#viper is just off camera

[wizardnuke]

hurt and offended by riot nerfing my valo mains. they didn't need to do that.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Dorm leaders(plus jamil) with a fem hunter of Artemis reader, basically reader had however many years ago prior to ending up in twisted wonderland had sworn herself to Artemis and became a hunter of Artemis, Reader is good at hunting, archery, fighting etc, she's also immortal and can only die in battle and oh yeah Reader had sworn to never make romantic relations with men as Artemis is goddess of virginity and had sworn off men herself and has all her hunters do the same since 'men are just distractions'.

If you're not currently taking requests you can just ignore this

Artemis Hunter Fem Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

In Greek mythology the goddess Artemis stood for the pure maiden, the respectful hunt with archery, and childbirth. Back in your world, you are the closest thing to a child for the goddess. A nymph devotee blessed with her power and foresight. Where you are now is considered the belly of the beast surrounded by men who want nothing more than to have you. So the battle for your chastity and independence vs their determination and power begins:

Idia Shroud

“Ah!”

“This is not a time to be crying Idia, you’re the one who challenged me!”

“To a battle match IN GAME! I can’t compete with you on a physical level!”

“Too bad!”

It’s truly a match of brawns and brains according to Idia

Him with his constantly evolving technology to chase away contenders 

And you with your physical aptitude to avoid and cleverness falter any obstacle he throws in your way

He falls in love through his screen

Witnessing your sweetness through Ortho 

And your heroics through cameras he’s placed around

Is it so bad he wants to drag the hero to the underworld

He can’t decide if he wants to drag you to depravity or to fuel your image of a hero

So he settles to one day trap you

Maybe then he’ll decide

Jamil Viper

“I’ve been warned about snakes such as you!”

“And what was said?”

“That you’re not nearly as much fun to hunt!”

He often finds himself feeling the need to antagonize you

To engage in a ‘hunt’ with you

It’s not a physical one 

More so mental

It’s an unspoken game between you two 

And he’s not willing to back down

But neither are you

He absolutely adores playing basketball with you

Seeing the sweet create a shiny sheen over your body

It makes him excited 

You’ll weirdly feel sympathy for him

Something about being bound against his will 

Cruelly reminds of the poor animals poached 

He comes to realize this 

And he plans to use this to win

Rook Hunt

“You’re skill is far better than mine.”

“Don’t fret I’ve been blessed by Artemis. I may not have magic but I do have my bow.”

“That you do...”

“So…would you like a head start?”

Of course there's only two things can happen when two hunters meet

hunt the same prey

Or Hunt one another

Since Artemis prides herself on hunting within reason and not persecuting the weak

You decide to do the latter 

After all from the beginning he’s decided to hunt for the one thing Artemis absolutely asks that you protect

So it’s only natural that there will be sparks whenever you to decide to release your arrows

While in archery you might outclass him 

it’s easy to forget

He’s familiar with the terrain, with the presence of magic

He’s got just enough to properly consider a threat 

But he’s so determined and so sneaky its a wonder if you’ll realize it in time 

He hopes not 

But at the same time he knows the hunt is about to conclude when the doe knows to run

So on second thought he hopes you do

[cregansdingdong]

ɢᴜᴀʀᴅᴇᴅ.

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Wife!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: he does get snappy for a second so very slight angst, his boo thang doesn't tolerate that so don't worry, period-typical misogyny, gets a tiny bit suggestive at the end but nothing crazy hes eating her coochie out off camera; lovers spat but he can't resist her this is so Honeymoon by lana del ray also love and war by Fleurie

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Aemond was not a man of many words. His wife knew that upon their marriage. She knew he had a fortress around his heart and his mind in order to better protect himself, and it wasn’t something she took complete offense to—there was no point in taking it personally; the walls would not come down because they took vows in front of the High Septon. Day by day, she would have to chip at him, speck by speck, brick by brick, until all that was left…well, she had yet to figure that part out. But still, she persevered. Their nuptials were built on a political agreement in the night—like everything else among the highborns—her father brutally negotiating his terms to bend the knee to King Aegon. She remembered what it felt like being stirred out of her sleep by her handmaiden, dressing in the dark to make an appearance for their princely guest. There had been little explanation at the moment, and even her sisters hadn’t a clue.

Until they saw him. One-eyed and formidable; standing there, the silver-haired Targaryen Prince didn’t need to do much to strike fear in the hearts of Borros Baratheon’s five daughters. Lined up like prized cattle, they waited for him to take his pick. She thought he’d pick Cassandra—the son they’d create together would most likely be the heir of the Stormlands. That was the smart choice. Instead, as she stared ahead humiliatingly, a gaze of amethyst locked onto the slope of her shoulder, trailing the silhouette of where her jaw met her neck. Her throat. It was predatory, almost, the way he inspected her. A viper choosing the most appetizing little mammal it could find. Then he approached her, somehow even taller than he seemed—he stood close enough that she could feel the heat of him emanating into her chilled skin, his even breath fanning lightly against her cheek. “This one.”

The words were so final. There was no arguing, no further negotiations to be made. He’d chosen her. That was all. A year passed, and it was a long one. His betrothed did her best to ignore the whispers of the men of her father’s court. One-eyed Kinslayer, they’d say, the youngest is his bride. He’ll come to claim her soon. The day did arrive when the Targaryen prince returned on dragonback to collect what he was entitled to. There had only been the bare warning of a raven just a day before, leaving her enough time to decide what she wanted to take to King’s Landing and send her trunks ahead. Vhagar arrived after dawn, her rider as stoic and unyielding as he’d been the last time they met. Saying goodbye to her sisters was difficult, but she managed, remembering the very firm prompt Lord Baratheon had given her about crying in front of the prince. And she didn’t, despite the indignation that came with being sold like a broodmare. Her entire life she’d known her birth would only be useful as a bridge between Houses—but being a bride of war felt shameful, vile, and held no pleasantries.

Meeting the dragon churned her stomach terribly. Other than a few of the quiet shushes in High Valyrian, Aemond hadn’t said much during the exchange. The ancient beasts hadn’t cared to eat her, thankfully. The first hurdle was over with. She rode on the back of Vhagar that morning—which was somehow more terrifying than it sounded…and a tad humiliating for how long it took her to actually climb to the mount. She’d expected him to rush her, to make a comment, but he remained silent and unusually patient. The journey itself felt longer than it was, her fists clenched around the hem of his doublet, but it was over soon enough. They’d married within the week, barely having said a word to each other. Every day after that was a power struggle. Aemond must’ve thought she’d be meek, or perhaps quiet, but he’d been either sorely mistaken or genuinely misled. But the deed was done, the marriage consummated thoroughly. He made his bed and he had to lie in it. Whatever the case was, their shared chambers—his idea—worked dually as a bedroom and a battlefield. While she was successful at times in penetrating his armor, the circumstances did not change even after half a year of marriage.

“What is wrong now?” She hummed, watching him stare down into the flames of the lit hearth, hands pensively behind his back. She knew his habits like they were imprinted in her skin. He only stood like that when something was bothering him. Her embroidery was paused in her lap as she waited. Aemond turned his head slightly, his eye flicking over to her. He said nothing for a few more moments, as if he was debating entertaining such a question at all. Sometimes he liked when she pushed at him. She wasn’t sure if this was that sort of evening. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, wife.” There wasn’t as much bite to his words as she expected there would be, but if he wanted to start, she would finish. “I would like to concern myself, thank you, lest you go blind staring into the fire before our anniversary. What has you in such a foul mood, husband?”  She puts her craft down on the table, staring at him impatiently. He stiffened at her words, and she knew then that she struck a nerve. It seems to work though. Aemond’s features harden, the slightest bit of the real him seeping through his endless stoicism. “Small Council.” Was all he said. She gets the gist of it. “I see. Would you like to share anything else?”

“No.”

Something about the blatant rejection thrilled her. She was no fool as to what probably happened—the King was drunk, angry, or plainly at odds with whatever it was that her husband and the rest were trying to suggest to him. She’d heard from the Dowager Queen they had begun talks of making a match for young Jahaera. Aemond was a hard man to read, but he wasn’t completely indecipherable. “I’m going to offer you my council then.” She doesn’t wait for him to respond, legs uncrossing upon her standing. He doesn’t move as she strides toward the fireplace, as unyielding as she’d been the moment she entered the sept and became his wife. “His Grace, the King, is courageous and inspiring. He’s a man of the finest breeding and a formidable, yet merciful, attentive ruler–”

“If you’re going to give council that I did not ask for, at least speak plainly.” He grumbles, irritation emitting from his poreless face. “In this room, it is only you and I, and neither of us wish to lie. I care not to hear compliments of my brother fall from the lips of my wife.” She considers her words for a few moments. “Alright. The King is a drunk who lives in his own world—but he is still the King, and that means the ideas of his advisors can be very easily dismissed by a mere word if he so wishes. Attempting to speak sense into him, or to convince him, will never work when he has such power.” 

“If you’re suggesting I play into his drunk delusions, I will not.” He scoffs, eye narrowed in reproach. She tries not to get angry right away. “That is not what I’m suggesting. Before you so rudely interrupted me, I was going to say that your best chance is convincing the second highest person in the realm. The Queen.”

“This is a matter between men. Helaena is just as much in her own deluded world as he is—worse, even. She is dreaming her life away. Speaking to her is not unlike catching a cloud, wife.” Aemond says, walls coming back up to ignore her again. His coldness returns in an instant. “Your council has proven useless as I knew it would be. You should return to your embroidery.” And now she was angry. “We’re the perfect pair then, aren’t we, my prince? You dismiss me as Aegon dismisses you.” Her words came out like a challenge, daring him perhaps to actually consider what it was she was trying to say. He reacts accordingly. A long, slender hand wraps itself around her arm in an inflexible grip, yanking her to him seemingly to remind her of their roles. It didn’t hurt. The words were gritted from between his teeth. “What did you say to me, wife?”

“You heard me. Your unwillingness to accept another perspective of how to get what you want will be your downfall. And to think I was almost about to offer to speak to Helaena on your behalf. Perhaps she is a cloud to you, husband, but she’s quite tangible if you treat her like a human being.” She huffs. Aemond pauses at that, in thought as his hand loosens ever so slightly. “I should bend you over my knee for speaking to me that way—you’re lucky I’m not in the mood for it. Talk to Helaena then. Tell her Aegon is behaving like a stubborn fool and convince her that the Lannisters are the strongest choice for Jahaera if she cannot produce another male heir—I’m not asking.” His gaze stared down into her face, imploring her to refuse and see what was going to happen.

“Is my husband demanding my help?” She grins, something absolutely infuriating to him. Help. He loathed that word. “You said it yourself. You’re not asking. My idea must truly be valuable to you—my bond with Helaena even more so. I thought it was a matter between men?” The taunt in her voice was exhaled against every nerve in his body urging him to act. To show her how maddening she was. To fuck the teasing out of her right there beside the fireplace. He was itching to have her do as he wished, and to do with her as he wanted. “You’re testing my patience.” He warns, something uncompromising burning behind his eyes. So different, and yet exactly the same. His wife leaned in closer, undeterred. “If you’re not willing to say please verbally, husband, you can do it another way. Or, of course, you can hurry along to the next council meeting if you’re so eager to be at Aegon’s mercy. What will it be?”

“Another way?” He murmured, eyes locked down at the juncture of her throat. “Hmm. It seems we’ve come to an understanding, wife. Lift your skirts.”

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[hxjikonn]

Could I request Vil, Rook, Kalim, Idia and Jamil with an s/o that speaks their (the boys') native language when flirting?

A/n: This idea is rlly cute but a small warning y’all, I do not speak German, French, or Arabic😭💀 I’m gonna be using apps, websites, and google translate to help me so if you speak any of these languages feel free to correct me, that would be VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! Also I’m sorry I had to cut this to 4 characters only ;-; I’ll try to add Idia’s one in a separate post if I have time!

(@/l1ttleclouds helped a lot with the french, @/hivequeenb33 for the corrections in german and @/sugary-bluebell for the corrections in Arabic tysm🥹♥︎)

——————————————————————————

Say that again…

☆Staring☆: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Kalim Al Asim, and Jamil Viper

Synopsis: Their reaction to GN!Reader flirting using their native language.

Warnings/Heads up: I do not speak any of these languages and am using translators, it might be cringe cuz I’m using phrases off google💀😭

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was stressed about a photoshoot, usually he loves them, the flashes of cameras, praises from the photographers, people crowding around him to make sure everything is perfect, and the clothes. But as of now he’s frustrated because of Neige Leblanche stealing his spotlight, people praising him just sounded like noise in Vil’s ears.

You watched him fumble around his vanity mirror, fixing his hair, retouching his eye shadow, “Can you believe it potato? I was the only one who’s supposed to have a photoshoot today, then he came, ugh suddenly everyone’s attention was on him…” he said the tone of bitterness lingers in his voice.

“My attention isn’t” you pouted, walking up behind him. He expression softens, this only happens with you, he picks up another make up brush but you stopped it with your hand, slowly putting it down “Put it down…” you said “I’m not done potato I need to look-“ “Liebling, Du siehst umwerfend aus” you interrupted him and kissed his cheek

He froze, blinking a couple of times and snapping his fingers making sure he was awake… “What did you say?” He looked back at you, spinning his chair to see you better, you giggled “I said you looked stunning” you were about to walk away but then he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back “No that wasn’t what you said…” he replied “It was!” You defended “Yeah but not that way…” he stood up in front of you “Say that again…” he stared down at you softly…anticipation bubbling in him…

“Liebling…” you started, “Du siehst umwerfend aus” You finished pecking his lips right after earning a smirk from him. He completely forgot that he was mad at something… “see? you don’t even need the blush” you teased pointing out the fluttering pink painted on his cheeks….he chuckled “oh is that so? Well…I think you need a little color on your lips…” he cupped your face as he bent down slightly to kiss you. “Vil! You’re up!” the photographer called out, Making him pull away as he rolled his eyes “Ugh…wrong timing” he half yelled

You laughed softly, “Go…” you motioned him to leave you for now, he smiled “Alright, hold on, let me just reapply my lipstick” he called out, still looking at you, your lips now tinted with the lipstick he put on earlier…you placed a featherlight kiss on the back of his hand as a form of an unspoken ‘good luck’ and he replies with a smile squeezing your hand before he lets go and walks to the photoshoot while applying lipstick.

Needless to say he did very well even if there was a photo where he and Neige had to be in one shot, when he sees you watching in the background, remembering what you said to him, he doesn’t even care anymore. He has all your attention, and he knows it.

Rook Hunt

It was sunset, and you two were still practicing, you couldn’t let yourself give up without hitting that red dot in the middle of the target…he readjusts you posture again…lifting you arms slightly, as he looks forward to see if the angle is right, while his hands rested on your waist…

No wonder you couldn’t hit the damn target…Rook is a very distracting teacher…he noticed that since you lost your aim again…he adjusted it back, tilting the bow upward a little with one hand…while his other hand still rests on you waist. “Mon amour, Concentre-toi…..” he whispered slightly teasing you of course, he knows what he’s doing.

“J'aimerais bien, mais tu es trop distrayant” you whispered back firing the arrow, he was caught off guard, staring off into the distance in shock, as your arrow hits the target he snaps out of his trance. “YES!” you cheered “I DID IT!! SEE???” You pointed happily to the arrow that pierced through the red dot on the target, excitement coursing through your veins.

“Mon ange….” He called out to you while slowly walking towards you “Did you just speak french or was I just too hypnotized by your beauty that I started hearing things?” He asked, you giggle and cupped his face… “Oui, je parlais français..” And kissed his nose, he felt like he was shot by cupid once again, Rook Hunt, was love-struck…

“Oh mon Dieu! I think I fell in love with you all over again” he said to you while also cradling your face in his hands…you swore you almost saw hearts in his eyes, he pulled you close to him as he leaned in to kiss you “AGHHH CAN YOU TWO KISS LATER I’M HUNGRY!!! Y/N PROMISED ME TUNA WHEN THEY FINALLY HIT A BULLSEYE” Grim shouted…

You both broke into a fit of laughter, “Awww poor kitty” you went to Grim and teased him scratching behind his ears “Stopppp!! I’m a powerful mage you know???? I can set you on fire!!” He said while swaying his paws back and forth to shoo you away “Monsieur Fuzzball is hangry, we should get him his promised tuna” Rook said while picking up the arrows on the grass and putting it back in his arrow quiver.

“Yes! Yes you should do that right now! Then you two can kiss for the rest of the day and I wont bother you, sound good?” Grim negotiated “Yes that would be quite pleasant Monsieur Fuzzball” Rook laughed as he grabbed you hand “We’ll go get it right away, won’t we Mon amour?” Rook said to you, you knew he was a little upset that he didn’t get to kiss you so you chuckled and nodded “yes.”

“GREAT! Now stop making googooly eyes at each other and lets go!” Grim shouted as he ran, thrilled by the tuna he has yet to receive. You two laughed and followed behind him, hand in hand.

Kalim Al Asim

You are fighting for your life right now…Kalim clinging on to your waist stopping you from walking out of Scarabia’s doors as he weighs you down while you drag your and his weight attempting to leave.

“Kalim I have to go” you said clutching on to the door frame “Why??? Scarabia is much more comfy than Ramshackle just stay with me” he whines, “Grim’s gonna go hungry, can you live with yourself if my cat dies of hunger??” You guilt tripped him, hoping he’d let you go.

“I’LL ASK JAMIL TO BRING GRIM HERE JUST PLEASE DONT LEEEEAVVEEE” He practically yells as he begs for you to stay “I’ll come back to tomorrow…” you got tired and plopped on to the floor as he further tightens his hold on your waist, burying his face on your lap, “I’ll go a whole night without you here, if you can sleep knowing that than do I even matter to you??” He dramatically says, muffled because he still has his face on your lap.

You sighed and ran your fingers through his hair… “ ‎أَنتَ تَعني الكَثير لي حبيبي (You mean so much to me, my love)” you softly whispered to him, he looked up at you, letting go of your waist and sitting up right to meet your eyes. You were smiling at his expression.

A pigmented flustered hue shyly shows up on his cheeks and his eyes were filled with a whole rollercoaster of emotions, you let out a small laugh and a pecked his lips to bring him back from the love struck void he was falling into

“Kalim? You there?” You asked chuckling while cupping his face with both your hands, “Marry me.” He blurted out without warning, you stiffen for awhile not expecting that, but you saw his eyes twinkling and you burst out laughing earning a pout from him.

“I’m sorry you just looked so cute أميري (my prince) ” you apologized, he felt like melting, He crawled his way back into your arms, nuzzling into your neck, he could feels like his heart could beat out of his chest at this point. “Now you really cant leave…not after you said all that.” He protested.

You sighed in defeat, “Okay…Alright…I’ll stay…” you said, playing with his hair again “Forever?” He asked “For the night, Kalim, I can’t move out of Ramshackle” you laughed “I will marry you one day yknow?” He said, “I know” you answered kissing the crown of his head. “أحبكِ (ily)” he says to you, “أنا احبك (ilyt)” you say back to him.

Jamil Viper

It was a normal day for you two, well to be honest a “normal day” is rare in NRC, with Jamil having to deal with his responsibilities to Kalim, and you being Crowly’s erand runner, you two rarely have time to see or spend time with each other.

Right now though is different, for once you two had somewhat of a day off, Kalim went back to his hometown to attend an event for the royal family, and Crowly surprisingly didn’t have anything for you today. It was nice…you two sitting in a couch, your back against his back and he has an arm on you shoulder

Both of you are each reading a book right now, it’s quiet, not much words are exchanged but it’s fine you two liked the peaceful silence for once. You’ve just finished yours and you plopped it down your lap with a contented sigh. “You finished it?” He chimes, not looking away from his book, “Yup! All done, you?” You stared up at him “Just 4 more chapters” he said focusing on his book, you just hummed in reply, not wanting to disturb him further.

You shifted you position and laid your head on his chest and he lets you get comfortable again, his other hand tracing circles on your back as you played with the ornaments near the ends of his braids. Your gaze slowly found it’s way back up to his face again, though he feels your stare, he doesn’t really mind but the corners of his lips lift a little.

You admiring you boyfriend and suddenly remembered that one phrase you asked Kalim to translate for you ‎“أَنتَ وَسيمٌ جِدّا حبيبي (you’re so handsome my love)” you mumbled, you were just trying to remember what Kalim said the translation was so you weren’t aware of speaking it outloud.

It hasn’t really registered in his head yet either, so he continues to read his book, “شكرا لك حبي” (thank you, my dear)” he replied simply…you blinked and realized you said it outloud, but you’re happy he heard it so you hummed back happily snuggling into his warmth, but when he heard you hum he finally caught up with what you said earlier

He slowly puts his book down as your words sink into his brain, you looked up at him again questioningly this time “You’re done already? I thought you said there was 4 more cha-“ “Love what did you say just now?” He abruptly cuts you off putting a hand on your cheek looking down at you “I was asking if you were done with your book?” You said confused, “No no before that…” he anticipated your answer…

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, you knew what he was talking about, you thought he fully heard you but his expression seem to say otherwise. You smiled up at him and kissed the palm of his hand that was cupping your cheek

“All I said was, ‎أَنتَ وَسيمٌ جِدّا حبيبي (you’re so handsome my love)” you repeated it to him “I thought you heard it cuz you said thank you after” you added giggling.

He huffed in amusement, “Well there goes my book…” he says while putting the book away “what do you mean? you can still read” you said to him, he smiled, pulling you closer to him with his other arm that rested on your waist “No I don’t think I can, you have all my attention now” he mumbled, a soft blush dusted his cheek, an effect from your compliment to him earlier “You’re blushing~” you teased poking his cheek, he chuckled and inched his face closer to you

“Yeah? You don’t say?” He asked sarcastically before kissing you breathless, once he pulled away you were the one blushing, he grins at the sight “there, now we’re even.” He teased as you hit his chest lightly and hide your face in the crook of his neck while he laughs at your expense, you two continued teasing each other for the rest of the day.

A/N: you know the drill: NOT PROOFREAD LMAO 💀 THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE ANON I KNOW THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG TO POST ;-;

Edit: WTH TYSM FOR 1K 🥹♥︎

[mizuki-herazaki]

TWST Boys walk in on you changing

Hey! it's been awhile! Here are the twisted Bois reacting to walking in on you changing, just for funs!

Riddle Rosehearts

Would get flustered and close the door as fast as he opened it,

Apologizes profusely during and afterwards

It's gonna take a while to calm him down, and please stop him from hitting his head.

(he would do it as punishment and hope he forgets what he saw)

Cater Diamond

Walks in happily until he opens his eyes and goes red.

His phone camera is pointed at him (thankfully) so the chat only sees him blushing in bewilderment.

He doesn't snap out of it until you yell his name and throw something telling him to get out.

He freaks out and gets more flustered, shouting an apology as he runs out.

Chat still questions what happened till this day (It's forbidden lore)

Deuce Spade

Baby was not prepared at all

Absolute fear (he's innocent guys)

He probably turns white and gets a nose bleed before passing out

when he wakes up he sincerely apologizes

(It's gonna be a bit until he can look you in the eyes again)

Trey clover

He's a gentleman like Riddle but more calm

will probably bow while apologizing before leaving and closing the door.

Will also slide in a sly compliment while at it

"That color contrasts nicely with your skin~"

Ace Trappola

The most unapologetic out of al of Heartslabyul.

Would blush a little at first but then make a sly smirk

"That's a nice choice of underwear there"

You have to throw a ton of stuff to get him out.

Leona Kingscholar

looks completely unfazed (is unfazed)

smirks and leans against the doorway

"don't stop please continue herbivore"

Trust me when I say this, he's not leaving until your done. (unless you want to wait for him to get tiered and fall asleep)

Ruggie Bucchi

It's like he doesn't even notice

Speaks to you like normal while scavenging the room for anything to take.

"Ruggie!" you shout. "What!?" he replies back looking at you.

"GET OUT!"

Once you kick him out and slam the door, Ruggie just stands there confused.

He genuinely doesn't see the problem.

Jack Howl

Scoffs in his fist while tilting his his head downwards and closing his eyes

A slight blush is dusting his cheeks

"I'm really sorry but perhaps lock the door next time"

With that he leaves and shuts the door calmly

Once the door is fully closed he goes to breath again (Yes he was holding his breath the whole time)

Jade Leech

Just gives the Jade stare

Will probably give an apology (a jade one) and bow

The he just walks out like that

P.S. he doesn't do this until you notice him (only god knows how long he stood there silently)

Azul Ashengrotto

Turns red as Riddle when angry

He gives that shocked faced when he clenches his teeth in game, before regaining composure and pushing up his glasses while closing his eyes.

"M-my sincerest apologies. f-for both our best interest I say we make a deal to never speak of this."

With that he leaves, speed walks away

He's definitely writing up a contract now.

Floyd Leech

Floyd just barges in, the door swinging wide open

Not much of a reaction just Floyd face

"Ayeee~ Shrimpy doesn't like clothes either~ I can strip too hehe~"

STOP HIM NOW!!!!

Kalim Al-Asim

Yuu have a 6th sense for the baby

When Yuu hear the click of the door knob turning, yuu dive into the bed and use the sheets to cover up.

Kalim walks in to see Yuu wrapped in sheets.

Kalim laughed with a big smile "HAHA!! You look like a burrito! Can I join looks comfy!"

Yuu scream "NO!" and Kalim looks shocked before giving a rejected puppy face.

Yuu explain to him to give you 10 minuets and then he can come back for a cuddle session.

He gives a big smile and a halo of light seems to form behind him.

He leaves closing the door with new motivation

Jamil Viper

He's a bully

He will stand there and make you uncomfortable, maybe even degrade you a bit

He'd just stand at the door frame arms crossed and straight faced.

Yuu see and feel his glare and it's kind of just a very awkward stare off until you ask him to leave, to which he responds---

"Why? It's not like I'm seeing much anyway" with a smirk.

A visible vein is seen at your forehead as yell at him to get out as you throw the hardest items close to you at him.

Vil Schoenheit

emotional damage x1000

This man will degrade the ugly out of Yuu

Yuu are now in the corner of the room with mushrooms growing on your head

Pure depression is seeping from you

Vil just walks in and starts going through the closet looking for something you could wear. All while still degrading the living daylights out of yuu of course.

Rook Hunt

Sooooo... He's not at the door frame

He is outside watching through the window as an arrow shoots past your head.

Startled you go to the arrow and there is a not attached that reads:

"Magnifique, Perfect 100 points! What a beautiful body!"

The note is signed with R.H. and a heart.

Yuu go red and equally speechless.

Epel Felmir

Accent slip :WAHHH!!! W-haduya...Ahh!"

Red as a cherry and slams the door, crouches down outside

"I'mma Sorry I didn't mean too!!!"

He is apologizing over and over again in his head.

Idia Shroud

Full metal panic

"b-b-bu ss-sor -I- S---o--rr--Icc"

Idia.exe has stopped working.

He stutter walks out backwards (Still stuttering)

And yuu slowly close the door on him.

Even when you finish changing and open the door, idia is still there a stuttering mess.

Once he notices Yuu standing in front of him he immediately turns tail and runs.

Malleus Draconia (Yuu are like in your underwear)

This is my Chance!

"Um Mal can you please um leave"

"But why? I love to see more of my child of man"

"Um it's a bit...awkward"

Mal starts to take of his top clothing as Yuu blush profusely "Don't take off anymore!!" Yuu shout

"No issue now let us just lay in bed with this"

You couldn't say no so you end up cuddling with Mal under the blanket, a blush dusting your face and heart beating.

Malleus is content for now.

Lilia Vanrouge

He appears from the ceiling

"Need any help?" he asks with a smile.

Yuu yell and fall to the ground startled and Lilia laughs before continuing "hmm~ well that was a reaction"

"How long have you been there?!" Yuu question

"...*fake contemplates* Don't know!" "GET OUT!" "Oh yes my apologies, I guess you would prefer privacy"

He walks out but as he does he says "Oh and nice underwear!" Before closing the door with a smile.

Silver

Is actually just sleep walking

He isn't awake or aware at first, but your yelp woke him up and he sees yuu.

It takes him like 10 solid seconds to process what's occurring and his ears go slightly red as he looks away

"I-i apologize I didn't mean to" He didn't mean to stutter as he bows and walks out of the room closing the door behind him.

He goes to Lilia for advice bad idea

Sebek Zigvolt

Bursts in about to yell something but stops in his tracks

His face goes red and he is bug eyed

"W-w-ha ARE YOU CRAZY!!!?"

He turns around facing the exit for a long time as he scolds you for being careless.

[poppy-metal]

haunted by beyonce is so creep au. i was about it because i love my little freaks and listening to that song. would making a spotify playlist for it be too far lol? little sneak peek...

he spends the rest of his time at college a near recluse. re-reading your old letters. he crumbles them in his hand and feels a need to punch or stab at something but every time he finds himself smoothing them out gently. he tries to channel his anger into other ways. tries not to let this fester in him and make him even worse but it's too late for him to decide. how is he meant to move on when he can't hear a bird chirp without all his thoughts turning to you? 

-☕

AURRRRRRRR

he graduates stanford. its all hazy. he went kind of comatose after your last letter. he sat in his room for days just..... staring at the ceiling. numb. he gets precariously close to failing all of his classes and only slightly comes out of it when he's confronted by patrick and his grandmother calls him worrying about him. he manages to pull himself enough together to push through his last semester. worst of all - he stops playing tennis for awhile. anything that used to make him happy just pisses him off. he moves states with patrick when he offers because the thought of being alone is too daunting. he doesn't trust himself.

patrick and art buy an apartment together - patrick goes pro - art...... stays home. the reality of your absence hits him months later and he comes out of his numb state of shock and its bad. he's self destructive and meaner and he cries more often than he ever used to. he burns half your letters - almost burns the apartment down doing it - but stops halfway through and saves the last remaining ones. he rereads them religiously. he wonders how all of it could be fake. he wonders why he didn't just throw them away when they first started coming. why did he have to engage? he thinks the worst of himself - what kind of pathetic deranged freak he must be to have found these words appealing? to be touched? to fall for someone he doesn't even know? patrick worries about him. they fight alot. patrick isn't used to this kind of art. this miserable, sad, snappish art. he tries to get him back into tennis - but everytime art holds a racket he feels sick. he remembers how much you wrote about it - his tennis. how beautiful you thought he was when he played. how you'd always been watching him. he thinks about you seeing him on TV and not even recognizing him because of how little he meant to you.

he tells patrick he's taking a hiatus from tennis thats all. the media goes crazy about it. but he deactivates all of his accounts.

its been a few years now and people are getting antsy. they want art donaldson back. patrick is niggling him again. he says art looks alot better than he did before. that it'd be good for him. art doesn't know what he wants. being famous again doesn't feel as thrilling as it used to. he wants to be normal again, though. he's gotten good at pretending, at least. he has a job at his local bookstore and he can smile at people and he's having sex and he goes out with patrick sometimes. there's no reason he shouldn't be back out there.

but he's not okay. he's a viper wrapped in the body of a man. he's filled with poison and he wants to inject it into the world around him every day. he still writes to you - he texts your old number - senseless things. the rambles of a mad man. he wants you to turn on the TV and see him step out onto a court as art donaldson again and he wants you to feel him through the screen. he wants you to be watching when he wins and he wants you watching when an interviewer asks him what its like to be back so he can look at the camera and pretend its your eyes he's meeting through the screen when he says, "I've never felt more motivated."

"and what's motivating you, mr. donaldson?"

a smile. "reconnecting with an old friend."

the good thing about being back into tennis, art has found - is the money. money he can use to find you. money he already plans on using to find you.

[blradley]

A powerpoint introduction to Liesmyth!

(I swear the next one will actually be in Comic Sans... shout out to @incandescent-creativity for popularizing this medium!)

Anyway...

Do you wanna read a dark, Norse-inspired Adult Fantasy?

Do you wanna read about queer gods causing mayhem?

(literally every single character is queer lmaooooo)

Do you wanna support a queer, multiply disabled author?

Look no further than Liesmyth! We're out on subs at the moment - so, pretty-please reblog this powerpoint if you like the concept! Let's prove to all those prospective publishers that there's an audience for my book!

Image IDs:

All eleven images are power point slides.

Image 1: Title card reading 'Liesmyth: or, how Sigyn ruined everything, by B. L. Radley'. The words are displayed over a person in (...vaguely) Viking-era garb, against a green background. Only a slice of their torso is visible.

Image 2: A picture of an ash tree against a green, cool, mountainous scene. In a yellow text box, words read: Welcome to a world inspired by Norse mythology, where witches can climb through the cosmos using the boughs of an ancient ash tree, and any magic is possible, so long as it is cast with a suitable sacrifice. Yes, it’s basically a Viking Isekai. Shoot me. Then, a quote in italics: I know an ash tree named Yggdrasil, Nine realms cradled in its loamy arms… Prophecy of the Voluspa, verse 19

Image 3: Meet the characters! An image shows a white woman in Viking-era dress, leaning against a fence, looking pensieve. She is introduced as Sigyn Narisdottir. Her quote is: “It’s a God-eat-God world out there…” Below this, there is a description of Sigyn, reading: Just a nice, normal Christian woman from a nice, normal Christian village. (Totally not a gay witch, haha no, why would you suggest such a thing.) After her father is killed by his own God, Þórr, Sigyn has only one chance to free his trapped ghost from eternal torment. She must confront Þórr and slay him in combat. But how can a mortal defeat a God? Traits are bullet pointed at the bottom of the page. Hers are: Ruthless, ambitious, cunning, and desperate.

Image 4: The next character description is of Loki. His quote is “Monsters lost their menace when they huddled crying in the corner. And when you might use them for your own ends.” His image shows a clean-shaven half-naked man sat against a scandinavian-esque backdrop of rugged rocks and dried grass. He is white, with curly red hair, and is looking curiously off to one side. His description reads: The savior of the Gods, or their bane? A framed innocent, or a prophesized murderer? A victim, or a monster? Loki is a man of juxtaposed polarities, not least of which being that he isn’t a man at all. At least, not when it doesn’t suit him. Sigyn knows he’s dangerous. But in the viper nest of Ásgarð’s royal court, he might be her only ally… or her downfall. His traits are: Sly, wily, and 'not to be trusted'.

Image 5: The two characters introduced on this slide are Freyja and Thor. Freyja's image is of an Arab woman staring directly at the camera, expression serene, curly hair falling around her face. Her quote is: “Goddess of beauty. Goddess of desire. All who saw Freyja fell a little in love—but though silken longing stirred in my belly, I wrung it dead, reminding myself that Freyja was a goddess of bloodshed, too.” Her description reads: Queen of the Vanir, Freyja is an ancient and powerful goddess who takes Sigyn as her indentured servant. Her traits are: Proud, cold, and vicious. On the opposite side of the page, Thor's image shows a white, bearded man in an iron helmet glaring into the camera, viking sigils scrawled across his face in charcoal. He is shadowy and menacing. His quote is: “I saw a rainbow flash over a church. I saw a broken sky. I saw the end of everything.” His description is: Eldest prince of the Æsir. Murderer of Sigyn’s father, and countless more beside. The living embodiment of berserker rage, he is the strongest god around – and next to inherit Ásgarð’s throne. Unless Sigyn can stop him. His traits are: Violent, mighty, and 'a storm made flesh'

Image 6: introduces Angrboda and Baldr. Angrboda's image shows a white woman with blonde braids, wearing chain mail and warpaint (black streaks over her face), with a huge axe over one shoulder. Her quote is: “ ‘Sigyn, meet Angrboða: witch of the Ironwoods, god of a lost nation, relic of an elder age, master of magics that not even my darling brother dares dabble in, cosmopolitan worldwalker, mother and father of my children, and—if I might say so—a practitioner of truly superlative strap-game.’ ” Baldr's image is of Assad Zaman, looking wistfully, beautifully, into the camera. His quote is: “Out strode the most beautiful man in all the Nine Worlds. His gentle smile, his topaz eyes, his black curls, the fawn velvet of his cheeks… Oh, warmth radiated from him. I looked at him and felt, for the first time in oh-so-very-long, safe.”

Image 7: introduces Saga and Menglod. Saga's image shows a Black woman in darkness, with facial tattoos and a nose ring. She raises her eyes to the camera, pulling back a dark hood, her expression difficult to read. Her quote is: “In another version of this tale, I stayed with Sága. We travelled to Ljósálfheim every winter—one for every six of Vanaheim’s years—and raised foundlings as our own (for ever were the elvish freer with their loves than those of my world). But in this tale, we reached Freyja’s palace, and I had a dream.” Her description is: Prophet, witch, worldwalker. The woman Sigyn left behind. Menglod's image shows a Black woman smiling slightly, slyly, as she looks back over her shoulder, her natural hair framing her face. Her quote is: “If I tended the hearth in Freyja’s chamber, I left ash on her floors. If I swept the ash, I left streaks invisible to any eyes but Menglǫð’s. If I breathed, I did so far too loudly and regularly, and if I were a considerate soul, I would stop.” Her description is: Freyja’s attendant, and Sigyn’s main rival for her favor.

Image 8: So, like, wtf happens? Set against a background of dramatic red-on-black fire is a description of the book's plot, as follows: Crumbling kingdoms. Hungering Gods. One woman who will end the worlds. Loki, Norse god of fire and mischief, will be tortured until the end of time. And he shall deserve every minute. At least, that’s how the story goes. Behind every great man is a great woman, and behind every genderfluid trickster-god is a spouse who darns his socks, plots his victories and keeps his secrets, as well as her own. After a thousand years of agony, Loki looks to the woman who kneels by his side – his jailer, his torturer, his wife – and asks for a different story. Hers.

Image 9: a continuation of the plot from the previous slide, this time with a cool blue lake as the background, with a viking-style ship floating atop its surface. The image feels less calming, more unnerving in its stillness and the lack of human life. The description reads as follows: Down with the gods. So swore Sigyn, a young mortal woman, after watching her father die at godly hands. One millennium later, she has joined the same pantheon she once despised. Now, as Ragnarǫk approaches – the end of all Nine Worlds – Sigyn narrates the tale of the Norse Gods’ fall, and her own.

Image 10: Themes. A picture of two crossed axes accompanies a list of themes, which are: 1) Revenge. What is a life worth? And what would you give up, to avenge the life of someone you love? 2) Corruption. Can you ever fix a broken system from the inside? Or will it, inevitably, consume you? and 3) Divinity. What does it mean, to become a god? What might you lose along the way?

Image 11: A picture of Loki as a woman, with red hair, dressed in a Viking-style dress and sat on the edge of a Scandinavian dock, accompanies text that reads: This book is for you if you like... Queer-led, queer-written fantasy, with main wlw and nonbinary characters! Court drama and political intrigue, mixed with a sizzling dash of mythology! A prophecy that cannot be averted; a tragedy that cannot be outrun…

[aphelio-mara]

omega earth legion fandom but it's people making real "masked men >>>>" posts and it's just a blurry ass image of cypher doing a peace sign

omen and kay/o being the subjects of thousands of "hear me outs" and every time there's a comment that goes off about how it's wrong (no one gives a fuck)

people calling out anyone who's a dedicated brimstone or breach fan someone with daddy issues while viper and reyna have the same font of fans as rhea ripley

clove, iso, and gekko being called the new gen fruity trio while og fans argue with them because it's obviously still jett, yoru, and phoenix (the poly allegations will never leave them)

and speaking of gekko, he gets the digital footprint treatment because i know damn well that guy has posted about himself since he was 13 (he definitely had vine)

videos of fade and neon being the (un)golden children of the leegion pr team because they just say whatever in front of the camera

[wisteriaiswriting]

Viper,deadlock, and killjoy comforting S/O after they wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare of them dying

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊/𝕆 𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝔸 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕖

Words: 665

She isn’t even in the room when you wake up, but has a camera set up in case anything happens when she's gone.

Is quick to rush over when she actually notices you aren’t in the best state.

Definitely isn’t the best at comforting you but she really tries her best.

If you don’t want to leave her, she’ll let you hang around her in the lab for the night.

Won’t let you leave until the morning, spending the rest of the day with you. Work be damned, you need her.

***

Sabine had been working on this project for weeks, so absorbed in the work so much she almost missed the blinking of the camera on her desk. Almost. But tonight you had spent the night in her room and she didn’t want anything to happen, so she pulled her head away from the scattered objects to glance at the screen.

Only to find you sitting up mixed in the sheets, pillows had been thrown off and onto the floor. A slight sheen of sweat was barely visible but she didn’t need anything else before rushing off, missing the small, hushed ‘Sabine’ that escaped from your lips.

The door sliding open caused your head to snap up, finding your partner standing in the doorway, panting as she quickly stepped closer. Scrambling to move the sheets before launching yourself into her arms, which wrapped around you tightly, as if you’d disappear if she didn’t.

“You’re… alive.”

“Always have been, and I won’t go, for you.”

Feeling your erratic breathing calm slightly, tucking your face into the crook of her neck. Her work could wait, you needed her now.

Has dealt with her fair share of nightmares, and still does but they have died down a little.

So she’s quick to wake up and notice you already up.

Will make her presence known, making sure you are aware that she’s here and alive.

There will be a constant stream of words of affirmation and physical touch.

Next morning she’ll go tell Brimstone about it and ask for a few missions off.

***

Iselin had just returned back to bed after another nightmare, this one forcing her out of the room and into the training room for a few hours. Now she has finally returned, but instead of you still being dead asleep you were leaning into your own hands. Shaky breath, a slight layer of sweat built up and you were cradling one of her jackets.

“Oh, S/O…”

Her voice caught your attention, snapping your neck up towards her. You didn’t have to get up, she reclaimed her spot on the bed, gently pulling you closer into her grasp. Not daring to try take her jacket, she clearly didn’t need it.

Until you fell back asleep with her next to you, her jacket tightly held against your chest. She spoke about anything that came to mind, making sure you actually noticed she was here.

She’s already awake when you eventually wake up.

Noticed the signs of a nightmare much earlier so she returned to bed, sitting right next to you.

You’ll wake with her hands laying on your own.

Will show you her current vital signs to calm you down.

If you want to carry something of hers around just ask, especially after the night she’ll let you.

***

Way before you woke up Klara had noticed the signs of a nightmare, so she paused her tinkering to return to bed. Sitting right next to you while silently on her device, looking over every so often until you woke. Hands landing on her thighs as you curled closer, placing her own on yours.

“Don’t worry Liebeskäfer, I’m here.”

“But… You died…”

Your voice was only a hoarse whisper, but now she knew what happened. Taping for a few seconds before turning the screen to you, it was showing all her current vitals. Everything showing that she was alive and healthy right next to you.

“I won’t leave you.”

***

Liebeskäfer - Love bug

[valorant-drabbles]

Valorant Agents on Their Day Off

Brimstone implements a mandatory day off for each agent. No work is to be done on that day, and agents are encouraged to take advantage of this.

See below the cut for all agents

Brimstone: Despite the fact this was his idea, he’s one of the most reluctant agents to actually take his day off. There’s always too much to keep track of- missions, agent shenanigans… He’s only going to take his day off if he’s sure nothing bad will happen, and leave the Protocol in the capable hands of Viper and Sage.

Breach: Man is absolutely pumped to find out it’s his day off tomorrow. You bet he’s gonna drink the night away, knowing there’ll be no repercussions in the morning!… well, aside from a hangover. But he’s going to be noisy as hell all night, so other agents are encouraged to wear earplugs if they plan on getting sleep the night before his day off.

Astra: Oh you KNOW she is making plans the second she finds out when her day off is. She might even encourage Neon or Raze to ditch their training that day to go out with her for a few hours, assuming they aren’t being sent out on a mission. Near the end of her day off, she’ll dedicate some time to meditating and treating herself to some desserts from the VP’s kitchen.

Jett: She’s the first to be given her day off. As a result, she probably gloats to Phoenix and Yoru about her upcoming day off, claiming that she ‘earned it’ with her badass moves in the field, thinking she got it for impressing Brim. She’s quickly humbled upon finding out she isn’t the only one. Regardless, she’ll still probably spend the day with Phoenix when he’s not busy, watching movies, binge watching shows, and even brainstorming some future pranks to pull.

Chamber: The marksman is one of the more difficult agents to convince to take a break. He’s dedicated to working on his guns any free time he’s given- but at what point is he just continuously working? Brimstone ordered Chamber to take his day off, and forbid him from entering his workshop for any reason that day. He tried not to act too bothered by it, but Chamber was rather fidgety without occupying his mind with his guns. So instead, he opts to do research on how to improve his guns, and spend the time during meals watching soap operas. What? He loves the dramatics.

Gekko: He’s hyped, man. He calls up his mom to let her know he’s gonna drop by, and spend the day with his little buddies. Spend a few hours with his mom, helping out around the house like the good son he is- then walking the neighbourhood, getting boba… and trying to keep his creatures out of trouble. He just goes with the flow of the day, skateboarding around and letting the world decide what he does. And today? He’s getting ramen.

Omen: He’s… hesitant to take a day off. Not because he’s worried about being needed during a mission per se… but more-so because he doesn’t know what to do with himself. There’s only so much knitting he can do in a single day… and that’s bound to get boring at some point. Neon suggests he tries some other crafts or hobbies on his day off, so he dons a disguise, and visits a craft store. He buys more yarn, and picks up a few new crafts to do. Some diamond paintings, a sticker book or two… though he takes a liking to photography, with disposable cameras.

Viper: Another case of ‘workaholic doesn’t want to take a break’. The only way she’s taking a break is if Brimstone orders her to, otherwise she’s not taking it by herself. Similarly to Chamber, she’s banned from her lab for the day… so she decides to go visit a reptile sanctuary. She spends the day observing the different scaled creatures, taking notes and even sketching a few out if they inspire ideas for potential weapons. She’s of course drawn in by the snakes, and spends the most time watching them in fascination. She’ll end the day by ordering in something for herself and watching a documentary or two.

Reyna: She laughs when she’s told to take a day off- only to realize… Brim was being serious. It would take her awhile to figure out what to do that whole day… but after asking for advice from Sage and Skye, Reyna is convinced to try going to a spa. It’s a very different experience for her, but she does her best to actually relax and be pampered. It’s not something she would try again unless she had company… but she can’t deny how rejuvenated she felt afterwords. Reyna and Sage make plans to take a spa day together at some point in the near future.

Sage: Being the self-case wizard she is, Sage is probably the most normal about taking a break. She tends to her small garden during the day, treats herself to a nice bath… diffuser for oils, relaxing music- the whole nine yards. She’s almost entirely non-contact, with the only difference being Skye, who would bring her tea every so often or ask for quick advice on how to treat a certain injury. The next day, Sage is glowing with energy and extra cheerful.

Yoru: He’s immediately leaving the base the second he can. Grabs his motorcycle, and drives out to the highway- doesn’t turn back. He’ll never admit it, but the poor guy is pretty homesick. He misses the cherry blossoms of Tokyo. The hustle and bustle of the city… the authentic food. He doesn’t have time to go home, so he does the next best thing. Yoru rides into the nearest city, and has a night on the town. People watching, trying different hole-in-the-wall food places, maybe some random shopping? If he’s in a particularly good mood and sees something in a shop window that reminds him of an agent from the protocol… he’ll buy it and keep it stashed in his room as a birthday present for them. He’ll say it was just some junk he found laying around his room… best not question him too much on it.

Phoenix: This guy is getting into all kinds of mischief. Nothing illegal, of course… but he’s definitely hitting up a night club or two, talking to girls (and boys, let’s be honest). He’d find a clique of cool people to hang with, and spend the night riding around town with them. By the end of the evening, he’d probably have made good friends with his new posse, and most likely hangs out with them when he can outside of work hours on weekends. He most definitely gets a little too drunk and does some mild trespassing and messy parkour… and also ends up being everyone’s collective cigarette lighter. But a cigarette lighter everyone loves. Life of the party.

Killjoy: Tell her to stay out of her lab, and you have a German storm coming. She’ll argue as best she can, but she can’t do much to sway Brimstone. Since she can’t actively work on her tech, she grabs a notebook and sketches out some designs for new projects for the future… upgrades to current utility, anything. She has too many ideas and can’t be left to sit alone with them. By the evening, she’s gonna be pretty burnt out and have a sore wrist from all that writing… so she might invite Raze to grab dinner with her. The two will discuss potential upgrades for their current projects before Killjoy inevitably falls asleep. She’ll wake up in her bed, not knowing how she got there… and probably forget her day off even happened.

Raze: She’s similar to Phoenix in the sense that she wants to go out and do something fun. She’ll pack some spray paint and go out to find a place to tag or do art on; usually old, abandon buildings… since she’d gotten an earful from Viper the day she got caught tagging a building in the city and had to get bailed out by the Protocol. Turns out graffiti is illegal! Who knew? Raze didn’t! But she’s careful now, and really enjoys expressing herself freely. Might buy herself a large canvas so she can spray paint some stuff back at HQ. Just as long as she doesn’t make a mess.

Sova: The most difficult bastard to convince to take a break, good god. It would take a solid hour of arguing for him to finally concede defeat and agree to the break; ONLY under the conditions that Brimstone will promise to call him to action if they need him. Thankfully it doesn’t come to that, but Sova still spends the day prepared to be sent to a site at any second. He’s not the best at relaxing, and hasn’t done it in years. Still, he’ll make an effort. He calls his babushka, and talk to her for hours if he can. He’ll sit in his bed and journal, or go out hunting in the evening.

Neon: It was probably her idea to give the agents a day off. Though since her powers can be a tad unstable at times, it’s unlikely the protocol will want her leaving the HQ on her own. Not that she minds. She’s most likely spending the day hanging out with Phoenix and Jett when they aren’t busy training, or binge watching some shows she’d been meaning to catch up on. Might join Raze in whatever shenanigans she’s gotten herself into. Might also bother Sage a little bit during the day if she’s bored and wants ideas.

KAY/O: Day off? Does a robot need a day off? It’ll take some time to explain what a day off is to him, and why he needs to take one… Despite the fact he doesn’t have the need to rest as humans do. But he appreciates that he’s being treated like all the other agents, even if he doesn’t require the day off. Brimstone is probably more lenient with KAY/O, letting him be in the labs if he wants to upgrade something of his. As long as it isn’t under his ‘work’ protocol, KAY/O can do pretty much everything he usually does. He decides to take a stab at cooking for the other agents- and even though you’d expect him to pull it off (since recipes are just… instructions for food)… it ends up being inedible, and he makes quite the mess. Jett definitely has a bit of a hissy fit over it, and demands KAY/O clean the mess he’d made. He feels very bad. But you can’t blame a robot for trying something new!

Deadlock: She. Doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’d be one of the few agents who actually tries to get away with working while on her sanctioned day off, but is quickly foiled by Brimstone when he orders Killjoy to deactivate Deadlock’s arm from being able to use her utility. Deadlock is NOT happy about this, and will most definitely hold a grudge. She’ll be in the shooting range most of the day, and will threaten to break anybody who tries to stop her. Her form of relaxing is training. If she is forbidden from training as well, she’ll most likely just lay in bed all day being bitter.

Harbor: He’s not gonna turn down a free day off, that’s for sure. He’s going to make the most of it. Harbor goes down to the beach and spends the whole day there. Maybe he’ll try some local food shops, maybe he’ll play some volleyball… swimming, diving, watching the sunset, listening to the waves… he’s very laid back with whatever he does. Honestly, he’s most likely trying to get himself more in tune with the ocean, observing the waves and the creatures within. Or maybe he just wants to be a beach bum for a day, who knows. One this is certain though: everyone is jealous that Harbor doesn’t burn in the sun. Lucky bastard.

Iso: He’ll shrug and agree. He’s not one to cause a fuss over this kind of thing. Iso will spend most of the day looking into some new music, putting together playlists… he might do some obstacle courses in the training yard for fun, perhaps do a few laps around the field. It might look like training, but Iso is actually just doing it for himself. He likes to keep active, and make sure his agility is in check.

Fade: Oh god. She isn’t happy. Training and missions are one of the few things that keep her mind off the chaotic nightmares she has to deal with. Her prowlers get stir crazy if they aren’t allowed to be let out, so Brimstone promises to let them take out a few bots to satiate their bloodlust while Fade tries to actually relax. She’ll most likely blast music in her room to drown out any unwanted thoughts… and maybe do some online shopping for things she’s been meaning to order. Some new makeup, some hair dye (for herself and for Gekko). Might have a few drinks on her own in an attempt to loosen up at night… and will inevitably forget to drink enough water before bed, so she’ll be extra hungover.

Skye: The second she leaves the HQ, she’s completely off the grid. Nobody is able to contact her, even if they needed to, because she left all her tech at the base. She spends the whole day in the forest, meditating, being one with the nature around her, strengthening her bond with the creatures and life around. She’ll let her trailblazer out to run around, maybe play some hide and seek with it. She’ll climb trees, skip stones… you name it. Skye is making the most of her day off, and enjoying every second of it, living in the moment. She’ll always miss the fresh forest scents when she leaves to return to the protocol. Maybe she’ll bring back a succulent to her room so she can take care of it.

Cypher: It’s not that he doesn’t want to have a day off… In fact, he probably needs the break more than anyone. Though it’s difficult for him to be able to fully relax when he knows that at any moment, the protocol’s personal information, top secret plans, and more could swiftly be in the hands of their enemies if he isn’t careful. The only way he’s gonna accept his day off is if Brimstone allows him to keep his laptop, so he’ll be alerted if there’s any privacy threats the second they happen, and will be able to deal with them immediately. Thankfully, nothing happens the day he takes his breath. So the Moroccan spends the day in his room, mask off, drinking his very expensive tea, and reading a mystery book series he’d been meaning to get into for awhile. And of course, his door is locked so none of the younger agents can barge in and complain that a certain website is blocked… he has to protect whatever innocence they have left.

[ahummingbirdwitch]

Desperate Measures (Cypher x F!Reader)

Summary: On a mission with Cypher, an encounter with a strange plant threatens to get you both into trouble. (In short: Cypher sex pollen fic)

Pairing: Cypher x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5,944

Warnings: sex pollen, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, unsafe sex, creampie

Notes: Reader is technically the same one from my “Fantasize” series, but you can still enjoy this one without having read those!

“You two, stick together,” Viper ordered, addressing you and Cypher. “Hang back and scout for traps. Phoenix and I will go on ahead.”

“Understood,” Cypher replied before exchanging a glance with you. You gave him a quick little smile, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Report your findings,” Viper added, then turned promptly and headed down the hall, Phoenix at her side.

Once they were out of sight, you turned to Cypher. “I wonder why she didn’t split us up,” you said.

“You’re still pretty new,” he conceded. “Viper doesn’t tolerate failure. It seems she’d prefer you partnered with someone.”

“Partnered, huh?” You giggled. “You think she knows about us?”

Cypher blushed, grateful you couldn’t see under his mask. “She definitely doesn’t,” he answered. “If she did, she would never leave us alone together.”

It had been a couple weeks since the night you’d both confessed to one another; the night that had changed everything. He’d finally let you into his heart, become one with you physically, and the two of you had tentatively agreed to a relationship. It was a relationship not yet fully defined, but a relationship nonetheless. 

He wasn’t quite dating you—not exactly—but you’d been talking about it with him. If not for the constant missions and training, you two would have had more in-depth discussions on the subject. Such was the life of an agent; always needing more time.

Cypher wished he had more time for everything.

He had visited you privately twice since that night, and both times, he had given into his desires. Of course he wanted to talk, figure out what all of this meant for the both of you—what it meant for him—but once you batted those pretty eyelashes and put your soft hands on him, all he wanted to do was take you. And even after he did, it was never enough.

He’d never been like this. Sure, he’d been a teenager once, with a dirty mind and crushes on cute girls, but he was well into his thirties now, and so much had happened in his life, he hadn’t thought he even had it left in him. It’d been so long since he’d been physical with anyone; once he’d gotten that first taste of you, he hadn’t been able to get it off his mind. It kept him awake late at night, stroking his aching cock to thoughts of your sweet moans, your flushed skin and body wrapped around him. He wasn’t used to this. It was flustering. It was consuming.

But right now, it was okay. You didn’t seem unhappy; in fact, you seemed lighter than air most days. And, strange and new as this all was, he had been feeling that way, too. For the first time in years, he felt almost… excited about working, about missions. Before he’d told you his feelings, he’d been afraid it would make everything worse. But it seemed it had actually made everything better, even if it was just a little bit.

There was so much more you both still needed to figure out, but there was time. And as long as you two focused on your work, you’d be fine.

Cypher led the way down the dark hall, scanning the walls for cameras. “None out here,” he noted, keeping his voice low. There weren’t supposed to be any enemy operatives here, at least not on this level, but he could never be too safe. “Stay close.”

You nodded, keeping to his heels. “Do you think they’ll find any Radianite?” you asked quietly.

“They should,” he said. “If they find any, they’ll let us know.”

Once the first half of the hallway was thoroughly searched, the two of you ventured further. You stopped all of a sudden, pointing out one of the rooms. “Hold on, it’s a lab,” you said.

“A lab?” Cypher approached the door, which read: LAB A2. He peered through the hole at the top, finding it pitch-black inside. He checked his sensors. “No Radianite. No traps, either, it seems.”

You turned away, noting the other doors all down the hallway. “Looks like they’re all labs,” you murmured.

Cypher followed your gaze. Shining a light, he realized you were right; every door was marked with a different letter and number each: A1, A3, A4, A5. “This is supposed to be a research facility, but they didn’t say what kind it was,” he remarked. “They were researching something here, no doubt.”

“Why didn’t they tell us?” you asked, brows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “But stay close to me. There could be anything in these labs.” A bomb. An alarm. A radivore.

He’d done research before the mission, looking into the facility, but much of it had been fruitless. This particular location had been designated a dead zone for some time now, until out of the blue, Radianite had been located in the lower levels of the facility. The mission had been last minute, with very little information given prior to the dispatch. Unusual.

If the retrieval had not been assigned by the people of Valorant themselves, he would have most certainly thought of it as a trap.

“Wait,” you said abruptly. “Do you… smell that?”

Cypher sniffed. Now that you’d mentioned it, there was a peculiar scent coming from nearby. Faint, but sharp, almost like an exotic flower. “Yes.”

“Is it poison?” you asked, voice hushed.

“No.” Cypher moved closer to the origin of the scent—the A5 lab. “I don’t think it is, but we must check. It could still be some kind of security measure for the facility.”

You nodded and followed.

As he approached the door, he noticed it had been left open ever so slightly. “Wait here,” he instructed. “Something’s not right. I’m going to look inside.”

“Are you sure?” You gave him a concerned look.

“Yes,” he assured you. “I’ll be fine. Just wait here, and don’t check the other rooms.”

“Okay,” you responded.

Gun in hand, Cypher slipped through the crack in the door, shining a light inside the dark room. It was indeed a lab, but not a deserted one; the equipment looked fresh and new, meticulously arranged alongside books and what looked to be small specimens inside jars.

He strained his eyes. What were those things? They were too tiny to be radivores, weren’t they? Even Gekko’s companions weren’t small enough to squeeze into those jars.

He moved the light slowly to the left, spotting the shape of something atop a table. It took him a second to register what it was.

A… plant?

A rather large one, too, like an overgrown venus flytrap, seated inside a pot that was unenclosed. Just as he prepared to take a step closer, determined to identify it, the plant reacted before he could. It opened its “mouth,” angling itself towards him, then released a burst of particles from its maw.

Cypher threw one arm over his face, letting out a stunned yelp as he fell back. A chair tipped over as he did so, and a moment later, he heard your hurried footsteps across the floor as you entered the room.

He turned to see you standing there, and his heart dropped. “Cover your mouth! Now!”

You covered your mouth, coughing as the pollen surrounded you in a cloud, then dissipated. “Shit,” you muttered. “What happened?”

Cypher didn’t answer, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you out of the room before shutting the door behind him. Out in the hall, he let out a cough, testing his lungs. The smell of the plant was overpowering around him, but there was nothing wrong with him; as far as he could tell, he hadn’t ingested anything. His mask’s defensive features had done their job after all.

He was quick to turn his attention back to you. “Are you okay? Did you breathe in any of that?”

You coughed again, hitting your chest. “I-I think so,” you said, rubbing your eye with one hand. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I just—I thought something had gotten you—”

“There was something,” he said. “A—a plant of some kind, but—but that doesn’t matter. Can you breathe? How do you feel?”

“I…” You went silent for a heartbeat, feeling yourself all over. You took in a deep breath, then released it. “I—I can breathe okay. I feel… I feel kind of—of warm…”

“Warm?” he echoed. That couldn’t be a good sign. If the plant was indeed there for security, no doubt it was meant to infect intruders, but perhaps the effects didn’t take place immediately. Perhaps the symptoms revealed themselves slowly, taking the form of some kind of fever as the infection spread.

He touched your forehead. Oh no—you were warm. Warmer than you were supposed to be.

You blinked, suddenly looking unsteady on your feet. Eyes unfocused, you reached out to him, putting your hands on his chest just as you started to fall. Cypher caught you, holding you upright. You looked up at him, your face much more flushed than before.

“Cypher,” you breathed.

Your tone of voice caught him off guard. Strangely, you didn’t sound like you were in any kind of pain. You sounded desperate, but… not in the way he’d been expecting. Maybe he was just imagining it, but it was unusually close to that voice you used when you needed him.

Needed him like that.

You leaned closer to him all of a sudden, lips parting as you gazed up at him. You ran your hands up the front of his coat, grasping at it. “Cypher,” you uttered, nearly moaning, “I-I need you. Right now.”

Cypher went stiff as a board. Oh shit. Maybe he hadn’t been imagining it. “W-What? What is it?”

“Please, I—” You pressed your body into him, rubbing yourself against him like a cat. “I’m so—s-so warm, I need you—”

What was going on? What had that plant done to you? “I-I don’t understand,” he sputtered. “Are you overheating?”

“Yes.” Your response this time was most certainly a moan, and it made his cock twitch in his pants. Your hands traveled further up, tugging on the collar of his coat. “I don’t know w-what’s—what’s happening to me, I just—n-need you—”

He stared at you, flabbergasted. He’d never seen or heard you like this. It was like you were on the verge of tears, like you would fall apart completely any moment. What was wrong? How was he supposed to help?

“What do you need?” he asked you, touching your face with one hand. Warm. So warm.

The softest of gasps left you when it made contact, your eyes widening. You leaned into his touch, rubbing your face into his palm. “You,” you moaned. “Need you to—to fuck me r-right now.”

Cypher stilled, arousal flooding through him. For a second, he didn’t question you, focusing only on the need in your voice and your warm cheek in his hand, but he snapped back to reality. “Wait, no—no, no, sweetheart,” he said hurriedly. “We—we can’t. Not here. What are you talking about?”

“It won’t stop,” you whimpered, pressing harder into his palm. “I’m sorry, I can’t—it’s so hot. Fuck me, just please fuck me.” You kissed his thumb, whining softly before taking his pointer finger into your mouth and sucking.

Oh, fuck. He cursed himself for being so hard, willing his blood to keep fueling his brain. This didn’t make any sense. The plant had done this to you? Why? Had the researchers bred it specifically to affect intruders this way?

Breaking free of his trance, he pulled his finger from your mouth. “No, please, dear, don’t do that,” he scolded gently. “Sit down, please. We need to cool you down.”

You grabbed hold of his coat with surprising ferocity. “No, please, just fuck me,” you begged. “I need to cum. I’m s-so wet, it won’t stop.”

Somehow, his cock got even harder at those words, but he forced himself to focus. “Sweetheart, I can’t right now,” he told you, more firmly this time. “It’s—it’s not safe here. We have a mission; we can’t—”

“Then just touch me,” you pleaded, cutting him off. “Just make me cum. Make it stop, please.”

Cypher hesitated. There was no time for this. If he stopped right now to take care of you, anything could happen. An alarm could be set off. An enemy could show up, alerted by the plant or a separate security system. This was the worst, worst time for something like this.

But he had to help you. You both had to finish this mission together, then regroup with Viper and Phoenix. Neither of you could do that if you were stuck here, unable to do anything until your needs were met.

He made his decision just as you started tugging at his belt, trying to unbuckle it. He pushed your hand away carefully, holding it in place by your wrist. “I’ll touch you,” he murmured. “Quickly. Then we have to keep moving.”

He could see the overwhelming relief in your eyes. You opened your mouth to say something, but he was already pulling you to one side of the hallway, bringing you into a little nook between the wall and the door to one of the labs. Not completely hidden, but it would have to do.

Cypher couldn’t help but be surprised by how quickly you yanked your pants down to your knees, taking your panties along with them. He could see your exposed pussy now, and the sight stunned him. You were unbearably swollen, your red-pink lips glistening and dripping, heavy slick trickling down your thighs. There was nothing normal about this, and he had to do something about it now.

He leaned you back, standing over you, then removed his glove on one hand and brought his finger to your opening, slipping it inside. The moment it entered, you let out a truly pitiful moan, and his blood shot straight to his cock once more. You were so soaked, there was no resistance in the slightest, his finger burrowing all the way down deep inside your searing heat.

“More,” you gasped, bucking your hips. “More, please, more.”

Cypher obliged you without question, adding a second finger and drawing another euphoric cry from you. You were so hot, your flesh practically burning his fingers, but he didn’t dare stop.

Louder moans poured from your mouth, mingling with the sloppy sounds from your cunt, and he hated how much it turned him on. He wasn’t supposed to like this. You weren’t acting like this of your own accord; it was the pollen making you act this way. He was only doing this to help you. “Hush, please, dear,” he coaxed. “Relax for me.”

“C-Can’t,” you responded feebly, body jerking wildly. “Feels—feels so good, fuck—”

He bit his lip, desperate to keep his head clear. This wasn’t normal; he was worried about you, but fuck, seeing you like this was dangerously arousing. If the mission were not such a priority right now, he’d crush you against the wall and fuck you until you saw stars.

But he couldn’t. This was all he could do with the time you two had.

“Cum for me, sokar,” Cypher cooed, massaging your clit with his thumb. He added a third finger, amazed at how easily it joined the others. “Cum for me, please.”

“Cypher,” you wailed, clawing at his shoulders. Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss those plump, wet lips.

He kept working you with his fingers. “Yes. Cum now. Cum now.”

You cried out one last time, long and loud, and he felt you clamp down on all three of his fingers suddenly, your flesh strangling them as you came. Slick oozed down his knuckles, hot and thick like syrup, and when your grip on him finally relaxed, he withdrew his fingers to find them coated. It was like he’d stuck them into a pot of clear honey. They even smelled sweet; flowery like that plant, enough to make his head spin.

Your legs wobbled, then you crumpled to your knees, panting. Wiping his hand on his pants, Cypher dropped low to clutch your face. You were flushed, but not nearly as much as before, and your temperature had lowered. “Are you okay?” he murmured. “How do you feel?”

It took you a second to come to, as if you’d just woken up from a dream, but when your vision cleared, the first expression you made was one of horror. “Oh God,” you uttered. “Oh fuck, I don’t—I don’t know what just happened. I’m so sorry.”

“The plant,” he said quickly. “It was all the plant, dear. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But—but the mission,” you stammered. “Oh fuck, I—I’m so sorry—”

“Never mind that,” he interrupted gently. “Are you okay? Are you back to normal?”

“I—” You touched your forehead, then patted down your upper body. “I—I think so. Just—wobbly.” You laughed weakly.

“Alright.” Cypher took your hand in his, helping you to your feet. “I’m sorry—I would check you more thoroughly, but we must keep moving.”

“I-It’s okay,” you said, pulling your pants back up. “Let’s go.”

The two of you moved onto the next hall, circling the entire floor and checking the rest of the rooms. No traps, and no more plants, as far as either of you could tell. Throughout the search, Cypher kept his eye on you, and to his relief, you no longer seemed afflicted by the pollen. Once the floor had been swept top to bottom, Cypher sent a comm to Viper. “No traps on this floor,” he reported. “Heading down now.”

A moment later: “Good. Keep your eyes out.”

“I always do,” he said simply.

He turned to find you looking at him. “You didn’t… tell her about the plant?” you asked softly.

“It’s not a priority right now,” he replied. “If they had encountered something similar down there, they would have told us. I may tell her later, if I must.”

You held your arms close to yourself. “Please don’t tell her about—about what happened to me.”

He shook his head. “I won’t,” he promised, meaning it. If this truly was resolved, Viper didn’t need to know. “But we must go now. I don’t trust this elevator; we’re taking the stairs.”

You gave him a quick nod of understanding, following him as he opened the door to the stairwell and began to descend.

Cypher was alert as you two made your way down, scanning the walls and ceiling for anything hidden. “Stay close,” he said. “Are you sure you can—”

He didn’t finish, turning around when he heard you stop abruptly. You were standing on one of the steps, holding onto the rail for support as you swayed from side to side. That glossy look had returned to your eyes, and your face had once again gone red and feverish. “Fuck,” you said, breathless. “I think—I-I think it’s—it’s back.”

His stomach twisted. No, no, please. Not again. Not now.

He went to you. “Sokar, I’m sorry, but we have to keep moving,” he urged. “Can you walk?”

You whimpered, tripping over yourself and grabbing onto him. “No,” you gasped out. “C-Can’t. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

There his cock was again, hardening at the absolute worst time. He tried pushing you back gingerly, but you had an iron grip on his collar, and wouldn’t budge. “No, sweetheart. We can’t. There’s no time.”

“Please,” you begged, reaching for his mask. You felt around the edges of it, as if searching for a way to remove it. “Kiss me. Please, kiss me, kiss me. Need you.”

This boldness was so different from the usual you. It entranced him, nearly making him forget you were trying to take off his mask, but he managed to break free. “No,” he insisted, shaking your hands away. “No—I’m sorry, dear. We have to go. I’ll carry you if you can’t walk.”

“No!” you squealed, and the sharpness of it took him aback. “No. Fuck me right now, please! I need it.”

Cypher was utterly lost. He couldn’t be angry at you for this; you weren’t yourself. None of this was your fault, but right now, you were jeopardizing the mission. He wanted you, but he couldn’t help you—not right now. He had to go on. “Stay here,” he said firmly. “Relieve yourself. I’ll come back for you.”

“No, no!” you cried out, refusing to let go of him. There were tears in your eyes. “Don’t go. Please just make me cum. Cypher.”

You looked so desperate, so fucking helpless, and it ignited a fire in him. Before he could change his mind, he grabbed you by the waist and spun you around, forcing you up against the wall. Your squeal of surprise turned quickly into a moan when he ripped your pants down, exposing your pussy once again. Pale juices gushed down your thighs, and he’d never felt so hungry.

One hand keeping you in place, he tore his glove off the other, then shoved two fingers inside you, his thumb working your clit. You cried out like an animal in heat, and he pushed you harder into the wall, trying to muffle your noises. “Keep it down, sokar,” he warned, keeping his voice soft. “Just let me do this, please.”

You were hardly listening, filling the cramped stairwell with your fervid wails and moans. You were jerking so much, trying to impale yourself as hard as you could onto his fingers, it was almost impossible to keep you still. “Please,” you babbled. “Yes, please, please.”

Cypher had faced many challenges in his life. He’d fought all kinds of powerful threats. He’d gone up against his alternate selves more times than he could count. He’d braved death-sentencing traps and obstacle courses. But this—this was something else. No amount of training could have prepared him for this kind of situation. You were the one that needed help, and yet he felt completely, totally weak.

Maybe he wasn’t as strong as he’d thought.

Gritting his teeth, he wrenched his fingers from your cunt. You howled in protest, but he was already fumbling one-handed with the front of his pants, freeing his cock a second later.

He couldn’t take this anymore. He had to fuck you, enemies be damned. Maybe this time, he could fuck the pollen out of you for good.

He took you by the hips, gathering your slick around the head of his cock, then he drove himself into you.

The sound you let out when he entered was like nothing he’d ever heard. A series of high, keening moans poured from your lips, echoing inside the stairwell. Cypher gripped your waist, gasping at the scalding heat of your flesh around his cock. “Quiet, sweetheart,” he pleaded, half-choked. “Be quiet, please, be quiet.”

This was a terrible idea in every way. There could be enemies close by. Anyone could walk in. There was no time. He wasn’t wearing a condom.

But it felt so good, he couldn’t bring himself to care about any of those things.

Cypher held onto you for dear life, all his senses on fire as he pumped in and out of you. He’d never felt so close to you before; he could feel every inch of you, your silky, scorching walls pulsing and tightening around him. The sound of his skin slapping yours rang deliciously in his ears, and your writhing, rolling body was hot in his hands. This was madness. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to cum before you did—and it would take almost nothing.

Taking one hand, he reached down between your legs and found your clit, rubbing insistent circles into it. “Cum for me, zouina,” he breathed into your ear. “Come on.”

You threw your head back, drooling at the mouth. “Amir.”

Oh, fuck. If you said that again, he was definitely going to cum. “Call me Cypher, lovely,” he panted. “Just Cypher.”

“Cypher,” you moaned out. “Cypher, Cypher.”

Hearing his name like that still did things to him, but at least he could hold off a little longer. “Yes,” he whispered. “Good girl.”

His comm suddenly clicked. “Cypher, I need both of you down here. We’ve got company.”

Cypher’s heart jumped straight into his throat. Oh no. No no no no no.

Pulling you flush against him, he slapped his free hand over your mouth, his other hand still touching you fiercely. “O-Okay,” he answered, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Be there i-in one moment, Viper.”

“What’s going on? You sound out of breath.”

You started licking his palm, still moaning with abandon, but he did not remove his hand. Why, oh why was Viper calling now? “I-I’m fine,” he insisted. “We’re both fine. We’ll be right down.”

He heard gunshots on the other end. “Hurry up. We’re outnumbered.”

Relief flooded him when he heard the click. Cypher focused on you again, uncovering your mouth as he pushed you back against the wall. “We have to hurry,” he mumbled, quickening his pace. “They need us.”

You cried out, keeping your hands on the wall to support yourself. “Cypher,” you whined. “I’m close, please.”

“Good.” Giving into temptation, he smacked the side of your ass with one hand, marveling at the way your flesh moved. “Come on, now. Cum for me.”

“Love you,” you moaned with each thrust. “Love you, love you.”

He was getting dangerously close himself. “Come on, come on,” he pleaded. “I need you to cum, sweetheart. Please, for me.”

You arched your back into him. “Cum in me.”

“No, no,” he rasped, rubbing furiously at your clit. “Can’t. Sokar.”

“Please,” you begged. Your voice pitched higher. “Please, oh—I’m gonna—gonna cum—”

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Yes, now, now.”

You came around him violently, spilling cries into the air. “Amir,” you wailed, tightening on him with everything you had. “I love you—I love you, please, please—”

Cypher was a goner. He couldn’t even think about pulling out, grabbing your hips with both hands and shoving himself as deep as he could go. He shuddered, his groans turning to strangled whimpers as he filled you with ropes of hot cum. Something in the back of his mind was screaming for him to stop, but all he could think was how much he needed to feel you, fill you, make you his.

Fuck, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this. So good, so good, so fucking good.

He dug his nails into your skin, not letting go until every drop of seed had been pumped deep within you. He stumbled back when he released you, legs shaking. As blood came rushing back to his brain, he saw you bent over, white fluid dripping down your thighs, and realized what he’d done.

He’d just cum inside you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cypher uttered, guilt tearing at him like thousands of claws. He hurried to inspect you, touching your hip lightly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry—are you alright?”

You’d been hanging your head, breathing in and out raggedly as you collected yourself, but you were rising now, standing up to your full height and turning to face him. “I-I’m okay,” you answered. You sounded hoarse; no doubt it was from all the noise you’d been making. You looked flushed still, but from exertion now, not from the pollen. You blinked, then your eyes went huge with realization. “Shit. We have to go. Now.”

“I-I know. I know.” Cypher wiped his cock as best as he could, forcing it back into his pants as you rushed to clean yourself. He glanced between your legs, wincing at the mess he’d made. “Here,” he said, handing you a scrap of fabric from his pocket. “I-I’m sorry, I know it’s not much, but—”

“It’s fine.” You took it from him, giving him a brief smile before getting to work. “Thank you.”

“Sokar, I—” His throat was so dry. He knew how badly Viper needed you both, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He couldn’t go anywhere until his fears were put to rest. “I—I finished—inside you. Are you—are you sure—”

“Yes.” Your response came faster than expected. You wiped up the last of the fluids, fixing your clothes and tossing the fabric away. “I have an IUD. I’m safe.”

“Oh.” His heart sang with relief. Granted, it didn’t mean you were one-hundred percent protected, and it didn’t absolve him of any responsibility, but it was enough for now. “G-Good. Good.”

“There’s a lot we need to talk about, but let’s do it later, okay?” You grabbed your gun. “We’ve gotta go. Now.”

“R-Right. Right.” Cypher grabbed his own. “Let’s go.”

^ ^ ^

Some time later, Cypher found you in a secluded spot on the ship, sitting with your headphones in.

He waved to you as he approached, and you took your headphones off. “Hey,” you greeted him, smiling.

“Hi,” he returned, a little bashfully. He took a seat beside you. “How… are you feeling?”

“Better,” you replied. “Hasn’t… happened again. Thank God it didn’t happen back there, right?” You laughed.

He managed a chuckle, though he still wasn’t quite feeling humorous yet. The mission, while not having yielded any Radianite, had finished smoothly after all. “Right.” He waited a few moments, looking down at his hands in his lap, then murmured, “I… am sorry. For all of that.”

“For the plant?” you asked. “That wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know it was in there, and I shouldn’t’ve gone in like that.”

“Still, I—should have protected you better,” he insisted. “Done something.”

“You don’t have to protect me,” you said with a slight smile. “And you did do something. You… helped me when I needed it.”

Cypher blushed. “I—I am glad I was able to,” he mumbled. “But still, you—you don’t—deserve that.”

You touched his arm. “Cypher, I’m okay, really.”

He hesitated. He hadn’t said all he needed to say yet. “I… I know. I’m glad you are,” he said. “But I—I just want you to know that—you are more to me than that.”

Your eyes were distractingly pretty. “I know I am,” you reassured him, sounding confused that he had even said that. “There was nothing normal about this, okay? This was a one-time thing.”

Cypher nodded. He swallowed, working up his confidence. “Sokar,” he said softly, “I would—like to do something for you.”

You tilted your head curiously.

“Would you…” Why was this so hard? “Would you like to… have dinner with me? Sometime?”

The look on your face made his heart melt. “Yes!” you exclaimed, beaming. “Yes, yes, of—of course. I’d love that.”

His spirit soared. “G-Good,” he said, relieved and overjoyed at once. “I—I don’t know what our schedule is yet, but—I can let you know.”

“Yeah.” You were nodding, smiling from ear to ear. “Just tell me. When you find out.”

“Okay.” Cypher reached for your hand, taking it in his and squeezing. He wished he could take off his mask and kiss you right now. “May I… see you later?”

“Sure,” you answered, giving him a smile that was almost coy. “I… might need your help again. Who knows.”

His heart fluttered at that. “I—I see,” he said, clearing his throat. He let go of your hand, getting to his feet. “Well, I should—er—check in with the others. Let you get some rest.”

“Okay,” you said, still looking happy as a clam as he began to walk away. You put your headphones back on. “See you later, sokar.”

The nickname stopped him dead in his tracks. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, surprised. “S-Sokar? Is that what you called me?”

“Mhm,” was all you said, looking pleased with yourself.

“But—but that’s—that’s what I call you,” he stammered, realizing very quickly how silly he sounded. “I call you that.”

“Should I… call you something else, then?” you asked, grinning. “Zouin? Hobi?”

Lord, he hadn’t heard those words in so long, hearing you say them made his heart nearly give out. You’d learned them, somehow, and he guessed you’d been saving them to use them at the right time. He desperately tried to think of something to say; anything that would make him sound cool or suave and not at all flustered beyond belief. “You…” He wiggled his finger at you warningly. “You are a—bad girl.”

You laughed. “Talk to you later,” you said, blowing him a kiss.

He shook his head, half-grateful, half-disappointed that you couldn’t see his smile under his mask. As he made his way through the ship towards the cockpit, he ran into Phoenix.

“Cypher!” the young man greeted him with a grin. “Was lookin’ for you just now.”

“You were?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong.” Phoenix waved his hand. “Was just gonna ask you about earlier. Y’know.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Cypher crossed his arms. “Earlier?”

“Yeah.” Phoenix snickered. “When Viper called, you two were shaggin’, weren’t ya?”

Cypher stiffened, mortified. He knew enough about British slang to know what that meant. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, you can tell me!” Phoenix leaned in, fascinated. “We’re mates, aren’t we? Everybody knows about you two.”

Cypher stared at him. “W-What?” Was that true? Everyone knew? “What—do you mean? What about us?”

“That you’ve got a secret little relationship,” Phoenix responded, poking Cypher’s shoulder. “It’s super cute, actually. It was pretty obvious she fancied you, so it seems like you both hit it off.”

Cypher sputtered, searching for a way to gain control of the situation. “Everyone knows?” he asked quietly.

“Well, not everyone,” Phoenix admitted. “Just the people who notice. Viper doesn’t know. But she might soon.”

Cypher looked around. Viper wasn’t nearby; fortunately, she was likely in the cockpit. He sighed heavily. “Fine, yes, we have been—seeing each other,” he finally confessed, keeping his voice down. “It’s—it’s very casual.”

“So you were shaggin’ back there!” Phoenix said, eyes gleaming.

“Lower your voice!” Cypher hissed. “It’s not like that. There was—something wrong with her, and I had to help. It was not ideal, and I would not have done it if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

Phoenix chortled. “Couldn’t wait ‘til you got back to the base, could you, mate?”

Cypher snarled under his mask. “It’s the truth, believe it or not,” he growled. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Especially Viper.”

“I wasn’t gonna, I promise!” Phoenix insisted. “I was just curious, that’s all. You know me. I won’t tell anybody.”

Phoenix wasn’t exactly known for his ability to keep secrets, but Cypher relaxed nonetheless. “Good,” he said. “You know what I can do if you don’t keep your word.”

Phoenix threw his hands up. “I know, mate, I know. Lips are sealed.”

Cypher gave him one last nod, then moved past him. “I’ll see you when we land.”

So it seemed many agents did know about you both. As uneasy as it made him—knowing people knew anything about him at all—it was something he could deal with. He had to learn to live with it if he was going to be anything real with you. And he wanted to be.

But this—what happened during the mission—would have to be another closely-guarded secret. For his sake, but especially yours.

Secrets, secrets, secrets. What was one more for him to keep?

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

If you're currently taking requests, can you please do yandere dorm leaders + Jamil with a demigod reader like from Percy Jackson the readers godly parent can be your choice. If you're not currently taking requests feel free to ignore this

Percy Jackson Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Child of one of the big three, water bends to your will. And in the oddest moments, your father gives his two senses. Nonetheless, your power earns you a lot of respect and a lot of scorn from the average student. Of course, those interested don’t mind all that much until your powers seem to be an obstacle to your love for them: 

Malleus Draconia

“I see. Your mastery of the sea is impressive. I wonder if we spar who would fare best?”

He wants to engage with your power because it gets him an excuse to take your time 

This also helps him gauge your power against his own

He doesn’t cease his repeated sniping of people that hang around you 

Even if you actually challenge him seriously

He thinks you’re just the cutest

“Fine, my love. If you wish to challenge me let's have a wager. If you win I’ll stop my…warnings. But if I win you will forfeit all rights to speak to others. This is more than fair.”

Idia Shroud

“I feel we’re connected in some odd way…”

“Yeah….”

“Do you want to play COD?”

There’s a weird synergy that has you both respecting one another

He thinks its cool how you can heal up with magic

But his excuse for prying creepily into your privacy+ is justified by his constant experimentation to measure your powers

“W-what this camera? Ha, it’s only to track what you’d do in such a harrowing situation! I-it w-wasn’t b-because your wearing j-just a white shirt.”

Jamil Viper

“You’re a lot like Kalim, I’m sure your just as susceptible.”

“...I uh…get the feeling you’re capable of something…manipulative.”

“Wow, how insightful.”

Your dear old dad is probably the only help your getting with him

He’s often finding himself befriending you 

Despite being caught trying to hypnotize you

He makes a point to use his usual tactic to leave you alone

With plenty of time to come and hang out with him

“Scarabia’s the perfect setting, not a whole lot of water for their father to stay anything.”

Kalim Al Asim

“Yay! Twinsies!”

He’s so happy that you have an affinity for water just like him

He can’t make weapons like you do or heal yourself with it

But he thinks it's pretty cool

It's even cooler that you get really cuddly weak if you stay in Scarabia long enough

“Awww why don’t you stay! I promise I’ll bring the water as soon as we finish our carpet ride!”

Vil Schoenheit

“I doubt that. If you really were the child of Poseidon I doubt he’d let you walk around with skin as dehydrated as yours.”

“Gee thanks, Vil.”

“Yup that’s what I’m here for.”

He knows he’d never be able to overpower you

But he’s not all that hurt

Where you can pride yourself on your strength it doesn’t do anything against his finesse and intellect

Which he prefers

because what power couple doesn’t complement one another with their flaws and strengths

And while you may be willing to entertain these invasive welps bold suitors

He’s not so lenient

“Where you wish to merely scare them off, I wish to punish them. It’s only a given that we mirror one another, in the method.” 

Leona Kingscholar

“Join Savvannaclaw, you herbivore. You still have some evolving you can do.”

Strong mates are always fought for in life

And to make his mark he has to sand fight off the competition

The next part will be winning your heart or successfully taming you

Just give him time, he’ll make it happen

One way or another

“Ha let’s exercise I want to see how far you’re willing to go.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“With your kind of power…you could overthrow the entire empire within the coral sea!”

“Uh, I guess.”

“You guess? (Y/n), we could bring all of those who laughed at me to their knees. Metaphorically speaking.”

“They…bullied you?”

“...”

“Aww Azul…”

“S-shut up! Let’s just put them all in their place beneath you”

He loves you immensely 

And while he may seem that he’s always aiming to slip you into a contract for ‘sea conquering’ 

He’s after something more

He’s after you

His pearl, his angelfish, he wants to be your plus one as you right the world

“Ho ho what a predicament. Why don’t we negotiate the subject of payment, after the broken china incident with Grim, we wouldn’t want you to fall into debt.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“I hardly believe your dyslexia is attributed to such a trait.”

“Bet. Write something in Greek I can do it.”

“...I stand corrected.”

“Ha see?!”

“Nonetheless you’re in desperate need of my studying prowess. Come to Heartslabyul.”

He is enamored by you 

The powers and heritage just add another layer

But he finds you are lacking for someone so kind

Or rather that you don’t have conviction

In your studies or in your boundaries

You don’t need to worry he’ll do that for you

Collaring anyone who gives threatening looks  and any look in general

“Off with your head! I decree that you will be punished for the breaking of the Queen’s law: that no one touches the Ramshackle prefect but you’re queen!”

[sorchathered]

Sacred New Beginnings- Chapter 7

A/N- we have a new header photo! Since the story has progressed into mainly Jake and Stormy’s relationship it seemed like it was time. This one is a little short and super angsty, don’t kill me!

Y’all send me some feedback after this chapter. I want to know what you’d like to see happen next!

Pairing- Jake Seresin x reader (OC Stormy)

Song inspo- “never let me go”- Florence and the Machine, “ if you need to, keep time on me”- Fleet Foxes

Summary-Stormy is on her first deployment with her new squad, missing their 6 month anniversary and gearing up for a hell of a mission.

Warnings- language, violence, injuries (it’s an angsty one guys)

The lumpy twin bed on the aircraft carrier didn’t do much in the way of comfort, but damnit you’d been having the best dream. You and Jake at some seaside restaurant, slow dancing and toasting to your anniversary. It had felt so real, when you’d startled awake by your alarm you could almost feel his warm embrace, tears welling up in your eyes as you came back to reality. You were in the middle of the Atlantic, nowhere near San Diego, and today you and Jake had been together 6 months.

You’d gotten your deployment papers and shipped out almost a month ago, infrequent emails and the occasional phone call all you had to hold on to, along with a handful of letters and photos Jake had printed for you to decorate your bunk to spruce up the empty space you’d call home for the next 2 months. Long distance had been hard, but being deployed without him was a whole other level of pain. For years you’d worked together as pilot and WSO, enduring the shitty conditions and battling the homesickness as a team, doing this alone with a brand new team was a choice you’d make all over again but the loneliness stung no matter how you sliced it. Startled by a sharp knock to the cabin door you threw the covers back and called out for them to wait. It was Viper, your front seater who had become a damn good friend the past few months of integrating with your new team. He and his husband had welcomed you with open arms, game nights at their home and family dinners on Sundays were infamous in your squad, you truly did love this group of misfits despite missing the Daggers something fierce.

Flinging the door open to his smiling face you felt a little lighter, “Come on kid, let’s get some breakfast in you, we’ve got a hell of a day ahead of us! You can dream about your golden boy later!” He let out a cackle as your cheeks tinged in embarrassment and patted you on the head, ushering you both towards the mess hall in preparation for another long and tedious day of maneuvers.

—————————————————————-

On the opposite coast Jake is feeling much of the same, he had complete faith the two of you could weather any storm but the longing he felt without you took his breath away sometimes. He’d never loved anyone like this before, and he’d certainly never been the one waiting for his loved one to come back from deployment. How did spouses do this every day? Just sending the ones they love off to far away places for months at a time and praying to whatever deity existed that they’d come home safely, it was a selfless burden he’d never take for granted again. He checked his email as he inhaled his breakfast, seeing an email and photo attachment from you and he nearly tripped over himself to open the message. There you were, half unzipped flight suit with your cleavage on display, blowing a kiss into the camera just for him. But it was the message itself that sent him over the edge, you explaining in graphic detail all the ways you wanted him to take you apart when you were re-united, how much you loved him and couldn’t wait to be back in his arms. He was the luckiest bastard on earth, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. He held his phone up, took a selfie of his shirtless form and messy bed head, sending you kisses from across the world and typing out a quick reply. “Just a little longer Stormy, it’s you and me baby we can do anything, you’re my moon and stars baby girl I love you. Kick ass today, and thank you for the best 6 months of my life. Love, Jake.”

——————————————————————

The day which started relatively normal, went to shit almost instantly. The mission had to be moved up, enemies were in the area; pirates hired by a foreign nation to carry out a terrorist attack against the very vessel you were sailing on. Your COC wanted a team in the air within the hour to take them down and it left everyone scrambling to throw together a plan and get to their aircrafts. You’d had a bad feeling gnawing at you from the moment they described the plan of attack; two much could go wrong and there wasn’t enough information about the kind of weaponry the enemy had trained on them. Viper gave you a pointed look to keep it to yourself, he didn’t feel good about it either but time wasn’t on anyone’s side today, better to keep your head down and do whatever was needed to survive.

It was a shitstorm, between the enemy aircraft on everyone’s backs their warship seemed to have a never ending supply of missiles, raining down explosives from every direction. It was a dogfight no one had expected and with what was truly a miracle you all made it out alive, barreling across the sky back to the carrier. As you all made your descent warning lights began to appear on your radar, something was coming in hot and it was headed for the ship. You were calling out coordinates while everyone rallied into a formation to see if they could take it out, but it was too late; it had been a diversion. Heat seeking missles were drawing in from another round of jets, and it was either take out the jets or risk everyone on the carrier. Just as Viper began to howl in victory over his first air to air kill, an explosion landed on your left side, taking out the wing and sending you both plummeting. You could barely hear yourself screaming to eject, heartbeat roaring in your ears, your last thought before being flung from your fa/18 was of Jake.

—————————————————————-

It had been a boring day filled with lectures and Jake couldn’t be more happy to get the hell out of the school house, a beer and sports highlights were calling his name. He’d made it halfway through the lot before he heard someone calling his name, more like screaming it as they hurdled towards him through the parking lot. It was Cyclone’s assistant, gasping for air as she told him he was needed immediately in the admiral’s office, it was an emergency. He felt his heart sink, the only reason your godfather would need him for an emergency was you, and he took off towards the building as fast as his body would carry him. Flinging the office door open was unprofessional but he couldn’t be bothered to give a shit, he knew something was wrong and when he crossed the threshold Beau Simpson’s normally callous demeanor was gone, tears in his eyes as he looked up at Jake.

“What?!” He gasped, “Don’t sugar coat it Sir, just tell me, where is she?” Jake was shaking uncontrollably now, if you were gone it would be the end of him.

“She’s alive, but her injuries are severe. She’s being transported to Walter Reed as we speak, and you and I are heading there as soon as possible. She’s been placed in a medically induced coma.”

Jake’s knees hit the floor, and the tears began.

Jake Seresin Masterlist

Tagging- @attapullman @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @pinkdaisies9285 @djs8891 @jessicab1991 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @nouis-bum @roosterforme @jostan456 @kmc1989 @dempy @its-the-pilot @86laura11 @mrsevans90 @shanimallina87 @floydsglasses @mygyn @dizzybee03

[delimeful]

to know that song (and all its words) (11)

warnings: minor character death, violence & injury, panic, biases, lmk if i missed any

-

Virgil went through the footage once, twice, and then a third time, trying to understand the conflicting emotions that were unwinding in his chest.

He settled for rewatching the fight itself once more, because it was easy to tell how he felt about that. Each time, he’d watched with a sort of utter fixation, unable to look away despite the automatic, instinctual terror the scene incited in him.

He’d known, distantly, that the Humans were strong, built with dense flesh and flexible frames. He’d known that they could be lethal, that they sometimes moved in a stalk, with a sort of focused intent that reminded him of a predator.

Knowing these facts and seeing them put into action were two very different things.

On the tapes, the lights flickered out. The camera went dark for a half second before automatically enabling infrared mode.

In that brief moment of darkness, Square had already crossed a good third of the room on uncannily quiet steps. The recording refocused just in time to catch his first lunge.

The crack of a limb splintering was audible even from the camera’s tinny speakers. Before the victim’s paralyzer gun even finished clattering to the floor, the Human was moving on to his next swing, and his next.

Every alien in the room began scattering as the howls of the injured grew more frantic and more numerous. Some bolted for the boarding hatches, some for the door to the hall, some simply away from the crunches of violent impact. Almost all of them were left floundering in the dark, the few with functional night vision unable to move within the chaotic scramble.

Within moments, any raider with a long distance weapon had been taken out of the fight with brutal efficiency, and those who recollected themselves enough to lunge forward were met with the same fate.

Heartfelt returned, the emergency lighting casting their face in dim red glow that made the weapon in their hands and their uncharacteristically solemn expression stand out all the more.

They remained solidly on defense, guarding Square’s back with heavy, unhesitating blows, their expression growing more and more crinkled with each one.

In mere minutes, any aggressors had either been sent writhing to the floor or to an early grave.

The leader, the one who had so confidently made their proposal and deemed Virgil too stubborn to live, had fought more viciously than any of the others, and managed to knock the pipe clear of Square’s grip. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, the leader drew a two pronged viper’s blade from a hidden holster, and immediately tried to stab it forward into Square’s underbelly.

Square half-turned, letting the weapon pierce the meat of their shoulder with a grunt, and without faltering, they reached out to grab the leader’s head with both hands.

The twist was quick and clean, the snap of bone loud, the silence of the room afterwards somehow louder. The raiders didn’t need to be able to see the damage, not when they could hear the way their leader’s snarled threats had been so sharply cut off.

“Your leader is dead,” Square said into the pause, releasing his grip and allowing the body to fall lifelessly to the ground. They barely twitched as the viper blades were dragged out with the motion, their gaze flitting from silhouette to silhouette, watching for the next attacker. “If you don’t wish to join them, now is the time to surrender.”

Raiders were many things, but loyal to the death wasn’t one of them.

The surrender process was quick, almost rushed once the light came back on. Seeing the crumpled corpse of their leader had probably demoralized them. Square seemed distracted, overly so. He didn’t even set any negotiation terms at first, simply walking out and leaving control of the bay to Heartfelt.

Like he’d said, the fight was easy. The fight was terrifying.

It was what came after that was driving his thoughts to run in endless, maddening circles.

Heartfelt looked as though they wanted to follow after Square for a moment, but turned away. Instead, they faced the raiders, huddled against the walls in various states of distress.

They moved to pull the med kit off the wall, and then stepped forward, approaching the worst-off of the bunch with a slowness that made Virgil’s ruff prickle up instinctively, even having watched before. Even knowing who Heartfelt was.

The injured seemed to feel the same, with the babbled pleas for mercy as many of those nearby scurried further away from what they surely thought was an impending slaughter. Heartfelt’s face was pressed into thin lines of discomfort, but they kept moving to crouch next to the alien.

“Help, no hurt,” Heartfelt told them plainly, and then set the kit down and opened it.

The raider lunged the moment they turned their attention away, and Heartfelt flung up an arm on reflex to catch the sharp claws of the alien with a pained sound that they cut off mid-noise.

All eyes turned to the door, but Square didn’t return. They were retrieving him from where Heartfelt had stashed him, Virgil knew, and Heartfelt had muffled the noise of their pain before it could reach the others.

The Human reached out and unhooked the alien’s claws from their arm, suppressing a wince. “No, no,” they said firmly. “No hurt, okay?”

The alien seemed too dumbfounded by the fact that they were still alive to respond, and Heartfelt carefully moved their limb back to their side before returning with the bandages they’d been reaching for in the first place.

That was how the next few moments went, stemming the bleeding wherever they could and applying tourniquets for the more mammalian types. And through it all, they were watched with a sort of entranced silence, as though their actions were barely comprehensible to the raiders.

On the other vidfeed, Virgil could see his own pitiful form cradled in Square’s arms, too out of it to process that Noisy was only a few paces away or even that he was being held by someone who should, by all rights, terrify him.

But they didn’t.

The thought hit him like a rough-edged stone, startling and near painful in its honesty. Virgil stopped the tapes, pushed himself a few steps away from the interface and tried to process past the automatic terrified nausea that had formed at the sight of a fairly sturdy, battle-scarred alien being killed with one move.

The Humans were strong, lethally so. He’d known that, and now he really knew it. He understood why Sveve had spoken about the Humans being monsters with such conviction, pled for his help to escape with such sheer desperation.

He understood, but he didn’t agree.

Sveve had been aboard a ship that had almost mythologized the deathworlders they were hunting. The raiders had been seeking the Humans out since the start of their journey, had known their ultimate goal for however long the trip had lasted. The leader’s grand plot hadn’t worked out, but that didn’t change the fact that his Humans had been presented as powerful, violent beasts to the crew. Despite acting in their own defense, their devastating counterattack had only added a new layer of distortion to the raiders’ perceptions of them.

Virgil, on the other hand, had been aboard a ship with the three of them for cycles on end, with misconception after misconception being washed away the longer he spent in the company of any one of them.

Sure, he knew it was smart to be afraid of power like that. There was still a part of him in disbelief, waiting for his survival instincts and general antisocial nature to kick back in. He watched the most violent parts of the security tapes through multiple times, trying to find the part of his brain that would shift his instinctual fear into some sort of action, and… failed.

Maybe if it was the version of him from that first week of their cohabitation, when he was still seeing bared fangs in their smiles and aggression in their eye contact. But now?

Now, he couldn’t help but notice the way Heartfelt’s face scrunched up in misery even when fighting, the way Noisy curled in on himself during that stretch of darkness, the way Square had held him so extremely carefully, even when they were clearly deadly furious.

There was nothing monstrous about his Humans, his unwillingly-gained crewmates. They were just people, ones that had been forced to fight to survive, ones that had been backed into a corner at nearly every turn. He’d known as much long before now, even if he hadn’t acknowledged it aloud.

He turned the feed playback off, powering down the machinery. He’d seen everything he’d needed to see.

The navigation area was still dark and quiet as he left the record room, quickly skittering back out to the hall.

Of course, as soon as he got there, he immediately encountered Square, about five eerily-silent steps from entering the doorway Virgil had just scurried out of.

The doorway to the room that he absolutely wasn’t allowed to be in. Uh oh.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” he said immediately, somehow sounding about as guilty as someone who’d just been caught with a body at their feet and a murder weapon in hand.

Square inhaled slowly, and then let out a long, winded exhale, which they seemed to do a lot. “I somehow doubt that, but seeing as you’ve soundly rejected earlier opportunities to betray us for your own benefit, I’m choosing not to ‘freak out’ about it.”

Virgil paused, a little surprised despite himself. “I forgot about that. I mean, I forgot you knew about it.”

Square made an odd little snorting sound. “Well. You certainly seemed to feel very strongly about the matter while you were bedridden.”

See, this was why he hated it when he got hurt. His crewmates always insisted on using enough pain medication to make him way too chatty. Sure, anything less would have left him still steeping in agony, but what about the emotional pain of humiliation that came afterwards, huh?!

His expression had soured, but he still managed to pipe up before Square moved on. “I was looking at the vidfeeds.”

Square paused, gaze sharpening. “Pardon?”

“The security records. There are cameras on the ship, and all the footage is recorded and stored for future review.” Virgil stopped for a moment, a fragment of memory coming back. “That��s how they knew you three were aboard. There was a recording of the station you switched ships at.”

The lines of stress along Square’s brow seemed more pronounced than ever. “I understand.”

“I can show you how to erase them, before you leave,” Virgil offered, his antennae flattening back slightly in apprehension. “And, uhh… speaking of leaving. What are we doing with Sveve?”

Virgil wasn’t particularly fond of the guy from the few moments of conscious interaction he’d had with them, but he also didn’t really want to see them go the way of the leader for the crime of being annoying and a little pathetic.

At Square’s blank stare, he clarified. “The medic we abducted.”

“Oh!” Square frowned for a moment, aether full of contemplative, slightly confused feelings. “We had planned to release them on a nearby inhabitable planet. Maybe one with a port, depending on how fast you recovered.”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh a little, even as his feathers drooped slightly with relief. “And the other raiders? Sveve said we were still attached to their ship.”

“If one could call it that, at this point,” Square replied, radiating a bit of smugness. “The vessel has only one piece of functioning equipment now, a distress beacon that we’ll activate remotely once we’ve gained some distance.”

Anyone responding to a distress beacon would be adjacent enough to the law to report the obvious raider vessel, meaning that their rescue would leave them facing legal charges and unable to pursue. Virgil chirped lowly, impressed.

A few doors away, Heartfelt appeared, holding a pile of machinery in their arms that was stacked higher than Virgil was tall. Despite being unable to see much past their burden, they barely seemed to feel the weight.

“I should go help him,” Square said, but glanced back down at Virgil one last time, something hesitant in their posture, almost apologetic. “We retrieved enough parts to rig up a temporary remote steering system, to use while you heal. I imagine that we won’t be the most graceful of pilots, so… What I’m saying is, everyone will be much happier once you’ve recovered enough to take the helm again.”

Virgil felt a little thrill of joy, unable to keep his ruff from fluffing up slightly at the confirmation that his fears had been unfounded all along. “I’ll try not to take too long,” he managed to respond, with only the barest embarrassing croaking to his voice.

Square nodded and hurried off to prevent Heartfelt’s teetering tower of metal, and Virgil huffed in amusement, turning to go track down Noisy and let him know that he was ready to take another nap.

It was amazing, just how relieved he felt to finally understand their arrangement. If they weren’t seeking retribution against Sveve, who had actively been on an opposing force, he seriously doubted they would kill him just to tie up a loose end.

Maybe it was a dangerous hope to foster, but Virgil couldn’t help himself. If this had probed anything, it was that the three of them saw him as far more than a simple, easily discarded tool, that much was obvious. It stood to reason that as long as he didn’t break any of the serious rules, they wouldn’t hurt him.

He might just make it out of this situation intact, after all.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...

Word Count: 6,200

Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.

Chapter 19 - Field Day

The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.

"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"

"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."

Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"

"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"

"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.

"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."

Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.

Talk about being a queen bitch...

Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."

Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"

"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."

The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."

"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"

Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.

"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...

...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.

"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"

"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.

My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"

"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."

"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.

"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"

"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."

"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.

Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."

"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.

Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.

Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.

"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"

"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"

"Will you attend the opera tonight?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...

...and that's when I spot him.

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.

Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!

He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.

Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...

...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.

"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.

Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.

Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.

"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.

Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"

"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"

"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"

"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"

"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.

A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.

"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.

"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."

Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."

"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"

Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."

"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."

"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"

"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."

"Oh..."

"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."

"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"

"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."

"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."

I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.

"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"

"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.

Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"

"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."

"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod.

Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."

"How?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.

My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"

"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."

"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."

Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.

"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.

I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.

But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.

So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.

Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.

Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.

Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...

...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.

"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.

"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.

"Sorry, I had t—"

I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"

"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.

I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."

"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.

He shrinks instantly back from her.

My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."

A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...

"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.

The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.

"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"

His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.

"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."

In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.

"Sa mère la pute de—"

"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.

Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"

"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"

Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"

"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"

"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"

Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."

Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."

"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."

"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.

Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."

Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"

"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.

Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"

"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.

"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."

Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."

"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."

Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."

"Ducats?" asks Olivia.

"Euros."

I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.

"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."

"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."

"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."

"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."

Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."

Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."

"Who was this person?" I ask.

"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."

"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.

"A man."

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.

"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.

"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.

"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.

"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"

"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.

"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."

"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.

"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."

His words hit me like a kick to the guts.

It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.

Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?

"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.

He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."

"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"

"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."

"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"

He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."

I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"

Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"

"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."

"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"

Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."

"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.

"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"

"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.

Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.

The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.

Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.

Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"

"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.

Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."

"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."

The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."

Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."

"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.

"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"

I reel back. "What! No! I just—"

"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."

My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."

"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."

"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."

"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."

I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."

"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."

"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."

"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."

"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.

Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."

"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."

Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."

"But—"

"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."

My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"

Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.

She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."

"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.

"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.

"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.

Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.

Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"

"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.

I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.

Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.

Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.

Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.

Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.

"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.

Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.

"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"

"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."

My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"

"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"

Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.

Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...

...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.

"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."

"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.

"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.

"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."

"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"

"Just around the corner."

I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"

With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.

Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.

We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.

And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.

"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!

Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.

"Umm..."

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.

"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."

"Che tipo de scarpe?"

"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."

"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.

"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.

Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...

...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.

"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"

But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.

Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.

And these sandals definitely fit the bill.

Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.

"Size 36, please."

With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.

While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.

Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.

The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.

Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.

My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...

In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.

"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"

"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.

Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.

But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"

Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.

"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."

Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.

Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.

The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.

It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.

But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.

I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.

Eugh... I miss him...

Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.

Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...

...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.

Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.

"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.

Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.

My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...

...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.

The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.

"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"

"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.

The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"

Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.

I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."

"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.

"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"

His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi!"

"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.

Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.

"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.

Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"

"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.

Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.

"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.

No way...

The story continues in Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady

At the bridal boutique:

Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?

C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?

Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—

Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!

Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch

Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!

Je le jure - I swear

Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.

Out and About

Par ici - This way

Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?

Prego - Please

Gracia - Thanks

De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady

Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?

Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!

Por mi amore?* - For my love?

*This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇

Cento euro - One hundred Euros

Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!

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An Arsonist’s Anguish

Richy’s Lament - A Duskwood One Shot

A dark, angsty exploration into Richy’s character as he sets the stage for his death. There is no happy ending. Just some hope that another soul made it out of the mine as it burns. Crossposted on Ao3.

Trigger Warnings are below the line. Please check them.

TW: Suicide, Self Hatred, Hallucinations, and thoughts/descriptions of Death. Read at your own risk. I tried not to be too graphic, but you will know what’s happening.

Richy would never see the sun rise again.

The ghosts of all the beautiful things he killed to protect his secrets haunted his dragging, stumbling steps as he traversed the mine and ignored the cameras he installed. Gasoline poured and splashed from the canister he held as he wove through tunnels and gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm.

It was nothing compared to the emotional torture he felt inside. His thoughts were a tempest raging with the violence of a cyclone. Every destructive gust ripped through the fragile edifices of his grip on reality.

Within the labyrinth of his mind, self-loathing chewed on his soul like a pack of feral beasts tearing at the tender flesh of their fallen prey. Each bite drew forth burgundy rivers of desolation, self-condemnation, and unyielding fury. Blending with the physical aches until he couldn’t tell them apart

His arm throbbed as he ignored the yelling in his mind. Fucking Dan. Dan, who gave him a gun?! Oh, what an idiot! He scuppered all Richy’s plans and left him scrambling to end it before anyone else got hurt. Ensure nothing remains but ash.

Rivers of cold sweat streamed down his grey face as he held his injured arm over his stomach so he wouldn’t bang it into the rough wall. He wanted to punch the stone to take his mind off it. The bottle of pain meds he stole from his mother rattled in his pocket, but he couldn’t risk taking them yet.

His breathing roasted his throat, but his entire body shivered as though an icy glacier engulfed him. The persistent tremble in his body intensified with every labored step.

The combined weight of his physical and emotional agony was an anchor on his back, dragging his broken spirit beneath tumultuous waves, where the agony of drowning and being hammered from all sides echoed through the depths of himself.

It didn’t feel like any of it was unfair. The thirst was the worst thing. He kept smacking his lips together, attempting to inspire some moisture, but his tongue remained bone dry and coated in the remnants of bitter blood rust.

The blood he’d lost stained his skin and the stone as it dripped through the filthy dressing he tried and failed to use as a tourniquet. Everything felt like it happened to someone else. Something otherworldly piloted his body from the inside.

Like some demon possessed him, guiding him down depraved, treacherous paths, and the priest hadn’t arrived in time to exorcise him.

And he’d done it to himself. Every choice he’d made since kidnapping Hannah, it had felt like suicide in slow motion.

He marooned himself on an island surrounded by vipers of his own creation.

Now, the only option to set himself free was fire. It would hurt, he thought, and his stomach wrenched to the side, almost splitting in two as he dreaded it so strongly.

And death. There was a liberating freedom in death. A broken sob tore through his clenched teeth as he thought of Jessy, the emotions he harbored for her, and everything he had never deserved to have with her.

She was a shot of adrenaline after years of lethargy.

So many of his favorite memories revolved around her and their silly inside jokes. He’d used his closeness to her to torment and stalk her. Terrorized her and her friends. She would never forgive him. Her smiling face, her flaming hair, and desire for a life of adventure had made his miserable existence worth living.

She would forget him one day, but never forgive him. He was a coward. An idiot. He’d let them all believe a masked myth was chasing them.

The only masked freak after them was their own friend.

His megawatt smile, stupid jokes, and constant upbeat attitude despite the shitstorm life rained on him had been the heaviest disguise of his brief life. They’d all bought it.

Hook, line, and fucking sinker. None thought to check beneath that smile. Now, it had twisted and transformed into a permanent snarl. If they paid attention, they would have found the rot and ruin underneath his cheerful demeanor. None of his friends had stopped to think about just how stressed he was. How much he had to carry for his family and Hannah—screw her. She was party to his worst decision.

She caused it.

Her wanting to sacrifice herself, him, and Amy to clear her conscience, betrayal. Betrayal was a dagger Hannah concealed in a cloak of mutual trust and unspoken promises to take their secrets to the grave. That blade had appeared suddenly and without warning, piercing the walls of his shriveled heart.

Half of him wished he’d killed her while he’d had her under his control. End the threat, leave her body to decompose in the mine.

No one came here. He’d made sure of it. Everything might—well, it was too late now. She was safe in the hands of Alan Bloomgate. Hannah, perfect, beautiful fucking Hannah.

He hated her. He blamed Hannah. But it was Amy who he blamed the most. Richy blamed everyone but himself for too long. He knew that. And now he would pay the price for it.

He’d already staged his death. Now he just had to commit.

The cloying scent of gasoline infiltrated his nose, thickening in his raw throat, and the empty metal cannister fell from his weak fingers. The thunderous clanging as it bounced and came to a stop worsened the headache he’d had for the last few weeks.

It pounded in time with his thudding heart. Each pulse pushed yet more blood out of the wound in his heavy, aching arm. It tingled and sparked with fiery pain with every paranoid twitch as he glanced behind him, sure he heard footsteps chasing him down.

He gave himself a shake when only his shadow approached. It looked much bigger to him now. Sinister and spreading to encompass the entirety of him.

It had taken him over long ago, and at last, he accepted it. It was too late to beat it back. He’d embraced it. Its hug was gelid and dragged him down, down, down. The shadow had always been in him; his choices had brought it to life, and it was time to eliminate it so it wouldn’t harm anyone else.

If his last victim was to be himself, it would end on his terms.

His last words had been a confession and an apology. To Jessy, and his friends, to the unwitting stranger he’d dragged into this mess, and to himself. His conscience was far from clear, and his reckoning awaited him amongst the flames he would soon ignite.

The cave in which he’d chosen as his tomb would remain safe from the flames, but the poison smoke would choke him. An intangible noose, as he couldn’t bring himself to tie a rope. He shuffled inside and loosed a long breath that felt more like a death rattle.

His stinging eyes couldn’t penetrate the blackness encroaching him on all sides as he reached into his jacket pocket with his good hand, and pulled out the zippo lighter he’d stuffed inside days before. He’d always suspected.

Deep inside, Richy had expected that this was how it ended. The cold silver metal warmed a little in his clammy hand as his thumb stroked over the Garage’s logo and wished he had said goodbye to his parents before he gave himself to the fire.

It was best they learned with the world. His suicide letter would speak for him and he prayed it would ensure his family didn’t suffer for his actions.

Naïveté had always been his downfall.

Before he set his ultimate act into motion, Richy took his phone out of his jean pocket and flicked the flashlight on. The bright beam of white light assaulted his eyes and created a flurry of moving shadows. The skittering of tiny claws on loose stone racing away from him painted a cruel smirk on his mouth as he cast the light around the small cavern and found what he was looking for.

A grubby black backpack sat against the grey rock wall, covered in dirt, blood, and guilt as he scuttled over to it. He unzipped it and pulled out the almost empty bottle of water he’d been rationing for days.

After fishing the bottle of medication out of his pocket, he struggled to open them both, and cried out as his jerky movements irritated his wounded arm. It took five very long minutes to get the pills out. The light from his phone shuddered as he set it down to count the pills.

He’d chosen the strongest ones his mother had. One knocked her out for half a day, and he wanted to numb himself as much as he could before the smoke smothered or flames devoured him. They were heavy on his tongue as he tossed back a fistful of the chalky tablets and chased them down with the last of his precious water.

For a moment, they got lodged in his throat, his mouth flooded with saliva and his eyes prickled with fresh tears.

He couldn’t even kill himself right. Everything he did just failed in spectacular fashion.

He was a monster of his own making, and only he could slay it. He swallowed, compulsive and dry, ignoring the hot flashes creeping up his neck as the painkillers scraped down his throat and into his hollow stomach.

Richy dropped to his knees and crawled over to the wall, and slumped back onto it. Paper crinkled in his inside coat pocket as he shifted to get comfortable. He had about an hour before the full effects of the medication set in. He would light the fire once the gnawing, eroding ache in his chest and arm dulled.

Until then, he sat with his thoughts, his splintering sanity, and cursed himself. Cursed Duskwood and the predator the town had forced him to transfigure himself into.

The weight of hopelessness hung around Richy’s neck like a noose pulled tight, squeezing the light of life from his eyes.

It was a suffocating darkness that swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but the biting tang of despair on his tongue. Each breath felt like inhaling shards of broken glass, cutting deeper with every huffing exhale.

The silence that echoed in his soul was a relentless scream, a haunting, deafening reminder of the emptiness that consumed him.

“I should’ve told someone,” Richy said in a whisper.

The words bounced softly off the rock, a harmony of regret.

He twitched as it fell silent, mouth furling and eyes glazing over as he listened to the racket in his head.

All you had to do was hand yourself in. You could have avoided all of this.

What do you think will happen to your family? They’ll live happily ever after in the town you terrorized?

Do you honestly think your pathetic letter will save them?

The slippery voice of his own darkness broke into a baleful laugh. It made the hair in his nape rise and stand stiff. He shuddered, thrashing his head and gritting his teeth until they squeaked.

“I tried. I always tried. But I’m a failure. I’ve always been a failure. I can make it right. It’s the only way.” He muttered as the disembodied voice agreed.

Make it right? Ha! You think you can wash away the stain of your idiocy?

You’re tainted.

Forever marked by your wrong choices, Richy.

Redemption? You make me laugh.

Redemption is a fairytale, a delusion you’re desperately clinging to.

It is so far beyond your reach…

Richy’s voice was a growl as he said, “No, redemption isn’t my goal. I can’t undo the damage I’ve caused, but I can end it before anyone else gets hurt. I can make sure the world knows it was me.”

The derisive laughter of his demons chafed at his skull as if their talons were scratching their unspeakable names into the bone.

You’re a lost cause. A testament to all your failures.

Each step you take is a step closer to the abyss of self condemnation.

There’s no way out.

Your sacrifice won’t save your soul.

“I accept that!” Richy roared, spittle flying from his chapped lips as he panted like a wounded beast.

“My death might be the only way to atone for all I’ve done. I don’t care what comes after that. But my family won’t suffer because of me. Not any more.”

The voice in his head made a sound of agreement before it crooned his worst fears.

Yes, your death is the ultimate penance.

Your final act of contrition for the havoc you’ve so selfishly wrought.

Then again, have you considered the aftermath?

Your family will endure your actions. Long after you’re gone. Their suffering will echo until they, too, shuffle off the mortal coil.

Searing fiery agony ripped through Richy’s heart. It felt as though someone had taken a knife, heated it up over a fire until it glowed red hot, and then plunged it into his chest. The scent of burned flesh and molten iron filled his nose. The sensation felt so real to him.

His hand clawed at his jacket over his pounding heart, as if to pull the blade free, but his fingers met only dirty fabric.

“They won’t! They won’t! They won’t! I’ve made sure of it. This isn’t their burden to bear!” He yelled, voice laced with an anguish that made his body convulse as rivulets of salt descended his bared teeth.

Helplessness stole over him as his demons taunted and chuckled in a scornful manner.

You should have thought about that before you started donning the guise of an ancient legend.

Idiot.

Weak.

Pathetic!

Your existence is a festering wound that poisons all in your vicinity.

Embrace the fire.

Let it cleanse all the filth you’ve spread.

But just know, your family will bear the scars of your choices, as they’re carved into their souls for eternity.

Richy sobbed through the agonising sensation weaving through his internal organs. He felt as though someone was weaving his internal organs together with a blunt needle, and they had deliberately coated the thread in salt to prolong his suffering. The increasing pressure in his head demanded an outlet as well.

Everything ached, it bled, and it tore him apart. He was so tired. So tired of trying.

This mine, this town, and all it had demanded of him, he was done with it all. He wanted it to burn. His desire was for them all to suffer, just as he had for a decade. He hadn’t dug just one grave that night. No, there had been one accident and four graves waiting for them. They’d just seen theirs too late.

The forest had never forgotten them, though. It had been patient.

That night with Hannah and Amy, it had never ended. It was a living nightmare he had no way out of. Their deaths had simply waited for them to catch up, and even if Hannah could find it in her to exist after all he’d done, he knew she’d died alongside Jennifer and the rest of them.

Ghosts. That’s what they were. He saw it now. There was no point in trying to hold it off anymore.

It was as if the pressure in his head imploded with that thought.

He wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings as his mind fragmented and warped, and his tenuous hold on reality slipped from his grasp.

The cave dissolved in his vision. Something at the very core of himself disintegrated with it.

He was somewhere else. Somewhere he had long tried to forget.

It was ten years ago.

Amy was there. As was Hannah.

He held a muddied shovel. The surrounding forest smelled like home, but his blood had turned cold. Jennifer’s lifeless body lay broken and bloodied, the remnants of shock still painted across her lovely features.

Her hair lay in a sanguine halo around her head as Richy set down the shovel, and silently, the trio worked to lift the woman.

Hannah’s sobs blended with his labored breathing, sweat drip, drip, dripped down his sore neck. He’d wanted to report it to the police. Tried to convince them to do so anonymously. But Hannah, in her fright, had convinced him they’d be signing their death warrants.

His family would suffer. It was he who gave her the keys to a client’s car. It was due to be scrapped, yes, but that didn’t make it better. Everyone would boycott his dad’s Garage and now that mom was growing worse, the sickness in her invading her mind, he knew they needed that income more than ever.

All they could do was hide the body, agree never to speak of this night, and give the greatest performances of their lives to ensure no one ever suspected them once word of Jennifer’s vanishing spread through Duskwood. He felt like something inside him was dying.

His throat tightened, mouth flooding with saliva as the urge to vomit overtook his senses. Heat crawled through him as he swallowed a mouthful of acidic bile and looked heavenward as they shuffled to stand at the edge of the crudely dug grave.

The stars overhead mocked them as the foliage and freshly overturned earth disguised the metallic scent of spilled blood and their sour shared guilt.

“Are you sure you can live with this?” He asked as they hesitated to drop Jennifer into the ground.

Amy chewed on her bottom lip, blood staining her teeth she’d bitten so hard, and her leaking eyes wouldn’t settle on anything as she gave a single jerky nod. Richy’s stomach sank, but he turned his gaze to Hannah.

His friend’s grief mottled face would haunt him forever as she said, “What other choice do we have?”

That answer inspired zero confidence, but Richy accepted it as an affirmation, and said, “Okay, on three—1, 2, 3!”

With a slight swing and a wobble, they released their hold on Jennifer and all three screwed their eyes shut as she hit the bottom of the hole with a sickening crunch.

Amy fell to her knees, her shaking hands gripping the loose mud ringing the unmarked grave as she sobbed uncontrollably. Richy could hardly stand to watch her, and was glad when Hannah, who was crying freely herself, hauled her away.

He nodded once as Hannah and Amy embraced, clinging to one another, wordless apologies pouring from them both as Richy retrieved his shovel.

He felt like they were being watched. Paranoia snaked through his mind like a weed he knew would grow out of control. All he could do was start refilling the grave.

The soft sound of metal scooping up damp earth seemed to ring through the forest as he internally shut down. All his emotions, he forced them aside. He locked them in a cage made of lead and lined with explosives. Life would never be the same.

Life would be a method actors dream after this. He knew this would change them at a molecular level and none of them could breathe a word of it once they left this cursed forest.

Richy took the last deep breath he’d ever experience and watched expressionlessly as the earth rained down on Jennifer. The pattering noise reminded him of rain, of tears. Amy cried harder while he diligently worked to cover up their mistakes.

Hannah watched, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Wetness trickled down his cheeks as he slowly returned to the present.

Hannah’s face floated across his vision as the scene fully dissipated, and he found himself back in the cave. Stale air replaced the aroma of the night dark forest, and a thin haze hung over his eyes as a euphoric rush raced through his bloodstream.

He felt as if he was floating and drowning in a sea of deliriousness.

The medication had kicked in. His legs were leaden as his head lolled on his neck as if on a swivel, and there was an odd sensation in his nose, like the smell of a roaring fire, but none had been lit. The bullet wound in his arm still griped. Infection had set in, he thought.

Only death would cure it. The meds would ease his passing.

A synthetic fatigue draped him like a cloak as he blinked blearily at the dancing shadows creeping nearer. His mouth turned so dry his tongue curdled in his mouth, and his breathing grew shallower as the painkillers burned through the aches in his body. Not long now, his mosaic mind kept jumping between the past and present, footsteps and disembodied voices whispered so close and real that he answered one.

“I should have turned myself in, I know.”

“At least we agree on something. ”

A female said. His suddenly too heavy head swung around to find the source, his sluggish heart raced faster and faster as the voice sounded like Jessy’s.

“Jess? Remember the fish? The names I made up? If I could—No—I’m so fucking sorry...” He said. He spoke with a voice threaded with deepest despondency.

“The fish were just another lie. All of it was. Your life ended the night Jennifer did. Was any of it real after that? Anything you said, did you mean any of it?”

His shrunken heart broke irrevocably, the agony radiated through his chest, and filled him with a coldness that would soon embrace all of him.

“I didn’t mean—please—I’m ready to pay for it. No one else will hurt because of me.” He swore vehemently.

Jessy’s spectral laugh, derisive and humorless, taunted him.

“We will hurt. It won’t go away. Your actions caused wounds that will scar us forever. Death is your relief. Living with what you did to us is our grief. Goodbye, Richy.”

Richy cried silently as her voice faded and the full effects of the painkillers turned his bones to jelly. He had to light the fire before he passed out. A coffin was his only way out of this cursed place.

Bracing a hand on the knobby wall, he gradually rose to his feet as rock crumbled under his fingers, and rained to the dusty ground, sweat on his palm mixed with the dirt as he tottered toward the entrance. He thumbed the Zippo open as he panted, jaw clenched and eyes stinging with slaking tears.

Petrol permeated the air. He breathed it in as he flicked the lighter and swayed on weak knees as the tiny flame ignited. In the dim, damp recesses of the mine, shadows waltzed like specters as Richy, face obscured by the glow of the lighter and shadow, dropped the flame with a snap of his wrist into the pool of gasoline.

Flame surged away from him, hissing along in a serpentine trail until it morphed into a living beast starved and hungry for destruction. He stumbled back. The heat was a physical blow as it sucked out the oxygen, and he trembled like a newborn fawn as he dropped to his knees and stared and stared and stared.

Amidst the cavernous depths of the mine, the candescent light of the furious fire cast a macabre ballet of shadows upon the rough-hewn walls, a surreal tableau of light and darkness. Tendrils of flame licked and lapped at the stone, awakening ember-tinged echoes that wavered and flashed like phantoms in the subterranean gloom.

Billowing smoke, an ash ridden shroud, coiled sinuously through the labyrinthine passages. The evidence he had doused in gasoline would soon catch fire. Relief glittered through him at the thought. An acrid perfume of burning wood and charred earth mingled with the metallic scent of ancient minerals, an otherworldly aroma that lingered in his lungs and clung to all his senses.

There was no going back now. Every breath was slower than the last. It felt like he was inhaling lava as the heat singed the soft tissue and hair in his nose.

His weighty eyelids sat at half mast. The tunnel walls seemed to exhale, releasing murmurs of long buried secrets, as if the very mine itself sought to voice its resignation to the all-consuming blaze. Mirroring his own easing turmoil as he shut down the instinct to flee and welcomed the darkness speckling the edges of his vision.

His lungs were burning as he struggled for air, and it felt like there was a boulder sitting on his chest, keeping them from inflating and grinding his bones down.

The feeling went out of his legs as his hands turned to claws and raked down his neck, leaving scarlet trails of pain scoring his constricting throat.

His world flipped sideways as he collapsed and his head cracked off the rubble strewn ground, but he no longer felt any pain. The roar of the fire, the slowing beat of his heart, and the stones poking into his tear-streaked face were all he knew.

As Richy’s weary eyes teetered on the edge of closure for the last time, a bizarre scene unfolded within the tumult of his fading consciousness.

The nerves in his hands spasmed and his fingers twitched, filthy nails scratching at the dirt to distract himself as he resisted the urge to fight for his life.

No, it had to end like this. If Hell was real, it was best he got used to it.

Freezing panic blasted through him like a blizzard as his blurred eyes caught sight of something that didn’t belong.

Through the shimmering haze of smoke and heat, a figure emerged from a tunnel he hadn’t thought to include in his fiery last act. His heart tried to beat faster as fear spread its icy fingers through his body. The person appeared cloaked in a shivering orange glow and erratic shadows.

Masked and foreboding, the phantom figure raced away without noticing Richy. And lost in the fractured fabric of his perception, Richy could not see who or what it was. If it was a real person, they might’ve tried to drag him out. This would all be for naught. For once, his horrendous luck benefited him.

As it was, the panicked footsteps bolted away from him, barely heard over the howling fire, and vanished into the tumult of smoke.

He hoped they made it out. It hadn’t occurred to him he might take another’s life with him. Just another mistake. Another tally on his list of sins committed. His choices lay before him like an intricately woven tapestry, each thread a testament to the wrong turns and paths he tread, yielding a disturbing, wretched pattern he wished he could unravel and weave anew.

His trembling gaze soon faltered as the slithering smoke filled his lungs, gasping for air that no longer existed as he spluttered and coughed. With every shallow inhale, the world blurred and distorted. Black spots burst like maleficent fireworks in his eyes, shutting down his fleeting thoughts of crawling to safety.

A cacophony of wheezes and whines slipping from his open mouth faded into a distant echo, as his eyelids, heavy with surrender, fluttered closed. He gave himself over to the exhaustion eating him alive from the inside.

The world outside ceased to matter as an alleviating darkness enveloped his mind. His tiny exhales were little more than puffs of air. A whispered farewell to all those he was leaving behind.

Richy had fallen quiet, but the fire raged on, growing stronger as it feasted on wood, and hastily packed boxes, and the papers inside them. His legacy of ash and blood.

In the letter he left for his parents, he had assumed all guilt and taken the lion's share of the responsibility for Jennifer’s death, and his actions after. Hannah, he thought she had suffered enough, and whatever punishment she received, he didn’t want it to ruin her more. Death was his toll to pay, his lethal reputation would exist long after him and pay for the rest of it. He only hoped his parents could move on from this.

They wouldn’t see him again, not until the funeral. It was over. The corrosive effects of his choices had eaten away at everything good in him.

There was nothing left to salvage from his wreckage.

He tried. And he failed. This time, he finally succeeded in something. The complete demolition of him. A tear slipped through his lashes, warm and soft as it fell to the mucky ground.

It was the last. No more fell.

Death came quietly for him, as silent as a falling leaf drifting into a pile of its fallen friends. His chest stuttered as tentacles of smoke wreathed around him like funeral wrappings, falling as still as the rock he lay atop.

Death finally slayed Richy Rogers’ demons, and no one heard their screams.

——————

I have never been so nervous about something I’ve written. I hope that you—I can’t say enjoyed 🙈 but I hope your time wasn’t wasted. Thank you for reading, if you made it this far.

This is in no way meant to glamorise mental illness or anything like that. That is not my intention. I have been where Richy was in this story, I didn’t kidnap or help bury anyone, but I’ve dealt with depression/anxiety all my life. I’ve dealt with suicidal thoughts. There is nothing glamorous about it. This is just a fictional character study to explore his mind and emotions at the end of the game. If you are struggling, please reach out to anyone you trust. Or a stranger, if that works better. Share the burden. You don’t have to suffer alone. It can get better. I promise. I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t ❤️🫂

Thank you ❤️

And the “masked figure,” that was Jake from this story, The Ending You Deserve. Just a little Easter egg for anyone who read that 🤭❤️