoke through their nostrils in between bouts of gay laughter, and a company of important-looking Nothoiin congregated around the elaborate carbonite sculpture placed in the center of the room. You’d attended gatherings at the Atrium many times before, but you’d never been in the presence of so many upper-class individuals. You wouldn’t be surprised if just one of these creatures was currently carrying more credits in their pockets than you would ever see in your entire lifetime. Not to mention, there were several armored stormtroopers, their white plastoid suits gleaming in the artificial light, holding sentinel near the staff entrance at the rear of the room, a sight you’d never seen here before. Something was definitely going down in Cloud City, and you had walked right into it. That realization alone made you want to sink into the floor, and what made it even worse was the fact that there was no sign of Boba Fett.

  You had crept into the Atrium as discreetly as you could, almost on tiptoe, and in hindsight you weren’t exactly sure what you had been expecting. Had you thought that you’d walk in and Fett himself would have been standing there, awaiting your entrance like a prince from ancient myth, on call for his princess’s arrival at the ball? Heart hammering wildly, leaning against the wall for support, you had scanned the room twice, then thrice over, looking for a flash of green, a swirl of cape, any indication that he was present, only to come up empty. He simply wasn’t here; at least he wasn’t anymore, if he ever had been in the first place. As much as you loved your roommate, and despite their almost violent reaction they’d had to the knowledge that you were - at the very least - trying to meet Boba Fett, it wouldn’t terribly surprise you if they had been pulling your leg all along. You’d trudge back into your shared apartment, dejected, and your roommate would be there, grinning smugly, lecturing that the moral of this story was to never seek company with strange men.

  Gazing around the room once more and seeing no sign of Fett, or at the very least, the Imperial graysuits that he’d apparently been here meeting with, you found yourself almost embarrassingly heartbroken. You’d banked so much on tonight, only for it to wind up being a missed chance, if not a complete fake-out. You refused to give your roommate the satisfaction of heading straight back home, though, so you figured now was as good a time as any to drink your sorrows away at the bar. The Paradise Cantina was adjacent to the Atrium and contained a half-moon bar as well as several comfortable private booths, and you sidled onto one of the stools at the center of the console, directly in front of the bartender, a distinguished-looking Bothan who eyed you dubiously.

  “Anything I can get for you, kid?” He asked gruffly, polishing a glass and looking you up and down, feeling you out. Although you had lounged with friends at the Atrium, even attended a few workplace parties there, you’d never really been a patron of the bar, and you felt the clientele ogling you suspiciously. It obviously wasn’t an ordinary occurrence, to see a scantily clad young woman sitting alone at a high-class bar, and the various eyes on you made your skin crawl, although you did your best to ignore the unwanted attention.

  “Just a Jedi Mind Trick, please. Make it a double” You replied softly, keeping your eyes down, tracing your fingernail against the wood grain of the bar. You heard the Bothan snort, probably amused at your choice of such a strong drink right off the bat, doubting you could hold your liquor. The way you saw it, though, you’d rather spend the rest of the evening getting shit-faced here than simply slinking off home alone, to wallow in bed self-despairingly. 

  The bartender had just set the triangular container full of bright blue liquid on the counter in front of you when a door you hadn’t noticed on the far side of the room slid open, and a figure stepped out. A hush immediately fell over the room, which had previously been filled with glasses clinking, quiet conversation and laughter, and a holographic jizz band being broadcast. You didn’t bother to look over at first, too absorbed in your own self-pity to care, picking up the glass and knocking the entire drink back in one gulp, leaving the edges of your mind slightly blurred.

  That’s when you heard the spurs.

  Kshnk. Kshnk. Kshnk.

  At first you assumed it was solely a figment of your imagination, an effect of the alcohol being absorbed into your system, until you realized that the room had gone silent, that even the hologram of the band had ceased playing. You looked up at the bartender, but he was staring over the top of your head, paused in the act of refilling another guest’s stein. The jangling sound filled your ears until you could hear nothing else, not even the sound of your own breathing, and a chill went down your spine. You were clenching your empty cup so tight that you were surprised it didn’t shatter in your hand. Gingerly, you turned around to acknowledge the cantina’s newest arrival, your stomach rolling with anticipation, your blood singing in your veins, your heart pounding like a gigantic drum sitting in your chest cavity. You looked up.

  And there he was.

  Boba Fett.  

  He was shorter than you expected.

  You felt a near-hysterical giggle rise in your throat as the realization crossed your mind, that this was your very first thought upon seeing the man you’d envisioned fucking you time and time again - in person, finally. The laughter died in your throat as he turned to cross the room, only several meters away from you, and you got your first real look at him.

  Stars, he was beautiful .

  Boba Fett walked slowly, methodically, with more purpose than you had ever seen another creature move, even though it seemed his only motive at the moment was to find a place to sit down. The dented helmet that concealed his features didn’t break its steady gaze straight ahead even once as Fett crossed the room, even though every eye in the cantina was locked to him. There was no way the man didn’t know that he was currently the center of attention, the reason for the palatable silence in the air, and it was quite obvious that he didn’t care one parsec. The green armor he wore was littered with scrapes and scars and dents, but still shone in the low light of the bar, as if it had only just been waxed, and you shivered at the thought of getting to press your bare chest against the battle-flecked breastplate. A ragged cape was tossed over one shoulder, and your eyes were drawn to the string of inexplicable numbers glowing out from an interface on the right-hand side of his armor, and to the strange symbol mirroring its position, a stalk of grain framed by a bright red drop of blood and what looked to be lettering in a language you didn’t recognize, directly above his heart. There were several long braids of multi-colored and variously textured hair thrown over the opposite side of his shoulder plate, the sight of which sent another delicious chill up your spine. You knew you should be repulsed by the sight of those trophies of war alone, but it served as a confirmation of something you already knew - this man was dangerous . There was debate on the HoloNet as to the origin of those braids - some who’d been following Fett’s career, as you did, were adamant that they were made of the scalps of Wookiees he’d killed; yet others claimed they were the braids of Jedi Padawans he’d hunted down at the request of Lord Vader himself. Your eyes flitted downwards to below his waist, heat flushing through your system. The greenish codpiece was just as battered as the rest of the armor - even more so, upon a closer look. Judging by the craggy yet shallow indentation located almost in the dead-center of it, some unfortunate soul had made a last ditch effort to save themselves by taking a shot at what they must have thought was the most vulnerable area on Fett’s body. They had obviously been wrong, and you were grateful for it. 

  Almost seeming to move in slow motion, the bounty hunter passed directly by the bar, and you could have sworn you could sense his body heat even from several meters away, could smell blaster smoke and blood on him. As repulsive as those scents should have been, reminiscent of battlefields and death and suffering, you felt almost soothed by the thought of being able to press your face to the rough cloth that held the Mandalorian armor together, breathe in those aromas as deeply as you wished, a smell that was so distinctly him . You focused your gaze on Boba Fett once more just in time to see him settle himself at a raised table in the corner, reclining back casually. He seemed to finally notice that all other movement and conversation in the cantina had ceased upon his arrival, and his helmet swiveled first to the left, then to the right, making direct eye contact with several goggling patrons, who uneasily turned away under his gaze. Fett’s visor then turned in your direction and your heart walloped frantically in your chest - ‘ has he noticed me?’ - but it became obvious quite quickly that he was looking past you, straight at the Bothan behind the bar, who regarded Fett for a long moment before offering him a grudging nod. Almost as if this were some sort of cue, the holographic band started up again with a lively rendition of ‘Sugaan Essena,’ and the muttered discussions, tinkling of glasses, and laughter resumed. The clients of the Paradise Atrium and Cantina seemed eager to forget that the deadliest bounty hunter in the known galaxy was seated in their midst. Fett, however, had cast his gaze to the city outside, watching the rows of traffic track across the nighttime sky, gloved hands resting firmly on his knees, deep in thought. 

  You watched out of the corner of your eye as three young Zabrak women wearing matching skin-tight baffleweave bodysuits made a beeline for Fett’s table as soon as the atmosphere had settled down, obviously over-eager for their chance to flirt with danger. You sniggered when the armored figure sent them away with a wave of his hand before they even had a chance to close in on him, watched them turn tail with their heads down almost as quickly as they had first come. You tried to ignore the coiling pit of unease in your belly as you considered moving forward with your plan, despite the fact that it seemed for all intents and purposes that Fett did not want to be bothered. You continued to watch the man as his attention was drawn back to the outside world. ‘ Oh, hell. You only live once, right? What’s the worst that could happen, he tells you to kark off?’

  “Hey… would you send a drink over to that table in the corner? Whatever he usually orders when he comes here.” You waved the bartender over, pointing a thumb over your shoulder at Boba Fett, jerking your chin in his direction as well for emphasis. You were trying to play it cool, sending a drink to the table of one of the most bloodthirsty men in the galaxy, but you were sure that the bartender could see your hand shaking as you made the request. The tall Bothan looked at you as if you had asked him for a diamond-encrusted barrel of Coruscanti bitters, straight from the Emperor’s private reserve.

  “...You sure about that, kid? You do know who that is, right? Boba Fett’s one tough customer. You’d be better off not messing around with that barve.” He leaned down towards you, warning you off as if you were a child, trying to play with the older kids who would only include you in their games if it meant beating you within an inch of your life. You nodded, looking back with what you hoped was a steely determination.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  The Bothan looked at you for a moment with great pity, as if he were gazing upon a creature that had just consigned itself to its doom. Heaving a sigh that quivered the fur lining his muzzle, the bartender turned and started preparing another drink.

  You couldn’t even look as the liquor was brought across the room by one of the ornate serving droids that wandered the cantina. You kept your head low, jiggling one leg on the stool beneath you, digging your fingernails into the glossy wood that encompassed the top of the bar. The minutes seemed to tick by excruciatingly, and you were overcome by the notion that maybe you should leave, get up and bolt when you still could, escape before Fett was aware of what fool had sent him the drink, go home to bed and forget any of this had ever happened. But too late - just as you were beginning to shift in your seat, to lean in the direction of the doorway and gather up the momentum to run, the bartender cleared his throat, causing your head to pop up at the sudden noise. The Bothan looked you in the eyes and did nothing but give you a subtle bob of his head, watching a point across the room. You followed his eyes, and stopped dead in your tracks.

  Boba Fett was staring at you.

  Openly leering at you was a better term for it, his entire body turned in your direction, lazily slumped in his seat, his legs spread comfortably wide. Kriff, this was just like your daydream. As soon as he was sure that he had your attention, and as if he had read your mind, one hand rose from its spot resting against the ample meat of his thigh, and two deft fingers hidden under an off-white glove of bantha leather beckoned you closer with a quick curling motion. It was an action that whispered, ‘ Come hither, my dear. Let’s play.’

  Your stomach lurched and your vision suddenly filled with black spots, and you bit down hard on your lower lip, the quick pain bringing you back from the brink of passing out. Your eyes refocused, the dark points fading away, and there he still sat, his position unchanged. He was waiting for you to come over. You looked back at the bartender for guidance - by now you were sure he had seen this song and dance played out here many times before - and the Bothan gave you a roll of his deep-set dark eyes, and a noncommittal shrug. He’d already written you off as another casualty, the sad result of human naïveté in the face of the galaxy’s bloodthirstiness.

  You rose from your stool on legs that felt as if they were made of bacta, your feet seeming to glide across the floor of the Atrium, bringing you ever closer to Boba Fett. The cantina patrons seemed to part like a sea for you, and you didn’t give a womp rat’s ass if they were staring, whispering about you. Your eyes and thoughts belonged only to the helmeted man who had beckoned you closer, and whose parted legs you were standing almost directly between when your long walk ended. You were so close that you could see yourself reflected in his blackened visor, dumbfounded. You were visibly trembling, and you could feel Fett’s body heat rolling off him, soaking into your own legs as you stood before him. It took you a moment to comprehend that he was waiting for you to speak, for you to make the first move.

  “...You’re here for Han Solo, aren’t you? Everyone knows you two have a rivalry and that you’ve been after him for ages now, and he’s here, and you’re here, and that can’t be a coincidence, right? It’s like -” The words rushed from your mouth in an excited torrent, and you were fully aware that you were babbling at him, but you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. Every nerve-ending in your body felt sparked with the fire of a planet’s core, you were absolutely thrumming, and you didn’t care whether you sounded like an idiot in front of this man who you’d lusted after for ages, just as long as you were talking to him, that you had his attention. Mercifully, Fett’s palm came up, the same move he had used on the Zabraks earlier in the night. You stopped mid-sentence, your mouth still hanging upon, your eyes wide.

  “I’m here on business. What exactly that pertains to is none of your concern.” The reply was smooth and unhurried, and he didn’t even look at you. Boba Fett seemed much more concerned with what was going on outside the Atrium’s walls, his line of sight falling past you, towards the lights of the Administrator's Palace. Where Han Solo probably was, if the rumors of him being Leia Organa’s consort were true. So you were right. Even if he wouldn’t admit it in words, it was almost like the bounty hunter was showing you. At least, that’s how you chose to take it.

  “...Oh. Okay. ...Fair enough, I guess.” You cautiously replied, unsure of how to proceed when he offered no further conversation, and cringed inwardly. Stars , you were truly awful at small talk, especially with handsome men. No wonder you’d never gotten laid. Fett’s helmet snapped towards you like a sharp cut with a blade, his restraint with your dallying almost nonexistent, and you felt yourself flush hotly as you realized you’d just been staring blankly at him the entire time, drinking him up just as greedily as any Hutt would look upon a dancer. There was no way he couldn’t tell your intentions, and your confidence and excitability wavered. 

  “So what exactly is it that you want from me, girl? I don’t have the time nor the patience to be followed around and gifted tokens at bars by starry-eyed brats. Say what you will, or I’ll have you removed from my sight. Now .”

  There was ice in his voice, and you found yourself slightly afraid for the first time. The idea of Boba Fett growing angry with you was not something you wanted to experience. You had to say your piece now, or risk losing what you wanted forever. You balled your fists so hard that you were sure your nails were cutting through the skin of your palms, but you stood your ground. You weren’t going to let Fett intimidate you away from what you wanted of him, not now. You were too close.

  So you told him, blunt and straight to the point.

  “I’ve never been fucked. I want you to be my first.”

  Fett’s form stiffened in his seat, the gloved hand that had been nonchalantly resting on his thigh almost imperceptibly gripping the hard muscle beneath. You didn’t notice, nor were you able to sense the fact that he was holding his breath. 

  Despite the extraordinary self-control Boba Fett had cultivated over every aspect of his functions during his decades of bounty hunting, he felt his cock twitch involuntarily within the confines of his flight pants. He’d encountered plenty of cyar’tomade across the galaxy over the years, desperate creatures of all types looking to spend a night in his company just for the later bragging rights, others looking to fulfill some sort of bizarre erotic fantasy - he’d taken up plenty of those offers, and turned down even more. Boba Fett was a man who enjoyed sex, and he made no secret of the fact that he had been scoping the lounge for a prospective bedpartner after the meeting with Lieutenant Sheckil and his graysuits. That wretched smuggler Solo had a date with a carbonite chamber tomorrow evening after he and Vader’s planned ambush at the Administrator’s Palace in the morning, and Fett fully intended to vent some excess energy tonight before finally collecting on the barve’s hefty bounty. It was back to Jabba’s afterwards, and more bounties to collect on, and even less downtime. Fett enjoyed his life of solitude, practically thrived on it, but still… he was only human, and he had his needs. 

 What he hadn’t expected was being cornered and propositioned by a willing and eager virgin. And such a pretty thing, too. This was a first, and he had to admit he was already getting hard at the thought of teaching this naïf how to please a man, to be the one to take her like nobody had before, to show her just who exactly she was dealing with.

  “ Well … aren’t you a bold one.” He finally exhaled, still avoiding any semblance of eye contact with you, his focus seeming to be on stirring the cubes around his drink. You swallowed thickly, watching Fett’s index finger push the straw back and forth. He hadn’t touched the drink at all, but you didn’t care. You wanted that finger in your mouth, down your throat, glove and all, but shook yourself from the daydream when it occurred to you that Fett was watching, waiting for a response. 

  “I’ve found that fortune favors the bold.” You pushed yourself into the chair opposite him, trying to conceal how badly your legs were wobbling. You had waded chest-deep into completely unknown territory, and you felt as if you were going to faint at any moment if you didn’t take a seat. To emphasize your point, you reached out and grasped the drink you had sent to his table just minutes ago, tipping your head back and draining half of it in one swig. Your head swimming from the sudden rush of hard liquor, you settled the container back on the polished wood and steadied your gaze on the bounty hunter. Fett cocked his helmet at you, an amused snort emanating from underneath, a static edge to it thanks to the vocoder that helped conceal his voice. He laid his forearms on the table, leaning his upper body forward towards you, the posture of a gossiping schoolboy, mocking and insolent.

  “And what makes you think I’d want to be the one to break you in, vaar’ika ?”

  He almost purred the question, sickly sweet. There was no outright malice there, no, but he was teasing you; you could hear the laughter in his voice. You could tell he thought you were nothing but a stupid little girl who didn’t know what she was getting herself into, and it shamed you into silence. You felt your throat tightening, your eyes starting to burn, and you begged yourself, ‘ Don’t you dare start crying and prove him right. You know what you came here for. Don’t you dare. ’ But it was much easier said than done, and your attempt to coax yourself out of this panic only seemed to deepen it. You came this close to fulfilling your fantasy, you could have practically reached out and touched it, but it all had to fall to pieces because you were really nothing but a blubbering baby. You weren’t worthy of being with Boba Fett, and it had been a pipedream to think so even for a moment. 

  “I… I-I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking , coming here. I’ve made an ass of myself and I’ve completely wasted your time, I’m so sorry -”

  Your eyes brimming with embarrassed tears, hot and heavy on your lashes and threatening to spill over at any moment, you ducked your head and pushed the chair out as quickly as you could, moving to brush past the still-seated bounty hunter and make a break for it out into the cool night air. With a harsh gasp, you felt yourself suddenly being jerked back by the elbow, almost stumbling with the force of the pull. Boba Fett’s gauntleted hand was gripping your arm in an iron hold, the black void of his visor locked onto your face. There was no way to tell, of course, and you couldn’t say how you knew, but you could have sworn he was smiling at you.

  “ I didn’t say no , little one . Tell me again what you want of me.” Fett intoned evenly, but not unkindly, releasing his hold on you. To your shock, he ran his hand down your arm as he let you go, and it almost felt - of all things - reassuring . Arousal pooled to your core so quickly at Fett’s surprisingly soft touch and tone that it took you a few extra moments to even register what he had said.

 ‘He didn’t say no. It wasn’t possible. Does he actually want to? ...And he called me ‘little one.’

  You could have died then and there, on the plush carpeted floor of the Paradise Atrium, but your words found you, every ounce of courage in your frame flooding through your veins at once.

  “Take me back to your ship. Let me give myself to you. I want to be yours tonight… only yours. Please .” You laid a trembling hand on his wrist, still expecting to be violently brushed away, told to back off and go home if you knew what was good for you, threatened with disintegration or a blaster shot to the chest or something . But the harsh gesture or violent threat never came. The scarred green helmet tilted downwards to regard your fingers clutching at the armor, and after a quiet beat, Boba Fett’s gaze returned yours. Although you couldn’t see the eyes hidden behind that dark, T-shaped visor, you could feel them burrowing into your very soul, sweeping over you greedily, like a prize to be taken. Shivers rippled up your arms and your stomach rolled, but you weren’t afraid. Not anymore. Silently, you withdrew your fingers, letting your hands fall limply to your sides, and Fett nodded, seemingly satisfied with your plea. 

  “As you wish, nehutyc’ika. Come, then.” With that, Boba Fett stood in one swift motion, and held one palm out for you to take, open and inviting.

  You felt as if you’d been kicked in the chest. You were instantly sober, any trace of alcohol from the night’s earlier wallowing fully flushed from your system by the influx of adrenaline currently screaming through your body. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and for a brief moment you wondered if he was playing with you, if this were some sort of sick joke, but you knew in the deepest recess of your heart that it wasn’t. He was serious. He’d made a career out of not backing down on deals. Boba Fett was a man of his word. 

  So you took his hand and let yourself be spirited away into the night by a figure from your best daydreams, and from other creatures’ worst nightmares.

[willadisastercry]

When the dust clears and you almost wish it hadn’t...

tw: emetophobia warning (brief but there), depictions of being trapped/pinned, broken bone, head injury, blood, threat of being crushed, threat of drowning.

The paladins respond to a distress signal on a foreign planet and make quick work of getting its civilians to safety, but on their last sweep surface side, shit hits the fan. Pidge and Lance are hurt but Shiro is trapped and can’t help them. On top of that, the conditions they’re stuck in are only getting worse. With no access to the coms and no tools to help them, the trio is forced to get creative and make some sacrifices.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Dust rained down in a continuous sheet, the tiny particles lit up in beams where the brightness of the day outside peaked through the mottled roof of debris now sheltering them. It seeped through their shattered visors and cacked their lungs making whatever ragged breaths they took after they realized they’d finally stopped falling harsh and desperate.

Shiro was the only one who hadn’t been knocked out after the initial collapse, more just dazed in momentary shock from the suddenness of it all, his visor most in tact and his com emitting static output that would catch a few garbled words every now and then.

The planet they were on had sent out a distress signal when the galra outpost stationed in their solar system had somehow managed to pull their moons out of alignment, and like on earth, their moons had significant influence over their tides.

Before they arrived, the land had only been hit by minor floods but as soon as voltron and the castleship entered their atmosphere, the unruly currents ramped up tenfold and small tremors could be felt from somewhere deep underground.

The abnormal weather phenomena hadn’t yet delved into anything seismic, just tidal, but they’d only been planet-side for ten minutes before alarms started blaring and the locals emerged from their homes frantic and scared.

Evacuation via lion had actually gone relatively smoothly, the paladins able to relocate the citizens before the trembles of the shifting plates became truly dangerous.

It had started off pretty tame, the rumblings far between and only enough to shake the windows and trees. But they steadily amplified the longer the evacuation went on until shaking became shuddering and soon trees were swaying and buildings were groaning.

After everyone was loaded onto the castle outside of the planets orbit Pidge flew the green lion flew back down to the surface stowing Lance and a lionless Shiro. They were in charge of carrying out the final sweep to check for stragglers, though the only thing they’d actually found was themselves caught in the height of a particularly large quake.

They were in the city center attempting to make it back to Green who was stationed at the beginning of the tree line on the outskirts of the city, antsy and waiting. But they would never get there because the intense trembling brought them to the knees before they’d even caught sight of the lion.

It would’ve been alright if the solid ground they thought they were on was truly as solid as it appeared, but it wasn’t, because the cracks splitting the pavilion open splintered towards them before they could even cry out and then the last thing they could hear was a roar almost as deafening as the sound of the planet ripping apart beneath their feet.

The fall wasn’t long or else they wouldn’t be alive to choke on the sheer amount of crap in the air, their helmets not surviving the broken bits of sediment that accosted them on the decent, cracking their visors and damaging their com systems.

Though cumbersome and clunky, their paladin armor was also sturdy and could withstand the weight of the rubble they were more or less sandwiched in. Their suits were ultimately what saved their lives in the initial collapse but it beat their human bodies to hell in the process.

Their senses returned with the panic of not being able to breathe, the moment they realized the ground beneath them was rough with rubble and uneven uprooted earth that wasn’t quite earth audible, marked by disoriented cries of surprise at the debris still falling while the quake that brought them down tapered out.

Pidge and Shiro came back to themselves first, raucous coughs pulling each other to reality over their ringing ears as they worked to clear the soot from their mouths and lungs. It was hard work. The air was dense with all kinds of minuscule specks of ruin that silenced them for a good minute while they struggled against the dryness in their throats.

It was Pidge who tried to move first. She was slumped over a chunk of what used to be a stone pillar from the building that was sucked into the chasm of non-earth along with them, her legs tucked awkwardly beneath her. She stopped abruptly to let out a strangled wail when she went to push herself up.

She hadn’t felt much of anything when she first woke up, just incredibly dazed as she fought to open her eyes under the layer of dust encrusting them. But when she put pressure on her arms she discovered that something was seriously wrong with one of them, collapsing back onto the jagged piece of stone to writhe as pain shot through to her shoulder and seized her back.

“Pidge?”

She barely registered the crackle of a low voice from somewhere nearby, her mind entirely consumed by panicking over the pain she was in as well as the unknown regarding the extent of the injury.

“Pidge is that you? Are you okay?”

It clicked then that it was Shiro speaking but she didn’t have air in her lungs to produce any answer other than a panicked whimper, too afraid to lift herself off of the injured limb to see the damage and incite another wave of agony. She didn’t have enough air to handle that again, sucking down what she could in too large of quantities for such a limited supply.

Shiro was going through a similar mental battle, though the first thing dawning on him as he registered his new surroundings was that Pidge needed help, not his own physical wellbeing. So naturally, he’d tried to get up as soon as he heard her call out only to discover he couldn’t move much because he was sprawled on his back amongst an ever growing pile of debris, his prosthetic arm likely crushed to shit under a sizable slab of stone with smaller chunks pressing against his chest and legs.

He was sufficiently stuck, pinned in place and unable to get to her but forced to listen as her anguished sounds continued.

“Pidge I’m trapped, I can’t—shit, I can’t get to you. And I don’t have visual confirmation from Lance yet so you’re gonna have to work with me here... talk to me, where are you hurt? How bad does it look?”

The sound she contrived then was like the ones before, except not for her own misery, not entirely at least. Because that meant there was still no sign of life from Lance which meant there was a very real concern that there wouldn’t be which left Pidge having to pull herself together and search for him since Shiro was otherwise incapacitated.

This would be sucky and not ideal at all, but necessary.

”Pidge?!”

Logic told her that bones mend and that pain was fleeting. That agony would be temporary, fear too, and once she found Lance it would be better, bearable at least.

And so with that resolve she willed her breathing to slow enough to form a coherent statement.

“It’s my arm,” she huffed quickly, the shrillness in her voice evidence of the severity of the injury.

“Okay, can you move? Is there something on top of you?” Shiro asked calmly, his voice level and sympathetic.

“No, I’m on top of it... if-if I move again—“

“Take a breath, it’s probably broken.”

Clearly, but Pidge was already ten steps ahead, her brain grappling with the notion of whether stabbing pain meant safe compounded fracture or gruesome and bloody and open fracture that would make her sick if she even caught sight of her own arm like that.

She shuddered violently at the thought and bit back a gasp when it jostled whatever lay beneath her.

“You’re okay, just breathe... are you sitting or laying down?”

Still so calm, somehow. So incredibly practical and disarming. It was almost unnerving how well he could do that, compartmentalize everything.

“S-sitting, sort of.”

“How?”

Awkwardly, Shiro. The man might be terrifyingly apt at rationalizing the impossible but seemed utterly incompetent in predicting the obvious.

“Folded over a rock and using it as my pillow... all my weight is on it—on my arm,” she ammended with a gulp.

Shiro took his precious time turning this information over in his head and the radio silence almost had Pidge worrying he’d passed out until his voice came back somehow even more blunt and pragmatic than before.

“That’s better actually. What I need you to do is hold your arm in place with your good hand, press it to your chest and use your shoulder to lean on as you sit back again. It should be less agitating that way—“

Shiro’s gentle instruction was cut off by Pidge’s cry as she sat up and away from the slab of stone like he recommended, her vision whiting as she cradled her arm against herself.

When she could see properly again she found her curiousity too overwhelming and spared a look at the mangled limb.

It was both better and worse than she had imagined. The forearm component of her armor was hanging on in pieces and clearly displayed the horrifying mess that lay under what remained. No skin was broken, but the tip of her bone was very visibly poking the already swelling flesh where the middle of her forearm sported a new joint.

The sight was overwhelming and her breaths soon came in short pants, the threat of passing out suddenly very real.

“Good Pidge, that was great. Take a couple deep breaths for me while you adjust,” he asked gently, his voice taking on a more solemn tone now.

She already knew what was coming next and began rearranging her legs beneath her, several deep breaths required to clear the black dotting her vision before she was confident she could stand testing their strength without them turning jelly.

“I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but you need to find Lance... I’m not mobile and I haven’t heard him yet.”

“Already... on it,” she panted as she leaned on her knees before coming to a shakey stance.

The lighting was sparse in the pocket of nothing that the pavilion collapsed into after the fissure opened, barely enough to make out the terrain in front of her and then some. So she made her way slowly, toeing rocks and larger slabs before proceeding, checking for stability with every step as she slinked across the unnatural landscape.

“Follow my voice... I can hear you now... watch out for the crap still falling...”

Finding Shiro wasn’t difficult when his voice carried so well through the wreckage, even despite the shifting fauna and bits still crashing down and settling.

There hadn’t been another quake in the time that they’d woken up, but that only made finding Lance that much more important. If he hadn’t responded yet then it was more than likely he was pretty hurt, which would be even more dangerous for him to be alone if the rubble decided to rearrange itself.

“Hey...” Shiro laughed pitifully as she ducked under a slanted piece of stone to get to him.

Pidge saw his predicament immediately, he was looking at her from where he was propped up one elbow, his metal arm wedged underneath a piece of stone bigger than he was.

“Well, that’s not good,” she stated before coming down hard on one knee, clutching her arm extra close as she lowered herself to the floor for a better look.

“Let me see your arm,” he ordered in his leader voice, a futile attempt to deflect from his own issues.

“My arm is snapped, let me see if you still have one,” she countered expertly, pushing away his searching hand after once he’d laid back down try and examine the disfigured appendage now securely in her lap.

He sighed in defeat. Pidge had too many years of experience dodging brotherly coddling with Matt to concede to Shiro’s fretting and let him distract from her own triage efforts.

“How bad? Can’t really tell from this angle...”

“I’m not seeing much but there is quite a bit of space between the floor and the rock still so that’s kind of promising for the integrity of the prosthetic... let me get this crap off though—“

“No, you’re hurt don’t push yourself, it’s fine.”

But Pidge acted as if she hadn’t heard him and began to remove the rocks, turning over the more meager pieces of broken stone from his chest with her good hand.

“Pidge, it’s okay. I’m not hurt and you need to save your energy to look for—“

“Wait! Shut up...”

“Excuse me?!”

“Shhhh!”

Pidge held her hand up to Shiro’s face as she closed her eyes and listened for something. Shiro only heard a faint whooshing and a steady trickle until it happened again. A very guttural but human moan.

“Lance! Shit.”

“Go, he’s gotta be close, he was just beside me when we fell...”

Pidge moved swiftly, more nimble than she could’ve thought possible as she maneuvered around the rubble with only one arm to steady her.

“Lance, call out!”

Every time she moved her arm throbbed horribly, but slowing down was not an option, not when another quake was due and could occur at any moment.

“If you can hear me I need you to make a sound, throw something, anything!”

Her repeated shouts are what in the end got him to groan again, the sound of her pointed words coming closer making the pressure in his skull swell exponentially.

“That’s it, keep making noise...!”

As he tried to wake up and open his eyes he only succeeded in making himself more disoriented, the world seeming to spin even with his eyes squeezed shut.

It dawned on him then that closing his eyes when he had absolutely no idea what sort of life threatening situation he may or may not be in was a sort of really bad idea. He had no clue how he was oriented, no grasp of what was up or down, how his body was positioned, if he was hurt or not. He wasn’t even entirely sure he was alive but the second heart beat on the side of his head seemed to eventually convince him he was.

“Lance?!”

But then again the agony swirling around in his brain didn’t seem to care if it was stupid to close his eyes, nor did the intensity of the light above him that burned his retinas when he attempted to open them.

“Call out!”

Uh, no I will not, thank you very much.

Whoever was screaming in his face needed to learn some manners and stop. The sound pierced his ears like a thousand needles and traveled to the center of the heartbeat in his skull, another pathetic moan escaping his lips as he tried to reach for the spot.

“Oh, no—no, don’t do that.”

He was sprawled on his side, limbs askew and otherwise undamaged aside from his armor appearing nearly shredded in some places with how roughly he’d been tossed around in the fray. His helmet was missing and it took Pidge a few moments to locate it, almost wishing she hadn’t once she did.

The left side was dented, the visor cracked so severely that there was nothing but a few jagged shards left of it.

“You’re okay, I’m here Lance, it’s Pidge.”

Lance didn’t care that it was Pidge, she was screaming at him and it was making him nauseous. He couldn’t understand why she insisted on being so loud when he had such a bad headache or why she held his wrist so tightly.

“You’ve got a pretty nice gash there—” she muttered, her restricting hand releasing him to turn his head to the side “—a nice few gashes, actually.”

He must have made a protesting sound at the movement because she stopped and cupped his cheek instead, using the top of her thumb to wipe the tears making their way to his chin.

“Hey, you’re gonna be alright. Can you open you’re eyes at all?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Can you try? Only for a second, I just need to see something. C’monnnn, don’t you want to see my pretty face?”

He made a softer sound then and his eyelids began to flutter as he tried to pry them open, wincing at how painful even the dim lighting was once he did.

“Good, that’s good. Okay, I’m just gonna help you out here, don’t be scared...” she said as she moved her thumb and pointer finger to prop open one eyelid at a time and keep them still so she could get a good look.

His pupils were blown which was probably why opening them hurt so bad, more light was coming in than should be which couldn’t feel nice for his clearly rattled brain.

“Kay, all done... I think you have a concussion, but nothing else seems to be wrong aside from the still gushing head and facial wounds. Can you keep your hand there do you think? ” she asked as she brought it to where the bleeding was worst and pressed down, illiciting a hiss but no other resistance as he held it place.

“Great, you’re doing so great. I know you probably feel really out of it but we need to get you over to where Shiro is... and my arms kinda busted so I can only give you one hand...”

His groaning halted for a moment to let loose a low whine as he tried to open his eyes long enough to look at what she meant, his face scrunching up with concern when he finally managed to.

“You-your arm... s’hurt...” he choked out, more a restatement than a question, his tongue unwilling and his energy spent as he tried to form something coherent.

“Yeah, as I said, busted. But don’t worry about that now, just give me your hand.”

Lance seemed a bit confused at her command so she took up the hand that was limp at his side and moved it to his lap where she could reposition her own at his elbow.

“This is gonna be a tad tricky so just work with me, okay?”

He grunted a sort of ‘uh huh’ and returned with his own grip on her upper arm.

“I’m gonna stand up and lean back, when I do you’re gonna lean forward and stand with me...” Pidge detailed as she moved his legs so that they were bent towards his chest and in front of him.

It wasn’t that he was immobile. The rest of his body was free of visible injuries but his brain and his limbs seemed to be on different frequencies for the time being, the channels of communication disconnected and not taking signals from one another making his movements sluggish and sloppy.

“Okay, ready? Alright, up we go...”

What happened next was anything other than graceful. As soon as Lance was upright he lilted into Pidge who fixed her stance as he stumbled to keep standing, his grip tight on her arm and his weight almost entirely on her hip as he held his throbbing head.

“You good? Here, arm around my neck, just don’t touch my arm... there ya go. We’ll go slow, it’s not far,” she assured as she began to walk forward, Lance following in his own sort of zigzag next to her.

They made their way excruciatingly slow. Pidge moved with care, constantly analyzing the most doable path to lead Lance into, stepping on top of and over boulder sized bits of stone as he continued on whatever even ground she could find.

It was only when she was tapping her toe behind his knee to get it to buckle that he was aware they’d made it. He hadn’t heard Pidge asking him to sit, didn’t even register her hand on his face as he fought with the terrible heat on the side of his head that threatened to make his stomach act on how unsettled it was.

He let out a breathless ‘oh’ as his butt connected with the ground, a layer of recently upturned dust rising after him. Once he was safely seated Shiro removed his hand from his back from where he’d been assisting the transition.

“Shiroo...!?!” he gushed, the word sloshing in his mouth.

“Hey, Lance.”

Though he knew his friend’s demeanor was the result of a pretty gnarly head injury, Shiro couldn’t help but let a fond smile appear at his almost childlike vocalization.

“How ya feeling?”

“Oh, not good I think, right Pidge?—yeah, really not good...”

“Concussion, I checked,” Pidge provided after Shiro took Lance’s bloody hand away from the source of the bleeding to check the damage out for himself.

“That looks painful,” Shiro sympathized before returning his hand to the spot as gently as he could.

Lance processed that his hand had made contact again about ten seconds after which seemed to send his head realing because the next moment he was choking back a gag.

“Crap, it’s alright if you need to throw up. Just get it out, don’t hold it in,” Shiro ushered, his hand moving to Lance’s arm as he doubled over himself, his throat clenching against the bile rising and he sputtered.

He was sufficiently out of sorts and could hardly hold on to a coherent thought but he knew that he did not want to throw up. Not here in front of his friends, especially Shiro.

But the wave of nausea that was making his stomach cramp and his head throb was overshadowed by the sound of something crashing, like a stack of precariously placed objects falling over abruptly except much louder and followed by a sustained gush.

“Shiro..?”

The trepidation in Pidge’s voice made her sound so much younger, like how she did before Shiro left for Kerberos.

At the same time that fear erupted in his friend’s chests, saliva welled up in Lance’s mouth and he let out a pitiful sound, the new commotion having him seeing stars with how angrily his head pulsed from it.

“It’s probably just rubble settling, can you see anything?”

Pidge moved towards the biggest source of light from where the surface above them split apart, the scene hazy through clouds of dust and substantially obscured by larger breakages of sediment. She lifted herself onto her toes to try and makes sense of the destruction around them.

“No...”

Pidge couldn’t see much through the chalky blackness, just hints of structures here and there.

“There’s nothing there—oh.”

The gushing sound seemed to pull to the forefront of the concerning noises then, like a geyser of something had erupted and was emptying itself out into the chasm that had opened up beneath them and swallowed them down. This was concerning for a lot of reasons.

“Yeah, never mind we are so fucked.”

Lance wasn’t even trying to follow the progression of events going on around him, listening intently enough to make sense of a single sentence worsening the pressure behind his eyes while he stomach continued to flip.

The acid taste coming up his throat was putrid, but mixed with a grating layer of dust irritating the back of his throat, the presence of it while already massively disoriented was overwhelming.

“What is it?-crap Lance. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Shiro soothed, his hand secure on the other boy’s back while his frame shook from retching so hard.

“Pipe must’ve burst, well I guess not a pipe, more like a main...”

“A main? As in a water main?”

“Yes,” Pidge deadpanned, using her good hand to steady herself against a taller shred of stone as she continued evaluating just how fucked they were.

Shiro gulped, convinced he could actually feel the tons of weight on top of his foreign prosthetic growing heavier the longer he remained wedged under it.

“How much is coming in?”

He could hear it clearer now, like the rumble in your ears when wind rushed past them.

“Too much...”

With a hiccoughing whine, Lance pitched forward, nearly collapsing into the puddle of his own sick as he continued to gag.

“Woah, okay! You’re alright, I’ve got you... just do what you have to do bud.”

Shiro’s free hand on the center of Lance’s chest was the only thing keeping him upright as he worked through the rolling waves of dizzying nausea.

Pidge spared a cursory glance towards her friend, watching how his shoulders worked as he heaved for a moment before returning back to her internal spiral.

“Coms are wrecked but they’re out of range so it’s not like that really matters anyway... the air is pretty thin already, but the longer we’re down here the less viable o2 there’s going to be... and the crater we’re in is flooding so the more pressing issue is—”

“Pidge,” Shiro drawled slowly, his tone placating as he watched her pace back and forth, images of Matt doing the same thing surfacing in his mind as she did.

She might resemble her brother in appearance but their personalities for the most part could not be more opposite. Though during his time in the castle of lions Shiro had found that they actually share a lot of the same nervous mannerisms.

He knew Pidge probably had no idea how similar their actions are and he’s sort of glad only he does, suspecting the knowledge would only make her sad.

The only issue with this discovery is the fact that even though her reaction isn’t new to Shiro, dealing with it was, and once Pidge’s mind started working it was hard to get it to stop.

Lance was winding down then. His breaths still heavy and uneven, the stream of blood down his neck and front steady as ever, but he wasn’t gagging anymore.

“You’re arm is... fucked, my arm is fucked, and Lance’s head! Oh god, this is—“

“Calm down, we can figure this out.”

She spun on him abruptly enough that Shiro was scared for a second she might’ve given herself whiplash.

“Calm down?! How do you expect me to do that when we’re going to be underwater in an hour, hell maybe even a couple of minutes?!”

Lance’s shoulders seemed to slump somehow further from the volume of her voice and Shiro took a second before launching into his response to help him sit back on his heels and away from the vomit.

“No, I’m going to be underwater. You and Lance are going to start walking, climbing, whatever it is you have to do to get to higher ground—“

“Yeah okay, fuck that. We’re not leaving you—uh buh bah, save whatever case you were gonna make because I’ll promptly stop listening.”

The visage of Matt retreated entirely with Pidge’s indiscretion, her words seeding with irritation as she shut Shiro down.

“Pidge!”

“I’m so very sorry for my attitude but you really did just pitch us leaving you to drown, are you really that surprised?”

Shiro took a practiced breath, the kind he uses to ground himself because the pit in his chest was expanding and the last thing they needed was him devolving into panic.

He eyed the way Lance swayed as he sat with his legs splayed on either side of him, his hands limp in his lap and coated in blood from the gash on his head.

“You can’t stay here, not when Lance is hurt like this.”

“Okay.”

“Huh? Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. If you want to waste your energy trying to convince me to let you die, then that’s whatever because the reality is that you’re the one stuck under a rock and I’m the only one whose mobile. This is very much my call. Sorry big guy, but we’re sticking around.”

Shiro actually laughed.

He couldn’t ignore the way that his heart filled with admiration at Pidge’s defiance but it was overwhelmed by the burden of the fact that no matter how much pride he had in her for stepping up, he was still trapped and they were still going to watch him die.

He shuddered and Lance hummed at the movement, wondering vaguely if Shiro was hurt at all before the thought disappeared and the only thing he could remember was how insanely painful the knot on the side of his head was and how heavy his aching body felt.

“M’tired... think I’m gonna... mmmh, gonna lay down,” he managed with some concentration and put his hands on the ground to brace himself but didn’t make any further moves, his face scrunching up in confusion as he struggled to figure out how to maneuver himself down when his arms were so difficult to control and his head pulsed blindingly any time he moved.

“You can’t go to sleep yet, dude. Just sit with Shiro for now, I need you to keep an eye on him for me anyway,” Pidge instructed with a grin.

Shiro huffed and narrowed his eyes but it only made her smirk widen.

“W-why? Is Shiro hurt?” Lance asked worriedly, forgetting himself entirely and attempting to twist around to see.

The gravity of the action caught up with him a beat later, the groan that bubbled in his chest ungodly.

“Easy there, hot shot, I’m okay. Just a little stuck,” Shiro assured, stilling him with a firm hand on his shoulder when the surge of pain had him tipping nearly over.

“Kay... s’good,” he noted through clenched teeth before his eyes fluttered shut and his head began to lower to his chest.

A sharp pain from where Shiro flicked the side of his cheek that wasn’t cut up and coated in blood roused Lance from his attempt to rest.

“Ow. Rude.”

“Not rude, necessary. There’s no napping on the job.”

“I’m so tired though... just wanna sleep... you guys are so mean... why can’t I just—“

“Nope. You’ve gotta keep your eyes open for me bud,” Shiro chided, shaking his shoulder gruffly enough to have his bloodshot eyes shooting open.

“But why?” he slurred, the exasperation in his whine sort of heartbreaking, “I could just nap through... the worst of this, it’d be... it’d be so nice... wouldn’t hurt so much...”

“Since when are you all about what’s easy, you’re like the most stubborn human I know?”Shiro asked, his voice full of fondness.

“And you get enough beauty rest as it is, lover boy, you’ll live if you miss a few hours.”

The rushing water filled the ambient silence while Pidge made her way back to her friends from her watch post amongst the rubble.

“Are... we?”

Lance’s voice was a broken whisper, the gravel in it a painful attribution to the stress his throat had been put under between the abuse of the acid in the bile and coarse texture of the dust.

“Are we what, Lance?”

“Live... are we gonna live?”

The gush of moving water rose up in Shiro’s ears like roaring wind again but stronger this time, effectively tunneling his attention on those words, the innocence of them.

“Of course we are—“

“I want it on the record that I, Pidge Gunderson, am making no such promises.”

“PIDGE!”

“So loud... please... shhh...” Lance cried desperately, his hands almost comically slow to rise and cover his ears.

“WHAT?! I’m being honest!”

“You’re being negative!”

“Coming from the guy who just told me to leave him for dead!”

The fire in both paladins eyes was burning so brightly Lance could’ve sworn there was an actual glow with how horribly his head was beginning to hurt from listening to them.

“Alright, I might’ve had a moment of doubt, but we can’t—“

“Stop shaking me Shiro...” Lance whimpered as he drew his knees up to his chest carefully “—it hurts... please quit it...”

This broke the two out of their heated argument.

“I’m not touching you, Lance...”

“Then t-tell whoever is... to fucking stop!”

His chest hitched pitifully when punctuating the last bit with a pleading whine had his head swimming in vengeance. If it weren’t for the stability of hugging his propped up legs so tightly he would’ve fallen over with how dizzy he was.

Pidge looked at Shiro as if he’d know any better than her what the hell he was talking about.

Unfortunately for the both of them, he did not.

“Deep breaths, Lance. You’re probably just disoriented, it’s normal for head injuries to mess with your sense of balance and equilibrium—“

“Shiro...?”

He was beginning to hate hearing his name being called when it was almost always followed by something he really wouldn’t enjoy hearing.

“Yeah, Pidge?”

But she didn’t have to continue because he felt it then.

A steady thrumming from somewhere below.

A rumble.

“Quiznak...”