#[the passage of time washes over me harshly]

[commandertartarsmoocher]

It's an antique telephone and a blender...!

[cherryslyce]

Love, Anonymous | Blaise Zabini

Synopsis: The rumor mill at Hogwarts has expanded into physical print, and with it, a buzzing section dedicated to anonymous confessions. 

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Hufflepuff!Reader

Notes: I accidentally grew extremely fond of Ernie while writing this. Susan Bones supremacy, always.

Word Count: 4.8k

The infamous rumor mill of Hogwarts, upheld by boisterous Gryffindors Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, seemed to finally reach eminence in the social sphere of the castle. It was a long time coming, you thought. Grapevines. Heard from a friend. Through an open door — nothing was as fascinating as the arbitrary spiel that grew to fruition in the rumor mill. 

“I’m impressed. With all of this, you’d think Lavender was going after Skeeter’s job.” Susan hums, eyes scanning over the leaflets of paper lain strewn in front of you both. 

Ernie snorts as he shovels a spoonful of peas into his mouth, eyes rooted to the ceiling as he awaited the daily post, “What a load of bollocks.” 

“Hey, now. Don’t be so curt with it, E.” You muse, mouth folding into a wry grin as you pick up one of the loose papers, bringing it to eye-level so you could read it, “Look at this riveting slice of writing, Hogwarts Anonymous: With the Yule Ball so fresh in the minds of the student body–” 

“Fresh? It was almost three bloody years ago.” Ernie interjects, tongue clicking loudly as the sea of owls begin to scurry across the plane of the ceiling, dropping rolls and boxes of news and gifts. However, the surge of mail went largely ignored as many students remained engrossed in the new Hogwarts gossip column. 

You shoot Ernie a stern look at the interruption, but continue when Susan releases an amused huff, “As I was saying—With the Yule Ball so fresh in the minds of the student body and love so sorely missed as a result, Hogwarts Anonymous is dedicated to working towards the revival of matchmaking. To submit an anonymous clip of your own, reach out to Parvati Patil for inquiries.” 

“Love so sorely missed?” Susan echoes, eyes blown wide in disbelief. 

“Poetic. Inspired. Riveting. Ingenious.” Ernie utters with faux sincerity, ignoring the raucous younger years fighting behind him. 

You nod, barely able to conceal your grin as your eyes drop further down the blocks of text, seeing a few confessions and messages splayed across the paper. As you continue to read through the text, a sudden passage has you choking on your spit, thumb pressing harshly against the flimsy paper as your eyes narrow. 

Ernie peers up at you from his plate, glancing towards Susan as they both share unimpressed looks. Eventually, it’s Susan who plucks up the voice to question your sudden bafflement, “Y/N? Are you alright there?” 

“Y/N looks like a startled crup puppy in Arithmancy.” You recite rigidly, feeling the paper warp and crease under your unrelenting grip. 

There is an unsettling pause in the atmosphere, as though the entirety of the dining hall has paused in their routine to listen to the confession, but it soon washes away as Ernie practically howls in laughter, his broad frame throttling forward as he tries to muffle his guffaw. 

Susan, ever the diplomat, proves to be more successful at maintaining her composure, but you don’t miss the small grin that tugs at her lips as she reaches over to grasp the paper, “Here, give me that.” 

“Crup puppy? Oh my goodness! That is bloody—Ow! Hey! Okay, stop!” Ernie’s fit of laughter and verbal tirade is swiftly dealt with as you send numerous stinging hexes his way, basking in the alarmed glint in his eyes. 

Susan shakes her head at both of your antics, and folds the paper up, eyes scanning the room as she muses, “How romantic. You just have to wonder who the culprit is.” 

“Merlin. It might just be a prank. Or maybe someone has a vendetta against me.” You groan with exasperation, realizing that just about everyone in the castle was going to be hearing about it. 

Ernie bumps his shoulder against yours and grins, “Chin up, Y/N. If someone’s out to get ya, Susan and I will send them to their maker—without their kneecaps, rest assured.” 

You roll your eyes but nod in appreciation, gaze falling down to your pitiful plate of food as your mind is thrust into overdrive. Hopefully, it would all blow over by the next day. 

Wishful thinking on your part because in fact, it did not. 

“It is endearing how Y/N is always lost during Potions.” Susan reads off the paper with squinted eyes, mouth furling into a frown of disbelief at the words. 

“Does this person hate me?” You murmur, leaning on your elbows as your eyes run across the aisle of bookshelves in front of you. 

Ernie rocks on the heels of his feet as he hums, “Abysmal flirting. Subpar, one-sided banter. Hardly charming. A Gryffindor, for sure.” 

“Well, the only Gryffindor in both Arithmancy with me and Potions with us is Hermione Granger, and I surely hope she hasn’t turned away from Ron. He’ll be insufferable if so.” You grit out, torn between chasing down your secret “admirer” and putting forth your best effort to ignore their future comments.  

Susan hums at your suggestion with crossed arms, Runes homework long forgotten about, “Surely not. So not a Gryffindor— and really Ernie, you can’t let your heartache blind your judgement! Seriously, are we sticking with the ‘All Gryffindors Are Bad’ thing?” 

Ernie gapes at her words and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Guys, I’m over her, we’ve been through this.” 

You pat your friends arm empathetically, hiding your sly grin as you muse, “Of course you are. Poor Fay Dunbar, really.”

Before your friend can retort, the sound of clicking footsteps attracts your attention as a figure emerges from behind the shelf next to you. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch the familiar Slytherin stroll towards you all with cool eyes, hands shoved in his dress pants as he hums, “Bones. Macmillan.” His eyes drop down to where you’re seated and you see an indecipherable glint cross his gaze as he greets you, “Puppy.”

Your reaction is almost immediate as a hot wave of mortification swallows all your sensibilities, “Excuse me?” Your offended wheeze hardly deters the Slytherin as he merely smirks at you. 

“I think your time would be better spent working through the latest Arithmancy assignment instead of gossiping, no?” He asks with a slanted grin, eyes never trailing away from yours. 

“What’s it to you, Zabini?” Your voice comes out taut as you feel Ernie place a hand on the back of your chair, likely eyeing down the boy in front of you. 

Blaise’s eyes briefly flicker to survey Ernie’s ministrations before they glide back to you in consideration, “Just concerned for a fellow classmate is all. I’ll see you around, Puppy.” Without giving you time to retaliate, the tall Slytherin vanishes just as swiftly as he arrived. 

“The absolute nerve!” You utter with indignation, swiveling your attention over to Susan. The girl frowns in the direction that Blaise disappeared through, eyes glimmering as you could see her brain whirring. 

“Strange. I thought Zabini was one of the tamer Slytherins out of their lot.” Ernie mutters, resuming his position beside you as he rubs his chin. 

You shake your head, “Malfoy’s influence is something to fear for years to come. Zabini may have been pleasant in our youth, but he’s been so shifty to me as of late.” 

Ernie snaps his fingers at your words and snickers down at you, “You used to have the largest love-sick eyes for him.” 

Clicking your tongue, you send a side glance at your friend before looking at Susan as she seems to take in your clueless expression. 

“Seriously?” She huffs, eyebrow drawn up as she gazes at you both like she was staring at a pedestrian display. 

“Seriously what? Suze?” You prod, leaning over as she shakes her head and redirects her attention to her work. 

Ernie shoots you a shrug as he pulls out the chair beside you, reluctantly following the girl’s lead as he sifts through the pile of parchments in front of him. 

The next few days blur by in a similar fashion, except you had taken to avoiding Hogwarts Anonymous like the plague, forcing Ernie and Susan to do the same when you were around. You eventually fell back into your routine of focusing on coursework and your future anxieties, letting the anomalous events slip from your mind. 

It is not until you’re organizing your supplies during Arithmancy that your fragile bubble of peace is disturbed. 

“Puppy.” The dulcet sound of Blaise’s voice has you snapping your head up, boggled by his sudden appearance beside you. The boy usually sat rows behind you, leaving the spot next to you to be occupied by Padma Patil. However, it seemed she was nowhere to be found. 

Suppressing your complaints, you don’t even attempt pleasantries as you sigh, “Zabini, hello.” 

“What’s with the long face? Not happy to see me?” Blaise teases, mouth stretching into a small grin. 

You’re almost tempted to squint as his perfectly white teeth glare at you in all their glory. Fuck. Did he not have a single flaw?

“I’m flattered, but perhaps the only thing I’m unable to do is catch you on a good day.” Blaise’s eyes twinkle with mirth as he smiles softly at you. 

Your face heats up so violently that you’re sure radiators across the globe were turning to you with envy. Forcing your jaw from parting so gauchely, you can only sputter out weakly, “Did I say that out loud?” 

Blaise hums wordlessly as he continues to look at you. Clearing your throat, you turn back to face the front of the classroom as Professor Vector begins to rise from her desk, “Right.” 

The rest of the class seems to tick by like molasses from a tipped jar: incredibly, painstakingly slow. You were usually quite engaged with the lesson and content, but you couldn’t ignore the occasional glances from the Italian boy beside you. 

As you absentmindedly continue to scrawl on your parchment, eyes transfixed on the swirls of ink blooming on the page, you feel something poke your arm. Frowning, you try to ignore it, directing your full attention onto sketching your diagram. 

The light poking persists until you bring your other hand up to swipe at your robe, fingers dancing across a sheet of paper with a slight crinkling noise. Faintly tilting your head, you furrow your eyebrows when you see Blaise attempting to slide a sheet of paper towards you. Slowly grasping the paper, you lay it atop one of your dry parchments, eyes scanning across the leaflet in confusion. 

‘Hogwarts Anonymous. Submission 0128: Y/N L/N is devastatingly oblivious. It really is quite cute.’

You feel your entire body steel up at the words, lips parted from shock as you continue to reread the confession. The nerves across your body seem to buzz wildly as you try and rein in the burning climbing up your chest. 

“Alright, dears! That will be all for today. I expect the next two chapters to be read by our next convening. Ah, and L/N, my dear! I need to speak with you.”  Professor Vector’s euphonic voice cut through your haze of disbelief, drawing your eyes away from the dizzying passage and up towards the heart of the classroom. 

You don’t dare to glance at Blaise as you quickly clamber towards the awaiting woman, weaving around the retreating students that file through the grand doors. Huffing to relieve the pressure in your chest, you peer at the woman in anticipation as you finally step toward her. 

“Sorry to call you up like this, L/N. It’s just that the other professors and I are concerned about the recent articles that are being passed around the student body. It’s come to our attention that these anonymous confessions regarding you are quite prolific.” Professor Vector keeps her voice steady as she gazes at you with warm eyes, evidently trying to gauge your honest opinion on the matter. 

It would appear that everyone knew about your predicament. 

You shake your head quickly, eyes wandering towards the tomes resting on her desk, “It’s quite alright, they’re just small statements. Besides, no one has been giving me a hard time.” Which was partially true, but you also did not want the column to be shut down and run the risk of facing Lavender’s wrath. 

“If you’re quite sure, dear.” 

With a soft nod, you send a small smile towards her before bounding back towards your table, releasing a small breath as you see the rest of the classroom was vacant. As you slung your bag over your shoulder, the call of your name has you twirling on your heel. 

“L/N.” Professor Vector gives you a faint nod, “You’re doing quite well in this class. I’m sure whoever is sending those messages is just teasing you.” 

Clearing your throat, you plaster on a reassuring smile, “Thank you, Professor. Have a good afternoon!” 

You practically sprint out of the classroom, mind set on nipping the blooms of your troubles—starting with the roots. 

The clicking of your shoes against the dusty corridor tiles seem to smother every other inkling of noise, many students shifting from your path with wide-eyes as your gaze darts around furiously. Even the slightest hue of crimson drew your dutiful eyes like a moth to a flame, and you were beginning to get tunnel vision. 

A flash of wispy blonde waves flashes across your plane of sight, and you’re immediately beelining towards the girl, a victorious smile painting your face once you see Lavender’s startled frown. The girl glances from side-to-side as you draw closer, shoulders tensing once you tentatively stop a few paces before her. 

“Lavender, good afternoon.” You greet cordially, fingers lightly brushing against your sides as you become wary of your awkward hand placement.  

The girl nods and shoots you a confused smile, “Hi, Y/N. What’s up?” 

“I think we both know why I’m here.” You mutter frankly, head tilting down emphatically as you take notice of the latest edition of Hogwarts Anonymous in her hands. 

Lavender glances down at the paper and hums, “Ah. Right.” 

Sighing, you readjust the strap of your bag as you step closer, “Look, I’m not here to give you any grief over your work. In fact, Hogwarts Anonymous is probably the most exciting thing to happen all year. But, I need to know the person behind all these messages aimed at me.” 

“I’m sorry, but confidentiality–” Lavender starts, eyebrows stitching together in remorse at your clear disdain over the matter. 

Before the girl can continue her, no doubt, enlightening spiel about the rules of journalism, a velvety voice curls through the air around you, “Hello, Puppy. What seems to be the fuss.” 

You aren’t sure any measure of propriety could have stopped you from raising your eyes to the sky as you slowly spin on your heel. A frown briefly washes over your face as you address the boy behind you, “Zabini. Again with that nickname? It’s getting quite old. Originality doesn’t seem to be your strong suit.” 

“No use in fixing what isn’t broken. Besides, I’ve never known you to be overly concerned with trivialities like this.” The boy retorts, eyes sparkling with blatant amusement. 

You purse your lips at his choice of words before musing, “That’s because you don’t know me, Zabini.” 

Without missing a beat, Blaise is quick to step closer to you, head craning towards you imperceptibly as he lowers his voice, “I suppose you’re right. I could get to know you though.” 

Your lips part at his words, but you try to remain nonchalant as you huff, “Hysterical. And what’s in it for me?” 

“You’d get to know me, too.” 

“As enticing as that sounds, I’ll have to pass.” You mutter, taking a step back from the boy. His eyes remain firm with confidence even as you begin to retreat, your gaze glued to the growing smirk on his face. 

As your nerves finally seem to spark back to life, you swiftly spin around and begin to stomp towards your common room, brain muddled with harping thoughts about the exchange. Before you’re able to round the corner, you hear Lavender’s soft voice bristle through the air, “Maybe try a different approach…” 

A few odd days pass after your encounter with Blaise, and you’ve taken to gluing yourself to Ernie and Susan in hopes that the Slytherin would be too intimidated to approach you again. Your friends take the new developments in stride, only occasionally shooting you knowing glances. 

“Weird.” Ernie hums, fingers drumming against the grass as he peers at the paper in his lap. 

You don’t take your eyes off of the serene lake just yards away as you reply, “What’s weird?” 

Susan pauses in her reading as Ernie straightens up and turns to you, “There aren’t any more anonymous messages about you in the column.” 

“Seems that you missed your chance with your secret admirer, Y/N.” Susan hums, propping her chin on her palm as she smiles teasingly at you. 

You shake your head and wave them both off, “I talked to Lavender the other day, maybe she intentionally left it out. Either way, I look forward to reinhabiting the semblance of peace that I lost.” 

Ernie hums as he diverts his gaze towards something behind you, “Peace might have to wait.” 

“Y/N.” Blaise’s honeyed voice dances through the cool air, accompanied with the soft crunching of grass as you sense the boy approach your lazing figure. 

“Blaise.” You greet evenly, eyes slowly drifting across the tufts of clouds meandering across the sky. 

Susan and Ernie pretend to busy themselves as the Slytherin stops behind you, close enough where the edges of his robe lightly graze against your back. It is quiet for a few moments before the boy addresses you again, “Have you given my offer any further thought?” 

“I can’t say I have.” You mutter, slowly fidgeting with your wand as you add, “Do you want me to?” 

The Italian huffs out a small laugh before you hear a faint rustling, “That’s entirely up to you.” Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but before you can turn around to question him, a crisp envelope drops into your vision. You feel the curtains of Blaise’s robe swim across your back as he offers the tempting object to you. 

Gently grasping the envelope, you flip it in your palm to inspect the front, but you’re met with shallow disappointment when you see the paper is completely blank. On the back, you recognize the Zabini emblem pressed into the bleeding red wax. 

“Blaise, what is this for?” You slowly peer over your shoulder only to be met with Blaise’s retreating back growing farther into the distance. 

Staring at the envelope with a frown, you debate on whether or not to frisbee-launch the paper into the lake as the wind sweeps across your face. Susan is the first to interrupt the calm silence that blanketed the air, shooting you a knowing smile as she points her chin at the stiff paper, “Open it.” 

“Do you know something about this?” You question with narrowed eyes, tone light with jest, but bleeding in genuine confusion. 

“About the envelope? Nope.” She hums with a sweet smile, quickly swiveling her head back to her book. 

You shuffle closer to your friends, shooting them a disbelieving frown, “And about Blaise?” 

Ernie mimes a zipping motion across his mouth as he shakes his head, which is all you need from the boy to know that both of your friends were privy to something you weren’t seeing. Clicking your tongue with exaggerated indignation, you carefully peel the envelope open, noting that neither of your friends were attempting to peer over to see its contents as you did so.

You didn’t know if you were thankful or concerned for that fact. 

Reaching inside the smooth cradle of paper, your fingers run across a folded piece of paper. Pulling it out, you hesitate for a few moments before deciding to bite the bullet. 

Smooth, even swirls of letters dance across the paper in abundance much to your surprise. 

Y/N, 

Lavender advised me that my previous tactic of trying to get your attention was ineffective, so I should therefore be more forthcoming. I hope you understand now. Although it was entertaining watching you fumble about for answers, I realize that time is slowly dwindling as we progress through our last year here at Hogwarts. 

This is not some ploy if you’re wondering (because I know that you are… really, are you Hufflepuffs not supposed to be the most trusting of us all?) 

I have admired you for quite some time. If you are willing to, let’s meet before dinner. I will be at the library. 

Love, 

“Anonymous” 

You drop the letter into your lap as you sigh into the air, neck aching as you roll your head from side to side. Ernie assesses you from the corner of his eye, head tilting at your reaction, “Well?” 

“Well, I’ll have to meet you both at dinner it seems.” You concede with a heavy sigh, realizing that you were the only one who was drowning in the darkness of oblivion for the past few days. 

Susan nods at you with twinkling eyes as Ernie muses with a wide grin, “Sounds like a plan. Good luck!” 

Pacing away from your friends and up the vague incline of grass, you fiddle with the paper in your hands as you begin to dredge up all your encounters with Blaise. They were plentiful in your youth, but between then and the whirlwind of Hogwarts Anonymous— you could count the number of proper conversations you’ve had with the Slytherin on one hand. 

That’s not to say you still didn't find the boy attractive. There was an unspoken consensus amongst the entire student body that he was the prime candidate for bachelor, between his suave demeanor, dry wit, academic prowess, towering trust fund, and neutral political stance— it did not get much better than Blaise fucking Zabini.

For the first time in weeks, you feel that your head is finally clear. An airy aura encircling you as you traverse through the halls, not minding the bustling of younger students or the perpetual miasma of stress that radiated off of your fellow seventh-year peers.  

At the threshold of the bright library, you take a deep breath of consideration before you step in, an intangible veil of warmth immediately ushering you into its cavernous hold as you sift your gaze through the hunched backs and steep shelves. 

Taking slow steps so as to not remain erect in the entrance and cause traffic, you’re snapped from your concentration by the softest tug to your robe sleeve. Dropping your gaze to the chair beside you, you aren’t able to mask your nonplusness at the sight of a familiar Slytherin searching your expression with curiosity. 

“Oh, hi Theodore.” You wave smally, stepping closer as he begins to speak. 

“Y/N. You’re here for Blaise, right?” The boy’s words are barely above a murmur as he slowly shuts the cover of his book. 

You nod and shift to lean against the table as Theodore begins to look around, only dropping your eyes to him once he speaks up again, “He just came in. He might be toward the back, near the Restricted Section. He doesn’t like being around others when he’s restless.” 

“Oh?” Your eyebrows shoot up at the insinuation, unable to truly comprehend a mental picture of the composed Slytherin as anything but smug and assured. 

Humming, you shift your weight from one leg to the other as you dismiss yourself, “Alright. Thank you, Theodore. I’ll see you around.”

The boy merely nods before turning back to his work, but you don’t miss the glimmer that flickers across his eyes as they quickly catch sight of the letter in your hand— it was the same knowing look that your friends held. 

Shuffling towards the back of the library, you slowly feel the confidence draining from your veins as you near the Restricted Section. Rounding one of the shelves, you stop in your tracks as you catch sight of Blaise sitting at a corner table by the window, robe discarded and flung over the adjacent chair as his eyes run across the book in his hand. 

Clearing your throat faintly, you make your way towards him. Before you’re even within reaching distance to him, his head shoots up toward you. 

His eyes swim with confusion for a split moment before they sink into a familiar unreadable look. 

“I read your letter.” You mutter with uncertainty, squaring your shoulders as Blaise nods and rises from his chair. 

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” He softly admits, lips curling up at the sheepish look that replaces your former expression of hesitancy. Before you have time to reply, he steps forward and chuckles, “Couldn’t wait to see me, then?” 

Swallowing harshly, you hum, “You have a bit of explaining to do.” 

“Yeah, I do.” His voice comes out light, shedding away into a near whisper at the end as he gazes at you with consideration. He takes a step forward and continues, “Before that though, I need to know how you feel.” 

“About you?” Your mumble is met with a firm nod, and you feel your heart miss a few beats as the words seem to just glide out of your mouth without filter, “Well, we haven’t spoken properly all that much this year or last year, but I like you… too. I like you, too.” 

“Yeah?” Blaise hums, shoulders faintly drooping as the tension dissipates from his muscles. He reaches his hand out in offering, and you have to give his face another once-over to confirm that it wasn’t an elaborate ruse before you take it. 

He slowly drags you towards him before nudging you to sit in his chair as he smiles, “Well, I’ll apologize for the public messages, it just seemed like the opportune moment when Lavender approached me.” 

“Lavender approached you?” You quietly squawk, not even batting an eye when Blaise crouches in front of you and brings his other hand to clasp yours. 

“My attraction to you is no secret, Y/N. Not that I tried to hide it.” He supplies, eyes full of warmth as you recount all the indecipherable looks you’d received from Blaise’s friends over the months. Honestly, you had merely assumed they were looking for a fight. 

Squeezing the boy’s hands, and ignoring the tingling that buzzed up your wrist from the coolness of his steel rings, you muse, “So… you like me.” 

“Hm.” Blaise hums patiently, assured by your reciprocation of his physical touch. 

“Well, you’re quite the romantic, Zabini.” You can’t fight the lopsided smile that falls on your face. 

Blaise huffs a small laugh as he shakes his head, “I was thinking you’d hold a contrary sentiment.” 

“You better be planning ways to make it up to me, public scrutiny is not enjoyable.” You mutter with a small grin, relishing in the way Blaise shifted at your words. 

He gives your hands a firm squeeze before he straightens up and leans towards you, “There’s no rush anymore.” 

“Who says? I’m fleeing once we graduate.” Your teasing elicits an eye roll from the boy as he shakes his head. 

Leaning over, he grazes his lips over your forehead as he mutters, “Funny, but no can do, you’re stuck with me.” 

His arms encircle you as he continues to drop light pecks to your face, clearly uncaring of the unconventional crane of his spine as he does so. Bringing a hand up, you place it on his cheek before leaning to join your lips together, acutely aware of how his hands tighten around your frame as he leans in impossibly closer to you. 

Pulling back briefly, you smile as an idea balloons in your thoughts, “I’m going to need to find Lavender later.” 

Blaise’s hands draw circles on your waist as he hums, “Why’s that?” 

“I can’t let you have all the fun, now can I? I have the perfect anonymous submission.” You grin brightly, tugging at his tie to draw him closer. 

His eyebrows slowly raise at your words as he leans in, “Yeah?” 

“Yep. How does ‘Blaise Zabini is a terrible flirt and an even worse snog’ sound?” 

Blaise hums and drags you closer to him as a playful glint blazes across his lidded gaze, “It sounds like I’ll have to change your mind before then.” 

“I agree.” You whisper just as his lips sink against yours again, the faint scent of his cologne swirling around you like a blanket as you lean back against the table. 

And when morning rolls around, bringing clear skies and a new column of Hogwarts Anonymous, you can only shrug your shoulders when Susan practically slams the paper against your face in fervid question. 

‘Hogwarts Anonymous. Submission 0283: Blaise Zabini is an alright snog.’

masterlist

[foreverfreeseahorse]

Tunnel Vision

Draco bumped his head yet again against the low ceiling. This had been happening ever since he entered the bloody tunnel behind Granger, and honestly, he had stopped counting after the fiftieth hit. He was currently on all fours with Granger's pretty little arse swaying in front of him in the dim light as they crawled.

"How much longer do we need to keep this up?" He groaned.

Granger's voice echoed back "Be patient, you idiot. How am I supposed to know?"

"I thought you had a plan before leading us into this death trap!"

Draco saw her brushing cobwebs out of her way before crawling in further.

"This isn't a death trap! It's a secret passage!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "And what secrets is it supposed to be hiding, may I ask?"

"I wouldn't be crawling through spiders if I had known, now would I?"

Draco groaned in frustration. "Speed up then, will you? Even if death is waiting for us on the other end, I'd rather prefer that than this hellish torture." He could practically hear her eye roll even though he couldn't see her face.

His wand was tucked snugly over his ear, the bright lumos illuminating Granger's denim covered arse. He couldn't help but appreciate muggle clothing. They certainly had a few tricks up their sleeves.

"I still can't see the other end. Either it's too dark or we have a long way to go." Hermione voice rang through the damp, musty walls.

"Why are you so interested in this tunnel?" He asked, irritated.

"It just popped out of nowhere. I've never seen it in the marauder's map."

"The what map?"

"Nevermind."

Draco decided that it was better to keep quiet and save his energy for crawling. He looked down at his grime covered fingers and ran a list of how many varieties of soap he would need to get himself clean again. He didn't realise Granger had stopped moving until his nose and mouth collided violently against her plump arse and she slipped forward with a surprised yelp that echoed down the path they came through. They fell down together in a tangled mess of limbs. So soft, was the only thought in his head when his chin bounced and came to rest on her bum. She harshly shoved him back and Draco frowned.

"I swear I want to take you right here on the floor." He confessed.

"How many times did you bump your head?"

"I stopped counting after fifty."

She huffed a laugh and got up on all fours again. "I think we've reached the end. There's a wooden board blocking the way out." She pushed with all her might and the wood went crumbling down.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief at the fresh night air that met his nose. Granger crawled out and Draco followed.

"Is this the forest?" He spun around.

"I think so..."

"You mean to tell me that we just crawled all the way to the forest from the castle?!"

Granger grinned sheepishly.

Draco looked around and an expanse of trees, grass and bushes caught his eyes, all washed with the rich indigo paint of the night. A beautiful lake rippled in the starlight; the moon a beautiful crescent in the centre. Granger went and stood above the water mirroring the night sky; the light from her wand making her glow like fireflies in a glass jar. Draco went and stood beside her. He glanced back at the hollow trunk of the dead tree they had climbed out. They were all alone.

He decided to take a chance. Threading his fingers through hers, he caught her gaze and smiled. His heart fluttered when she smiled back. He dipped his head and kissed her - soft and sweet. He felt her smile against his lips and his heart bloomed like a fragrant night blossom bathed in moonlight. Blinding white and pure. Just like her love.

"Do you intend to keep your promise?" She asked after surfacing for air.

"I do, but...", he fell backwards and thumped onto the dewy grass, "my knees and back hurt like hell."

Hermione laughed. "Later, then." She said and lay down beside him, resting her hand on his chest and her palm over his dancing heart.

"But definitely tonight." He said and pressed his lips to hers to seal the deal.

[quietlyimplode]

Grief for Natasha has been hard to deal with, and honestly after the movie I wasn’t sure if I wanted to write again, or if all the stories had been told. I have been wallowing and honestly still will be for a while.

I love the movie. I love the decisions made and the story. There are so many decisions in there that you can see are deliberate and are so powerful; it makes me love Natasha more. But I am so, so sad.

For those that are also sitting in grief. I see you, I get it. You’re not alone.

The following fic is for @redroom-romanoff who requested this take on a cut scene from Civil War which morphed into this. You rock. Honestly. Thank you.

@natasha-romanoff-deserved-better just. Thank you. I don’t think there are enough words. This touches on a few things we’ve chatted about too.

Warnings for Red Room discussion, children killing children and general angst. Nothing graphic. This takes place in the car scene. General spoilers for Black Widow Movie but nothing big.

.

“Do you think..” Yelena starts.

And then stops.

She’s not usually one for what if’s but being in the car with Natasha has made her nostalgic.

She looks across, and sighs.

Natasha doesn’t want to be talking.

She’s made that clear.

They drive on, and miles pass. Yelena feels fatigue wash over her as she adjusts her position.

She’s caught in a memory of Natasha teaching her how to do a handstand against a wall, when she catches Natasha looking at her.

“What?” She says, embarrassed to be caught so unaware. So unprotected.

“What?” Natasha smiles, mocking her. She rolls her eyes and passes her some water.

Yelena takes a long drink and pauses.

“When they separated us. You gave me the pictures. I kept them safe. It was a lifeline.” She starts. “Did you know?”

Natasha can’t hide the anguish on her face and she doggedly stares at the dark road.

“Did you know it would help?” Yelena presses.

Quietness falls over the car and she waits for a response.

The reply is a whisper. “No.” Natasha clears her throat, before continuing, her grip on the steering wheel tightens. “I just needed you to know it wasn’t a choice. It wasn’t my choice.”

Her voice breaks.

“I knew what they were sending us to..”

Yelena can’t take the emotion she’s now stirred up and stares ahead counting numbers in her head as she lets Natasha’s words pass over her.

“I wanted you to know that it didn’t have to be like that, that home can be anything we make up. Even if it’s two orphan girls and a fake mother and father. We can find our own family.” Natasha pushes her head back into the head rest and bites down on her lip hard.

Yelena copies her body positioning, the echo of her words floating in her head.

Natasha isn’t wrong, but the concept is. Found family, friends, acquaintances in the Red Room, was frowned upon; punished. Except one time. One period of time.

She focuses on the road.

“What’s the worst thing they made you do?”

She probes.

Natasha looks at her harshly, eyebrows furrowed, and Yelena holds her gaze. Wants to know if it’s comparative to hers; she’s also curious to know if the Red Room is less inventive about training and if they saw torture and killing as a rite of passage. Kill those you love. Kill all the parts of yourself that you love. If you can’t do that, you’re not worthy to survive. Pain will only make you stronger.

“I’ll go first,” she offers, picking at her fingers.

Natasha turns her attention back to the road and Yelena puts her feet up on the dash.

“They split us into teams of 8. Made us work together, become friends, family.” She pauses as faces flash in her memory, the garroting strong she drew across Irina’s neck, the knife into Briselle’s gut as she twisted it.

Natasha’s voice cracks as she continues the story.

“After months of working together, sleeping together, eating together, protecting each other from the other teams, they dropped us in the tundra in Yamal. No food. No water. They said walk home. They said survive. We all had one thing the other needed…”

Natasha stops, swallows down, the mask that she’s perfected so well conceals pain, Yelena is sure, because her face hardens.

“Did you kill them all too?” She says bluntly.

Natasha nods. “I killed them all too,” she says slowly.

Yelena presses.

“Do you think it was wrong?”

Natasha shrugs. “It’s survival.”

The car continues on and they’re both lost in memories, “It’s not the worse thing that happened to me. I’m not even sure if it’s the worst thing I did.” Natasha offers.

Yelena nods. “Me either.” She pauses, “but it’s the one that stands out as the first time I betrayed myself. My own morals..”

“I don’t remember half the things I did in their name.” Natasha’s confession is quiet almost to herself like she’s admitting it out loud.

Yelena shakes her head in agreement. “Nope.” She pops the P and rummages in her pocket for the candy bar she left in there.

“It did serve the lesson though, didn’t it?” Yelena hands the rest over to Natasha, who refuses with a shake of her head.

“We can only trust ourselves?” It’s the rule Natasha feels like she’s lived her life by. Even now. “Yeah I guess it did.” She concedes with a huff.

Natasha turns her attention back to the road, grip now loosened but expression still hard.

“We’re doing this, aren’t we?”

There’s a look of confusion on Yelena’s face.

“We are doing something.” Yelena snorts a laugh. “Always cleaning up your mess.”

“My mess?” Natasha is indignant, and for the first time her mask cracks.

Yelena smiles and baits her. “If you’d done it right the first time…” she leaves the the thought hanging.

“I thought he was dead.” Natasha’s voice is clear and pissed.

It doesn’t override the crux of the matter. “You should have checked.” Yelena tells her. It’s not unkind. It’s the truth.

“The building collapsed. I don’t know how he survived.” Natasha shakes her head as if trying to get the memories to fly out.

Yelena goads her further. “Maybe you should have tried harder and gone back to check instead of holing up in a vent with your Archer.”

“He’s not my archer.” Natasha’s whole body softens as she says it.

“Oh yeah?” Yelena says unconvinced.

“It’s complicated.” Natasha seems far away as she mutters the words and can’t help but smile as Yelena rolls her eyes.

“I’m sure.” She says sarcastically. “He give you that?” She points at Natasha’s necklace.

“Yeah.” Natasha nods.

“Not going to elaborate on that?” Yelena opens a bag of chips she’d grabbed from Natasha’s bag. Eying her, Yelena offers them.

“It’s a good memory amongst the bad.” Natasha says, taking one.

“Oh yeah, that clears things up.” Yelena moves around, and tucks her legs under herself.

Natasha looks over to her and grins. “How about, we survive this, and I’ll tell you that story.”

Fatigue seems to wash over both of them, the emotionally charged conversation exhausting them both.

“Ok.” Yelena yawns. “Are we there yet?”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “We’re getting there.”

.

All my fic.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Afraid to Love Again

Lady Tamayo x They/Them Reader

A/N: Heyooo. Tamayo is great, but I kind of struggle writing her. I tried anyway though because I love this demon doctor lady. Be prepared for sickness, death and a dash of angst. There is a happy ending though (my delicate heart wouldn’t be able to take it if there wasn’t)!  Also, it’s kinda a reincarnation/ soulmate kind of deal but I didn’t really develop that angle too much. And I can’t remember how much of Tamayo’s backstory was discussed in the manga vs the anime so just a heads up on that. It’s not super spoilery or anything (I think you could guess how that went) but just in case I thought I’d let y’all know. Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 6,939

The village had fallen on hard times. Work was scarce, poverty and disease was rampant. Over the past several months, (Y/n) had seen many family, friends and neighbors fall ill and never rise again. Those who had the strength to leave did, and many offered passage to (Y/n) as well. Though they were thankful for the offers of sanctuary, (Y/n) remained in their family home. They converted it into a makeshift hospital and began caring for the people who no longer could take care of themselves.

There were no doctors in their little village. The nearest, (Y/n) heard was days away. They couldn’t risk leaving all of these sick souls without someone to look after them, they would surely be dead before they could get back. If these people, their people, were going to die either way, they wanted to be there to make the process as easy as possible.

(Y/n) had seen more death and sickness than most. They had almost forgotten what it was like to truly live.

“(Y/n)-san?”

(Y/n) paused their movements wiping sweat from an old woman’s body, and turned to the cot behind them.

“Yes, Ichiro?” (Y/n) smiled kindly, though their eyes reflected just how tired they were.

“I don’t feel so good.” The young child coughed harshly.

“I know, I’m sorry. Let me get you some water.”

(Y/n) quickly finished bathing the old woman left behind by her family and tucked her in. (Y/n) suspected she’d be dead before the next morning. The rattling, gurgling breaths were just about the only sign that she wasn’t already gone.

(Y/n) put the rag in a basket to be washed for later, then they retrieved some water for the sick boy. They made their way through the sea of moaning people waiting for death, checking in with the more lucid villagers as they went.

(Y/n) was caring for thirty-seven people in their ancestral home and they did so alone. Any healthy people that remained in the village avoided the plagued building at all costs. It was hard work, keeping all of these people as comfortable as they could. But compared to the seventy people they had started with during those first weeks of winter, it was much more manageable.

“Here you go, drink as much as you can.” (Y/n) spoke softly, helping the boy sit up to receive it.

He took a few sips before spluttering, excess water slipped down his chin. He sniffed and held his throat, curling back into himself.

(Y/n) skimmed their hand over Ichiro’s burning forehead and watched him struggle forlornly.

How much longer would they all have to live in this hell?

(Y/n)’s question, however rhetoric, was answered the next night.

(Y/n) groaned between blinks of sleep. They had fallen asleep while standing, again. The noise that so rudely awakened them sounded like someone was rattling the door of the main entrance.

Who could it be at this hour? Weary travelers? Surely they had a fair choice in vacated homes already. No matter, (Y/n) figured once they caught the full blast of the smell of death permeating the air they would retreat quickly enough.

They approached the door sliding it open with little preamble. Even if the smell wasn’t enough to deter the unwanted guests, surely the look of utter despair (Y/n) wore would scare them off.

“I’m afraid if you came searching for lodging, I cannot take you.” (Y/n) spoke, barely perceiving the two people before them. “There are, however, many empty homes you have passed by that you are more than welcome to help yourselves too. I would recommend to be on your way quickly, sickness is rampant here.”

“That is why I’ve come.”

(Y/n) allowed themself a puzzled face, finally looking at the woman and her stern looking companion more carefully, taking in the delicate beauty of the stranger before them.

“I’m a doctor.”

(Y/n) suddenly felt more awake, staring at the woman with unrestrained hope and awe.

“Really?” They whispered, as if afraid this was all just a dream or a sleep deprived hallucination.

“Are you doubting her?” The young man spoke up sharply.

“Yushirou.” The woman warned, leveling a look at her companion that immediately shut him back up. The woman turned back to (Y/n). The soft, empathetic look in her eyes made (Y/n) feel weak. The softness of her voice as she addressed (Y/n) again made them feel fragile, all the while they shook like a leaf.

“Allow me to evaluate your sick. I’ll do everything I can.”

“Please,” (Y/n) nodded, making room for the pair to enter their home turned sick ward, “even in my wildest dreams I never thought anyone would actually come for us. I’ve tried so hard to save these people, but I am no doctor.”

The woman came forward, gingerly taking (Y/n)’s shaking hands in her own. (Y/n) noted how cold they were but still held on to the offered hands like a lifeline.

“You’ve done well with what you have, your kindness is immeasurable. Sleep now, and leave the rest to us.”

“Who are you?” (Y/n) asked, suddenly feeling as if they were about to collapse. Just hearing those words was like a weight was dropped from their aching shoulders. The woman caught them before they could fall, the young man, Yushirou, let out a strangled noise of displeasure but stayed back.

“You may call me Tamayo.”

***

When (Y/n) awoke, it was still dark. They assumed they must have only slept a few hours. At least, they thought so until they noticed a crack of sunlight shining between the curtains.

(Y/n) held their head in their hands and grimaced. They couldn’t even remember the last time they had slept in their own bed before now. They didn’t even remember how they got there. They sighed. It didn’t matter, they needed to get up and see how everyone was doing. They had already been negligent long enough.

(Y/n) noticed as they walked through the halls that all the curtains were drawn. They found it odd. The curtains were always kept open regularly, (Y/n) couldn’t be bothered to deal with such minor details in the grand scheme of things and they wouldn’t start now. They left the curtains closed and continued on their way.

“What are you doing up already?”

(Y/n) turned, shocked at the clear and present voice. It had been a long time since they heard someone who sounded so strong and healthy. They turned and saw a grumpy boy staring sternly at them.

“Who are you?” (Y/n) asked, holding on to the wall as a dizzy spell passed through them.

“Tsk, get back to bed. You clearly aren’t well.” The boy said.

“Yushirou? Did you find any— oh, awake already? You should rest more.” (Y/n) turned back down the opposite side of the hall and saw the woman who had been in their restless dreams the night before.

“You’re... You’re real?” (Y/n) asked, mostly to themself, peering at the woman with blurred vision.

“Yes,” Tamayo smiled sadly approaching (Y/n), “you don’t need to worry anymore. Yushirou and I are taking care of things. Please, rest.”

“No, wait. I want to help. Please, teach me everything you know.” (Y/n) pleaded, sliding to their knees as they gave out.

“Like you could help anyone like this. You were already way past your limits before. Stay out of Lady Tamayo’s way.” Yushirou stated harshly.

“No need to speak in such a cold manner, Yushirou.” Tamayo scolded lightly before coming to kneel at (Y/n)’s side, rubbing their back. “How about this, you rest until you are back to full health, then you may observe my work. Is this acceptable?”

(Y/n) frowned, but nodded in agreement. “Yes, thank you.”

“Of course. Yushirou, help our host back to their room please.”

Yushirou readily complied, easily picking (Y/n) up and retiring them to their room.

“And stay there this time.” He grumbled.

(Y/n) fell back asleep almost immediately and when they awoke once more, another day had come and gone. They felt a lot better, just hungry. So they got up and made their way back down the hall to see what was left of the foraging they had done a couple days prior. Hopefully, Tamayo and Yushirou were well versed in the plant life of the area and got some more.

They stopped at the sick ward first to see how things were going. Yushirou wasn’t around, but (Y/n) saw Tamayo whispering to a sick man. Whatever she had asked him, he shook his head looking a tad uncomfortable. (Y/n) moved closer and Tamayo turned, like she could sense their presence and offered a tight smile.

“You look much better. How are you feeling?” She asked.

“As good as I can be. How have things been going here?”

“I apologize, we lost three while you slept.” Tamayo informed solemnly.

“You don’t need to apologize. It means the world to us that you care to try at all.” (Y/n) replied, sincerely. “I’m sure you’ve noticed we don’t have very much in value. Not many people would work like this for no incentive.”

“You must be one of them.” Tamayo’s eyes softened, “you could have left, but you stayed with them. You have a kind heart.”

“...Thank you.” (Y/n) rubbed the back of their neck and looked away, feeling heat gather around their cheeks.

“I just realized I don’t know your name.” Tamayo said. “How rude of me to not ask sooner.”

“It’s alright. I haven’t exactly been conscious most of the time you’ve been here.” (Y/n) let out a dry laugh, “I’m (Y/n).”

“Just (Y/n)?” Tamayo blinked.

“If I can call you Tamayo, please call me (Y/n).”

“Very well, (Y/n).” Tamayo smiled. “I have a few more people to visit with at the moment. Would you care to observe?”

“Yes, I—“ (Y/n) stomach growled before they could finish speaking, they held onto their gut, abashed.

“Oh, you haven’t eaten? You should have told me, we must keep you healthy. Come,” Tamayo guided (Y/n) to their own kitchen where Yushirou was watching over a boiling pot.

“Yushirou, when the broth is done give (Y/n) a bowl please.” Tamayo asked.

“I just finished it Tamayo-sama. I’ll get on it right now.”

(Y/n) slurped down the broth with vigor and thanked Yushirou profusely, making him blush and turn away. They fed the rest to the sick. (Y/n) had asked Tamayo and Yushirou why they hadn’t taken any for themselves to which Tamayo replied that they had already eaten not long before (Y/n) had woken up.

After a long day of absorbing any teachings Tamayo had to share, (Y/n) was sent back to bed for the night much to their dismay.

“But, I slept just recently! I can still help!” (Y/n) frowned as Tamayo ushered them back to their room.

“I don’t know if you remember this, but humans are supposed to go to sleep every night. Yushirou and I have everything under control.” Tamayo assured.

“You guys need to sleep sometime too you know.” (Y/n) retorted.

“Don’t worry, we rest in turns.” Tamayo spoke. (Y/n) couldn’t explain why, but they felt as if Tamayo was being a bit deceitful with her words. However, they let her be for now and went back to bed without anymore fuss.

When (Y/n) woke up the next morning, they were surprised to see that some of the people looked much better already. Of course they were still quite ill, but (Y/n) felt hopeful for them. Unfortunately, the man, Jiro, that (Y/n) had seen Tamayo talking to the day before had died sometime in the night. A few others seemed to be not far behind him in that aspect. Still, (Y/n) worked hard and learned everything they could about the medicines Tamayo crafted and how to distribute them.

“Tamayo?” (Y/n) asked one night before being sent back to bed by the motherly woman.

“Yes, (Y/n)?”

“I was just wondering... what made you come through here? Our village hasn’t had outsiders since last spring, if even then.”

“I was simply looking for somewhere quiet to practice my craft. We were passing through when we realized this village was a little, too quite.”

“Mm, yeah... well, you’re welcome to stay. You can even live here forever if you want, I don’t mind.”

“That’s a rather, bold, offer.” Tamayo replied after a short pause. It was then that (Y/n) realized how that may have sounded and got embarrassed.

“I mean, because— sorry if that was weird. I just, it’s nice having you and Yushirou-san around. I can tell your both good people, you know? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”

“You didn’t,” Tamayo had a far away look in her eye, but she still reached out to pat (Y/n)’s arm in a gesture of kindness, “I appreciate the sentiment, but it will be best for all of we take our leave once we are done here.”

“I see,” (Y/n) tried to keep the disappointment out of their voice, “we’ll just have to make the most out of the time we do have.”

“I suppose. If that is what you wish.”

Over the next several days (Y/n) noticed several odd little behaviors and happenings in their home. They went out one morning to gather certain plants and herbs for Tamayo and when the came back, they noticed a piece of paper with a strange symbol drawn on it that they had never seen before. They questioned Yushirou about it since he was the first one they saw upon returning.

Yushirou scoffed, saying it was a healing symbol and told (Y/n) under no uncertain terms that they shouldn’t look at it, much less even think about touching it. (Y/n) promised him they wouldn’t and backed away into the kitchen with their basket of herbs and a bead of nervous sweat running down their chin.

They also noticed how neither Tamayo or Yushirou appeared to ever eat or sleep when they were around. Even when (Y/n) made something as light as tea, they were refused by both travelers.

Another oddity was that Yushirou always yelled at (Y/n) for peeking through curtains to see if the sun was shining. For some reason, he and Lady Tamayo did not seem to be fond of the sun. Perhaps they were just light sensitive or burned easily. They both seemed to be very fair skinned. (Y/n) was often sent off alone on errands during the day as well. They didn’t complain though, they were happy to help in anyway they could, even if the doctor and her assistant were a bit odd.

Stranger yet was how Tamayo would speak so softly to the deathly ill who showed no signs of recovery. The soft lilt of Tamayo’s voice was not what (Y/n) found strange, they were quite enamored with its dreamlike quality. It was the soft urgency in which she spoke so quietly that always left (Y/n) curious. They only witnessed such events a few times, but they always had ended with the recipient of Tamayo’s whispered words dead mere hours later.

(Y/n) didn’t fault Tamayo for such coincidences. The good doctor probably knew who would die the second she entered the room that first night. (Y/n) figured she was just giving them some form of solace in their final hours to help them find peace.

It was one night where (Y/n) had woken up with a painful thirst for water when things became... complicated.

“We need to think about leaving soon, Tamayo-sama.” (Y/n) heard Yushirou speak as they neared the kitchen. “You have already gone past your limit of resistance by a few days.”

“I’ll be fine, Yushirou. Soon there will be a good handful of people who will have their strength back. (Y/n) still has much I can teach them... we mustn’t leave just yet.”

“The blood here is diseased and of poor quality, even if you could get some without anyone noticing, it would not be filling enough to do much good. Please my lady, let’s keep moving to the next city like we planned.” Yushirou stressed.

“I can’t Yushirou, not when these people need help that only I can adequately provide. I can go a little longer...”

(Y/n) stood still in the hall as they listened in. Tamayo needed blood? For what, a transfusion? They took a deep breath and entered the room.

“If you need blood—“

The air was suddenly knocked out of their lungs as Yushirou came forward with inhumane speed and knocked (Y/n) hard into the back wall.

“Spying? Why couldn’t you just keep your nose away from where it doesn’t belong!” Yushirou hissed, tightening his hold.

“Yushirou!” Tamayo warned, coming up behind him, willing him to loosen his grip, “don’t hurt them.”

Yushirou clicked his tongue in agitation and allowed (Y/n) to slide to the ground in a fit of gasps and coughs.

Tamayo knelt beside them and checked them over with a worried frown.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). You aren’t hurt are you?”

(Y/n) took a moment to catch their breath before answering, “I, I don’t think so.” They coughed again, “Damn Yushirou, you are a lot tougher than you look!”

Yushirou growled, but upon seeing the stern look Tamayo leveled at him he backed off and looked away, almost sheepish. He looked more like a scolded guard dog than anything else.

Tamayo turned back to (Y/n) looking forlorn, “How much did you hear?”

“You need blood or you’ll have to leave.” (Y/n) answered honestly, “If you need blood, you can have some of mine... I don’t know if it’s the right type, but if it’s what you need, I’ll be more than happy to give it to you.”

Tamayo shook her head. “(Y/n), I don’t think you understand what you are offering.”

“It’s my blood, I’ll offer it to whomever I please,” (Y/n) staggered back to their feet, “and I want to give it to you. You don’t even need to tell me what for.”

Tamayo scanned (Y/n)’s face before closing her eyes and turning away. She walked towards a nearby window and pulled open the curtains, allowing the full moonlight to glide over her skin and flowery kimono. (Y/n) swallowed thickly, clearing their throat they turned to look out the window as well. The young doctor was bewitchingly beautiful and (Y/n) could not risk missing whatever Tamayo had to say.

“Before you commit yourself to this decision, you must first understand what I am.”

“Tamayo-sama!” Yushirou called out only for Tamayo to raise her hand to call for his silence.

“...What you are?” (Y/n) cocked their head to the side, confused. “You look like a normal person to me.”

“That’s what makes a lot of my kind so dangerous.” Tamayo sighed, her eyes still trained on the moon, “Monsters in human skin. Although there are many who wear their sin in grotesque and prideful ways.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but it’s not like all humans are great people either. Like how Ichiro’s parents left him here after he got sick and still haven’t wrote back like they promised. Even if you are different from humans as you are claiming, I can’t say that your any worse than the people I know. In fact, I’d say you’re better than a lot of the people I know.” (Y/n) tried to explain.

“I’ve done more evil and unforgivable deeds in my time on this earth than I could ever atone for. Even as I work to do better I know I can’t take back all the harm I’ve caused.” Tamayo shook her head and turned to (Y/n), cupping their cheek with a chilled hand, “I’ve aided in more atrocities than you have years on this planet. Do not let what you’ve seen of me in these short weeks fool you.”

“Okay, so you’re committed to believing your evil and irredeemable, is that right?” (Y/n) grasped the hand at their cheek, holding it in their own, “Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to believe that. I don’t know what you’ve done, but you’re obviously torn up about it. I can’t say someone who was pure evil would think twice about that.”

Tamayo pulled her hand away, cradling it close to her chest and turned back to the window with a slight tremble before whispering, “I’m a demon, (Y/n). I’ve turned Yushirou as well. We get by on blood these days but before then, I have killed and devoured many humans in five hundred years. Tell me now you don’t find me repulsive.”

“I don’t!” (Y/n) spoke immediately and resolutely, surprising the demon doctor and Yushirou to an extent with their resolve. “I don’t know who you were or what you were going through back then, but the Tamayo I know is kind enough to stop in some nowhere village to take care of sick people she doesn't even know while expecting nothing in return. I can’t say my word means very much in the grand scheme of things, but I don’t think you’re a monster. Monsters don’t mourn over their victims. I think you’re a good person Tamayo, worthy of my blood if you’ll just let me give it to you.”

The determined look on (Y/n)’s face made Tamayo feel as if she’d seen a specter from her past. She felt tempted to reach out again but held back, afraid of what, she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell. (Y/n) took her silence as a hesitation and insisted once more, bearing their arm up to the crook of their elbow.

“Take what you two need. Please don’t make me try to do it myself.”

Tamayo closed the distance between them quickly and held (Y/n)’s arms as if she was frightened of them doing something dangerous to themself.

“Yushirou, please get the phlebotomy kit from the travel bag.” Tamayo asked softly.

Yushirou nodded. Though he was not particularly fond of how close his master was to the human, he was glad she would finally be getting some sustenance.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” (Y/n) tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“You can revoke your offer whenever you wish. If you want us to leave you may ask us to do so without fear. I promise you.” Tamayo said, nothing but sincerity in her tone.

“I’ll keep it in mind, but I’ll do no such thing. Now, I hope you don’t think it rude of me for drinking some water myself first before I get you your... beverage. It was the whole reason I was walking through in the first place.” (Y/n) said as they walked across the kitchen and fetched some water.

Tamayo’s lips curled ever so slightly into a wisp of a smile aimed at (Y/n)’s back as they drank.

***

Now that (Y/n) knew they were sheltering a couple of demons, the strange behaviors they had noted prior made more sense and they took them in stride. They loved teasing Tamayo and Yushirou about the quality of their blood. Often making Tamayo flush faintly or earn a quick jab to the chest from Yushirou that was probably harder than he should be hitting a fragile human.

They kept the knowledge of their species to themself, not wanting to stress the sick or endanger Tamayo in some way. They had since learned that the strange papers that were littered around their house were actually some kind of warding seal that Yushirou could produce to keep their presence hidden to outsiders. If all that Tamayo had told (Y/n) about the realness of demons held true, they were surprised that they hadn’t encountered them sooner. Perhaps the constant scent of death and decay had kept them at bay, figuring there was no fresh flesh to tear into.

However, that was all changing now. Of the twenty-six remaining villagers, twenty-five were making marked improvements in their health and many could even walk about the the house without being too fatigued. (Y/n) had smiled so brightly when they saw Ichiro slide out of bed one morning that they had brought a hand to their mouth in delighted shock. They couldn’t remember the last time they had smiled so earnestly. Tamayo had surprised them, taking their hand away from their mouth.

“Let your joy shine through. The light you have to share could lift anyone’s spirits. I know it has lifted mine, so don’t hide please.” Tamayo said kindly.

“Right!” (Y/n) laughed sheepishly as heat crawled up their neck. They were sure Tamayo could hear the blood rushing through their system but thankfully she was polite enough not to comment on it.

“(Y/n)-san, can you take us outside?” One of the other young children asked.

“Mhm, only for a little bit though. Don’t want to over do it now, do we?”

“Tamayo-san, do you want to come?” Ichiro asked hopefully.

“Tamayo-san is very busy. But I’m sure she’ll be happy to read you a story later. Won’t that be nice?” (Y/n) smiled, saving Tamayo from having to come up with an excuse to avoid the brightness of the spring sun.

A small group gathered and slowly made their way outside, blinking hard against the bright sun stinging their eyes. Still, they felt overjoyed. Many never thought they’d make it through the winter so they took in the scenery before them with a range of emotions.

When they returned, (Y/n) helped everyone get settled again. As they did, they noticed Tamayo speaking quietly to the young woman in the corner cot. She had been fighting against the illness for a particularly long time and had been getting worse as of late. Keeping the interaction in mind, (Y/n) made their way to the kitchens to see if Yushirou needed any assistance with lunch. Now that everyone’s appetites were returning they had to produce a bit more than they had in the past.

When everyone was fed, (Y/n) had managed to find Tamayo alone. The doctor had found the old ceremonial tea room and enjoyed the space, so naturally (Y/n) had given her permission to do with it what she liked. (Y/n) knocked and announced themself, waiting for Tamayo to beckon them in before entering.

“(Y/n), does someone need something? Do you need something?” Tamayo asked, momentarily pausing in her herb crushing to look up at them.

“No, everything seems fine right now. Although Kotori does not appear to be doing well at all.” (Y/n) sighed, kneeling across from Tamayo. “...She’s going to die, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Tamayo nodded solemnly. “I gave her medicine to dull her pain, but she’ll be dead before the next morning. There is nothing more I can do for her.”

“What do you tell them?” (Y/n) asked, “I mean, I’ve noticed how you talk to the dying ones before they pass. What do you say to someone who’s dying like that?”

“Many times they already know the end is near and have accepted it. Many are relieved to know the fighting and pain is almost over for them. What I offer them... is a second chance at life.”

(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed in concentration before shooting back open. “You offered to turn them into demons, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It can be, only if you don’t have someone to look out for you and remind you who you are. I would be there for them as I was for Yushirou of course.” Tamayo assured, though she looked guilty. “You must think it cruel of me to offer this cursed existence.”

“Not at all. Many people fear death. I can especially understand it from a perspective of those who have yet to truly live. As long as they can remember their humanity, I don’t have a problem with it.” (Y/n) smiled, “I’m sure with you to guide them they would be just fine.”

Tamayo blushed and got back to work, grinding her herbs.

“Though I’m surprised, has no one taken up your offer since you got here?”

Tamayo shook her head, but a small smile pulled at her lips, “No. I’m content with their choices though. I think they were all very brave choosing to face the unknown.”

“Speaking of unknown,” (Y/n) mumbled between their fingers as they watched Tamayo carefully scoop her powder into a jar before moving on to the next herb. “Everyone will be more or less back to full health soon... are you still planning on leaving?”

“(Y/n), we’ve already discussed this,” Tamayo frowned, “I was never meant to stay here.”

“But you could.” (Y/n) said, an almost frantic waver in their voice, “you taught me a lot about medicine and how to be a physician, but you’ve quite literally have hundreds of years more experience than I do. Not to mention everyone here loves you, I love you—“ (Y/n) tried to shut themself up but it was too late. As made evident by the roundness of Tamayo’s eyes.

“Oh (Y/n), I’m sorry.” Tamayo said, the pestle held in between her fingers shook.

“Don’t be sorry, just, stay?” (Y/n) stuttered. “You can forget the last part if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“This just further proves that I mustn’t be here.” Tamayo put the pestle down and covered her eyes with her hands.

(Y/n)’s heart ached so much they felt compelled to rub the the spot in an attempt to soothe it. “Is the idea of me loving you really that awful?” They asked, a watery chuckle falling from their lips.

“(Y/n), it’s not that simple.” Tamayo tried to explain, but (Y/n) was already getting up and heading out of the room.

“It’s fine. I’ll try to stay out of your way. Stick around a bit longer for the sake of the village is all I ask.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for an answer. They went to their room and felt numb the rest of the day.

They were jostled out of their upset thoughts by the sound of pounding feet drawing closer and before they could react any further, Yushirou barged in practically foaming at the mouth. (Y/n) was not intimidated by the display however.

“Would it kill you to knock?”

“What have you done to upset Tamayo-sama?” He seethed, his voice a dangerous whisper.

“I’ve momentarily burdened her with my feelings. Don’t worry, once you get on the road again I’m sure she’ll feel much better. And you’ll have her all to yourself again, you must be thrilled.” (Y/n) bitterly informed.

“Don’t speak as if this is no large matter, you’ve left Tamayo-sama very distraught! What did you do? Why was she crying?”

“Crying?” (Y/n) asked, the information chilled them like a sudden torrential rainfall.

“Yes! Now what did you say to her you mongrel? Spit it out!” Yushirou growled, grabbing at the neck of (Y/n)’s clothing to shake them around a bit.

“I kinda... told her I loved her?”

“You what?!” Yushirou bellowed with rage and envy befitting a rival.

“I’m pretty sure you heard me the first time.” (Y/n) still had the gall to tease the demon knowing full well he could think of ten different ways to kill them with one hand tied behind his back.

“You idiot! Don’t you know what she’s been through? And you just think you can say such things and be on your merry way? Honestly, a goddess like her should not have to shed tears for such insolence!”

“What are you talking about?” (Y/n) grunted. The hold Yushirou had them in was very uncomfortable.

“If I tell you, you must never bring this up to Tamayo-sama, and you will apologize right away for your unsavory actions. Do you understand?”

“...yes.” (Y/n) nodded tentatively. Yushirou let go of them and they rubbed at their tender flesh where he had dug in.

“Tamayo-sama was ill once as well,” Yushirou began, observing the books (Y/n) had strewn around the room with a bit of disdain for the mess, “when she was human, she was desperately searching for a cure that would save her from an agonizing death. Then, as fate would have it, one day she met a man who promised her a cure for her ailment. What that man did to her turned her into a demon. It was true that Tamayo-sama was freed from the pains of her illness, but at the cost of everything she held dear. For you see, the man had not explained what she would become and with no way to control herself, she had killed and devoured her husband and children.” Yushirou crossed his arms tightly, “Do you understand now? Can you imagine what that must have been like?”

“I had no idea.” (Y/n) looked down at their feet.

“Yeah, then you come in and— argh! What are you still hanging around for? Go apologize already! You’ve already waited the daylight away, get moving!”

“Okay, I’m going! I’m going!” (Y/n) batted the angry demon away and jogged down the hall. They checked every room until they made it to the sick bay.

They asked around and quickly learned that Tamayo had gone out for a moonlit walk. They thanked the patients and quickly made their way out the door, shutting it tightly behind them.

They looked out from the engawa, scanning the scenery they saw no sign of the demon doctor. Deciding the nearby forest was their best bet, they hopped off of the engawa, bare feet against the grass and dirt, and jogged into the woods.

“Tamayo?” (Y/n) called for her, searching around for any clues to her whereabouts.

They traveled deeper still, teasing the edge of the deep woods where not even the sun could shine through on the brightest of days, much less the soft reflection of the moon. They heard a rustle.

“Tamayo?”

(Y/n) felt the hairs on the neck and arms scrape to attention. Their heart was beating frantically as the noise drew closer. It couldn’t be Tamayo, she surely would have called out in return.

Then, (Y/n) screamed.

They couldn’t remember how they had ended up on the ground. They blinked sluggishly up at the moon only for it to be blocked moments later by a blurry figure. (Y/n) swore they saw swirls of colorful flowers dancing at the corners of their vision. (Y/n) winced and gurgled. Why did their chest hurt so bad, what was this pressure?

“(Y/n), please, tell me what to do. What do you want me to do?” A muffled voice cried, confusing (Y/n).

They tried to take in another breath but it just felt like they were drowning. The voice sounded farther away, but no less pleading, mixed with far away screams and angry yells. Neither of which sounded like they belonged to the figure before them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

‘For what?’ (Y/n) wondered, the pain had faded greatly. Whatever was happening, it was better than the pain. Perhaps they could go back to sleep now.

And so, they did.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, it was to the soft brushing of knuckles against their hair which was almost immediately drowned out by a ferocious hunger. They bent to snap at the fingers but something had kept them restrained. (Y/n) struggled and growled, the need to tear into flesh was, all too fittingly, consuming them.

“(Y/n), take a little at a time. Control yourself.” The voice beside them gently urged, presenting (Y/n) with a tube. They were highly uninterested at first until the further end of the tube was released from a pinched grip and allowed blood to flow down to their waiting mouth. It wasn’t fresh or hot, but it was better than nothing. After a few minutes of stopping and starting the thick slide of blood, the figure took the tube away all together, causing (Y/n) to growl and hiss with displeasure.

“You will need to learn to pace yourself, the sooner you do, the better.” The soft voice informed, not that (Y/n) really understood them.

(Y/n) wasn’t sure how long this had gone on, but they learned quickly not to bite the hand that feeds you, even if it was only aged blood on the menu.

Then slowly, they felt their brain working overtime. Apparently, there was a lot of information hiding under all of the bloodlust, and (Y/n) thought maybe, just maybe, there was a part of themself that detested those desires for human flesh and bone.

Then one night, it was like a fog had finally rolled out of (Y/n)’s mind and they struggled against their restraints for a whole other reason.

“How did I get here?” They yelled, breathing heavily though they had no real need to breathe at all anymore.

(Y/n) heard the soft patter of footsteps on the matted floor out in the hallway. They were honestly surprised they could hear such a slight noise to begin with.

The door slid open and Tamayo stood there, observing them nervously.

“Tamayo!” (Y/n) sighed in relief, “Where were you? All I remember is going out to look for you. How did I even—“

Tamayo was over in a flash, resting her forehead against (Y/n)’s with her hands cupping their cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed, “I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t speak for yourself. I should have just tried to make your passing quick and comfortable, but I was selfish. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/n) winced, thinking back hurt, but with that last ‘sorry’, they were back in the moonlit woods, bleeding out with Tamayo above them and Yushirou dismantling the low level demon that had jumped them.

(Y/n) leaned their forehead up to meet Tamayo’s more firmly since their arms and legs were still tightly bound.

“You don’t need to apologize, but I forgive you.” They rasped, drawing more tears from the demon doctor.

“I couldn’t lose you. Not again.”

“What do you mean?” (Y/n) asked, puzzled.

“Do you believe in reincarnation, (Y/n)?”

“I think it’s a nice idea, to be reborn as something new.” (Y/n) shrugged as best as they could.

“When I first came to this village, something pulled me to this old house, and it wasn’t the smell of death and ruin. Something inside me told me this was where I needed to be,” Tamayo ran her thumbs along (Y/n)’s cheekbones, “it all led me to you and though you are unique from any other person I have met in all my years roaming this earth, I feel like I knew you life times ago.”

“I feel like I felt something similar.” (Y/n) whispered, “Something about your eyes just felt so familiar. Do you think...”

“Yes and no,” Tamayo smiled sadly, “I believe my husband had a hand in bringing you to me. You may have the same soul but you are still you’re own person with unique experiences. I like seeing little reminders of him in you, but I’m also growing very fond of who you are on your own.”

“Then, why didn’t you tell me before?” (Y/n) asked.

“Because I was afraid and I had every right to be. I almost lost you again.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Tamayo raised her head to brush a kiss over (Y/n)’s forehead, “Forgiven.”

“...Do you think you could maybe untie me now or...?” (Y/n) asked with a goofy smile on their face.

“Oh, yes, I should do that. So long as you promise to tell me if you ever feel like you’re losing yourself.”

“You have my word, my lady.” (Y/n) replied, leaving Tamayo a bit flustered.

“So, how is everyone?” (Y/n) asked with a stretch, sitting up from the bed.

“They all left for new opportunities in the southeast. I apologize, but Yushirou and I thought it best if they believed you had died. A bear mauling.” Tamayo’s nose crinkled very subtly, but (Y/n) easily saw her displeasure.

“Don’t worry, I understand.” (Y/n) said with a melancholic smile. They leaned over hesitantly and kissed the faint wrinkle of Tamayo’s nose away, making the doctor fall forward to bury her head in (Y/n)’s collarbone.

“I worry that you’re too understanding.” Tamayo commented shyly, earning a laugh from (Y/n) and after another moment of stillness, (Y/n) spoke up again.

“Where is Yushirou anyway?”

“I’m in the kitchen and I can hear ever word you say you blood sucker!” Yushirou yelled, making the doctor and the new demon jump at the volume. “You better get travel ready soon, because you gobbled up the last of our blood supply!”

“Sorry!” (Y/n) called awkwardly, snorting only after Yushirou replied with a handful of sounds that made no sense, but got his grumpiness across.

“Don’t feel too bad. It’s a process Yushirou has endured as well. He was no less needy and feral than you were when I changed him.” Tamayo said.

“Needy and feral,” (Y/n) groaned, “I wish you didn’t have to see me like that.” Tamayo chuckled lightly, raising her head from (Y/n)’s chest to look into their eyes making their breath hitch.

“That hasn’t harmed my image of you at all,” Tamayo kissed their cheek, “you are still the sweet,” a kiss to the other cheek, “selfless,” a kiss to the nose, “person you were before this.”

(Y/n) tentatively raised their hands to cup Tamayo’s cheeks, noting the pale blue hue of their previously clear nails as they did so.

“Forgive me if this comes off as needy, but could I kiss you?” They asked, barely above a whisper.

“Please.” Tamayo responded quickly, pulling in (Y/n) from the back of their neck.

Soft lips glided together, occasionally leaving their target to land sweet pecks elsewhere before diving back in. When they finally drew apart, resting their foreheads together, Tamayo smiled brightly. It was a feeling she hadn’t had since she was human all those years ago.

[the-last-kenobi]

Since the request is still open: #3 for part 3, give us an ending to the Sith!AU?

All right! The end of the QuiObi trilogy. Thank you for this little series, you practically invented it. And thanks for being patient!

Part One • Part Two

From this various prompts list.

_

“Why didn’t you run when I told you to?”

Qui-Gon was dreaming hazily of long-ago-days and impossible futures, of a smiling red-haired boy holding out his hand to be helped to his feet after an exhilarating spar, of a man with that same red hair sitting beside him on a lakeside dock, his head resting on Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

He was woken abruptly by two gloved hands, one grabbing his arm in a bruising grip and the other clamping over his mouth before he could even open his eyes.

Qui-Gon gasped and jolted, eyes flying open, and in the semi-darkness he saw Obi-Wan leaning over him, his Sithly golden eyes gleaming unnaturally in the shadows.

“Shhhh,” Obi-Wan said, so very softly, his hand still tight over the Jedi’s lips.

Qui-Gon waited. He forced himself to keep still, waiting for whatever was coming next, doubting but also trusting.

“Shh,” Obi-Wan said again, and this time Qui-Gon gave a minute nod to show he understood.

Slowly the Sith removed his hand, only to haul the Jedi to his feet, his hands on his shoulders, keeping his eyes fixed on Qui-Gon’s. There was something strange in his eyes, something cold and urgent. Qui-Gon held his tongue as he was forcibly escorted to the door — the door he had not crossed the threshold of since he had first been brought here, nearly a year ago by his estimations.

As Darth Renovan pushed him harshly into the corridor, Qui-Gon began to struggle, but still held his silence.

Obi-Wan’s face split in a snarl. With a harsh gesture, he broke the force inhibiting cuffs around Qui-Gon’s wrists, the ones he had so rarely gone without all this time. The Sith raised a finger to his lips as if the Jedi’s hesitating feet were causing a thunderous noise and gestured sharply down the hallway to where a guard droid stood waiting, electric pike in hand. “Go,” Obi-Wan hissed, and his voice was so low as to be little more than thought.

“What?” Qui-Gon hissed back, much less quietly.

The hand gripping his shoulder tightened, and a burst of agony shot through his body like electricity, pinning him to the spot. When his vision returned, he blinked dazedly at his former apprentice, who glowered at him, face set. “Go,” he said again. “Run, Jedi, and don’t come back.”

“But why?” Qui-Gon breathed, suspicion coiling in his gut. He would not be used as a tool, would not be used to distract his fellow Jedi—

“Run, Qui-Gon, and if I see you again—” Obi-Wan said. He did not need to finish his sentence. The bloodless lips, the yellow eyes, the cheeks flushed with rage, the iron posture; these all spoke much more clearly than words might have done.

And, daring to hope that he might escape whatever plan was revolving around him, Qui-Gon turned and stalked up the hall towards the droid.

When he glanced back, the Sith had gone.

-

The droid guided him through winding passages, narrow halls, and cramped stairwells, leading ever downwards.

It took Qui-Gon eight minutes to realize he was being led through back ways — maintenance passages and unused corridors.

It took another three for him to realize that this unintuitive route was not to confuse him, but to make it harder for someone else to follow them.

Qui-Gon took a slow breath and waited. He measured his steps carefully, treading in the wake of the wary droid guard, and bided his time until they reached a fork in the halls.

Now.

Qui-Gon grabbed the droid by its head as it turned to look each way and threw it into a wall, pinning it there with the Force. Before it could cause a commotion, Qui-Gon dove in, delving into the Force in a way he had not been permitted for so long. His senses dissolved, taking in every detail of the droid’s mechanics, its inner workings. With the flick of his wrist he disabled its voice and removed its weapon, and with another he accessed its memory drive. He activated it on the droid’s holo projector, which was built into its palm.

A moment later he had what he needed.

“Darth Renovan,” said a hooded figure, looming ominously. “Prepare for my arrival.”

A long pause.

“You have disappointed me,” the Lord of the Sith added softly.

And that was all.

Qui-Gon froze, realizations washing over him, crashing like waves.

The Sith Master was coming. He was deeply unhappy with his Apprentice. And Obi-Wan’s reaction had been to send Qui-Gon away, away from him, forever.

Because the Sith Master would hurt Qui-Gon.

And why else if not because to do so would hurt Obi-Wan?

…Because Obi-Wan cared.

Qui-Gon ran back the way he had come.

-

Darth Renovan stood on the landing platform, gazing beyond the setting sun, watching the dark spot on the horizon grow larger and larger, nearer and nearer.

The amber light lay over him in shafts, setting fire to his neatly brushed hair and the embellishments in his sweeping black robes.

He knew he looked pristine.

He also knew he had only hours, at most, to live — hours spent in torture in agony.

Punishment for derailing the plan to enslave the Clones to his will.

Punishment for choosing sentient freedom over his Master’s will.

It was an exquisitely painful reminder of defying another Master, on Melida/Daan, saving other sentient beings from the tyranny of bloodthirsty others.

Obi-Wan would not define himself as a hero.

For so long he had cared only for his own power, for proving Qui-Gon Jinn wrong, for making himself into something beyond what the Jedi had ever believed he could be.

He had succeeded. He was wise beyond the years of Elders, with powers to rival the greatest Masters of the Order, clever and cunning and blindingly charming, able to bend people to his will by various means.

He was a villain. A corrupt politician, a predator, a mastermind, a servant to a Dark Lord.

He was going to die for the soul of compassion he had held on to beneath the surface.

For his disgust for slavery.

For his rage against being controlled.

For his love for the man he had held prisoner for months on end, at first for the triumph of seeing him laid low, and then for the pleasure of seeing him resigned…

…to keep him safe from the war, to keep him close, to make sure he still lived and breathed.

Obi-Wan would now die to ensure it.

He wanted to laugh at himself.

Brought low, once again, by his love for Qui-Gon Jinn, his need to please him, make him happy and safe and proud.

He truly had never grown beyond the rejected Padawan he had been all those years before.

Black gloved hands tightened slightly, and he folded his arms across his chest as the sleek ship descended to a smooth halt on the platform. Steam issued from the pipes, and with a soft hiss the door fell open, the ramp descended, and a black figure emerged like the hand of Death itself.

Darth Renovan, once Jedi Kenobi, lifted his chin and met the gaze of Sidious squarely.

Sidious began to laugh.

-

Obi-Wan was screaming.

A terrible, high-pitched, out-of-control sound that grated against Qui-Gon’s soul like fingernails on chalkboard.

If he had held any lingering doubts about Obi-Wan’s intentions in sending him away, they vanished now, as Qui-Gon raced towards the sound of the screaming.

As he drew nearer, he could discern the sound of electricity, and beneath that, the sound of jagged, cruel laughter.

Anger burned within him.

Obi-Wan continued to scream.

-

Obi-Wan had been taught many times to wish for death.

At this moment, all he could hope was that his death would be swift enough to save his mind and long enough to ensure that his Jedi escaped.

He was engulfed by blue lightning, real enough to make his throat tear with the force of his uncontrollable screams but not quite real enough to kill him as real lightning would in this amount.

Qui-Gon, he thought dimly. You bastard, you had better appreciate this.

And then fire exploded across his vision, and the pain ceased.

Obi-Wan curled on his side, twitching and shaking, blue light still cracking along his limbs, watching in disbelief as the platform between himself and Sidious exploded into flames, and first one, then two, then over a dozen of his own guard droids leapt from overhead, crossing the flames to descend upon the Sith Master.

A callused hand clamped over his lips, muffling his cry of shock and fear, and he was dragged backwards across the platform, away from the fire, into the shadows of the hangar bay. Obi-Wan struggled.

Hands took hold of him and hauled him to his feet, and when he could not stand, strong arms pulled him close and held him upright. Obi-Wan struggled weakly, his vision spinning nauseatingly.

The hand was still tight over his lips, and he cried out against them.

Someone sighed softly, and the hand shifted from his mouth to the side of his face, and his vision suddenly seemed to resolve itself.

Obi-Wan stared into the eyes of Qui-Gon Jinn.

His limbs betrayed him, still shaking with pain, and his vision flickered, giving the whole scene and even greater sense of unreality.

Obi-Wan’s lips parted.

“Why didn’t you run when I told you to, you fucking idiot?” he gasped.

Qui-Gon laughed and held him closer, glancing over his shoulder at the battle going on behind them.

“Run with me,” he said.

Obi-Wan stared. Golden eyes flickered dimly. “What?”

“Run with me,” Qui-Gon said again. “Run with me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, I’ll run forever if I have to, if it’s with you. Otherwise I’ll stay, like a stubborn idiot, and fight with you. Whatever you choose.”

Obi-Wan was a mess, his burnished hair and beard ruffled after torture and a kidnapping that had become a rescue, and he stared at his stupid Jedi with pure amazement.

And then he began to smile. “All right,” he said, and his trembling arms came up to wind around Qui-Gon’s neck, slipping underneath the hand the Jedi was still resting on the Sith’s pale face.

“All right?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding surprised. “You will? With me?”

“With you,” agreed Obi-Wan. “And no one else. It seems you’re destined to pull my life apart, Qui-Gon.”

“Well,” Qui-Gon pointed out very reasonably, “I wouldn’t have to do that if we would just stick together like we’re meant to.”

And so they ran.

[mira-gilastorm]

To Fix A Future

AO3 Ch1 Ch2

Chapter 3: Someone Was Paying Attention

Daenerys worried for her cousin. Rhaenyra hadn't left her rooms in over a day - not even to go riding with her. The news of her mother's death had washed over the capital like a tidal wave of grief.

The following announcement of the death of her long-awaited brother hit like a mace to the chest. The servants said she wasn't eating and barely moved from her place at the window to her bed and back again.

Finally, she decided that she was going in with the ladies. If Rhae was ignoring her attempts to get in through the passage, then she would visit through the front door.

Dany went to the hall with Rhaenyra's rooms, almost surprised to see her uncle leaning against the wall across from the door himself.

"Uncle."

"Good morning, Daenerys." He was twirling something gold around his fingers but otherwise appeared completely calm and unbothered.

"Have the girls brought her breakfast yet?" She assumed he'd been waiting for Rhaenyra for some time - especially as there was no Kingsguard at the door, so he must have taken their place.

His eyes narrowed slightly, evaluating her. "No, not yet."

She sighed. "Excellent." It was only a half-thought-out plan, after all. She was banking on being earlier than the servants.

He snorted, "Intending on joining them, are you?"

"Seems like the easiest way to see her," she shrugged. "Though I'm sure if you were to announce yourself, she'd answer."

"You presume too much, Niece."

"Or everyone else is deliberately blind." She leaned against the wall, tilting her head against the cool stone, deciding there was no reason not to be honest. "I asked Aunt Aemma why you two were never betrothed. You know what she told me?"

"Please, do tell." Daemon had stopped twirling whatever golden thing he had in his hand.

"Your brother believed he would have an heir. He didn't think he'd need to ensure the claim of the throne with you two and wanted to use your marriages for politics."

He exhaled harshly, "A brave gamble." She didn't need to look at him to know his jaw had clenched and eyes gone blank.

All Dany could think of was the brother she'd never had and his warnings. Somehow, it was like she could recite them.

"Targaryens should never risk anything in a gamble. Our house is cursed with either greatness or madness. We must stay together - not spread apart in political marriages. We stay loyal to each other. The only thing that can kill a dragon is a dragon."

Her uncle stood up from against the wall. "Someone has been reading on our family. Dark words from such a young girl. Especially a girl who will never be forced into a political marriage."

Something in her flinched. That had already happened to her, right? No, couldn't have...

"All the more reason for me to try to save my family from such."

He approached her slowly, as if to be intimidating, "And how would you, such a small girl, not even a woman grown, do such a thing?"

Her uncle, the king's, fascination with dreams was called to mind and she knew she would have his ear if she needed. "Anyone can accomplish anything if they but have the right words, Uncle." She finally looked up at him, seeing the exact glare she expected. It was so odd for others to think he was unpredictable. Dany and Nyra always knew how to predict his moods.

Daemon stood over her, looming in his massive height, "What words would those be?"

Daenerys laced her hands in front of her, still leaning against the wall, looking as innocent as a young maiden should. "Uncle, if you intended to intimidate someone, perhaps it should be a person who didn't happen upon you moping outside a lady's room hoping to catch a glance of her."

She watched his jaw flex as he straightened and walked back over to his spot against the wall. "I suppose I've underestimated your ability to play politics, after all, Dany."

She gave him a small smile, "Being underestimated is the greatest advantage, Uncle."

It was then that the serving girls came through with Rhaenyra's breakfast.

They all paused at the sight of the prince and princess waiting outside Nyra's door. Dany waved them out of their curtsies.

"I'd like to join you all in the Princess' rooms this morning. I intend to check in on her. Prince Daemon will be waiting for my report on her well-being."

All the servants inclined their heads with a "yes, Princess," and opened Rhaenyra's door to allow her in.

Her cousin was sitting at her window in her dressing gown staring out at the Bay.

"I see the reports weren't wrong. You've gone from your bed to your window and back."

"Go away, Daenerys."

She crossed the room to sit next to her, "Too late. I'm here and I don't intend to leave you to your melancholy. Suffering is natural, Rhae, but you don't have to suffer alone in your grief."

Tears filled her cousin's eyes - an uncharacteristic display from the stoic girl. "What will happen now?" she whispered.

Dany took Nyra's shoulders in her hands, as she had done for her but days before, and looked her in the eyes. "We are dragons. We will continue on in fire and blood as we always have - but, you know what? Right now, we will grieve a great woman."

Her cousin nodded, finally letting the tears fall as she collapsed into Daenerys. She wrapped her arms around the older girl, wishing she could do anything other than hold her tight.

As she hugged her, briefly staring out the window, she saw a strange red stained ship dock in the Bay.

A hallowness in her chest echoed at the sight of it. She held her cousin even tighter, feeling her own loss and grief. She couldn't describe it, but it was as if she had lost something as precious as her own mother and brother as well.

She grieved for her family - but somehow, she also grieved for herself.

Rhaenyra stood against the back wall of her father's chamber.

The one called Stormborn received this very chest at her first wedding.

Daenerys had always insisted that she just hadn't found her dragon yet. She'd always looked at each clutch of eggs and shook her head, saying it wasn't there.

"Daenerys."

Her small cousin clutched one of the stone eggs to her chest, cradling it as she faced the king.

"I need you to explain what is happening."

She closed her eyes, scrunching up her nose, "I don't know if I can, Uncle. It's like I have these dreams and this feeling of another life, but it's not clear and it's not always there."

"Like the dragons," Rhaenyra supplied.

Her father nodded, "You've always said you would find your dragon. A part of you knew you were looking for these eggs."

Uncle Daemon stretched loudly from the corner of the room, "No rider can bond with three dragons. It's just a fact, Dany."

Her head snapped toward him, "They're not my mounts, they're my children. They're bound to me by something far deeper than that of a rider."

"Children? Dany, you're not making any sense." She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

But her little cousin wasn't listening to her, she was staring down at the egg turned to stone by centuries lost in Asshai. "Only death pays for life. I hatched them myself with blood and fire - the deaths of my husband and son, adding the witch who cursed them to the pyre. I walked into the flames, laying down with Drogo to rest in the After with him - only to wake, unharmed, with three hatched dragons."

"Azor Ahai tempered his sword in the blood of his beloved, finally creating a blade that could defeat the great Darkness. It was only that sacrifice that the gods accepted. All others caused the blade to shatter as he forged it." Her father watched Dany with sadness.

As her fingers caressed the ridges of the stone, it seemed to shimmer, like it was putting Dany in a trance. "One of them was taken by the ice demons. We had to kill him - if you can even call it killing. The other - my precious Rhaegal, he was always so gentle - was killed by the Lannister bitch and her poisons. Drogon and I burned Kings Landing in our rage - until he-"

Daemon leaned forward and Rhaenyra felt the same - Daenerys burning a whole city in a rage? What a different person she must have been.

"Your dragon?"

Her cousin shook her head, "No-" she groaned, pressing her forehead to the black and red egg. "Why can't I remember? There are so many things that are flooding back but not him."

Nyra knew now. "The one who killed you."

She felt her father and uncle's eyes turn to her. Her father sat straight, "What do you mean? How could you know that, Rhaenyra?"

"She told me of a nightmare she had. Someone betrayed her, killing her, and she could hear dragons roaring overhead - someone she loved."

Daemon turned back to Dany, "How close to the beginning can you start?"

Something in Rhaenyra told her that this was the only chance they were going to have to hear this. Much was going to slip away from her tiny cousin after this.

She moved to kneel in front of the young girl, "I think all you're going to have after you share this is brief dreams and those strange feelings, Dany. That's probably why she came to you now - to help change something."

The two clasped hands, "You're right. It was something my brother told me while we were in Essos - about the fall of our House - why Targaryens must stay loyal to Targaryens. How, when the war between Rhaenyra and Aegon broke out, it killed almost all our dragons and nearly all the Valyrian descendants. There was no one left - the, the losses- and with how few of us there were- left many mad, including my father - the last Targaryen to sit the Iron Throne."

Uncle Viserys leaned toward them, "Who is Aegon, Dany?"

Rhaenyra could feel her hands shake, "Your son, Uncle, her half-brother."

"Half-" he breathed heavily.

"So my brother will remarry, his first-born son will take the throne and Rhaenyra will challenge him for it?" Daemon smirked at them. Rhaenyra clenched her teeth, refraining from crossing the room to slap him.

Daenerys shook her head sharply. "No, Viserys said Rhaenyra was named heir. It was Queen Alicent who crowned Aegon and had him on the throne before Rhaenyra and Daemon even knew King Viserys had died. I promised him I would never challenge him like that. He was our father's heir after the Usurper killed Rhaegar at the Trident and Kingslayer murdered his sworn liege - our father - his king." She swallowed as tears started gathering in Dany's eyes.

Queen Alicent. The very phrase made bile rise in her throat. Not just marrying her father, but doing such horrid things. How? Sweet Alicent?

"I don't know what happened to Rhaegar's children. Viserys would never tell me. He just said the Lannisters weren't the only ones who paid their debts and that I was too young to hear such things."

Tears were streaming down Dany's face, but she wasn't letting go of Nyra's hands to wipe them away.

"Dany," she asked gently, "Why was Alicent queen? Why would she ever betray me like that?"

Sad violet eyes fixed on her, "Why do us women do anything? At the behest of the men in our lives. I believe Otto Hightower and his brother conspired to both become Hand over Baelon and then to have their grandchildren on the Iron Throne." She sniffed, "Quite patient, if you ask me. My own Hand would have been impressed."

"You were queen?" Daemon's voice was almost a laugh but also genuine.

Her eyes looked far away. "They called my brother the Beggar King as we went from benefactor to benefactor all across Essos. Finally, in a desperate move, Viserys made a deal: my marriage in return for an army to conquer our home and take back the throne. Marriage to the greatest Khal the Great Grass Sea had ever known. His khalasaar numbered in the thousands - most prepared for war at a moment's notice, as is the Dothraki way.

"Viserys didn't understand, it's a gift with the understanding that a gift will be given in return - at the leisure of the Khal. He grew impatient as I grew in power in the khalasaar. The Khal was only gentle with me the first night, but I learned to take my own pleasure with him and earned my place at his side as a true Khaleesi - his Silver Queen." She said it in a language that Rhaenyra didn't understand. "When I became pregnant and was presented to the Dosh Khaleen, it was predicted that I would birth the stallion that would mount the world."

She could see glimmers of pride and sadness transforming her cousin's face, as if the small girl of ten and two was a woman with child and an army at her back.

"That was the night my brother demanded his crown - so my husband crowned him with a pot of melted gold. And I was the last dragon, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, until a blood witch cursed my husband. I made a deal with her to save him - she told me she would save him, a life for a life. I assumed she meant my own, but she took my son instead."

Rhaenyra felt the reflection of her own grief in Dany's words. A sob came from her father and she turned to go and embrace him.

Daenerys seemed to snap out of it, looking up, "I'm so sorry- I've already- I already said how the dragons hatched."

Daemon crossed his arms, "She said a life for a life. Did this Khal live?"

Her cousin's lips flattened in anger - a fury that clearly never died. "If you count merely drawing breath living."

"So you took mercy on your husband, grieved your lost son, took vengeance on the witch, and walked away with three dragons-"

"And a khalasaar."

Daemon nodded, pursing his lips, "And a khalasaar. And this led to you becoming queen?"

Rhaenyra kept her hand on her father's shoulder, his hand covering hers, both watching as Daenerys winced. "We made it to Quarth, where my dragons were stolen by their mages of the House of the Undying and I recovered them, walking again from the flames unburnt, and earning the respect and support of the merchant council there. Traveled to Slaver's Bay, where I gained the support of the Gold Company and needed yet more troops. The Unsullied were an unrivalled force. The fools thought they could trade an army for a dragon, but they quickly learned that a dragon is no slave."

Looks passed between her father and uncle. Unsullied was a dangerous word. That was an army that could threaten Westeros if the Masters of Slavers' Bay wanted to. Daenerys at the head of such an army? That was a strange image.

She ran a hand along the stone egg, "That was the day I was made queen for the first time and they called me the Breaker of Chains. My second marriage took place there, in Meereen -" she sent a sidelong glance at Uncle Daemon, "a political marriage - to keep the peace. But the economic impacts of eliminating slavery in a place where it has existed for centuries caused unrest. A first taste of ruling, certainly, as was suggested by my Hand."

There was the mention of him again - Rhaenyra couldn't ignore it. "You've mentioned him twice. Who was it?"

"The dwarf, Tyrion Lannister, as odd as it may be. Someone as hated by Cercei Lannister as I was - maybe even moreso. But by far one of the greatest political minds of our time- or- of the time, I suppose."

"The 'Lannister bitch' you mentioned, I presume?" it was so odd to hear her father curse in such a way.

Nyra and Daemon shared a look, seeming to think the same thing.

"Ah, yes. The Usurper's traitor wife, twin to the Kingslayer - Jaime Lannister, the Kingsguard who killed my father as he sat the Iron Throne, named him the 'Mad King'."

The look on Dany's face was the same as it had been at the tourney. "Was this usurper a Baratheon, by any chance?"

She felt all their eyes on her again.

"How-"

"Your anger at our cousin at the jousts. It wasn't like you. You said it had to do with a dream- It makes sense now."

Daemon actually laughed. "You humiliated him for his descendants' actions - not because he insulted Rhaenys. How ironic."

Her father huffed, "Hush, Daemon. So you learned to rule, became a queen, but you had to have made it to Westeros eventually-"

Dany hugged the egg tighter, "Dragonstone. We landed at Dragonstone with a significant force. The Martells immediately allied with us,"

"Dorne?"

"Uh, yes? It was the princess Elia's children the Lannisters murdered. My brother's first wife-" she trailed off. "-as did many others who would see the Lannisters out of power. What I didn't anticipate, however, was the war between the North and Kings Landing."

She frowned in that frustrated way again. "The North seceded when the usurper died and his Lannister son took the throne, killing their Lord Stark, who had been Hand. The Stark boy won many impressive battles, they called him the young wolf- King in the North."

Rhaenyra could see something wasn't right. "Daenerys, you don't have to tell us it all-"

"There was a white wolf- he had red eyes, a giant thing, silent as a ghost. Yes, Ghost that was his name. He wouldn't let anyone near him except me and-" She pressed her forehead to the egg again, "Gods! I can't even see his face! I can see his damn wolf but not him!"

"They called him the young wolf?" Her father tried to help her along.

"No, no. That was the Stark boy - the Lannisters murdered him at his own wedding. Killed Lady Stark as well - all ignoring guest rite. The North, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands all united against the Lannisters, then."

Her uncle was frowning. "But I'm called a monster."

Daenerys looked over at him, disgust clear on her face, "Cercei Lannister had three children - all bastards by her twin brother, a knight of the Kingsguard. She conspired to kill her husband, and then, when her first son was murdered at his own wedding, allowed her second son to marry the intended woman - only to murder her along with half the city as she blew up the Sept of Baelor with wildfire. She brought the monster who had murdered my brother's children back to life with her half-maester's science and dared to call him Queensguard.

"When we parlayed and brought the evidence of the demons in the North, she refused to fight. Let us be the human shields, she said. When I sued for peace, she killed my best friend in front of me. When we took to the sky, she killed my dragon." She turned to their uncle, "So no, Uncle, you are no monster in comparison to the Lannisters."

"What demons in the North, Dany?" Her father leaned forward, latching onto this.

Her hands caressed the egg again, as if afraid it would disappear on her. "I don't know if you would believe me," she whispered.

Daemon leaned back harshly in his seat, forcing it to creak. "As opposed to everything else we've heard that has been completely believable."

"Hatching dragons from stone and walking from fire unburnt - remembering a life lived long ago, or not yet lived at all - whatever that might be, it is nothing compared to what we saw in the North. What we fought in the North."

Her head snapped up, as if she'd realized something dreadful. "But I wasn't the one R'hllor chose."

Rhae blinked, wasn't that why they were all there? "What do you mean?"

"I may have been the one the red comet bled for, the one who hatched dragons from stone, but I'm not the one the red god brought back to life to fight the Others. It was him - after his men killed him."

The king closed his eyes. "It would appear we've been made the victims of a reckless god - one who would wish to fix his mistakes." He ran his hand over hers again and Rhaenyra was grateful for her father's comfort. "In this Long Night, the battle against the demons you don't even really want to describe to us, did you win?"

"We did. With Valyrian steel through the Night King's chest. The rest fell after that."

Rhaenyra watched her cousin. This wasn't the Daenerys she knew - the young, fun girl who loved to be free on the back of Syrax with her. This was a Queen who had seen more death and war than even their uncle Daemon. She had lost her husband and son only for the gods to give her dragons - a long-dead symbol of their house. She freed slaves, which was very much the Dany that she knew, but still ruled with clever people around her.

The Daenerys she saw in front of her was very much a woman who would sack a city in her rage - every bit a dragon as she herself was, as their uncle was. She had been alone and yet found a family and fought to save them from death itself.

"Dany, were your souls bound?"

"What do you mean?" She ran a hand over the stone egg in her arms again.

Her father squeezed her hand once more before leaning towards her cousin. "You and this someone you can't remember. Were you bound by blood and fire?"

"No, his was all ice. When we plucked him from the freezing water, I wasn't sure if he would come back - and yet, he did - again. That was when I saw the scars of his first death." Daenerys scoffed, "How can I know that and not remember his face?"

She looked to her father, "The prophecy, father, didn't you say Aegon had called it-"

"A song of ice and fire, yes."

Daemon leaned his chair back on its back legs, causing the thing to creak. "So, if you're here, little prince who was promised, as the fire of the prophecy, what's to stop this red god from bringing back the ice part of the prophecy and bringing on the these ice demons all over again?"

Rhaenyra frowned, "But she doesn't fulfill the prophecy this time. She isn't stormborn, and the red comet hasn't bled for her. She hasn't hatched the dragons from stone. Just because we know she holds the spirit of Azor Ahai doesn't mean that the Long Night is coming now."

"I agree," her father nodded. "I am more concerned with this history of a war between my children."

Her uncle's chair fell back into place with a loud crack, "True. You did say it was kept from myself and Rhaenyra specifically that the king died. Why?"

Dany frowned, "Um, reading my Valyrian history was so long ago, you'll have to forgive me. The Dance began after Rhaenyra was named heir, still, the king remarried and had a son, but refused to supplant her." She tapped her head on the egg a few times, clearly trying to remember. "Daemon requested her hand twice and was denied by Viserys, eventually marrying Laena Valeryion and traveling to Essos as she searched out Vhaegar as her mount. They had twin daughters, Rhaela and Baela before Laena died from complications in her second pregnancy."

She breathed out, "As future queen, Rhaenyra was known for refusing many suitors until finally marrying her cousin Laenor Valeryion, but bearing three sons widely speculated as belonging to Ser Harwin Strong, as Laenor's proclivities toward men and Ser Harwin's relationship with the princess were both well known."

"I don't remember how Ser Harwin died-" she trailed off. "I believe Laenor was declared dead after going missing from battle in the Stepstones. I think there was a note that a squire he'd been close with had gone missing too, likely paid off by Prince Daemon so he and Rhaenyra could finally marry. Which they did, in secret, in a Valyrian blood ceremony, earning themselves a banishment from Kings Landing - which was why they were on Dragonstone and unaware when Viserys I passed, allowing the Greens to coronate Aegon II before word could even reach Rhaenyra that her father had died."

"Oh." Daenerys finally looked up, like she remembered where she was - not like she'd been reciting a history lesson. "The now-queen Rhaenyra had been pregnant at the time of her father's death. Upon hearing the news of what Queen Alicent and her supporters did, she went into early labor and lost her only daughter."

"I'm so sorry." She looked truly remorseful, but Rhaenyra couldn't imagine why - it wasn't like this had actually happened to her.

She knelt down to take her cousin's hands again, "Daenerys, whatever past you learned or whatever life you lived - it's all different now. You don't owe me or father, or- or Daemon any apologies. If anything, we should be mourning with you. You are reliving loss like none of us have ever had to know. We have lost a mother, wife, sister - a brother, child, nephew. But you lost these and so much more."

"I can feel it all slipping away."

The king stood to rest a kind hand on her cousin's head, "That's likely for the best, child."

Nyra stood and dusted off her skirts, deliberately not looking at her uncle, "All any of us will have is this conversation. I think that's more than enough."

Daemon hummed from his corner of the room, "Is it?"

She cast him a curious sidelong glance, "I think it is for now."

Daemon requested her hand twice.

He had yet to ask his brother for her - and Dany had made no mention of his current wife, so clearly that wasn't an issue.

But if Rhaenyra was officially named heir and he was deliberately and publicly passed over - it also meant he had done something ridiculously stupid. Worse than maiming a significant portion of Flea Bottom - something that had likely led to him asking for Rhaenyra's hand, if he was perfectly honest.

It wasn't like he hadn't thought about it.

And it wasn't like his brother wouldn't throw him out for it.

Instead, they had each married and had children with others - three in her case. How long had they been apart? How long had he waited for her?

No wonder he had run off to Essos on an adventure with Laena. He would never have been able to stay and watch her grow with another man's child. It would've killed him.

"You seem vexed, Prince." He spun at the voice, the accent so dangerously familiar.

Not Myseria, though - this new red priest, whoever she was.

He rested a hand on Dark Sister. It was an intimidating gesture, sure, but it also calmed him. "How much of what Daenerys suffered did you know?" How much has changed?

The woman frowned, "Only what made her true to the prophecy - she tempered her sword in the blood of the one she loved, she was born of salt and smoke, the sky bled for her." The ruby at the priest's throat glowed dangerously, "And that she was betrayed."

Daemon lifted his chin in disdain, "She can't remember this betrayer - only his wolf, she said."

"Yes, I saw a wolf in the flames. Painted proudly on his armor as he stabbed her before she sat the Iron Throne, a dragonglass blade - not even the Valyrian steel sword he carried at his side."

Now that was something. There weren't many of those still left around - most only held by the great houses.

"What did it look like?" He advanced toward her, all thoughts of - of what? Finding this man who would, but would not betray his niece? Who had but had not yet murdered her?

She smirked at him. The arrogance. "I see you've realized, my Prince. What could it matter what sword this man might have carried in a time that may not now come? You cannot punish someone who does not and may now never exist. Such has been the will of the Lord."

"Your Lord who failed," he loomed over her. "Did your Red God show you that? That he chose wrong before - brought this traitor back from death with your fires and look where you are. Fixing it."

The red woman tilted her head up brazenly, unafraid of him. "And are your Valyrian gods so infallible? Or is that why your ancestors turned to the pretenders of the Seven after the Doom? It is easy to find comfort in a thing that does not tell any hard truths, but, rather, has enough faces to make allowances for all things."

She clucked her tongue, "Nonetheless, you are correct. I am here to correct mistakes made by the gods." Her strange golden eyes rolled in exasperation as she walked away from him. "But not the mistakes of Azor Ahai. She will live now, she will live again. Her soul was merely pulled here to prevent the failure."

Whose failure, though? Daemon found himself reaching for the golden chain he'd taken from Rhaenyra, wondering. "So it's who sits the throne when she's born next. A dragon must yet live and sit the throne, blah, blah, blah."

The way the priest cocked her head to the side reminded Daemon of some kind of clever puppy. "So the prince was paying attention."

[owl-with-a-pen]

This is a prompt for @cyclone-rachel who gave me an idea for one of the possible fears Brainy could have faced that would have certainly held a lot more weight in the narrative. Namely, his fear that they couldn’t save Kara in time. 

Thanks for the prompt, Rachel, I hope you like it!

“Everyone strap in for turbulence.”

Brainy left Kelly for his own seat feeling somewhat reassured, although that still did not deter the steady onset of nerves continuing to bud inside his chest.

Just last year, emotions such as these could have been very easily compartmentalised, and though he could still manage such tasks by honing his full concentration, it didn’t escape him how every negative emotion fought that much harder to remain at the forefront of his mind.

Fear had never perturbed him quite like it did now. In the Legion, Brainy had met many a terrifying foe, and had even run into creatures that had fed on one’s basest fears. He had always been used as the voice of reason during those instances - relied upon by his team due to his twelfth level intellect, of course, but also because he had always appeared far more impassive against adversaries of that nature. Indeed, he had quickly become the first line of defence for his fellow Legionnaires when faced with scenarios that involved emotional manipulation.

Brainy hadn’t minded, and at the time he hadn’t considered just how such events might have affected him in the long term. How much grief or torment he’d bottled deep inside without even realising the impact it might have had on his psyche.

Instead, he had felt only satisfaction that he was relied upon to deter such emotional conflicts, even if – in the past – he had at times been the instigator of similar arguments simply by stating fact over softening strategies that more empathetic members of the team may have used in his steed.

It had never been his intention, of course, but now he was beginning to understand the importance of cushioning techniques when it came to dealing with emotional unbalance. Kelly had certainly used them by assuring him he would likely not need to use her coping methods during this mission. Logically, however, Brainy knew that it was only a matter of time before the Phantom Zone affected them all in one way or another.

Brainy shook his head, easing himself back into his chair. He tried to settle his nerves by doing as J’onn had instructed. He snapped the belt over his lap, perusing the control panel before him as he glanced up at the screen mapping out their progress so far, the Q waves that projected continuously from the Phantom, far across the rocky and ancient terrain ahead of them.

Then, something flashed.

A white hot light impeded his vision for barely a moment, but it was enough for him to turn away, blinking against the unexpected hindrance. Harsher turbulence followed soon after, causing Brainy to sprawl awkwardly towards the control panel, holding himself upright. He squeezed his eyes shut, fractals of light still swimming in the darkness, before he looked up again, focusing on the screen’s readings. Such a violent strike against the ship’s defences could have easily created a number of problems, scenarios of which were already whirring at a dizzying pace through Brainy’s mind.

What he found on those screens was far worse than anything he could have calculated.

The Phantom was still present and accounted for, the feedback from the cells confirmed as much. And yet… something was wrong. So very, very wrong.

The Phantom’s Q-wave activity had all but evaporated.

Brainy frowned, reaching for the foreign make-up of J’onn’s controls, quickly mastering the Martian design as he linked with the ship’s mainframe. Perhaps the knock to the ship had caused a communication error with the Phantom’s psionic feedback.

But, after only a few seconds within the ship’s network, Brainy was able to determine that the connection was still well intact. In fact, there were no underlying errors presenting themselves anywhere within the ship. Instead, it appeared that the Q waves had simply vanished.

Which could only mean one thing.

“No, nononono,” Brainy muttered to himself, pressing aggressively at the panel. “This can’t be right. This-” He pushed back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “The Phantom. It lost Supergirl’s scent.”

Brainy only realised he’d announced that to the room when he heard uneasy murmurs begin to circulate behind him. Quick to abandon J’onn’s safety measures, his friends moved from their designated seats, swarming around Brainy’s screen.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked tightly. Brainy envisioned she was stood closest to him, an assumption that was quickly verified when her hand clenched around the back of his chair. “How is that possible?”

“It’s not,” Lena said darkly. “The Phantom’s a superpowered bloodhound, it wouldn’t give up- not unless…”

“Unless…” Brainy echoed, his throat closing up before he could say anything else. His vision was already spiralling. Vertigo swept over him as he drank in every implication of Lena’s unfinished sentence.

“Unless what?” Alex demanded.

“What’s going on?” Nia asked.

Even with everyone thinking the same question, Brainy couldn’t bring himself to say the answer out loud. Instead, he watched abjectly as the symbol of El Mayarah extinguished from the screen, taking with it the inkling of hope he had been holding onto from the moment Kara had been lost to the Phantom Zone portal.

He shook his head, driving his hands back over the controls. “No,” he said forcefully. “It could be a false reading, we should- we should keep going.” His eyes cut across the co-ordinates the screen was displaying in the absence of Supergirl’s insignia - the last known location of Kara Zor-El.

They were close, so close that the Phantom’s Q-waves weren’t necessary to put together the unaccounted distance. The ship was already scanning the area below, picking up on signs of life… signs of…

Of a body. Humanoid. Kryptonian.

With an internal temperature of…

No.

“She’s…”

Brainy’s chest stuttered, catching harshly as the beacon of light that had paved the path for his whole life suddenly went out.

“I can drop the sun bomb,” Lena said frantically, her voice barely passing through the static ringing loudly in his ears. “Maybe that’ll give her the strength she needs to…”

But, Brainy could only stare at the screen. Kara’s internal body temperature wasn’t just low… it was ice cold. And, as the ship’s calculations manifested for everyone to see, something inside of Brainy’s chest caved in on itself.

Kara wasn’t just dead. She’d been dead for… for…

For weeks.

Brainy couldn’t breathe.

He’d been using Kara’s inspiration, her passion and her optimism even in the darkest tunnels as his anchor. All this time. He’d used hope, her hope in an effort to bring her home unscathed. Because no other option would have sufficed; she had to be okay.

Because, if she was gone… then he was surely the cause.

If not for him, she would have never ended up in the Phantom Zone to begin with. If he hadn’t bottled Leviathan, if he hadn’t lied to them all, none of this would be happening.

Brainy’s vision blurred, washing away the readings as tears flooded to the surface. All of this… all of this had been for nought. All those weeks they had spent hoping, and for what? For what?

There had never been a reason to hope at all. They had been kidding themselves, all of them, to assume Kara would have survived entry into the Phantom Zone. That she hadn’t been cast there from a portal miles in the sky, falling at terminal velocity, unable to fly to safety. With no yellow sun, she had been without power, without protection. Something as simple as a broken bone would have been a death sentence in a hellscape like the Phantom Zone.

Brainy’s lips were numb. A crushing weight felt as though it was overpowering his lungs, sucking the air from within. His head throbbed with sudden pressure, a motley of untameable thoughts clawing viciously for freedom.

Something burned deep inside his chest, a pain so profound that he thought he was going to be sick. Was this what heartbreak felt like…? As though your heart was actually breaking? Snapping in two with the fragility of glass?

Brainy gasped out, clawing at his centre as he finally managed to rake in a single breath. It felt like swallowing a mouthful of razor blades, tearing at his innards as it sought passage through his lungs.

The pressure in his head mounted even further, clamouring loudly in his ears. His tears felt like acid in his eyes, but he couldn’t make them fall. Instead, he remained blind to the world. Blind to everything.

And yet, something still pressed him far at the back of his mind.

A tiny voice whispering that it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be real.

…Was it?

Was it real?

Where was his focus? Brainy struggled through another breath, trying desperately to blink away his tears. The pain ate at him, so poignant he could barely function, but he was meant to… to focus, yes? That had been the point. To… to compartmentalise. To…

To focus on what was real.

But it felt real. The despondency that welled inside his chest, the fire in his head, scorching him every time he imagined Kara, lifeless and alone on the cold terrain below. He felt it, all of it, and he couldn’t bear it.

“Why should you have to?”

Brainy’s head jerked up instinctively, glancing about himself as he sniffed hard, turning in his chair.

His friends were no longer present, but he was not alone.

Humanoid forms took residency at the centre of the ship’s control room. They stood stolidly, arms clasped in front of them, heads bowed low.

Among the static shapes, whispers began to permeate.

Brainy blinked quickly, wiping at his face as he forced himself from his chair, grabbing its back when his legs threatened to buckle. He weighed himself against it, heart thundering in his head, but it was not enough to drown out the voices suddenly invading his mind, breaking free from the boxes he’d built a long time ago.

They shouldn’t be… they couldn’t…

“Excessive emotional turmoil,” the same voice as before said, dripping with fake pity. “It’s truly remarkable what it can set loose.”

Brainy felt ill. “No. No, you can’t—you can’t!” His voice rang out around him, falling on deaf ears.

The voices only seemed to revel in his anguish. Brainy groaned out, clenching his hands around his head, curling in on himself as the whispers intensified.

He caught words within the ocean of sound, enticing murmurs, urging him to come forward, to step into the space still reserved for him. Even after all this time.

Alongside the insistent encouragement of his peers, the shapes in front of him began to take form. Some were green, most of them were green, but one stood out amongst the crowd. A blue skinned woman with red hair grinned wickedly at him, raising her hand in a partial salute.

Indigo?

Brainy’s eyes glanced desperately at the Coluans stood before him.

His blood, stretching back generations. His clan.

His ancestral memory come to life.

A strangled sound caught in Brainy’s throat as their voices pitched inside his mind. He couldn’t- he couldn’t pack them away. No box could patch the hole that had torn through his internal storage. His emotions were frenzied, wild and chaotic and he was… he could not tame them.

“What’s the matter, Querl?” Indigo asked playfully. “Cat got your tongue?”

Brainy shuddered involuntarily when he saw the claws that manifested along Indigo’s fingers. She grinned, snapping them aggressively towards him.

“That’s enough.”

Brainy already felt so drained, the new voice was nearly too much for him to bear. It was only a small comfort that the other whispers stilled at its presence, petering out to an almost manageable hum.

With everything so muddled already, Brainy hadn’t recognised her at first. He chastised himself immediately. How foolish of him not to assume that she would be here, somehow. The voice of reason that he had clung onto for so long, that he had followed blindly and passionately, because he’d believed that if he did… she might one day love him.

But, her eyes were just as cold as they always had been.

Brainiac 4 materialised at the centre of the room, batting Indigo aside as though she were nothing but a child. Indigo’s image shimmered as a result, but Brainy hardly paid it mind. The only person he could focus his energy on was the most dangerous in the room.

A woman he had once called mother.

He didn’t want to say that word again, and yet with all the hopelessness inside his heart, the emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole, he couldn’t help but cling to the image of Brainiac 4 as she walked towards him, reaching out her hand.

When her cold fingers brushed across his cheek, Brainy’s lips trembled, and the tears in his eyes finally began to fall.

Brainiac 4 reviewed his reaction inquisitively, her brow raised in question. “My boy,” she said, tucking her hand beneath his chin, enough to tip his watery gaze towards hers. “Why don’t you give up on these silly little pretences? Doesn’t it hurt to hold onto all of this pain?”

Join us.

The whisper that broke through what little resolve he had left sounded far more like Indigo’s than any other. It thrilled through his nerves, whispering scintillating invitations into his mind.

Brainy flinched from his mother’s hand, fingers clenching tightly against his palms.

She was right. It did hurt. Every fibre of his being ached with it. He wanted to let it out, wanted to discard it as Lena had taught him. Throw every feeling out into the open with a vicious cry. He wanted to collapse into a ball and never, ever come out.

But, he could do none of those things. Instead, he had to live with the guilt that ate into his heart, the heartbreak that would surely never heal. He had to stand there knowing what he had done, what he was responsible for.

That he would never, ever see her smile again.

The death of the future as he knew it. The death of Supergirl.

His family.

Brainy stirred at that thought. After all, who were his family?

He tore his gaze from his mother’s, long enough to turn about the room, seeking out the spaces that had been left blank. He hardly remembered who had been stood there before his ancestors had actualised. If he focused hard enough, he thought, perhaps, he could see echoes of people occupying that same space, but he saw no faces. Remembered no names.

Not real.

He couldn’t see them, and if he couldn’t see them then he most certainly could not touch them. Could not hear or smell them.

That decided it, then. It was simple, nearly too simple.

Whoever had existed before - they had been the lies. Echoes of another life, one that had never meant to be his. After all, his ancestors reached far beyond the five senses. They were an innate part of his very makeup as a Coluan. As a Brainiac.

And they had always been real.

Brainy’s chest spasmed as a sob nearly wracked him, more tears welling in his eyes. And… and he didn’t want to feel this way. It was nonsensical, to dwell on dreams, on nightmares. They only sought to make him weak. And a Brainiac was never weak.

His mother’s hands were solid when they took his shoulders, leaching the heat from his skin.

Her lips quirked with satisfaction. “You see it, don’t you? This simulation you have created for yourself is a destined failure. It is time to put your uninhibited mind to good use.” Her nails bit sharply into his flesh. “Join us. As you were destined to.”

Brainy nodded mutely. After all, why should he feel pain? What was the use of this frivolous emotion? What was the point in any of the good if it only meant feeling all this bad?

It would only weigh him down, which would not do. Indeed, he had a legacy to uphold.

Brainy’s eyes fluttered shut, finally letting the last of his mental barriers slip away with one long, cleansing exhale. The voices wasted no time, rushing in like an aggressive wave, swallowing him whole in seconds.

When Brainy opened his eyes, he felt no pain. No heartbreak.

Instead, he absconded from the needless weight of his emotional baggage, stepping forward into his mother’s waiting arms.

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 2: The Confession (Chapter 1 here)

Ichabod couldn't move, couldn't take his eyes off of the mirage before him, could barely breathe. How could she be standing here, days after she'd disintegrated into that confounded box that'd then combusted into nothing, looking none the worse for wear? Looking as gorgeous as the day he'd met her. Looking as real as the heartache clawing at his insides felt.

It had to be some monster's trick, a devil's devious ploy to destroy him. He raised his arm, his forefinger pointing to the sky. "Who are you?" he managed to demand harshly, though he felt none of the power the words conveyed. The creases of her smile deepened, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling at his confusion indulgently. "Crane." He longed to close his eyes and revel in her presence, let her voice wash over him and sluice the grief away, soothe the hurt in his heart like a healing balm. She hadn't answered his question, instead speaking his name as a statement, and he nearly gave in to his desire to accept this fake as the genuine article. He opened his mouth to speak, but she began before he could formulate any words. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions....and I'll do my best to answer them. I can't imagine what the past few days have been like for you," she lamented, her voice and expression dripping with sympathy. "And before you ask, it's really me." He squinted his eyes at her, doubtful and hesitant and simultaneously so damn afraid and desperate to believe her. "Prove it," he challenged. One side of her mouth quirked up as if she expected nothing less from him, and she held her fist out towards him. He eyed her hand skeptically, unable to reach out and touch her, even with a simple fist bump, until he knew for sure it was her. She waited a handful of seconds, but when he didn't reciprocate, she slowly dropped her hand. "I know this can't be easy. I know it doesn't make sense, not yet. I can't quite believe it myself. But it's me," she entreated him to believe her. "Prove it," he repeated, more heatedly this time. She thought for a moment, the intense look on her face willing him to trust her. "We were in Pandora’s lair, and the last thing I said to you was to never give up. The last thing I heard from you was...you calling my name." He nodded, the moment indelibly imprinted in his memory, a cursed experience his eidetic mind had relived a thousand times already in the past few days. "Before that, we sailed to the entrance to the catacombs. Found Betsy Ross in the hidden chamber inside the temple just before the essence of Pandora's box wrapped its ugly black tentacles around me. You carried me out, had..." she paused momentarily before continuing, "words with Betsy, and then she left. We followed not long after." The more she spoke the harder his heart beat against his ribs, the more heat flooded his body, returning warmth to him and the empty house he'd inhabited for over three days. "Abbie...?" he dared to believe. She smiled fully at him, and his heart broke itself back into place. "Oh, Abbie," he breathed in a broken whisper of relief, and she easily launched herself towards him as he moved to embrace her. 

They covered the several feet between them in a single heartbeat, and he snaked his arms around her, holding her fast, his knees nearly giving out at the feel of her alive, warm, breathing, the smell of her fragrant and clean, her arms cinched around him, a welcoming comfort he'd expected never to  experience again. "Abbie," he murmured again, nearly gasping out her name on a heaving cry, his eyes dropping closed. He knew it bordered on inappropriate to hold her so long, but he couldn't make himself let go for fear she'd fade away before his eyes again. He cupped her head, holding her against him, though by how tightly she held him she had no intention of letting him go either. He breathed her in, grateful for and reveling in every movement she made, inhaling, exhaling, her body pressed against him, her presence more powerful than any drug. Reining his emotions in, he slowly released her from his embrace, gripping her shoulders and peering at her like a vision from heaven. She still smiled gently at him, not overwhelmed or fearful of his desperation in the slightest. "Abbie, how...? It's been three and a half days. How are you here?" he marveled. "Miss Jenny and I searched for a way... Miss Jenny," he interrupted himself. "We must tell her! She needs to know." He patted his pockets searching for his phone but stopped when she pointed to it lying on the coffee table. He grabbed it up and scrolled through his recent calls. "Don't tell her over the phone; it’d be too cruel. Please, just ask her to come here. I want to tell her, show her in person." He nodded, sure Miss Jenny would think him drunk again anyhow if he told her Abbie had walked through the door and hugged him. He clicked on her name and stared at Abbie as the phone rang, unable to let her out of his sight for even a moment. Voicemail picked up after a handful of rings. "Miss Jenny, it's me, Ichabod. Please come by the house as soon as you're available. There's... something we must discuss. It's of the utmost importance, and I beg of you not to delay. I eagerly await your visit. Respectfully, Ichabod Crane." Abbie nearly smirked at him, and he wanted to query her about it, but he refrained, needing so much more than her wit and banter about his entirely too prim and proper voicemails. Without thinking, he sank to his seat, still staring at her in awe. "How is this possible?" "I don't exactly know," she admitted, moving the box of tissues from the couch to the coffee table, dropping to the cushion and angling towards him. "I emerged from the lake, much like I did—like we did—when we returned from the Catacombs. It's just down the way from the river cave where you were buried. All I can figure is that that body of water or that acreage of land is somehow linked to...whatever realms exist beyond." His brow furrowed in consternation, and she continued. "Anyway, I came out of the water a bit ago, without memory of where I've been or what happened after I felt myself slipping into the box. But I had this..." She fluttered her hand in a circle, trying to find the right word. "...this knowledge, like it'd been downloaded into my brain." "What knowledge?" he questioned warily. "You said it's been three and a half days?" He nodded, wondering what this count of 84 hours and—he looked at the clock—34 minutes had anything to do with anything other than being the exact count, nearly down to the minute, of how long he'd suffered in anguish without her. Her smile surprised him, and he waited, quite impatiently, for the punch line. "We've called ourselves Witnesses. Others, our enemies, have called us Witnesses. But we've never paid attention to the passage from Revelation that speaks of us. I woke up with this knowledge, this…unmarred understanding of our role, our destiny. And not even Pandora, her box, the Hidden One, or death can thwart that. As eternal souls, we’ve been given power against the antagonistic forces of evil. And this job of making things right, of justification, is never brought about by a single witness. There's always got to be two.”

He stared intently at her, in awe of both her and the information she relayed. Indeed, they’d never read much from the Scriptures about their role, instead merely settled in to their roles as warriors. This knowledge she now had seemed to grant her a lighter countenance, a more secure understanding of their place in this world. And it’d brought her back to him. He waited for her to continue. "See, Revelation chapter 11 describes the death of the two witnesses only after the testimony—our role to fight against evil—is done. We're only to die at the end of all trials, after all of the tribulation. And we're only to die together." "But you did die...didn't you?" "I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, visibly confounded. “All I know is Pandora, while she may have held more power than anyone we'd ever faced before, is no match for the biblical prophecy. You said it yourself once: the Bible foretells two witnesses. You and I must remain together if there is any hope of victory." He hung on to every word, trying to comprehend all she detailed, not to mention her presence here once again. "You’re saying...we're invincible?" "No, not as I understand it. We've been endowed with... fortitude and strength to fight these battles, the demons, the witches, the monsters, the ungodly. We can still die. And will. But not until our appointed time, and no one other than big-G God determines that. And even then, it's only for three and a half days." "Three and a half days," he muttered, the wheels in his brain trying to keep up with her revelation of their part in the cosmic war they fought. 84 hours. All this time he'd been calculating not how long she'd been gone but how long before she'd return. The notion filled him with a heavy dose of incredulity, and not a little fear.

Something tickled his brain, a conversation from long ago, and his fingers twitched as his tired mind drew up the memory. “Not long after we met, you told me about your encounter in the woods. You said you’d been missing for four days.”

“Four days,” she repeated quietly as her eyes went wide. “Closer to three and a half, if we’re being specific.”

“And Miss Jenny was spared too. Perhaps because of her relation to you. Or her proximity at the time.”

Eyebrows raised with uncertainty, Abbie nodded.

“You’re right,” he claimed in surprise. “Moloch couldn’t defeat you then, and Pandora and her hellish box couldn’t conquer you now. Three and a half days, and you’re revived.”

“Just as the prophecy says: we’re given power, able to overcome our enemies. And at the end…‘But after three and a half days a breath of life from God entered them, and they stood on their feet,' Revelation 11:11," she quoted. "That's why you're here," he marveled. "The prophecy isn't complete, and He...He sent you back." She nodded resolutely. "We still have work to do." He couldn't respond, trying to take in all that she'd relayed, the weight of their destiny, the fact that she sat before him in perfect form, speaking to him of their future after he'd mourned the unspeakable loss of her for over three days. His heart's undulation from sorrow and despair to relief, wonder, awe, and astonishment left him reeling and emotionally spent, and he closed his eyes against the onslaught. "Crane?" The concern in her voice made his heart ache anew, and her hands settled on him like cool silk, one gripping his arm, the other clasping his fist.

God's wounds, how he'd missed her! Missed her quirks and foibles, her goodness and passion, her fierce spirit, persistence, and kindness. Her contagious laugh and beautiful smile, expressive brown eyes and teasing nature, the way she explained things when he felt confused and teased him when he became too academic. How she cared about people, held herself to the highest degree of integrity, defended him against any naysayers, made him feel valued in this time he was only beginning to truly settle in to. He missed hearing her putter around the house after he'd gone to bed, playing chess with her, discussing and solving cases with her, listening to her sharp mind delve into fine details, her surprises of confections or ethnic foods he'd never had the joy of experiencing before. Missed seeing her first thing in the mornings, bleary-eyed and coffee-deficient, bedhead hair wild and sexy, so excruciatingly adorable sometimes she stole the breath right out of his lungs. Missed the sound of her voice, her big brown-eyed stare, her petite frame next to him, how she'd always protected his back. Missed her flirtations and irritabilities, her soft touches and fierce hugs. Missed every single detail about her, flaws, favors, and features all. "Crane..." "Yes, I...I merely need a moment," he nearly begged. She started to pull her hands away, but he grasped them, gently but firmly. "Please," he murmured so softly he barely heard his own voice. "Don't go." She squeezed his hand in response, trying to comfort him, and the silence of the room filled with the knowledge of her presence. "I'm sorry. Crane, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice full of sympathy. "You shouldn't be. You quite literally saved the world, Lieutenant." She turned her hands over in his until their palms met, and she clasped at him. "I mean... I'm sorry for the loss that you and Jenny have endured the last few days. Losing Joe and then...."

"And then you," he finished for her when she'd gone silent. "It must feel like whiplash, having me here." She almost sounded regretful, though he knew she merely sympathized with their suffering. He stared at her intensely. "Yes," he admitted honestly. "But I wouldn't trade you for a hundred battalions of soldiers to fight this war with me." A shy, appreciative smile eased over her face, and she looked down at their joined hands. His eyes followed, and he stared at the ying and yang of them, her hands so small and dark in contrast to his large, pale ones. Complete opposites in nearly every way, and perfectly complimentary because of it. The memories of all the things he'd wanted to say floated through his mind, the reasons he'd spent days mentally flagellating himself, how he thought he'd never have the chance to make up for all the times he'd swallowed down his affection for her, of the words of all those who'd seen that he loved her before he'd faced the realization, and too late it'd seemed.

Master Corbin knowingly prompting him to ‘talk to her.’ Miss Corinth blatantly denying his words. “I think you are ready for someone. I just don’t think it’s me.”

Master Mills’ words upon their first meeting. “Take good care of my daughter.” Betsy had spent less than an hour in their presence. "Only one truth matters: your heart belongs to Abigail Mills," she’d declared. “You love her, don’t you?” Pandora had stated. “She is your hope, your everything. I took her from you.” His mind flashed in picture-perfect fashion to his desperation for her, his need to rescue her from Purgatory and the utter desolation he'd felt at having left her there; the absolute despair that'd come over him when she'd become lost in the Catacombs, the numbness he'd forced upon himself to secret his emotions away in order to focus on finding her. The way he'd fluttered around her when she'd returned, ensuring she ate, making her laugh, keeping her company, wooing her with full candlelit dinners and rousing late-night games of chess. He had so much to make up for—he’d caused her such pain over the years when he'd only ever wanted her safe and cared for. He needed to tell her—now—what she'd come to mean to him. He watched his thumbs rub over her soft skin, the feel of her warm hands pouring liquid heat back into his frozen veins. "Having you back, I cannot begin to express my elation." He lifted his eyes to hers. "But I shall try." She lifted her eyebrows in innocent wonder. "Abbie, when I awoke in that cave four years nigh, I never could have comprehended this world and what my life would become. I felt lost. Defeated, and alone. And then you walked into the room. Despite our initial and mutual misgivings regarding one another, your compassion and integrity drove you. Your tenacity for the truth and your strength of character made me believe I could trust you. And I've never stopped. I know I've done things that've hurt you, things I regret and I'd go back to erase if I held that power. Please," he asked sincerely when she started shaking her head against his words. "Please, hear me out.” She nodded once, and he took a fortifying breath before continuing.

“So much of our time together has been me chasing an old life, one that’d become lost to me before I ever even crawled out of the ground. I tried to cleave to it…” He balled his hand tightly into a fist. “And the harder I held on, the further it slipped away from me.” He slowly opened his fist. “And through it all, there you were. You helped keep me grounded as everything I’d ever known and relied upon disintegrated. You spent more time trying to fix…the Crane family problems than you did grieving all you’d lost because I appeared in your life. And never did you complain. You’ve been the epitome of kindness, patience, virtue, and strength. And it’s more than I deserve.”

He threw a finger up in the air to halt her protests. “I’ve made some grave mistakes, the greatest of these being...  You’ll have to forgive me. In my day we weren’t quite so free with our sentiments. We were more…”

“Puritan?” she offered.

He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Indeed. Though I am striving to become a 21st century gentleman.” His expression turned serious again. “I’ve missed you gravely these past few days, Abbie. You’ve come to mean so much to me over the years, and when I thought you were gone before I ever took the chance to tell you how much I care, I…”

His trailed off, staring into her wide, trusting eyes. His heart beat wildly at this step he was about to take. He swallowed hard and plunged forward, her expectant look filling him with hope.

“You have been the greatest surprise and the most valuable treasure of my life. I love you, Abbie. I have for longer than what’s appropriate and more and more so every day. And I regretted it profoundly when I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you so. I love you. And there’s nothing in this world I desire less than to be without you. I want you with me always. That is...if you..." His words faded away, uncertainty replacing his resolve. She could reject him—dear God, he hoped not, but she could—and still he wouldn't regret letting her know she was loved. Not after the abject self-loathing of the past few days. In one smooth move, she tucked her legs beneath her, kneeling next to him on the couch, sitting back on her haunches. She reached for him then, one hand lacing through his hair and resting at his neck, the fingertips of the other settling against his scruffy jaw. She gazed at him from eye-level, tears flooding her eyes but not falling. He didn't know what they meant, but she'd moved so close, invaded his space in a way she'd never dared to before. He could only peer at her helplessly, not comprehending how he'd arrived at this moment after losing her. How her warm hands could be touching him, her ears hearing the words he thought he'd choke on for the rest of his lonely life, her eyes staring into his soul like the sun blazing onto the frozen tundra. She mesmerized him, his mind simultaneously reeling from and numbed by her presence. The trauma of the past few days and lack of sleep had him spent; he had nothing left to give at this moment and everything to lose. "Ichabod." She breathed his name, and his heart clenched in his chest, recalling the only other time she'd done so. Then, too, she'd left him speechless, though he should've spoken up; he couldn't now even if he wanted to. Her knees pressed against his thigh, and he felt the soft puffs of her exhales ghosting over his skin. Her fingers absently teased along his neck, and he felt tingles race down his body. It'd been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately, caused such sensations to course through him, and he stayed frozen in place, nearly overcome by sensory overload. He watched her, helpless, wondering what came next. Her eyes, filled with desire, flicked between his gaze and his mouth as she inched towards him. Strewth, he must be dreaming! Passed out on the couch after drinking heavily to try to numb the pain and grief. Hell of a job he'd done too, to conjure such a perfectly sensual fantasy. He let her close the distance between them, unable to think straight, unable to move, but prepared for the feel of her lips, the taste of her kiss, the heat from her flowing into his frozen limbs. Her expression, so soft and vulnerable, made his heart ache fiercely, the cavern inside his chest closing with each inch she moved closer. All he could do was watch her. Time had slowed, frozen just like he had, as if the heavens had pressed a pause button, and his blood pounded loudly in his ears. Then, without warning, it seemed to scramble forward, and he watched as her eyes dropped close. His did the same as her lips pressed against his. He was not prepared. Whether the torrential cocktail of the past days' emotions or the reality that his fantasy had come true deserved blame, he couldn't say, but he sat completely at her mercy. She moved slow, patiently, her kiss soft, tantalizing, hot, and he moaned out a soft breath in disbelief and wonder. She started to ease away from him, but he chased her lips, not ready to wake from this searing dream, and she easily fell into him, her arms looping around his neck as she pressed herself against him. He came alive then, blossoming under the scorch of her ministrations, and he turned towards her, one hand cupping her head gently, the other roaming her back, pulling her more urgently against him. "Abbie," he murmured heatedly against her lips, but she silenced him easily, her tongue teasing his, her mouth drawing another moan from him, even as she matched it with her own. She moved to straddle him, and he helped her, his hands steadying her hips as she slid one leg over his lap. His large hands nearly spanned her small waist, and he moved them over her petite frame, from her lower back to the curve of her...buns (that word didn't seem so offensive at the moment), up the line of her spine to her shoulders, then down again to her hips and up her sides until he felt her rib cage beneath his hands, his thumbs just below her breasts. He wanted so much more, but even as she allowed—encouraged—his handsy exploration of her and continued doing marvelous things with her mouth and tongue, his mind screamed at him to cease, the impropriety of their situation a haunting specter he couldn't shake. Before he could muster up the willpower to pause their fervor, his phone both vibrated and rang, and he reluctantly, regretfully eased away from her. He touched his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, self-conscious about his shortness of breath—though he immediately noted that Abbie suffered from the same affliction. His phone continued warbling loudly and sputtering across the coffee table, infernal thing it was, fraying his sensitive nerves. Clearing her throat, Abbie slid off of his lap and grabbed for the phone. He watched her, cheeks tinged pink, lips rosy from his kisses, contented look on her face, and wanted to pull her right back to the place she'd vacated. Instead, she glanced at the phone, then held it out to him. "It's Jenny," she intoned softly. He nodded, still not entirely convinced he wasn't dreaming, drunk or not, and took the phone from her. He swallowed hard before answering with a meek hello. "Crane, are you alright? I got your message." He peered at the petite woman in front of him, overwhelmed and grateful, exhausted and thrilled beyond reason she hadn't disappeared like a desert mirage, and wanted to weep at the realization that she was real. She stared back at him as if he'd hung the moon, eyes dilated, corners of her mouth upturned in a perpetually pleased smirk. His heart nearly gave out knowing he was the cause of such a wondrous look. "I am...alive." Miss Jenny wouldn't understand his dual meaning. Yes, his heart still beat, but more than that his body zinged with fervor, full of passion and longing, his lips hot from Abbie's kiss, his mind reeling with all the possibilities that lay before them. "Stay that way. Be there in five." And she hung up. Ichabod cupped the phone in both hands, drumming his fingertips on its back, trying to think of something to say, something to do that wouldn't find them back in a compromising position, especially with Miss Jenny on her way. He began twirling the phone in the palm of one hand, the fingertips of the other tapping out a beat against his knee. "Would you like to sit back down?" Abbie's eyebrows shot up, an amused smirk on her face, and he realized the unintended innuendo in his words. "Oh no, not... Of course, I didn't mean to imply... I meant..." His hand fluttered in a circle in the air, his tongue tripping over his words. God's wounds, he felt depleted. He needed sleep. But not just sleep. Rest. Still, he couldn't help thinking if he fell asleep he'd wake up to find this was an exquisite dream he'd never get back.

Focus, you imbecile. "I just thought you might want to sit a spell," he managed to explain, his hand indicating the other end of the couch, the large comfy chair. "Miss Jenny will be here soon and..." And he didn't know what. He could barely keep his thoughts in order after the past 20 minutes, let alone the past three and a half days. The look on Abbie's face turned to concern. "Jenny's not going to take this well," she surmised, beginning to pace. “Not at first.” He'd laid his heart out, spilled the words he'd thought would plague him to eternity, played all of his cards. And while she'd seared him with her passion, she was already moving on, unaffected. His heart sank, broken all over again for different reasons. What came next for them? For him? How could she feel so indifferent after branding his lips with hers? "We don't have nearly enough time for me to say all the things I want to say to you before she arrives."

He hadn't realized until this how many ways a heart could be devastated. Hearing her now... Wait, had she just...? He watched her pace in frustration for a moment, her words sinking in to his daft, sleep-deprived brain. His heart, lying in the pit of his stomach, fluttered to life, making him queasy and anxious to hear what came next.

"Abbie...?"

She stopped moving and faced him, the coffee table standing between them. Her hair, full around her face, sat perfectly, her wondrously pouty and kissable lips called to him, her eyes filled with compassion and—dare he think it?—love. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

"There's so much more I want to tell you, so many things we have to talk about." Her eyes pleaded with him. "This isn't over, Crane. Promise me this isn't over."

The desperation in her tone simultaneously ignited concern and anticipation. "It's not over, Lieutenant. It's only just beginning," he promised fervently, resolutely.

She opened her mouth to respond but was silenced by an urgent knock at the door.

Jenny had arrived.

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Friendly Encounters- Chapter Six

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Smut, Fluff, Angst

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Graphic Depictions of sex, Mature Language, Angst is Yoongi-centered

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 5k+

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimin x Yoongi x Reader

Masterlist

⇤Prev | Next⇥

                                      ____________________

Yoongi watches, with his dick in his hand as Jimin wrecks you. Over and over again, your blue haired boyfriend pounds into you, as you continuously convulse around his massive girthy dick. He’s feeding you well. 

“Jimin...I c-can’t anymore.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m almost there...come on babygirl, don’t give up on me now.” You shut your eyes, panting heavily as your final orgasm hits you in a euphoric wave of pleasure, making your muscles tense and you gasp as his dick twitches inside of you from all your clenching.

“Sorry...Yoongi...couldn’t take you too.” Your older boyfriend shakes his head, kissing your forehead lightly as Jimin recovers, pulling out of your sensitive body slowly. 

“Don’t be. Seeing you two enjoy yourselves was reward enough.” Yoongi leaves a tender kiss on his boyfriend’s lips before departing to his room. “Take care of her, alright? And wash up, your mom should be home soon.” Yoongi gives you both a stern talking-to before departing with his clothes in hand. 

“You okay?” Jimin asks while wiping you down with a washcloth. You nod, sitting up on the bed as your boyfriend brings you a warm towelette for your face. He had an extra one on hand. “Think you can walk?” You shake your head, limping as he helps you up. “Here, get on my back.” You don’t think much of it, as you both saw each other naked and took your relationship to the next level all in one night. 

“You’re the best boyfriend ever. Hah...A hot bath was exactly what I needed.” Jimin smiles at you as you lather your body with soapy bubbles. 

“Thanks. You know...you’re pretty cool yourself. Able to take me like a pro. Wow, that was some expert level stuff right the-”

“Shut up.” You splash him with water, laughing as you both have a water fight. After you finish bathing (with a lot of water ending up outside the tub, much to your inconvenience), you just end up cuddling with Jimin in your room. Your more bubbly boyfriend texts your older, introverted partner that he’ll be spending the night with you.

You’re not very surprised when Yoongi replies with the response that he is completely okay with it, since he spent a night with Jimin and left you in the dust. You also understand it, they’ve been together for so long that it probably feels weird to adjust now that a third person is a part of the relationship.

You’ve felt like you’re out of place, like the awkward puzzle piece that has the right shape and fits but it just doesn’t fit quite right. Obviously, you won’t express your concern to the gorgeous specimen of a boyfriend in front of you, because you’re worried about upsetting him. 

His reaction is predictable though, since you’ve grown used to the barista by your side. He would probably just kiss you and hold you tight, claiming that if he let you go you would fly away like a butterfly, or maybe he would just tell you all of the things you want to hear and more. You’re already deeply in love with him, might as well just get everything out in the open.

Then there’s Yoongi. Your kind, sweet, gummy-smiling boyfriend. You initially thought he was annoyed with your friendship and closeness to Jimin, but he ended up expressing the opposite, and in the end your bond was strengthened even more. You’re afraid of disappointing him, or even worse, making him cry. You know his “tough guy” act is just that. The real Yoongi is frail but you’ve only caught glimpses of his vulnerable side. From everything you’ve seen so far, you can tell he still hasn’t opened up to you. You’re afraid of jeopardizing your relationship and possibly losing one-or two of your boyfriends in one go. 

One wrong move and it can possibly be the end of your dream-like romance. You sigh, falling back into Jimin’s arms with one of your hands covering your eyelids and the other on your hip. Your boyfriend just grabs your hips and helps you settle into a comfortable position on the bed. He spoons you, and you’re mostly grateful as the warmth envelops you and lulls you to sleep relatively quickly.

Morning comes early, your alarm waking you up earlier than you expected. You groan, rolling over and finding your boyfriend still asleep and snoring lightly. Jimin looks cute even when he’s sleeping. You try taking care of your appearance, since you want to at least be remembered for dressing well during your last year of high school, but at the same time you dress for yourself. And your boyfriends. When you go downstairs in your short black miniskirt and denim jacket covering your sky blue tee, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you but most of the time stays quiet. Before you decide to hug him.

When he smells your expensive perfume, he asks, “Going somewhere after school?” You shake your head.

“I was thinking I could head to the café in the evening. I have a lot of busy work. I doubt any of the teachers even know what they’re teaching anymore,” You shake your head, before shuffling through your backpack and then pulling out your phone charger. Finally, after three and a half days of searching you’ve found your old friend! “Ah-ha! I knew I put it in here. Finally, now I can charge my phone during the 3rd period.” 

Yoongi watches you scramble around to make breakfast as fast as you can before asking you another question, “Do you want a ride?” Curse your dirty mind for reading that the wrong way!

The car ride is long, and awkward. You and Yoongi had all this pent-up sexual tension possibly from the moment you met, and now that you’ve both seen each other naked, done other nasty things together as a couple and such, the only thing left to do is to fuck.

That’s right, you both just need to let out your feelings, when you’re alone. Like you did with Jimin before Yoongi joined, or rather, watched. You were spending sufficient time alone with each of your boyfriends, but as of late, you need to get down and dirty with Yoongi. As fast as possible, before things get any weirder.

“Thanks.” You say before getting out of the car.

“Hey, um, I know after yesterday things are different but can I please ask you to pretend like it didn’t happen? I was clearly not myself. I’d rather that we do things naturally and let everything happen when they’re supposed to. I apologize if you felt forced to do stuff in any way.”

You almost cry at how gentle he sounds. He talks to you like you’re a princess, literally the kindest man you’ve crossed. Your heart flutters just from hearing him speak, like your eyes have been opened for the first time.

“No, not at all!” You clutch your backpack strap, biting your lips in anxiousness. “I wanted to. I actually hope I can do it with both of you someday. Like actually..the three of us in one bed.” You trail off, realizing what it is that you truly want.

“You okay? You zoned out there for a second.” You nod, smacking yourself internally for spacing out with Yoongi.

“I’ll see you after school, bye.” You share a quick kiss before you run to your first period class.

For some reason, your friends seem busy. No one is eager to talk to you about their lives or even stop for a second to listen to you talk about yours. You understand it, though. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with. You’re sure all the other girls your age are worrying about bigger stuff than boy problems, like possibly being pregnant, or scared that they don’t have enough credits to graduate. 

You stay glued to your phone most of the day, as Jimin sends you heart emojis and lengthy passages about how he loves you. He just had to message you during English class, during which your teacher caught you on your phone, and she picked up your phone and when she read your text, it brought her to tears, resulting in her asking you if she could read it out loud to the class. 

You insisted it was from your boyfriend and how it was for your eyes only, but she said it demonstrated how simple sentences work well in writing when used correctly and that his use of grammar and vocabulary was that of a college graduate, or at least a professional writer.

She read it aloud, with emotion, and feeling. It made your heart swell up in joy, as you heard his voice through hers. The message behind his words.

“Oh, how you make my heart ache, and in the end it only longs for you. How could a person affect me so much? Come home and hold me, my love, I promise you won’t want to leave,” She finishes reading the long text and after you get your phone back, you bury it deep inside your backpack. 

My teacher calls you to her desk after class, and she tells you to cherish your boy with your whole heart, as it’s evident enough that no couple would be crazy enough to send love poems to each other unless they were truly fond of the other. There was no way you wouldn’t treasure him; You already loved him. And Yoongi. You love them both.

                                     ༻• Later That Day •༺ 

“Tell me what’s happening in front of my eyes isn’t really happening right now.” You huff at your blue-haired prince.

“Oh no, you’ve got it right. He’s really doing it.” He drinks his sweet tea with more vigour, sucking the straw harshly.

“This is pathetic. What does he think he can accomplish by upsetting his partners?” Jimin shrugs at your rhetorical question. Honestly, if you had a whip right now, you wouldn’t mind using it on Yoongi.

He actually has the balls to flirt with a regular female customer, a girl you actually caught making goo-goo eyes at him and trying to get his number every time she orders something. He’s not even shrugging her off anymore, but instead encouraging it. Jimin slams his hands down on the table, as he wipes a spot near you, glaring daggers at his boyfriend.

“Okay, I think I really wanna punish him now.” You were joking before, but the flirting has gotten out of hand as of late. He’s been doing this for two weeks already.

“Good, as it should be. Training continues in your room at 6:00 sharp. Be there and be ready, there’s a lot we have to cover before you dip your toe in the dom puddle.” You raise an eyebrow at his terminology. You knew what a dom was, but didn’t think he was serious. There’s no way that you’d actually take control in the bedroom, right?

Images of Jimin naked and whining beneath you flash in your mind, as you imagine all the different ways you could make him a mess. You’ve heard what Yoongi does to him, but imagining what you could do-that could go anywhere.

“Why do we have to wait?” You find yourself growing bolder as you lean forward, innocently sucking the metal straw that Jimin provided to you earlier when you ordered the mango smoothie.

“What are you suggesting, kitten?” You laugh at his nickname, before narrowing your eyes at your incredibly sexy boyfriend.

“Bathroom.” You continue sucking the straw, innocently sipping your drink before getting up and walking to the restroom. 

After 5 minutes of waiting, you hear the door open, and heavy footsteps. They were much too heavy to be a woman, for sure.

“Baby!” He hisses right outside of your stall, signaling you to grab him and pull him in.

“I checked. It’s empty. No one can disturb us anyways, not unless they see two pairs of feet underneath.”

“Oh, I have an easy solution to that,” He folds his arms across his chest. “Kneel,” You listen to him, happy to follow his orders like a mindless kitten. “Go ahead, suck.” He has his phone in one hand, recording you as you take him into your mouth.

“Remember who’s boss, baby? You said I’d learn how to be a dom.” He groans lightly as you suck his length, slightly squeezing his testes as well with your free hands.

“Alright. Show me what you’ve got.” His eyes are clouded with lust as he watches you swallow his precum, but you do eventually get you fill, instead opting to let his semen spill to the floor.

“Should I just prep you right here? Finger that beautiful asshole so that Yoongi can fuck you later?” Jimin groans at the thought, and you do too, imagining how his cock would bounce in your face as your older boyfriend fucked him carnally. “Ohhh, look at you taking my fingers. So, so, pretty Jiminie. Hear that? This is what good dick sounds like.” Your panties are drenched, you’re leaking through. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were on your period.

“F-fuck me good Y/N.” You smirk, pinching his scrotum, making him shriek in urgency.

“Sorry, bad boys don’t get to cum.” You continue rubbing his shaft, a sloshing sound resounding through the bathroom walls as you give him a moist handjob. He tries his best to stay quiet, with a few whimpers escaping his lips.

“Please, Y/N. I need to cum, please I can’t hold in!” He whines wantonly as you continue pumping his dick, letting his erection peak to the highest point before rubbing him out during his climax. He gets so loud that he has to cover his own mouth with his small hands.

You go on for several minutes after that, or what feels like an eternity, laughing maniacally as Jimin squirts and cums for you. You just did that! You made him feel so good he came.

After you let his cum spill to the floor, you stand up, tucking his dick back into his pants before licking your fingers clean of the savory juices Jimin left behind.

You both wash your hands in the sink and leave the bathroom in turns, so it won’t raise any suspicion.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Jimin gives you a quick peck on the cheek before running off to the counter to grab another order.

“So, I’m guessing you guys spent his entire break together?” Jin asks, wiping your table for the hundredth time again.

“Yes, Jin. We were just talking about the birds.” Jin glares at you, obviously not believing your lie.

“And the bees, I assume?” You clap your hands together, laughing as you sip your mango juice. “It’s no laughing matter for a girl your age. You’re already with two men who are closer to my age than your age. And I’m 27!” You roll your eyes, ignoring him as you get your daily lecture again.

“Jin, you know Jimin and Yoongi are only like 3 or 4 years older than me. And I’m already more mature than lots of girls my age. You can also save the bedroom talk, I know my limits and what I’m comfortable with. I know it’s not the most conventional agreement, but I feel safe with both of them. They treat me like a princess even though I don’t deserve it.” You tell him with a small smile on your face.

“Hm, you really love them, don’t you?” You nod, humming as Jin walks away. “While you’re here, why don’t you help out with these boxes? Just move them to the alleyway. They’re all rotten fruit.” You cringe at that, as Jin hands you a stack of two huge boxes.

“Alright. But if I get mugged I’ll sue you.” You get around to the alleyway, surprised to see that there’s no one there and you actually had a moment of peace without incident.

You weren’t expecting anything anyways, as you know this town is very safe and there’s not much criminal activity happening in this neck of the woods. You were too focused on everything going on in your mind, so in case there was an actual threat, you wouldn’t be too phased.

“Done, now when do I get paid?” You dust your hands, looking up at your boyfriends’ boss. Jin just gives you his signature smile and blows a kiss at you before turning to his office.

“Look, how about I just let you drink for free? For a month?” You nod, folding your arms as you notice the picture on Jin’s desk, a family photo of Jin with a woman. 

“Sounds good, hey who’s this?” You ask, pointing at the frame.

“That was my wife. She passed away three years ago…” You suddenly feel like a jerk.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m gonna get going now, it was nice seeing you again, Jin.” You smile sadly at the man before leaving your boys to wrap up with their work. They’ll be taking a leave for a week anyways, so they’re just trying to make this week count.

You know that’s probably why Yoongi was being so friendly with most of the female customers. You hadn’t seen him flirt with any other men apart from Jimin, but he did talk to a lot of girls. Then again, the girls probably approached him themselves. 

You try pushing the thoughts out of your head, as you know your ultimate goal is to have angry sex with Yoongi over the fact that he’d been flirting with other people in front of you and Jimin. You channel the anger through your body, as Jimin later presents himself to you that evening, with thoughts of only awakening the lustful dominant inside of you. 

“Here are my prized positions, please take good care of me, kitten.” You shake your head, smirking at him as he gives you his box of toys to use on him.

“Want me to ride you, baby?” You ask him as he groans in pain, his bulge painfully tightening in his pants. You can see the area around his pants, the tiny wet spot around his tip. 

“I’d love that, kitten,” You shed your clothes, before working on Jimin’s pants first. After the pants come off, you work on his shirt. Both articles of clothing go flying to the ground before the final layer, which is his boxers. The precum stringing from the head of his cock glisten as you gather a good portion of it onto your fingers before slathering it on your stomach. You lick the remaining juices from your fingers before placing both of your legs on either side of him. Jimin is excited. His dick seems to inflate a little as you sit down on him. “Look at you, being ruined by my cock. You aren’t gonna let it control you today, are you kitten?” You shake your head, panting slightly as you struggle to focus on what you were doing.

“I own this cock, got it? This cock is mine!” You finally start moving, making Jimin groan beneath you as he appreciates how much your boobs bounce in his face and how he can see everything as you move on top of him.

“Oh gosh, I’m gonna cum.” You gasp before quickly climbing off him and you resorted to using your mouth to finish the job.

“Um, why did you just stop when you were close?” Jimin asks. You gesture to his unprotected penis.

“You weren’t wearing a condom. I couldn’t let you cum in me and risk getting preggers. I watched Glee, I know all of the downsides.” Your boyfriend just huffs impatiently.

“I could’ve pulled out, but it seems that now I came once but you haven’t cum at all.”

“Jim, who’s in charge?” Your boyfriend is taken aback by the new name you gave him. He just sighs before turning his head to you and looking at you directly in the eyes.

“You are.”

“Great, glad we’re on the same page. Get on your stomach, babe. I wanna peg you.”

“What?!” Jimin’s eyes widen as you grab the lube from your desk drawer.

“Do you not want to do it tonight? I need to practice so Yoongi can-wait, are you telling me that you’re a top?” He blushes before running his hands through his pretty blue hair.

“We’re switches. Although, when we’re alone, hyung is more dominant in nature.” You gasp in awe as Jimin reveals this new information to you.

“That’s great, we’ll make him beg by the end of next week, I’m sure of it. But Jim, I do have a plan for how we go about it…” You quietly adjust the straps of your harness before slathering the dildo with lube. This is softer, so the texture feels like skin.

“Oh gosh, Y/N!” You hum as Jimin makes all kinds of cute noises, mostly from suffocation and feeling smothered. You take a break in between because Jimin declares it ‘too much,’ and after getting a drink of water you presume to prep him gently, so you don’t tear him apart.

Before you know it, just from the stimulation of your fingers on the base of his cock and the fingers in his hole, your man is coming undone, moaning, whining, cursing, begging-all of those things while you pump him with your right hand, as fast as possible. Seeing Jimin come on his stomach was the hottest thing you’ve seen in a long time. You really needed to see that.

“Kitten, wanna cum with me? You made me cum so many times already…” You nod, your face red from excitement. The lewd thoughts just make it worse.

“Jiminie, can we...69?” You ask shyly, but your boyfriend is more than happy to oblige.

“Sure, baby.”

                                            ༻• Night •༺ 

Yoongi gets home late only because Jin had some trouble with the cash register. He wasn’t feeling well as of late, but there was no explanation for his unexplained sadness. He had everything he needed in life, along with two amazing partners. So why was he feeling this way? He knows it’s normal for people to feel down sometimes. 

It’s hard for people to be happy all the time, especially when there’s a lot of stress in the environment. Now Yoongi has to prepare to deal with the “break-up” since you and Jimin will share the honor of being in an arranged marriage. Well, it’s more like a trick love-marriage. If your father catches you in bed with the wrong man, there’s no telling what he could do from there.

Yoongi just needs you and Jimin to get married to save you both. Jimin gets to reconnect with his parents who cast their son out because he got a boyfriend, and you would be free from awkward marriage dinners with strangers. Oh, and your father would leave you alone because he’d consider you as “Jimin’s property.” 

He knows the type of person he is. He’s dealt with the same type of parents many times over. His family wasn’t even willing to accept him even though he told them he wasn’t completely gay but didn’t agree to being labeled “straight” either.

Now look at you all, everyone is happy together and that’s the way Yoongi wants it to be. Even if he has to be in the background. For your happiness, he would do anything. For you and Jimin.

As he’s about to open the door, a text from your mother catches him off-guard. She was texting that she gets to come home earlier today, so she can spend time with you three and get to know your boyfriends better. Uh-oh, this is bad.

He shuts the door behind him before running upstairs, to look for you and Jimin. Yoongi bursts down the door with force only to find you and Jimin NOT watching iCarly together on Netflix.

“Oh God, I’m sorry!” He shields his eyes, turning around so you could cover up a little bit. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but he didn’t want to be a pervert. Even though you’d be fine with him looking. He still wants to ask for consent. 

You change quickly, Jimin still panting and recovering from his last orgasm. He almost passed out from how good you were with your tongue.

“You can look, you know?” You and Jimin day in sync. The two of you share a look that Yoongi knew was the type of look reserved for two special people. You’ve already bonded, without him. It’s a good thing, even if it kills Yoongi that he's trying to earn extra money so in case you and Jimin do get caught with the plan, you would have a safety net to catch you when you fall and help you up. 

Yoongi didn’t inform you or Jimin of this, but recently, he’s been opting for extra hours just to save up money. He’s also been spending some of that money on new equipment to make his producing process a bit easier, but apart from that, he has a large amount of money in his bank account. At least, it’s big in his eyes. He never had much, but now he finally has a reason to do more with his life. 

You and Jimin constantly inspire him to make songs all the time, and without realizing it, you’ve changed him for the better.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But that’s not why I’m here, your mom is coming home, and she wants to spend time with us, since we’re your boyfriends!” Yoongi panics and you find it endearing how the man you once thought to be cold and unkind to now be so comfortable around you that he speaks his mind.

“Thank goodness you walked in when you did, Jimin was about to pass out on top of me.” 

“Wait, you bottom for her?” You look back at Jimin to see his reaction. He gawks at his blond boyfriend in shock.

“Yeah, I mean haven’t you seen how she gets when she’s dominant? It’s sexy as hell.” You can’t understand what they’re saying anymore because they are speaking in Korean.

“Oh, I see. Wait until the roles are reversed, I’m sure our kitten will be mewling for you to stop once she feels your lips.” Jimin glances over at you quickly before looking back at his boyfriend.

“Hyung, in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve already done plenty alone.” Your prince-like boyfriend combs his hair to one side, making you giggle as you see Yoongi turn bright pink like a piglet.

“I can see that. Kitten, are you up for a date when we go up to the cabin?” You bite your lip, glancing nervously towards Jimin as he gets dressed with his back to you and looking at Yoongi as he waits patiently for your answer. You were planning to spend time with the two of them, but you know that maintaining the individual relationships with your partners are just as important as the group dynamic. You’ve also been naturally closer with Jimin, as he was your best friend first.

Yoongi deserves a break, and you know that he’s probably noticed that you and Jimin have been spending a lot more time together while he’s been working hard. The vacation is actually for Yoongi, but he doesn’t know that, yet.

“Sure. When do you want to go out?” You ask.

“Hmmm, what about tomorrow? I get off work around 4 tomorrow, so we’ll have a lot of time to spend after that.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” You both share a small smile before Jimin interrupts the moment with applause.

“Great! While you guys do that, I’ll be out learning choreography. I need to keep up with my peers from the institute.”

“Wait, you went to a dance school?” Jimin gasps at the realization that he never told you about his dance classes during high school.

“Yep, I was at the top of my class,” Jimin quickly changes the subject. “Anyways, enough about me, you guys need to plan for your date!” He quickly runs out into the hallway, in his boxer shorts with the rest of his clothes in hand, as you uncover yourself and give Yoongi a quick peek before scrambling to find some clean clothes that don’t smell like sex.

“Boys, I assume you know what this meeting is about?” Your mom clasps her hands together on her lap as she basically murders your boyfriends with her eyes.

“I know it’s a weird arrangement, but we both really like your daughter.” Yoongi is the first to speak up, and you find it sweet that he can open up to your mother, since he wasn’t the most socially adept back when you first met him. You assume that’s because you changed him, you and Jimin made him crawl out of his shell and explore the world a bit more. This was mostly good but bad at the same time because he was much better at communicating, and instead of scowling at people or giving them a blank stare, he actually smiles a lot more and makes more eye contact.

Maybe that’s just the jealousy talking, but you genuinely feel that it’s better for Yoongi, in the long run.

“I’ve known you guys for six months now, and in judging you personally, I can tell that you both have excellent characters. You will make her happy, and hopefully someday you three can be more serious.”

“Hey mom, I needed to ask you something about that.” Your boyfriends glance at you anxiously as you ask your mom. “When is dad coming home?” You bite your bottom lip as you do when you get nervous.

“Hmmm, he said he would be gone for half a year. He’ll be back by October, why?” You scratch your head.

“Can’t a girl wonder when her daddy’ll come home?” You don’t even bother looking at your boyfriends as you can tell exactly what their expressions are.

Once your mother is done interrogating your partners, Jimin creeps down the hallway and sneaks into your room.

“Where’s Yoongi?” You ask, as he kisses your collarbone.

“Asleep.” You stop him.

“Look, we left him out earlier so I feel kinda bad. I don’t think we should do any more stuff tonight. We can continue tomorrow.” Jimin’s a gentleman, so he wouldn’t push your boundaries. He just backs away from you and he flops down on your bed.

“You think I’m good...right?”

“What?” Jimin’s sudden words throw you off guard.

“I’m not bad at sex, am I?” 

“Jimin, where did you get that idea? Of course you’re amazing in bed, I’m just not in the mood tonight. Besides, my mom’s home.” You sit down next to him, stroking his right arm.

“Thanks. Sometimes I feel like I need validation. My confidence isn’t all what I chalked it up to be.” You just let out a long sigh. You can relate to him, in what happened with Jungkook and Jasmine. Your friendship actually made you lose trust in those closest to you. You were partially afraid of opening up to Jimin in the beginning too, but after you cried it out with him, you felt even closer to him than the people you knew practically your entire life.

Jimin is just easy to get along with, and you know that’s partially the reason why you were able to open up to him so quickly. Considering, yes you were only about three months into your romantic relationship, you needed someone to latch onto. Jimin was still the best friend you ever had, and you learned quickly that this was what a healthy friendship was like. 

Unlike Jungkook and Jasmine, Jimin would listen to you, and he’d give you advice about your problems. In turn, you listened to him, just as you had with your past friends. There was something different from the other interactions you had, because it was a take and give type situation. 

You weren’t just taking, though. You were applying yourself, and improving who you were as a person. This is what a friendship should be like. Even though you’re dating, it feels comfortable and familiar. You’ve learned not to depend on people as much, only when you need to. Unlike anything you’ve seen in the past, the dynamics of Jimin and Yoongi’s relationship is so free, they don’t pester the other to tell them everything.

Secrets are important in a relationship; That’s another thing you’ve picked up. Obviously you aren’t going to lie, but you feel like you have a safety net.

“Sorry. It’s just hard to always live up to society’s expectations of me.” Everything clicks for you with Jimin’s words. You quickly stand up, blood rushing to your head as you do, making you fall back just as fast. Jimin catches you, luckily, and lowers you down onto the mattress.

“We’re not getting married.” You put your foot down, catching your boyfriend off guard.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You simply stare up at your boyfriend, eyes filled with hope.

[chocolatemin]

word count: 8.51k

contains: fantasy, fluff, angst, crack, psychological issues, violent themes and mentions of explosives, implied fem!reader, mention and description of food, cursing

note: yaaaay! I'm back with another fic for Halloween Special, the story was mainly inspired by none other than my favorite Disney movie, Alice in Wonderland and the word ‘horologe’! I had so much fun writing and this is my longest one yet, about the pairing-- it’s a secret! You’ll find out along the way ;) I hope you enjoy reading! <33

「1st Strike.」

You sat on the bottom of the tree, feeling the texture of the paper on your fingertips as you flipped through the pages of the book you are reading. Horologium, it has been stuck in your bookshelf for years. You always tell yourself to read it after finishing a book but somehow, you always end up forgetting it. The book’s cover has always been intriguing to you, it was simple and pleasing, yet it has a vibe that you cannot determine. You read one of the passage aloud: 

“By the time the clock strikes twelve,

Thou shall hear the sound of bells,

Make sure to bid thy farewell,

Or the day shall repeat its spell.”

“What?” Your brows furrowed in confusion, under the passage was a picture of a pocket watch that is oddly familiar to you. You shrugged off the thought and closed the book, ready to head home. It was still early, around 10 o’clock, and the tree created a perfect shade for you to read your book peacefully at, however you have still errands to do. 

“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” Your ears perked upon hearing a tiny voice not too far from your spot. Huh? You got up from your seat and dusted off your clothes. You carefully made your way towards the source of the voice and tried your best not to create loud sounds as you stepped on the fallen dried leaves on the ground. Quietly peeking from the leaves, you saw a talking squirrel in a suit, running for its dear life. Wait, a squirrel? You must be mistaken. You blinked your eyes a few times but nothing has changed, there really is a talking squirrel in a suit running. Letting the curiosity get the best of you, you quickly followed the squirrel. It seems to be too caught up in being ‘late’ that it didn’t notice you following it. 

“Goodness, I’m late!” The squirrel groaned once more before ducking safely under a log. You were almost there when you felt something slipped out from your pocket halting you to a stop. You looked behind you and saw your pocket watch lying on the ground. You immediately picked it up, examining if there are scratches or broken parts and thankfully, there is no damage or else your mother is going to get mad. And when she gets mad, all hell breaks loose. 

“Oi, Felix! Whatcha doin’ mate?” You saw a blonde guy approaching another blondie while grinning widely. He has such a nice jaw and cute dimples. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, showing off his well-toned muscles.

“Look at this egg!” The taller blondie, which you assumed as ‘Felix’, flashed a cute smile, extending his arm towards the shorter one, holding out an egg, “isn’t it cool!”

“What’s so cool about it?” The blonde guy which you didn’t know the name looks at Felix quizzically. Felix’ reaction was a mix of shock and disgust causing a giggle to escape your lips. You instantly covered your mouth but they already turned their heads to you, “A friend!” Felix yelled before they practically ran over to you.

“Hi! My name’s Felix!” Felix asked, holding his hand out to you, “What’s yours?” You were skeptical about shaking his hand but you didn’t want to come off as rude and impolite so you hesitantly took his hand, “I’m Y/N.”

“That’s such a pretty name!” The shorter blonde spoke, “I’m Chan, and we’re brothers. Nice to meet you,” he extended his hand to you for a handshake which you still took skeptically, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just passing by.” You hid your hands behind your back.

“Do you wanna hear a great story?” Felix chirped with excitement.

“Maybe next time? I still have to go somewhere.” You glanced at your right, where the squirrel headed off, taking a few steps away from them and you could see the dejection in their eyes.

“Wait! Aren’t you curious about the sunset and sunrise?” Chan asked and in which you firmly answered, “No, not at all.” 

“Are you sure about that, mate?” Felix followed, wiggling his brows simultaneously.

“Yes.”

“Are you really not going to listen to it?” Chan pouted, giving you his ‘puppy’ eyes. Well, you think it is cute but your curiosity about the squirrel is killing you. You shook your head, “Not a chance.”

“You’re not really going to give it a chance?” Felix clasped his hands in front of his chest and pouted, causing your heart to flutter and become annoyed at the same time. When are they going to stop?

“You’re annoying! Fine. Let me hear about it.” You grunted and you saw them jump in excitement, “Ha! Told ya, you are curious!” Felix cooed.

“I am not. Now, kindly get to the story so you can stop bugging me about it.”

Chan began the story, “The sun is afraid of the dark so it hides during night time.” He created gestures as he continued, “The sun is known to be the warrior of the day, so the Sun cannot afford to lose its reputation by simply being scared of the dark.” Felix continued, “This is where the Moon enters, the Moon cannot stand the day because it was too blinding for him. So, they made an agreement. The Moon shall hide during the day and reign on its glory at night.” 

Chan followed, “The sun shall rise and dawn upon the day, but they shouldn’t tell anyone their little secret. They made an alliance, tricking everyone that they both ‘rule’. And so the night came, the Sun immediately hid under the mountain while the Moon glimmered at night. And then, the morning came…” Chan nudged Felix’ side, signaling him to resume the story in which Felix nodded, “And the sun yeeted the moon.” 

“No, Felix! The story is not supposed to end that way!” Chan ruffled his hair a little aggressive, placing his hands on the sides of his waist. You watched the two bicker over the ending of the story until you heard the ringing of bells. Your eyes widened as the color of the surroundings started turning into different arrays of color. You felt dizzy and your vision started to swirl. The squirrel! I totally forgot about it, thanks to these two. You feel yourself falling but all you can see is darkness and you’re definitely terrified. You feel your chest tightening along with a lump in your throat while you become lightheaded. Panic washed your body as you experience two of your worst fears– not being able to see and falling from heights. But before you completely pass out you grabbed your watch from your pocket and saw its hands glow as it pointed on 12. 

「2nd Strike.」

“Wait! Aren’t you curious about the sunset and sunrise?” Chan asked. You were confused, mouth hanging open upon the happening. What did just happen?

“Didn’t you ask me that earlier?” You tilted your head, looking at him with confusion.

“No, I didn’t.” Chan gave you a puzzled look.

“Really?” They both nod at the same time, you were disoriented by the happenings. First, you met these two earlier and you agreed to listen to their story, second, your sight turned into an unfamiliar vision before free-falling at a void of darkness, and third, you were suddenly back with Chan and Felix. The squirrel! You glanced to your right and saw the footprints left by the animal in a hurry, “but I have to go somewhere.”

“Are you sure about that, mate?” Felix wiggled his brows, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Yes, and if you would excuse me, I’ve got something to do. Goodbye.” You waved your hands before running off to the direction where the squirrel headed at. You hear their shouts of disapproval but you disregarded it. You already knew the ending anyway, right? 

You hurriedly tried to follow the footsteps but it only led you to a wooden gate. You peeked on the hole to see two tall men wearing extravagant clothes arguing over something you couldn’t quite figure out. What you didn’t expect is for the gate to swing open by itself, revealing your dumbfounded self.

“A guest!” The brown-haired lad clapped his hands, gesturing you to step inside in which you were compelled to, "Welcome to the party. Please enjoy yourself.” He flashed you a captivating smile. 

“Hyunjin, what a shame to our guest, tell the chipmunk to hurry up!” The brown-haired lad smacked Hyunjin’s arm to get his attention from dancing on his own. Hyunjin nodded upon the order, taking the bell on the long table, shaking it violently and you covered your ears using your hands. What’s wrong with this guy?! However, your annoyance was cut short by the clanking of porcelain and plates coming from the back door. 

“Squirrel!” You almost yelled and the two turned their heads to you. You notice how perfect their faces were, the taller– Hyunjin has a mole under his eye that highlights his pretty eyes and thick brows, he has a pointed nose and full lips. You haven’t seen anyone as pretty as him, heck, he’s even prettier than your sister. While the other lad, which you still didn’t know the name of, looks a lot mature and more masculine than Hyunjin, he was charismatic, his eyes are something, so are his lips. 

“Do you have any problem, Miss...” Hyunjin eyed you a bit harshly, causing goosebumps to form on your arms and you decided not to give your true name.

“Alex. No, I just didn’t expect a squirrel out of all to bring the tray.” You feigned innocence, smiling to him and he returned the smile with a hint of mischief. 

“Oh, how rude of me not to introduce myself, you can call me Minho.” The brown-haired lad removed his hat and bowed, offering you a blue rose. As you picked up the rose from his hand, you felt your heart skip a beat. You faintly smiled at his courteousness but you were interrupted by no other than, Hyunjin.

“Miss Alice, I think you should join us dance. A party is not complete without dancing!” Hyunjin dragged you towards a spot near the end of the long table, he then walked over to the table, taking a teaspoon and tapped the teacup three times, “Music, please!” 

A loud booming sound of a trumpet was followed by the strumming of harp, accompanied by percussion and stringed instruments, and it rather sounded obnoxious to your ears. Looking around, you couldn’t find the source of the music, you were flustered. How the heck is that even possible? There wasn’t even a record player to begin with. You stood awkwardly watching Minho and Hyunjin dance rather crazily than dancing according to the music. Minho noticed you and spoke, “You should dance with us!” 

You shook your head, “No, I cannot dance, besides, I have somewhere else to go.” You stepped back.

“Then have a bite first, a party isn’t a party without sweets!” Hyunjin shoved a saucer to you with a slice of red velvet cake with mint chocolate frosting topped with blueberries. You almost puked just by looking at the bizarre combination of flavors, it didn’t even look pleasing to your eyes.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” You forced a smile and returned the saucer on the table. When you looked back at Hyunjin, his brows were knitted and he was glaring at you, shivers ran down your spine and you were frozen at your spot. His pretty face is now contorted with anger and disappointment.

“Your behavior is so ugh!” Hyunjin raged, making Minho stop from dancing. Hyunjin grabbed something from his pocket that looked like a bath bomb, you don’t know whether to feel frightened or laughing because it didn’t seem harmful. But you felt your insides turn upside down as soon as you heard Minho’s celebration, “Bomb fight!” 

In a blink of an eye, Minho was already holding many bombs. Fuck, they are out of their minds! Your adrenaline came rushing and before you can even think, your body was already making its way out of the place. You heard Hyunjin and Minho’s steps and explosions from behind, you glanced to your back and saw the squirrel come out running from the mixture of colored smokes. You realized that it that the bombs weren’t catastrophic but it still scared you. As much as you wanted to get away from the two, you can’t help but feel bad for the squirrel so you turned your heels and rushed to it. You frantically grabbed the squirrel and carried it. Albeit getting farther from the two, you didn’t notice the bomb coming at your direction. You were shaking as soon as you saw the bomb drop in front of you, and as an instinct, you ran back to the opposite side inspite of the colored smoke blocking your sight. You felt the ground shake from the explosion near you, making you lose your balance and your body collided with a softer surface. 

Upon hearing that the explosions stopped, you pushed yourself up and saw an unconscious man lying under you.

“What the hell!” You stumbled backwards, garnering the attention of the man, he looked young though. His black hair is parted in the middle that flaunts his attractive face and his cheeks sort of resembled a squirrel’s. He appeared like a prince because of the tuxedo he was wearing.

“Wow… you were gorgeous.” Your eyes widened and you shut your mouth from embarrassment. You heard him scoff as he helped himself to a sitting position.

“What do you mean ‘were’? I am always gorgeous!” He rolled his eyes at you and you can’t help but to feel irritated from his cockiness. You stood up huffing as you removed the dust and dirt from your clothes.

“By the way, have you seen a squirrel?” You fanned your hands, trying to push away the smoke that causes you suffocation. The man behind you erupted in laughter and he looked at you in a judging manner. You could feel your irritation growing, you wanted no other than to slap that arrogant smirk off his face. “Did I say anything funny?”

“I didn’t expect you to be this dumb.” He made a straight face.

“Pardon?” You glared at him, clearly offended.

“I am the squirrel, dumbass!” 

“But you look.. human...” It sounded more of a question than a statement.

“You know what, nevermind.” He shook his head, “Where are you going anyway? Maybe I can help you.” 

You fought the urge to leave a sarcastic comment to avoid an argument. But where were you heading off to? You were just following him. “I was lost, I wanted to find my way out of here.”

“Are you not from here?”

“No… I am from Alium Orbis.” You fidgeted as you gazed down at your worn out pair of shoes. It really wasn’t your intention to travel to a different place, you only wanted to know what the squirrel was late for.

“I’ve never heard of it, but we can inquire at the palace.” He flashed you an apologetic smile and you nod. 

The skies were already painted with hues of orange and pink yet you were still out in the woods, the route you were taking is the safest yet longest, according to the man beside you. You have learned that his name is Jisung and he was working at Minho and Hyunjin’s sometimes and he was quite used to the two’s antics. He also works for the king, he said that the king had a terrible anger so he works there as one of the palace’s repairmen. You also learned that he wasn’t cocky, he’s just very good at ‘teasing’ people. He joked a lot from time to time and you realized that hanging around with him was fun and never boring.

“Hey, Jisung.” You broke the silence that engulfed the atmosphere as you walked through the dark forest.

“Yeah?” 

“I haven’t eaten since noon, and I’m…” You shyly admitted since you cannot hold in the hunger, your stomach is churning and aching at the same time. You fished out your pocket watch and the timepiece says 8:27. Thankfully, there were lamp posts along the way so you could still see clearly despite the darkness. 

“Right, my house is just a few minute walk from this place, can you still wait a bit longer?” Jisung scratched his nape.

“Yes, but my legs are getting weak so you’ve got to carry me when I cannot walk anymore.” You joked, trying to lift up the mood but Jisung stopped in front of you.

“Hop on.” Jisung crouched, his back facing you.

“Wait– no, I was just joking.” You laughed but your feet and legs are already sore.

“I said hop on.” Jisung impatiently argued, turning his head to you. You gulped nervously and obeyed. You can feel the erratic beating of your heart as Jisung carried you on his back on the way to his house. Your cheeks are flushed from another embarrassment with him. 

“Jisung, I think I can walk now,” you stuttered, “my legs are now okay.” 

“Nah, we’re already here.” You tore your gaze from his back and saw a small but cozy house, “Wait a moment, hold tighter.” You were about to argue but Jisung cut you off. He removed his right hand from supporting your other thigh as he slipped his hand inside his pocket to get the key and opened the door for the both of you. Your heart skipped a beat from his act. 

“Jisung put me down.” You declared earning a chuckle from him before muttering ‘alright’, “Thanks, by the way,” you shy away from his gaze.

“You’re probably exhausted from all the running and walking, you can grab a pair from the clothesline and change in the bathroom,” Jisung pointed towards the door at the kitchen back door, “The bathroom is upstairs, the last door at the left.”

You whispered ‘thank you’ before heading to grab a pair of his clothes and go to the bathroom. As you cleaned up and changed into comfortable clothes, you pondered on how you got in this mysterious place. You heard the clanking of plates and pots from the kitchen as you washed your clothes and you couldn’t help the weird feeling in your chest.

Damn, Jisung has it all.

Not only was he funny, kind-hearted and gentleman, he also knew how to do all the domestic chores and it was a bonus that he’s awfully attractive. You felt the blush creeping up to your cheeks so you immediately shook off the idea. This isn’t right. You thought to yourself. It didn’t take you long enough to finish rinsing you clothes and you soon left the bathroom. You went to the kitchen and you were welcomed by the smell of food and of course, Jisung in an apron.

“Hey, Jisung.” Jisung jumped from your voice.

“You startled me!” He placed a hand over his chest dramatically, “You’re done?”

You nodded, “Can I hang my clothes outside?” 

“Of course, but better hurry up. I’m almost done.” 

The dinner was scrumptious and you savored the food with delight. You didn’t imagine that Jisung was a great chef. You’ve exchanged stories and personal experiences, just like friends in the get-to-know stage. He talked a lot and made you laugh countless times. You offered to wash the dishes as an act of returning the favor, he didn’t even oppose, you saw how his eyes lit up and you couldn’t help but laugh at how happy he looked. 

Gazing through the telescope, “Look at the constellation! It looks like a pendulum!” You stood up and ushered Jisung to switch seats so that he could see it too. You sat beside each other at his mini observatory next to his room. It’s been an hour since you two started stargazing and you were having the time of your lives. It’s been a while since Jisung had a companion and it surely made him all giddy inside, but it wasn’t just the thought of having a companion that makes his heart flutter. It was you and he didn’t know why.

“Y/N, I think I might be falling in love with you.” You were taken aback by Jisung’s confession out of the blue. Long silence filled the atmosphere.

“But it hasn’t even been a day since we met.” You whipped your head to face him and you swore, there’s something in his eyes.

“I know, sounds absurd, right?” Jisung shook his head, you’re right, but who are you to tell him his own feelings, “Y/N…”

Jisung stared at your eyes, so do you, you could see that he was trying to see the deep side of you, trying to figure out the puzzle in you. It was funny how you only met him today yet you felt nostalgic. You stiffened the moment Jisung started closing the gap between the two of you, his eyes trailed from your eyes to your lips and a turmoil started boiling inside your chest. Jisung’s lips were only an inch far from yours when you felt dizzy again along with the ringing of bells in your ears. Your vision swirled and you were transported again in the void of darkness, falling. However, this time, there were faces of the clock in different sizes, all glowing as the hands pointed at twelve. You sighed in relief. Thank goodness, that was close. 

「3rd Strike.」

You adjusted the telescope to find another constellation and you did. This time it looked like a pendulum, you wanted to show it to Jisung but knew fully well what could happen next, “Jisung, I’m getting sleepy. I think I should go to bed now.” You tried your best not to sound too awkward but failed.

“Yeah, sure.” Jisung got up from his seat, offered his hand to help you stand up and he led you to the room you’ll be staying in for the night. 

“Thanks, Jisung,” You stepped inside then turned to face him, “good night.” You smiled at him and he returned the gesture.

“Good night, Y/N.” You waited for him to leave before closing the door behind his back. 

You turned off the light and walked over to the bed, it wasn’t very dark since the moonlight illuminated the room just right. You thought that maybe this “12 o’clock” thingy doesn’t seem bad at all. In fact, it saved you two times, but if you were to be given a chance to go back in time, that would be before he was gone. You also felt guilty for Jisung for an unknown reason. You have to put up an act tomorrow and pretend that nothing happened, well nothing did happen, but what almost did.

You woke up the next day feeling energized and ready to head home. Just like last night, Jisung cooked the meal while you washed the dishes since that was the only thing you could do for him in return, for now. You washed the clothes you wore last night and hung it outside, fortunately, your clothes dried up overnight. It was around 9 o'clock when the two of you left his house. On your journey, you noticed how Jisung seemed a bit off and you had a clue why. He still joked a lot and told you some of his embarrassing moments while working at the palace. You shared how your mother always scolded you whenever you did your antics. How you miss your home.

“Jisung, did you hear that?” You moved closer to Jisung as you whispered.

“You heard it too?” You nod at him and the growling sound became louder. You tugged the hem of his shirt as a signal to stop walking. Your eyes darted to your left, observing your surroundings while Jisung kept his eyes on the right side of the route, “Hey, Y/N. Continue walking but stay as close to me as possible.” He whispered in your ear as he pulled you to his side. You continued on your tracks and pretended as if you didn't hear the loud growling behind you.

“Y/N, on the count of three, you hide there.” Jisung eyed the bush near the oak, “walk faster this time.”

“Got it.”

Jisung mumbled, “One, two,” taking a deep breath, “three!” He pushed you away from him before transforming into a squirrel. You followed his instructions and hid behind the bush, as you peeked, you saw a chimera facing Jisung in his squirrel form. 

“What the fuck, Jisung?” You cursed under your breath, you could see that if he tries to fight, he would be no match for Chimera’s size and abilities, but Jisung is smart and full of tactics– something that Chimera lacks. You trusted Jisung whatever his plan may be.

“If I don’t come back within an hour, you go first, the town is straight ahead. Look for the blacksmith and wait for me there. When he asks you why, just say “Jisung’s”.” Jisung was rapping and you almost didn’t pick up the last part. 

“You wanna eat?” Jisung yelled, “You gotta run first, weakling!” 

You wanted to punch Jisung hard, he really was very good at provoking but this wasn’t the best time to do so. You watched Jisung dashed off to the left side of the forest, which was opposite to where you were hiding. You grow more worried as minutes pass by. After what felt like an eternity, you decided to head first according to Jisung’s plan. Along the walk, you became more anxious about Jisung, you hoped that whatever his plan was, worked for him, because unfortunately, there you are, face to face with another creature– Greater Basilisk, oh, how lucky you were. Knowing that you were nothing compared to the beast, all you can do is run. Turning to your heels, you ran with all your might albeit trembling. You ran here and there, making you more lost than you actually were. You were worried as hell for Jisung and now you were running everywhere just to get away from the beast chasing after you. You were on the verge of breaking down when you heard the ringing in your ears. Thank goodness! You felt dizzy, causing you to trip on a twig you didn’t notice. The last thing you saw before your vision swirled was the Greater Basilisk’s mouth. You were transported into the void just in time, that’s when you let your tears out as you fall into nothingness, and you felt grateful for whatever this thing is.

「4th Strike.」

You opened your eyes and you were back in your hiding spot. You left out a heavy sigh and grabbed the clock from the pocket of your kirtle. The hands were pointing exactly at 11:45. So I get transported to the time, fifteen minutes before twelve. This time though, you decided not to leave your spot.

“So, what are we hiding from?” You flinched at the deep voice. 

“Jisung?” You turned your head and met a man standing behind you wearing a white dress shirt, black trousers and suspenders worn over his shoulders. The first button of his shirt were unbuttoned, making him appear mature. He has his hair styled up that brags his pretty forehead. Were they all required to look this good?

“You’re staring,” He snorted, “and I am not Jisung.” He made himself comfortable beside you. 

“Oh, you have the Horologium.” The man pointed to your pocket watch, “Where’d you get that?” 

“What are you talking about? This was given by my mother.” You clutched the pocket watch close to your chest protectively.

“Is that so? I used to have one but I accidentally stepped on it.” He chuckled and that was the most pleasant thing you’ve ever heard since you came here.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you shoved back the watch inside your pocket, you felt like he has all the answers to your questions and you figured it wouldn’t hurt trying, “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Where are we?” He threw you a ridiculous look. 

“At the forest, obviously.” You didn’t expect his answer but he’s right. 

“What is this place?”

“Why are you here when you don’t even know this place!” He hit the bullseye, that’s very stupid of you to follow a squirrel without even having an idea where would it take you, and he notices your lack of response, “You’re in District 9.”

You heard a loud growling not too far from your hiding spot, “I hate reptiles.” You bit your lip and peeked from the bush that hid you and your guess was correct, it was the Greater Basilisk. 

“How did you know?” The man beside you asked in a quiet voice. 

“I already encountered that monster earlier!” You spoke in an angry tone, “I can’t believe it’ll come here.”

“So that’s what you were hiding from?” 

“Not really. It just so happened that I followed Jisung’s plan but ended up face to face with that,” you sighed, should I tell him? “Do you know that 12 o’clock thing? I was transported back here before that monster ate my head off.” 

Something in the deepest part of Seungmin’s memory struck upon the mention of 12 o’clock. You were really just like him when he first stumbled at District 9.

“Do you know that your watch can work like magic?” Seungmin asked.

“What are you saying this time?” You eyed him suspiciously.

Seungmin smirked, “The basilisk can smell us, if you wanted to know.” The tiny hairs on your nape stood up and you never wanted to have an encounter with that beast anymore. You took out the pocket watch faster than a lightning.

“What now?” You impatiently asked. Seungmin changed from sitting position into a crouching position before pulling you towards him. He grabbed your hand holding the timepiece and pressed the crown firmly. Your cheeks flushed upon the realization that Seungmin was holding your hand tight but it was cut short by the glowing of light from your pocket watch. The light formed a circle that served as a shell for the both of you.

“What is this?” You asked, bewildered by the hidden power your pocket watch holds.

“The power of Horologium,” Seungmin explained, “It can give you protection and invisibility but it only lasts for half an hour. Pretty cool, right?” 

You faced Seungmin and noticed how dangerously close he was. His eyes met with yours and you felt the loud thumping inside your chest, you’re sure that he could see how red your cheeks were. You realized that he kind of looked familiar to you.

“You’re staring again,” Seungmin lightly chuckled, “I can’t believe you are already falling for me, princess.” 

“If I push you out of this shield, what would happen to you?” You smiled in a sarcastic manner and he just rolled his eyes at you. He was about to say something whilst you glanced over the bush and the basilisk was standing in front of your hiding place. 

“It’s right in front of us! Shh!” You placed your forefinger above his lips to shut him up. Little did you know, Seungmin was already dying inside yet feeling alive from the close proximity, his heart did a series of backflips when your finger came in contact with his lips. He didn’t understand why you have this effect on him and it’s not like he hated it, he was just baffled.

“It’s gone!” Seungmin snapped out of his trance, “But how do I deactivate this?”

“Yeah, right, all you have to do is chant ‘in tempore’.” The shield slowly faded after Seungmin muttered the chant, “See?”

“How awesome!” A wide smile spread across your face from astonishment. 

Seungmin couldn’t suppress the smile forming on his lips from how adorable you looked. 

“Woah there buddy, get your hands off.” Your eyes darted towards the owner of the stern voice and found Jisung with an extremely disheveled hair.

“Who are you to tell me?” Seungmin helped you get up and smiled at you gently making Jisung grow more irritated.

“Why would I trust someone like you?” Oh, Jisung, stop digging your own grave.

“Why are you so worked up? I just helped her hide from a beast, right?” You nodded enthusiastically. Seungmin enjoyed the sight, he can read him and he wanted to try pushing Jisung’s buttons further, “Why are you acting so protective of her when you literally left her alone?”

Jisung clenched his jaw, he couldn’t admit that he was feeling jealous of seeing Seungmin holding you too close to him for his liking.

“I know you find her cute and all but can we like, leave now? We have something else to do, Min.” A charming young man with cold, fox-like eyes and blue hair came out from the opposite side of the forest. He was wearing a vest instead of suspenders, unlike Seungmin.

“How did you find me?” Seungmin’s ears turned cherry red. How could Jeongin expose him like that?

“You just talked to this girl and you already forgot that I can literally smell you from miles? Oh, greater basilisk, this isn’t you, Min!” Jeongin cackled.

“Hey, I have a name!” You glared at him

“Alright, Miss. But I wasn’t talking to you.” Jeongin snapped back.

“Watch your mouth, Jeongin.” Seungmin threatened, he was not just having it. 

“Yeah, sure, Loverboy. Come on, we’ve got to go somewhere!” Jeongin waved his hand in annoyance. 

Seungmin rolled his eyes before whispering to you, “I apologize in his stead, he’s not usually like this.” He walked over to Jeongin while Jisung was shooting daggers with his eyes as Seungmin walked past him. 

“Let’s go, Y/N.” Jisung gave Seungmin one last glare before pulling you to his side.

“See you later, Y/N, bye chipmunk!” Seungmin waved at you before dragging Jeongin away, seeing Jisung frown made Seungmin erupt in laughter. 

Oh god, why does his laugh sound familiar?

“Why were you still there? I told you to go first.” Jisung blurted out unconscious of the anger in his tone.

“Hey, calm down. Why are you so angry? I was almost- if I didn’t wait for you, I would have already been eaten by the basilisk.” Jisung’s anger slowly died down because of your next words, “Also, I was worried as hell for you!” 

“You were?” Jisung didn’t notice the smile creeping up his cheeks.

“Why are you smiling like that? It’s freaking me out.” You pushed Jisung away from you jokingly and he just left a hearty laugh, “You’re weird.”

“Call me that one more time and I won’t treat you to lunch.” Jisung deadpanned.

“Alright, mighty squirrel.”

「Last Strike.」

Upon reaching the castle, you were welcomed by the king having tantrums so you were escorted to the garden instead. His loud yelling echoed within the palace halls and you were never terrified of someone in your life until today, not even your mother. You heard a loud shattering of glass causing you to flinch on your seat, across the you was Jisung sighing heavily. 

“When you said he’s got a bad temper I didn’t know that it was that bad.” You admitted.

“Not to scare you, but actually... that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Jisung gave you an uneasy smile as he picked up a cookie on the table.

After what seemed like an hour, the king’s shouting could no longer be heard and the tension inside the palace walls died down, you were asked to come to a room for interrogation. The servant bowed before leaving the two of you in front of a wooden door. You knocked and heard a muffled voice behind the door saying come in.

“Greetings, my King.” You copied Jisung’s actions and bowed.

“You may have a seat,” The king spoke without sparing you a glance, he was busy signing documents, “What brings you here?”

“My King, I found another lost traveler in our land.” You were confused with Jisung’s statement and he has this mysterious aura around him that left an unsettling feeling inside you.

So this isn’t the first time they’ve encountered people like me.

“Oh, really? Please tell me more about it.” The king finally decided to turn to you.

“Here’s Y/N. She said she was from Alium Orbis.” Jisung took a pause, “does our District 9 perhaps have connection to other lands?”

“Alium Orbis… that sounds familiar.” The king rang the bell and a servant entered the room.

“You called, Your Majesty?” The servant bowed to the king, “Do you need anything, Your Highness?”

“Have you ever heard of Alium Orbis? I think we had someone come here before from that land.” You were staring at the king for a very long time now and you notice how intimidating he looked. His eyes had this sense of authority in them, his broad shoulders also added to his intimidating look, as if he can break anyone into pieces.

“Yes, Your Majesty. His name was Kim Seungmin.” You felt your heart jump upon hearing the name.

“Miss Y/N, do you know him by any chance?” The king’s piercing gaze almost made your soul leave your body.

“I do, Your Highness.” Tons of questions about Seungmin flooded your mind. One day you all woke up and Seungmin disappeared just like that. His parents almost turned mad when they heard the news that their only son was missing.

“That’s good news then.” The king turned to his servant, “Where is he now?”

“I believe he’s with the Teller. He still wasn’t able to leave our land.” 

“I remember now, it’s been exactly twelve years, right?” The king placed his hand under his chin as he tried to figure out the reason, “Suspicious.”

“Nevermind,” The king opened the drawer and took out a piece of paper before handing it to you, “this is the map to the Teller’s place.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” You gave him a small smile.

“I advise you to start your journey sooner before the day gets succumbed by darkness.” You were freaked out by the king’s choice of words but you stood up from your seat anyway.

“Thank you, Lord Changbin.” Jisung bowed before the king and the servant escorted you out of the palace. 

It took you three hours to get to the Teller’s place, you were feeling nervous and uneasy for an unknown reason. You should be excited, right?

You lightly knocked on the door and you were welcomed by none other than him. You did not expect that he would be the one you’re looking for, “Oh, it’s you. Uhm, you are the Teller?” 

“No, it’s Jeongin.” If the man standing in front of you isn’t Jeongin- oh. 

“Seungmin?” A large part of you hope that you’re right, despite the information from earlier, you’ve been looking for him all this time, and maybe that was the reason he looked familiar.

“Yes, that’s my name.” Seungmin smiled pleasantly, you mentioning his name sounded mellifluous to him, “You’re looking for Jeongin?” You nodded calmly inspite the storm in your insides.

“We are not here to flirt.” Jisung scoffed behind you and Seungmin rolled his eyes before stepping aside to get in. Seungmin motioned you to follow him and led you to what seemed like a place for rituals. 

“Jeongin, someone’s looking for you.”

“Oh, so, it’s your girl.” Jeongin scoffed but Seungmin did not answer, instead rolling his eyes.

“So you’re not denying it, I see.” Jeongin’s smirk grew wider but decided to stop picking on the older’s nerves, but that smirk soon vanished from his face when he turned to you, “I know why you’re here. Do you want me to get straight to the point?”

“Sure.” Jeongin pointed to the seat near the cauldron, gesturing you to have a seat.

“First answer to your question, just like a pendulum, it never stops once you move it, so does the Horologium. You will continue to go back in time when the clock strikes to twelve until you leave this place.” You were amazed and creeped out at the same time, “I know the route to Alium Orbis, Seungmin’s from there too, unfortunately, he broke his clock so he couldn’t return, not only that, he also forgot his memories outside District 9. Seungmin’s clever and all but sometimes he’s just dumb.” Seungmin let out a sound of disapproval and Jeongin laughed, his pleasure truly comes from annoying the older. However, the thought of Seungmin forgetting you does hurt like hell.

“So, Y/N, if you were to leave make sure that you will step out of the boundary before twelve. I suppose there are other ways but I still haven’t found out.” Jeongin didn’t even trip on his words, he wasn’t the Teller for nothing, “But you know, at District 9, once you enter there’s no way of getting out.” Jeongin laughed rather maniacally, his wicked voice filling the house.

“What do you mean by that?” You abruptly stood up from your seat.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You know fully well what that means.” Jeongin walked closer to you, raising his hand that was emitting blue flame. Seungmin stepped in before Jeongin could hurt you, “What now, Seungmin? You’re going to protect her when you couldn’t even protect yourself?”

Jisung who has been silent since you entered the house finally spoke, “Y/N, the truth is... You will never be able to leave this place,” he stood beside Jeongin before he continued, malice notable in his voice, “No one can leave this house.”

As if on cue, Jeongin started shooting flames around the house while Jisung took out bombs similar to Minho’s and Hyunjin’s and threw it everywhere. The colored smoke blocked your vision while the smell of burning wood entered your lungs. Their wicked laughter reverberated within the house, there’s no way you’d let them burn you alive. The suffocating atmosphere inside the house made you hold your breath as you tried to step forward despite the heavy feeling on your legs due to the lack of oxygen to grab Seungmin’s arm, luckily he was just a few steps away from you. You managed to get out of the house unharmed even though you bumped on several furniture and broke objects on the way to find the exit. 

However, Jisung and Jeongin were quick to follow you. Seungmin’s movements were really languid as if he didn’t care about anything. Your kicking adrenaline was the only reason you were able to run speedily despite Seungmin’s lazy and heavy footsteps that keeps slowing you down.

“Seungmin, we have to leave now!” You dragged him away from Jisung and Jeongin.

“But Y/N, I don’t want to leave.” Seungmin’s words made you stop on your tracks, “that’s why I intentionally broke my clock.”

“Seungmin, we don’t belong here. They’re all insane!” You cried, at this point, the only thing you wanted to do was to leave this hell of a place. You’ve had enough of all the madness this place bears.

“Didn’t everyone in the town call me that?” Seungmin tightened his fist, his memories came flooding, he could now remember everything– from his childhood to people calling him insults, he was just a kid enjoying his imagination and fantasies, “Y/N, please let me go.”

“No, Seungmin, I cannot afford to lose you again.” You were sobbing, letting your feelings out. 

Ever since Seungmin disappeared, not once you did not think of him. He was your best friend who caused the blossoming feelings inside you, the only one you could trust, the only one who could understand your complexity. The only one you wanted to sacrifice your life for and give all the happiness in the world. Your feelings for him never changed throughout the years.

“Please, Seungmin.” That was the most selfish thing you’ve ever done in your life. You only wanted to spend the rest of your life with no one but Seungmin. 

“Why, Y/N? Tell me why should it matter to you!” Seungmin yelled, pain and trauma evident from his tone, you never knew that he was suffering inside all those times. You choked on your sobs, the lump in your throat was getting bigger, it’s now or never.

“Because I care for you! Can’t you see that? You’re my best friend!” Oh god, how hard could admitting one’s feelings get?

“You can find another best friend there,” Seungmin started tearing up too, “Just leave me alone.”

“I don’t want anyone else!” Your mouth already has a mind of its own, and you couldn’t believe the next words that slipped out of your mouth,  “I only want you!” 

It made you even more frustrated with everything. You glanced at the clock dangling around your neck, you only had ten minutes 'till 12 and you wanted to leave, but not without Seungmin. 

“If you really care for me, then stay with me here.” Seungmin stepped closer to you, offering his hand.

“Why are you acting so childish, Min!” Your emotions were getting mixed up and from afar, you could hear Jeongin and Jisung’s shouts and twisted words.

“Y/N! I thought you liked me? Why are you running away from me?” The tone of Jisung’s voice made shivers crawl on your body. 

“Seungmin, they’re near, let’s leave!” You pulled Seungmin but he doesn’t budge. 

“You like Jisung?” Seungmin’s eyes looked hurt and empty as it gazed at your frustrated ones. You wanted to hug him but there’s not enough time.

“Please Seungmin, not this.” Why can’t you just admit it?

“Don’t avoid the question, Y/N.” 

“Let’s leave now, please. They would be here anytime soon.” 

“Why can’t you just leave me here and go on your own?” Seungmin was really trying to get those words out of your throat.

“For heaven’s sake, Min. Don’t make me say it!” You smacked your forehead in annoyance.

“Say what?”

Screw it.

“Of course, I love you! Why would there be any other reason?” You never thought you would have the courage to admit your feelings, especially not this way.

“I’ll never let Jisung take you.” With those words, Seungmin picked you up swiftly in his arms and ran from the scene as fast as he could.

“Why couldn’t you just say it?” Seungmin asked, his eyes still focused on the way.

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know how you feel!” Your voice raised in defense.

“That’s so stupid, Y/N! I already told you many times that I liked you!” Seungmin groaned in frustration, he thought he already made it clear. 

“I thought you meant that as a friend.” Seungmin couldn’t be mad at you, though he declared his feelings for you, he never acted on it, maybe that was the reason you didn’t feel it. 

“I’m sorry. I did not make it clear either.” Seungmin looks at you with so much regret in his eyes, he swore that this time, he’d treat you right.

“It’s okay, Min,” you wiped the tears that stained his cheeks. 

“Hold tight, Y/N. We’re gonna use your watch to leave this hell.” You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck while holding the timepiece in your left hand tightly to avoid it slipping out of your neck. He sped up, and from his back, you could see Jeongin and Jisung chasing after the two of you.

He stopped in front of a large wall and put you down, “Now, give me the Horologium.” You quickly handed him the watch and he wrapped his arm around your waist, making heart flutter from his action, “Hug me.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I said hug me.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your head on his chest.

“Why do you have to say it like that!” You heard Seungmin let out a mischievous chuckle. 

“Brace yourself, we’re gonna end this cycle once and for all.”

You saw Seungmin throw your pocket watch on the ground causing it to break. You wanted to cry but you’re fully aware that Seungmin knows better. You peeked from his shoulder, Jisung and Jeongin were nearing you two, “Seungmin, they’re here!”

“I forgot the chant!” You looked at Seungmin wide-eyed, “No, I’m just kidding.”

Before you can punch his arm, you heard him mumble before stepping on the watch. 

“In nullo tempore.” 

Just in time, you saw Jisung and Jeongin freeze on their spot, as if the time stopped, the surroundings became silent and the only thing you could hear was the obnoxious ringing in your ear. You felt the familiar dizziness along with the pulsating of your head, Seungmin pressed his body closer to yours, if that was possible, tightening his grip around your waist. You saw a blinding light before you were transported harshly to the familiar void of darkness.

You heard Seungmin utter your name.

“I can’t see you but I can feel you,” you cringed at your words, “What I meant is, I cannot see you but I can still feel you hugging me. Yeah, uh, why do I feel like we’re floating?”

“Y/N…” Seungmin spoke slowly this time.

“What?” Your voice echoed in the void.

“Do you really mean it?” 

“Mean what?”

“You care for me.” You felt your cheeks heating up. 

“I do.” You sighed, “Never once you left my mind. I miss you so much, the thought of never seeing you again kills me more than anything.” A tear escaped your eye and you were surprised to see your tear glowed as it floated above you but you couldn’t care less.

“I felt lonely without you, I thought I was going nuts from the emptiness.” More tears escaped your eyes as you sobbed on his chest. 

“I love you too.” Seungmin caressed your locks and it made your heart feel warm; if it weren’t for you, he would have been stuck with his fears and would never have the courage to leave. “Y/N, your tears… Look at them.” You looked up to see the droplets of your tears glowed in different colors, becoming the source of light to the dark void, it formed a constellation that looked like the one you saw through the telescope– a pendulum. Seungmin was beyond ethereal, with the glowing bits of light that casted the surroundings and you’ve never felt so in love.

“Wait, how long are we gonna stay like this?” You faced Seungmin, and you have never seen him look so happy yet sad at the same time. 

“Oh, right. I forgot to say the last chant.” You lightly smack his chest and he placed a quick peck on your lips that is enough for the fireworks to burst inside your chest before giving you his heart eyes. 

“The pendulum stops here and now.”

[on-fic-writing-spree]

Chapter 13: Ignore All of Roman’s Ideas Day

Notes: possible tw for scars, not purposely self inflicted (they’re from the Split)

Also you can read this on AO3 along with the rest of the story!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/27798118/chapters/68108569

——————

“Oh no you don’t,” Roman said, grabbing hold of Virgil’s wrist and tugging him towards the cell door with him. “You’re coming with me, there’s no way I’m about to let you rot in that garden for the rest of your life. The place reeks of bad magic, all you’ll do is hurt yourself.” Roman really didn’t want to force Virgil any further, but he wasn’t going anywhere without them. Virgil had felt their throat go dry, and they had to take a moment before croaking out an “okay.” They already knew they didn’t have a choice, and they weren’t going to cause more of an issue about it. Roman hated them enough, the least they could do was listen.

It killed Roman to see them deflate so easily, and she made a mental note to (hopefully) help the other with that. But for now, she said nothing. Roman pulled Virgil along a series of hallways and half-hidden passages before freezing and tugging the other into a hidden nook. Whispers down the hall carried, and the sound of Pride’s voice made Roman’s blood boil. They started to lead Virgil back the other way; neither of them were ready to face them.

Virgil really couldn’t help themself when they heard Pride’s voice, paired with discussion from Remus and Janus. Apparently how Virgil had ‘gone missing’ and Pride would help them find them. They tugged themself forward, opening their mouth and just ready to shout. They weren’t exactly sure what, but they were angry, and hurt, and they definitely couldn’t deny anymore that Roman might have actually been telling the truth. Which hurt so much more than it should’ve. Roman, in a hurried panic, quickly covered Virgil’s mouth with her hand and basically picked the other up. It was easier to run this way, if not concerning at how feather-light the other was. But that was for later, right now, Roman was focused on bolting as far away from Pride as possible. Virgil would’ve screamed, they would’ve shouted, but their breath caught in their throat and instead they simply froze.

A few dizzying twists later, Roman set Virgil down, and tapped a complex pattern against a seemingly unassuming painting. The painting swung forward, and Roman hastily pushed Virgil in, following quickly after them and shutting the painting behind them both. A few small lanterns lit up at the ‘click’, and Roman sighed, resting his back against the wall. “We should be safe for now.”

Virgil hasn’t had the chance to really make sense of the next few moments, barely registering Roman’s words at all. Safe? Safe from what? At least Pride made them actually feel safe. They shouldn’t have left, they shouldn’t have let Roman take them anywhere. They stumbled back some, leaning against the wall opposite of Roman and sinking down there, curling up and going silent. At this point, all that Virgil wanted was to go home.

The silence was almost worse than listening to Pride gloat, and Roman could not stand it. He sunk down, still across from Virgil, and looked them over carefully. Any question he asked them was going to go poorly, but it would be better than listening to nothing for however long they were stuck here. “What’s on your mind?” Roman asked quietly, the tiredness in his voice a little too evident for his tastes.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Virgil answered quietly, pausing for a long moment. “... I can’t believe I kissed him. And to protect you of all people,” they choked out. “Or that I believed him. Or that I still don’t know if I should believe you. Or that I didn’t just scream. Ree and Janus would’ve taken care of it, they always do. I shouldn’t have left. I’ve only caused trouble, and I’ll only cause more,” Virgil was quickly spiraling, and they hadn’t really registered that Roman had actually asked a question, too busy trying to hash it out for themself. “I didn’t belong here. I don’t know why I came here. I don’t know what made me think I should.”

Roman frowned, and gingerly rested his hand atop Virgil’s, light enough that Virgil could pull away should they want, but still there. Virgil jerked their hand away from Roman’s rather harshly, curling up more on themself. “Hey now, enough of that. He tricked you. Pride is suave and collected and a con. And you shouldn’t just trust me on the spot, not because I’m going to hurt you, but because trust is something that you have to build up. I don’t know why those two are here, but like you said, I’m sure they can handle him. But you haven’t caused any trouble, none of this is your fault.” Roman sighed, and looked away from them. “You do belong here, Virgil. It’s my fault that you think you don’t, but you belong here more than anyone else.”

“You’re a liar, Roman. And you’re no better than him.” Virgil reached for their own face, wiping away whatever tears had formed and looking away from Roman. “And drop the sympathy act, I don’t need it. Save some pity for yourself.”

It hurt Roman more than he cared to admit being compared to Pride. It was as if Virgil had literally sliced her ego in two. The other clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk, and Roman didn’t have the energy to argue back. Slowly, as to not startle the other, Roman walked further into the room and more lanterns lit up the space. There was a perfectly untouched bed, and a small side bathroom with a window to peek outside. After making sure everything was as it should be, Roman walked back, speaking quietly. “You should get some rest, you’ve been through a lot in the last 24 hours. There’s a bed, feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

Badly, Virgil wanted to refuse the offer. But practically every part of them ached and begged for some rest, and they supposed if Roman had something planned, they’d get it done with or without Virgil’s compliance nor trust. They sighed softly and nodded, heading over to the bed and climbing in it, curling up. They spent a few short silent moments like that before speaking quietly. “Do you even know what he wants with me?” they asked, their voice breaking. They probably wouldn’t even be awake by the time the other answered, if they answered at all.

The question surprised Roman, and she frowned. “To do something I tried to do a long time ago,” she murmured, quietly keeping guard of the door. She doubted anyone would find it, but for the next hour, Roman did not move an inch. It wasn’t until she was dead certain no one was coming did she stand up and walk as quietly as she could to the bathroom, undoing and removing her cloak to reveal a string of blistering scars shooting up both arms and crawling over her chest and back. Roman could hardly look at herself.

Virgil’s body didn’t allow them to sleep very long, and at the minor divergence in Roman’s movement, Virgil had been awake again. They didn’t move out of bed at first, until they scanned and the room and couldn’t find Roman, and not wanting to be alone glanced around to find her. Virgil’s eyes caught onto all the marks and scars, not being able to help but gasp, then had the decency to look embarrassed, clearing their throat and looking away. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” they muttered. “Do you need any help? It’s pretty hard to bandage things yourself...” they offered, but didn’t look back before they got their response.

The second Roman realized that Virgil could see her, crossed her arms and turned away as well, ears blushing red out of embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine Virgil!” Roman said hastily. “Just… go back to sleep, would you?” she mumbled, digging around in the medicine cupboard for bandages and rubbing alcohol. This was going to hurt like a bitch no matter what, but Roman didn’t need Virgil paying attention to that fact. She winced as she cleaned the cuts, cursing internally for waking the other up in the first place.

Virgil’s eyes widened with panic when they saw what Roman had grabbed to clean the wounds, quickly grabbing the bottle of of her hands. They did their best not to look at Roman, not wanting him to feel self conscious. “Look, I swear, I’ll turn around and I won’t look, but you can’t put rubbing alcohol on blistering skin!” they said, spinning around. “Wash with warm soap and water, be gentle on yourself,” they instructed. They weren’t taking no as an answer, not about to watch the other be a total idiot in pain because they didn’t learn how to clean a wound right.

“Alcohol gets the job done, doesn’t it?” She replied testily, still a little bothered by the fact that Virgil saw them and how horrible the scars look, as if Virgil didn’t already have enough reasons to think Roman was a monster. But she did as Virgil instructed, still wincing, albeit from less pain than before. The scars were more than just physical, they were like a brand. “Look at the idiot who lost her other half,” Roman muttered under her breath. This was humiliating for her, and as she fumbled with the bandages, Roman wish that for, if only a moment, that she was alone.

“Not in this case it doesn’t...” Virgil fidgeted with the bottle while stumbling over their words. “I’m—I’m sorry Ro,” they murmured quietly. “Ree has them too. They never stopped picking at them, though they’re mostly healed now,” he added quietly, not really sure how to say ‘it’s okay’ to Roman. “I’ll uh... go back to bed now,” they finished with, setting the bottle back onto the counter without looking back, seeing themself out.

Roman froze, the bundle of bandages in hand. Truth be told, he’s never tried to actually properly patch himself up before. It was a lot more of avoiding mirrors undressed and never rolling up her sleeves whenever possible until they scarred over. But right now she couldn’t afford to just wait them out; there were more pressing matters at hand. Sighing, and a nauseating wave of nerves covering her, (is this what Virgil always felt like?) Roman walked back out of the bathroom, not quite making eye contact with Virgil, and asked under his breath, “…Actually, a little help would be nice, if you’re alright with that…?”

Virgil smiled weakly at the other, gingerly slipping the bandages away from Roman. “I’ll walk you through it,” they murmured. “The ones across the chest are hardest to bandage on your own,” they remarked, starting there, explaining how Roman would be able to do it on her own as they went. Roman had kept mostly quiet during Virgil’s explanations, both to pay attention and to not risk saying anything stupid. She already felt strange enough asking for help, and didn’t want to make this any worse. When they finished, they bandaged one of the other’s arm, explaining that too, which was much easier, before passing Roman the rest of the bandages. “You try.”

Roman carefully copied what Virgil had done to his other arm, taking care not to agitate the wounds any further. Once he was certain the bandage was secured properly, he crossed his arms again. “Thank you, I appreciate the help,” Roman muttered, staring at the floor.

Virgil’s eyes flickered over the bandaging shortly, just to make sure it was properly in place before they looked away. “Of course. It’s the least I could do,” they murmured. They seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry for the shit I said earlier... that you’re no better than him and stuff...”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Roman muttered, still staring down. “I don’t blame you for thinking that way, there’s definitely more about us in common than I like,” she laughed bitterly. “But it’s okay. That’s in the past,” she shrugged. “I’m not mad about it, or anything…”

“You’re not mad, but you can’t say it didn’t hurt,” they blurted out. “I’m just... all sorts of messed up right now. Don’t place too much value into the shitty things I say. I don’t mean them. I just don’t want to be the only one hurting.”

“…I know you didn’t mean it Virgil, that’s what matters,” Roman replied quietly. “Sometimes people hurt each other, I’m not about to take what you said personally after what you’ve been through today.” It was only half true; Roman was still a little upset over Virgil’s comment, but it wasn’t worth blowing up over. “I’m more worried about you being safe now than whatever you say to me.”

They felt guilt strike them, painful and resting heavy in their chest. “You shouldn’t be,” Virgil choked out, hating how their voice wavered. “You would’ve been fine if I never came here. There’s no reason for you to protect me. You shouldn’t care if I’m safe or not.”

“There’s a million reasons why I should be protecting you right now, and nothing you can do or say will ever change my mind about that,” Roman said firmly. “I want to keep you safe, regardless of the cost.” She gently rested a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, still not quite looking at them, “You matter to me in a way I can’t explain just yet.”

“I don’t get why you can’t just tell me,” they sighed. Virgil knew they was no good reason. If Roman wanted or needed him for anything, they were sure at this point that it was nothing in their own interest. Though in all fairness, the only thing in Virgil’s interest was to go home at this point.

“Because it would only hurt you more, and I’d rather not be the thorn in your side,” Roman said, pulling his hand back. After a moment she stood up, pulled his cloak back on, and pressed an ear to the door before standing across from the bed again. “I’m going to go take care of him. Stay here, and don’t move, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

Virgil frowned, standing up. “What do you mean take care of him? Ro, you and I both know that’s a dumb idea.” Unless of course they were conspiring together. Virgil frowned more as the thought crossed their mind. It’d make more sense than they’d like to admit. This whole thing was starting to feel like torture.

“I… don’t really know what I’m going to do yet, this is sort of a, throw-yourself-in-head-first type situations,” Roman confessed, focusing for a moment to summon his sword. “But I’m not about to just let him wander about pretending to be me, and I don’t want to risk you getting in his way again. I get the feeling he isn’t going to be as nice this time,” she muttered.

Virgil sighed softly, stepping forward and gently lowering Roman’s hands. “He will be if it’s me,” they answered. “I can pull some lame excuse about how I missed him and got lonely. It’ll give you time to get help and to warn the others. We don’t have to play it this way,” they offered gently.

“Absolutely not, you shouldn’t be anywhere near him!” Roman rebutted, shaking his head. “You didn’t hear the way he talked about you, what he said… maybe this isn’t the smartest play, but I’m not about to use you as a pawn for his scheme! You deserve better than that… I don’t want you to leave again because of him, I already fucked that up once and having it happen again is not an option.”

Virgil shook its head some. “First of all, I don’t know what makes you think I’m staying after this. Second of all, we know that isn’t the smartest play. Third of all, no, you’re not going. And definitely not wielding some weapon either,” it answered. “Just let me go, Roman. You can get Janus and Logic and whoever else you need. I’ll lead him back to the garden. Okay?”

“That’s not the point…” Roman pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “There’s no arguing with you, is there? Fine, we’ll do it your way,” he nodded, vanishing the weapon. “But the second I tell you to get out of the way, you move, got it? Hell knows what he’d do to you if he got a hold on you again.”

Virgil ignored the first part, because no there wasn’t any arguing with them. Roman had created Virgil to be protective, whether she regretted that decision now or not. “He won’t do anything,” Virgil answered, sounding confident in that statement. “He’s a total asshole but he’s not stupid. Remus would tear him limb from limb and then some, I have no doubt. I don’t think he does either.” Virgil adjusted its sweatshirt, pulling it more up on its shoulder. “I’ll be fine. You worry about you and the others first,” they finished with before pushing the painting out of the way, carefully looking out.

Roman grumbled something about lack of self-preservation under her breath and followed after them, glancing around as well. “I’ll meet you in the garden in ten minutes, okay? Good luck, and don’t get lost,” she added, casting one more worried look towards them before heading left down the hall.

“Give it twenty, catch ‘im off guard,” Virgil remarked before stepping out.

——————

Tag list:

@genderfluidmoma

@sinuous-scakt

@youremotionallystablefriend

@alinatheanimelover

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Maze Trials: A Gally Fanfiction

Pairing: Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, first girl the Glade has seen. Tougher than she looks and more than ready to prove it. Since day one her and Gally have been at each other's throats. Fighting constantly and not just with their words.

(Gally fanfiction which will include smut. It also has an actual story line. Think of it as an AU to the original Maze Runner. It'll mostly follow the main story line with some changes. Mostly focusing on Emi and Gally and their relationship.)

Chapter Twenty-Six

I had found out from Chuck that Thomas and Minho did in fact go into the maze. The young boy had also told me about strange loud sounds from inside the maze. I ran outside with Chuck to see a small group of gladers at the entrance. As soon as I reached the group I saw the two runners coming around the corner. A moment of calm washed over me knowing they were both safe. They ran inside past the group. We all followed them needing to know if they had found anything else.

"What the hell is going on out there?" Newt questioned the two.

"What the hell have you done now Thomas?" Gally asked harshly.

"We found something. A new passage. We think it could be a way out." Thomas stated as we all walked in a group.

"Really?" Newt and I asked at the same time.

"It's true. It opened a door. Something I'd never seen before. Think it must be where the grievers go during the day."

"Wait, woah, you're saying you found the griever's home and you want us to go in?" Chuck asked looking at them like they were insane.

"Their way in could be our way out Chuck." Thomas said simply.

"Yea or" Gally started as he shoved his way past Chuck and I to get close to Thomas.

"There could be a dozen grievers on the other side. Truth is, Thomas doesn't know what he's done as usual." Gally shouted.

The group stopped as Thomas whipped around to face Gally. The veins in his neck popping out as he strained to keep himself under control.

"Yea, well at least I did something Gally. What have you done? Huh? Besides hide behind these walls all the time." Thomas said sternly standing toe to toe with the builder.

"Let me tell you something Greenie, you've been here three days. I've been here three years." Gally stuck his fingers in Thomas' face.

"Yea you've been here three years and you're still here Gally! Alright? So what's that tell you? Maybe you should start doing things a little differently!" Thomas shouted in his face.

"Guys" I said sternly trying to step between them.

I placed a hand on both their chests trying to ignore the tingles that appeared when I touched Gally.

"Maybe you should be in charge Thomas. What about that?" Gally said as he wrapped his hand around mine stepping closer to the other boy.

"Guys! It's Alby!" Teresa's voice suddenly shouted from behind us.

We all turned to face her. Gally was still holding my hand tightly. I didn't mind it. I was happy to have this contact with him even though he didn't realize he was doing it.

"He's awake" Teresa added once we were all looking at her.

I felt Gally let go of my hand as we all went straight for the hut. Jeff was outside the door as if guarding it. He stopped the group by holding up his hand.

"Newt, Thomas, and Gally you can go inside. The rest of you have to wait out here." Jeff said opening the door.

The three boys stepped inside followed by Jeff then the door closed behind them. What kind of klunk is that? I've been here just as long as them. I need to know what's going on as much as they do. A hand on my shoulder pulled my concentration away from the door.

"Come on let's grab something to eat." Teresa said with a small smile.

I nodded feeling my stomach growl at the mention of food. I followed Teresa over to Fry's shack. He smiled and handed us both a tray of food. The two of us sat away from the boys. It was nice to have another girl here to keep me company.

"Can I ask what happened with you and Gally?" Teresa asked while keeping her eyes on her tray.

"He doesn't want to leave the Glade and I do. I think Thomas can get us out of here. Gally thinks Thomas is just screwing everything up." I stated quietly.

"Maybe he will come around. I mean he has to understand that your brother is just as important to you right?" She asked quietly.

My head snapped up to look at her. My brother?

"How'd you know that Thomas is supposedly my brother?" I asked her.

"I just assumed. I saw the two of you side by side in the look out. You look just alike. You have the same hair, features, and even make the exact same facial expressions. I just figured you were brother and sister." Teresa shrugged.

"We don't know for sure but like you said we do look alike and I had a dream the night before Thomas arrived where I had called him my twin brother." I explained.

I could see the sun setting in the distance turning the sky a light pink. Something felt wrong. I glanced around the Glade looking for anything that would make me feel this uncomfortable. As I scanned the Glade I saw just that. I jumped to my feet scaring Teresa.

"The door!" I shouted.

Instant chaos erupted in the Glade. The boys started shouting frantically.

"Shut it!" I shouted gaining everyone's attention.

They all stopped in they're tracks to stare at me.

"I want all of you to gather torches and any weapons you can find. Do it now and meet back here. Move it!" I shouted the order.

All the boys ran off to do as I had told them. I grabbed Teresa's arm to pull her behind me as I ran for the Med-Jack's hut. I didn't bother knocking on the door. I threw it open gaining everyone insides attention.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gally asked harshly.

"The doors" I panted.

"They're still open" Teresa finished for me.

All of their face's instantly paled as they exchanged glances. The boys including Alby who was now back on his feet ran out of the building. The other gladers had come back with torches and weapons. Most of us grab a torch and ran to the door. This has never happened. A sudden loud screeching sounded from behind us. It didn't sound like a Griever though. We all turned to see the wall opposite of us opening. I never even realized there was a door on the wall but there it was slowly opening up. The same horrible sound came from the right then the left. All four sides were open exposing us from every way.

"Hide!" Thomas shouted frantically.

As soon as he shouted that word every glader took off running in different directions. I heard the sudden and ear piercing screeches of several grievers from behind us as we ran. I was running beside Teresa as we both followed behind Thomas. We ran into the field of tall grass as quietly as we could. We stopped right in the center and huddled down in a group. I could hear the metal legs of the grievers and their menacing snarls growing closer. We all looked at each other all of us with a look of true fear on our faces.

A blood curdling cry from one of the gladers behind us had us all back on our feet. A griever had impaled him then tossed him away. I was frozen with fear and shock. I'd never seen anything like that in my life.

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" Thomas shouted pulling my arm as everyone else ran.

We ran back towards the main part of the Glade where most of the huts stood. A griever suddenly busted threw a small hut turning it into rubble as it came face to face with us. Every one shouted and skidded to a stop then quickly moving to go another direction. Teresa grabbed one of the jars of Gally's concoction. As she threw the jar I threw my torch. Both objects hit the griever at the same time making it burst into flames. It let out a painful screech as it staggered.

Thomas ushered us another direction away from the now burning griever. I glanced back to see the griever putting itself out. Then it turned towards us with another nasty snarl. We ran into the open Glade as fast as we could. I could see  gladers being picked off one by one by the grievers. Alby tripped causing him to fall to the ground. I almost fell on top of him but I caught myself in time to help him back to his feet. The griever was right in front of us now.

"Get behind me!" Thomas shouted as he threw his arms out to protect us.

The griever snarled and growled at him.

"Come on!" Thomas shouted at it.

Two spears flew threw the air both landing in the grievers face. It screeched as it tried to shake off the spears.

"Come on! Over here!" Frypan shouted as he and a few others ran towards us.

The griever broke one of the spears as it turned to face us again. I turned to run following behind the others. My heart was hammering in my chest. I didn't want to die not here not now.

"Over here!" Chuck shouted from the door of a hut as he held up a lantern.

We all turned running straight for the younger boy. Once inside Thomas and I grabbed whatever was closest to us to barricade the door. We stood in the middle of the hut all frantic and scared. The griever was circling the hut outside. It's snarls loud enough to be heard as it moved around. It banged on a part of the roof but it seemed unable to break through. It paused as we all huddled together. It banged harder causing all of us to back away in fright. It started moving again like it was looking for a way in.

"Stay back guys" Newt whispered.

The metal tail of the griever punched threw the ceiling making all of us shout and fall backwards. The whole roof seemed to cave in around us the next second. The room filled with dust making it harder to see and breath.

"Everyone alright?" Newt asked.

We all looked around as if to check that everyone was there but in the middle of all this chaos I had no idea who was with our group aside from a few people.

"Help! Help!" The sudden muffled scream had as moving.

One of the gladers was pinned under the fallen roof. Several of us moved to grab his out stretched hand but he was quickly pulled away by a griever before we could touch him. Another griever started scratching at another wall.

"Get away from there!" I shouted at the two standing close to the wall.

The griever's tail punched threw the wall grabbing the glader closest to it. The other glader standing close by was Chuck.

"Chuck!" Thomas screamed as a griever grabbed him.

We all darted quickly for the young boy. Thomas had grabbed Chuck's hand. I grabbed his other arm. We pulled trying to free him from the griever.

"Chuck don't let go!" Thomas ordered the boy.

"No shit!" Chuck shouted in fear.

In any other circumstance I would have laughed. Right now my brain could only focus on trying to save my friend. A sudden war cry from beside me had me turning to see Alby with a weapon. Our leader seemed to go mad as he used the wood as a club to beat the tail of the griever. He didn't stop until we all fell backwards with Chuck as the griever let go. Alby hit it again until it retreated from the hut. He screamed out of the hole at the griever.

"Chuck you okay?" Thomas asked him.

"Yea I'm fine" He groaned as we all tried to get back to our feet.

"Thanks Alby" the boy said turning to look at our leader.

We all heard the griever before we saw it. Before any of us could do anything it broke threw another part of the roof instantly grabbing Alby. Thomas jumped up quickly grabbing Alby's hand as he had done to Chuck.

"Thomas! Get them out!" Alby ordered him.

Alby pushed back from Thomas letting the griever take him.

"Alby!" Newt and a few others shouted as we rushed to the hole.

Our leader was gone. Alby was gone.

"Thomas!" Teresa screamed.

I turned to see Thomas heading for the door.

"Thomas no!" I shouted.

"Don't go out there!" Teresa shouted as we both tried to grab for him.

He easily avoiding our hands as he burst back out into the Glade. A horrible quiet settled around us. Only the sound of the crackling fire around us and the distant screams of gladers being drug into the maze.

"Where is everybody?" Teresa asked.

We all knew the answer to that but none of us dared to speak it.

—

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 37

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. NEW WARNING - fictional police brutality. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer @silver-stormy . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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

Near the Icebox was a barracks for DMC officers, and they would take a small rail tunnel to the prison for their shifts. The barracks and the prison were in a remote enough area that the tunnel didn’t have any particular protection. Storm sent a small whirlwind to clear the flattest spot they could find to land the jet. 

“They’ll probably send reinforcements soon,” Domino said as she zipped a heavy jacket and grabbed her guns.

Cable grumbled his agreement, “If they haven’t already.” 

As they disembarked from the jet, the wind howled just as harshly as it had higher in the air. Negasonic winced as the swirling snow hit her face with a hundred little stings. Below their feet, carved into the mountainside, was the tunnel. She dropped to her hands and knees and sent a powerful burst of force that fractured the rock. She sent another, and was about to send one more when Cable tapped her shoulder. 

“Pace yourself,” he said quietly, then waved for everyone to stand back. His techno-organic eye flared like a giant ember, allowing him to see the cracks running deep in the rock as he took careful aim with his gun. With a few good blasts, he had a good sized hole where everyone could climb down and drop into the tunnel. 

It was lit with LED bulbs that washed the small railway in a weak, bluish light. The team could hear vague echoes, mostly from their own movement and from the wind, but there was a foreboding stillness that whispered a chill through everyone’s bones.

Storm listened for a careful moment, then said, “Let’s start walking.”

Then they heard a rumbling, and Cable snapped a look behind them toward the barracks. “Everyone off the tracks.”

--

Rhonda’s gaze darted all over the yard and mess hall as inmates started attacking Colossus and Beast. She glanced back at Wade, Mimi, and Robinson, then grabbed the microphone for the loudspeaker. “Everyone shut the fuck up for a second,” she shouted. Her voice was strained, but strong enough that a few stopped fighting long enough to listen. “The X-Men are here to help. Work with them, and you can get out of the Icebox. Fight them, and I will kill you myself.” She took a breath and let that sink in. By now, most of the Icebox had gone still to listen to her, including Beast and Colossus. Her husband looked around until he found the glass walls of the office, and stared up at her with wide eyes.

“The collars come off by entering a code from a hard token,” Rhonda continued. Her free hand found her neck and rubbed at her skin. “Come to the office and Mimi and I can help you.”

Mimi tapped her arm and held her hand out for the microphone. “No bullshit, no screwing around,” she added. “We’ve all waited long enough to get out of here. Do anything that threatens everyone’s chances, and if Guestbook doesn’t kill you, I sure as hell will.”

Turning toward the doors of the office, they regarded the inmates who had been threatening Janks to let them through. Rhonda asked Mimi and Robinson, “How many hard tokens are there?”

“Three,” Mimi replied, holding out her hand with the remaining two tokens.

Wade still had one in his hand, Rhonda took a second from Mimi’s palm, leaving the third for the reptilian. “We’ll have everyone line up,” Rhonda said, “and each of us will start taking off collars.”

“Absolutely not,” Mimi shook her head, resting a closed fist on her hip. “We go out there, I give it about ten seconds before they start mobbing us for the tokens.” She absently drummed her fingers on the surface of a desk. “We’ll stay in here, have them pair off and they’ll do each other. If they try anything, they’ll blow their own hands off. Not ours.”

Wade tilted his head and leveled Mimi with a deadpan, “Yours don’t grow back?”

Rhonda sighed and made the effort to ignore Wade. “What about this one?” she jutted her chin at Robinson.

The defected guard smiled pleasantly enough, “Whatever Maria says, goes.”

“You’ll have to get into a yellow jumpsuit,” Rhonda said firmly. “If you look like DMC and not one of us, you won’t make it out of here alive and there’s nothing I’ll be able to do to stop that.” She glanced at Mimi, who nodded.

“That reminds me,” Mimi unzipped her jumpsuit and pulled out another that she had secreted away from the laundry room. 

Robinson went into a corner for the slightest semblance of privacy to change, “And what if someone asks me to prove I’m a mutant? I can’t fake any powers.”

Rhonda rolled her eyes. “Just say you’re a telepath and any demonstration to prove it would be a vulgar display of power.”

Wade guffawed and slapped his friend on the back, adding, “Make sure you ask for some pea soup, Linda Blair.”

“Keep an eye on the monitors, Edmund,” Mimi waved loosely at the bank of screens. “We’ve got at least two DMC guards locked in the armory who will be trying to bust out.” She surveyed the screens herself for a moment. They still had plenty of time before the morning shift would be making their way up the rail passage to report for duty. “We need to be out of here before the next shift shows up. Edmund, give a shout if you see anyone trying to pull something.” He nodded and gave an affirmative as he kept a dutiful watch.

In the yard below, Colossus and Beast maintained a firm stance, sharing a questioning glance and warily eyeing the nearby inmates who had just stopped attacking them. “It would seem we are rescuing you,” Beast offered cheerily. “Why don’t you visit our friend to get your collars off, and we can all go somewhere more pleasant.” Reluctantly, begrudgingly, the inmates took a few steps backward before turning to head up the walkways to the control office, tossing glances over their shoulders at the two massive X-Men. Quieter, from the side of his mouth, he noted to Colossus, “Not sure how we’ll fit all these people with us.”

“Freeing the whole prison was not the plan,” Colossus said. “We have to trust Rhonda has her reasons.” He was no stranger to making sensible plans and then having to throw them out the window, but a new dread crept up in him. “The others should be here by now,” he said. “Something has happened.” He took in the dingy yard - with the rusted fitness equipment that was missing pieces and grimey floors that had old smears of blood. Glass shards littered the whole area from their entrance via skylight. Weak lights and a bit of moonlight highlighted the light snow that drifted down. Despite being an open space, Colossus felt suffocated by the atmosphere - he immediately understood this was a place designed to sap its inhabitants of hope, and was amazed that anyone could survive here.

“I’m sure they’ll be along soon,” Beast assured him as he started to climb to the walkway above him, skipping the stairs.

Colossus looked up at the office one more time. He had recognized his wife’s voice on the intercom, and he was sad to note he also recognized that cold, threatening tone. He’d had just over two days to think of an apology and still wasn’t sure what he would tell her once they were back on the jet.

--

The rail car roared down the tunnel. Cable and Negasonic planted themselves in the middle, with Storm levitating just above them to send a gale screaming towards the oncoming wave of DMC reinforcements. Domino, Nightcrawler, and Yukio flanked them, weapons drawn and ready. 

The officers were shouting, readying their weapons as their rail car drew closer. Cable fired his biggest gun and an energy blast hit the car, causing it to derail. Immediately following that, Negasonic sent a low powered wave to keep them off balance. As some of them tumbled from the vehicle, Nightcrawler disappeared with a pop in the air and materialized behind them. Using the hilts of his swords, Nightcrawler punched and deflected the DMC, breaking hands and wrists so they could no longer hold their weapons. In such close quarters, Nightcrawler was at particular risk as officers tried to snap a collar around his neck - he easily disappeared at the last possible second and emerged somewhere easy to sucker-punch an enemy.

Three officers tried to rush Yukio, who was closest to them along the wall of the tunnel. She whirled her electrified chain and landed a few hits - and only narrowly avoided the collar one flung at her. “Watch out for collars!” she warned the others. If any of the team got a control collar, this rescue mission would be jeopardized. 

Storm blasted them with wind, Yukio electrified the rails, and Domino got a particularly lucky shot through the squad leader’s head as he was reaching for his radio. “We have to collapse the tunnel!” she yelled. “Cable, up there!” Domino pointed up at a crack that had radiated from the team’s initial breach. Together, Domino and Cable sprayed gunfire at the rock ceiling. Pieces started falling, and some struck the DMC officers. 

Fortunately the team of mutants handled the enemies quickly. The short fight ended with every DMC officer incapacitated. “We’ll have to hurry,” Storm said. “We didn’t expect such a long walk or a surprise fight.”

“Wait,” Domino paused, listening. She followed a faint crackle and picked up a radio that one of the guards had dropped. The voice on the other end was shouting questions about where the hell was the other squad, there were an unknown number of intruders, inmates had taken the control office. “There’s already another team of reinforcements at the prison,” she announced with urgency.

Nightcrawler flicked his blades to shake off some blood. “Ja, we blast the tunnel a little more, and run for the prison?”

Negasonic, Domino, and Cable shared a nod and blasted the rock until the tunnel in the direction of the barracks was sealed. Then the team took off running the other way, fervently closing the distance to the prison.

--

Mimi, Rhonda, and Wade stood practically shoulder to shoulder, reading off codes for pairs of inmates. Janks was in the first group. He had watched Mimi intently while she read off the code for the inmate behind him to enter into his collar. Her voice hadn't faltered, his partner's fingers moved with quick certainty. He had seen what happens when someone tampers with their collar, and he was too afraid to breathe until finally it clicked open, and Janks threw it away like it was a scorpion.

For all the contempt Rhonda had for the other inmates of the Icebox, she saw in their eyes the same fear and hope she had felt only minutes ago - and months before that. She didn’t recognize the inmate in front of her, a face full of freckles and dark veins, but she gave them a firm nod, a promise that she wouldn’t misread the code and this person would be free in a few more seconds.

“Maria!” Robinson’s voice was pitched high with concern, “We’ve got incoming!”

Shouting echoed distantly, starting somewhere past the kitchen, then grew closer. "What the fuck is that?” Mimi demanded from her spot by the door. Rhonda dashed to check the window.

Heavily booted footfalls added to the shouts. Rounding a corner from a hallway, a squad of DMC officers came barrelling through, bellowing at Colossus and Beast to stop, stop where they were, get on the ground, stop--

Colossus stole one more glance up at the office. Rhonda was too far to see her expression clearly, but he caught the brief press of her palm and fingers against the glass. Fight dirty against the DMC. All the inmates above him still had collars, and they wouldn't be able to leave until they got them off. The pair of X-Men had to buy enough time for them. 

A short few steps for his long legs, and Colossus grabbed one of the metal benches in the mess hall, which were bolted to the concrete floor. He wrenched it free and lobbed it into a wave of riot-armor-clad monsters. One officer threw some kind of canister at him that was spewing a thick, white smoke; he crushed it under the heel of his boot, breaking the dispersal mechanism.

Beast had climbed along the underside of a walkway and dropped into the middle of the throng of guards. Some hit him with cattle prods and bean bag rounds, but their armor barely held up against his claws. The mass of blue fur thrashed and kicked, launching DMC personnel into tables, weight racks, and the railing above. 

In the office, Rhonda had her first inmate freed, then a terrible boom shook the plexiglass doors and there was a flash of brilliant red splattered across the glass. Rhonda and Mimi had screamed in alarm. Wade yelled, “OH COME ON!” The women stared at him in bewilderment and realized what had happened - the collar of the inmate he’d been helping had exploded. The body fell against the glass and sagged to the floor. The inmate who had been typing the code screamed in agony and horror. He hadn’t lost his hands entirely, but a few fingers were definitely missing. 

Janks, wide-eyed with shock as the rest of them, told Mimi, “Yeah, he’s...dyslexic.”

Wade’s shoulders bounced with an indignant huff, “Okay, so it wasn’t on me!” Rhonda ground her teeth, but Mimi took charge before she could say something.

“Move the body, let’s go! We can’t help him now,” she barked, “Someone find something to wrap this guy’s hands!” The gang boss pointed at a few inmates, “You, you, and you will type the codes. Anyone gonna fuck it up?” When they shook their heads, Mimi slapped her palm on the glass a few times to spur them into action. The poor dead inmate was dragged away, the one with the mangled hands sat down and cried, howling as other collared prisoners tore their sleeves to try to cover the bleeding. Rhonda watched him for a second, hurting for him, before resuming reading codes off to free more prisoners.

Without collars, the inmates immediately started testing their abilities. Like Rhonda, some found they could hardly use them at all. One took a little hop, then stunned, started yelling about how she could still feel gravity. One or two of every ten inmates seemed unaffected by how long they had worn the collars - apparently as strong as they had ever been. Most felt their powers reduced, stunted. The one who swore he could shoot flames from his hands could now only make things hot if he touched them. 

Mimi’s gaze skipped nervously around the group. “What’s happened to them?” she asked Rhonda, even as she tested her own teeth and spat a pale yellow substance on the floor, which sizzled. 

“Something about the collars,” Rhonda explained. “When I first got mine off, I had to rehab for months, but I’ve gotten it back...mostly.”

Mimi gaped, eyes wide. “And you didn’t think to warn us?” She was seething.

She pointed at Wade, “He bounced back just fine! I thought maybe it was just me. Or that it depends on how long you’ve worn a collar.”

“Excuse me, ladies?” Robinson interrupted. “More incoming.”

There was a clap of thunder. A pop in the air. Storm and Nightcrawler tore through the same door as the wave of DMC reinforcements had. Rhonda and Wade watched as their friends rounded the corner - and when Rhonda saw the streaks of pink hair, her heart dropped. Ellie and Yukio were in the Icebox.

[ron-stepupable]

So: fanfic about victor noticing Sarah and Nina’s similarities. The setting is after victor and sweetie confiscate the amulets but in this version Nina was wearing that pearl bracelet Sarah gave her after she died and victor also took that. Also FYI Nina came kind of overly aggressive in this so....warning? (I guess it’s not that out of character 😂) also format is shit I didn’t want to do a link.

During history, I could barely function. All I could focus on was how on earth would we get our amulets back from Victor, and fast. We could never find them mask with one amulet, it just wasn’t feasible. But Victor would never let the amulets leave his sight now, so the only way to get them back would be in plain sight.

I knocked on his door.

“Enter,” Sweetie granted diplomatically. On his desk, were several plastic bags with items of jewelry in them and student’s names on the outsides of them.

“Ah, hello, Nina, there should be a bag with your name on it somewhere...feel free to take a look.” Was this how we interacted now? Straight denial? Were we to pretend as if nothing ever happened, like he hadn’t just de-railed our entire quest. I perused the plastic bags and frowned.

“My name’s not here,” I gestured to parcels. Sweetie looked up and removed his spectacles.

“Hmm...Victor must have taken Anubis resident’s parcels. I’d check with him.” He seemed unphased, like none of this mattered, and to him it didn’t. I didn’t say a word in response as I left for the door. Then, halfway through the door turned around glared at him.

“You know what you are?”

He looked at me blankly.

“You’re a pawn,” I didn’t even feel guilty about saying it. “Victor is the chess master and you are his pawn. He is more headmaster than you are.”

And I left. He stayed behind spluttering pointless words. Someday I might harbor respect for that man, but certainly not now.

In Anubis house, I found two bags on the dining room table. One for Amber and one for Patricia, but not one for me. Damn him. He was a thief. That’s what he was, a manipulative, lying thief. How dare he pocket something like that? Something Sarah had given me—the last thing I had as a token of her love and care—and he pocketed it and acted like it was meant for him. It made me want to scream. He could steal the amulets, he could act like nothing had happened. But not that. Sarah gave that to me and not Victor for a reason. All the way to the top of the stairs I huffed, and then realised he wasn't there. So I huffed all the way to the bottom of the stairs and found Vera in the kitchen with her hands in a bowl of mashed peas.

“Vera?” I asked. She sighed exasperatedly but plastered on a seemingly genuine smile.

“Yes, dear?”

“Has Victor gone out?”

She thought for a few selective moments.

“Yes, I believe you just missed him, I should think he’s headed into town for some supplies.”

My face could have done one of two things: either gotten softer or harder and more murderous, I honestly have no idea. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, but I’m sure it’ll keep,” I lied and promptly left the room. Victor had crossed the line and now I would too.

Like a ticking bomb, two hours later, the front door to Anubis slammed open and in stormed Victor. I jumped at once from the sofa and hurried toward the foyer. Victor beat me to it.

“Nina Martin? A word in my office.” He turned and left. Let’s just say I followed. In his office, Victor was in his prime, he held authority in this postage stamp office. There was no way I’d ever win an argument here.

“I have something of yours,” he said calmly, putting his hand into his trench coat pocket. My spine tingled and only intensified as Victor retrieved the small pearled bracelet from his pocket. He cradled it like a priceless artifact and lifted it slightly into the air, but carefully as not to risk any chance of dropping it. A slight wave of guilt washed over me. I didn’t treasure that piece of history like he did. I didn’t hold it close to my chest and appreciate the artisan. He held his wrist out and gestured me to do so. I held my arm out cautiously and kept still while Victor fastened the clasp around my wrist with his wrinkled fingertips.

“Louisa always wore this.” He said with just a slight hint of bitterness. “I never saw her without it—ever. She was talented like that, with art. But that wasn’t what was so great about her.” He smoothed his thumb over the glass charm and dare I say he smiled? “She was ridiculously brave and I’ve never met anyone who loved as much as she did.” He let go of my hand and I returned it to my side. The bracelet now felt like a led weight. Victor’s eyes held memories too painful to comprehend. Somehow I needed to lighten them.

“I have something for you,” I blurted. “Wait here.” The door clicked behind me and I hurried off to my room. In the box of Sarah’s things hidden away in the passage, I retrieved a small leather bound notebook inscribed with RFS on the spine. I thumbed through the pages until I made sure this one had what I was looking for.

November 11th, 1919,

I am freed. We are all freed and soon we will go home. I count the minutes until I will be reunited with Louisa, and Sarah. You, non-sentient journal, couldn’t possibly fathom how deeply I miss them. It has been two years since I saw them last. I do feel some guilt my brothers fought for six long years while I served only two. But when these bouts of guilt come I should remember I was doing more important things than fighting for some land and a new democracy.

Sarah has written me about the boy who now occupies my house. And she writes so vividly of who he is, I feel as if I already know him. Of course I know of his father, though I haven’t spoken to him in years. Often I wonder if I’ve made the right choice in asking him to help care for Louisa and Sarah in my absence. Louisa has written that she dislikes him and would rather live with Satan himself. But how could I leave his little boy, Sarah’s new found “soulmate” so she says alone with the man Louisa has described? I have a duty of humanity to that little boy. No, the Rodenmaars will not be leaving Anubis house anytime soon.

It astonished me how much Robert cared for Victor before he had even met him. I do wish I could have met Robert, his writing mesmerizes me and his love for his family struck the same chord I lived on. I picked up a second journal and flipped to the end.

December 9th, 1921

I want Rodenmaar out of my house. I offered him all the money in the world to leave this house and never return, leaving Victor behind. I assumed a man of his stature would jump at the chance but he refused. What an arse. He is not the kind of man to nurture even his own son. What ties could he have to a seven year old who’s birthday he doesn’t even know? He must be onto us, otherwise he would have no reason to stay. To make things worse, the other night Rodenmaar spoke with Victor in his office again. Victor left crying. When I asked what had been said to him, Victor shook his head and ran outside to the park with Sarah and Rufus. On the face of that little boy I see such strength. I haven’t decided whether it is because he is a child and problems of this caliber sometimes lose their weight, or because he has learned and adapted to such power. Either way, he inspires me. I want to tell him that whilst trying to sleep under the weight of this daunting duty of mine or when my heart begins to flutter with the fear I know I shouldn’t feel I think of him and how indestructible he is, even at age seven. He doesn't deserve that man, especially not after all he’s done for us; making Louisa and I cry with laughter or give us the opportunity to to tack our crack at raising a son. And he’s so very good to Sarah. That boy is the heartbeat of this household. And his suffering breaks my heart into a million little pieces.

Ps: Rodenmaar, if you are reading this, know that you will never find what I have hidden. No matter how hard you seek. Give up now and leave your son with me. Also, you sir, are an asshole and I hope you burn in hell.

I had read this entry before and it never seemed to resonate with me. Maybe because I thought it didn’t resonate with Victor, but clearly I was wrong about that. And if I was wrong about that, what else was I wrong about?

I snapped the journal closed and hightailed it back to Victor’s office where he waited with an intensely confused look on his face. I handed him the journals.

“I think you’ll find page 15 and 29 interesting.” I turned to go but he waved his hand and I stopped in my tracks. He read each entry carefully, about three minutes each. I had trig homework calling my name but I didn’t dare rush him, and I didn’t dare leave. Finally, he sighed and closed the journals.

“I am sorry,” was all he said.

“For what?”

“I have judged you harshly, chosen one. You are more like her than I had thought.”

I was about to open my mouth and ask who but then I noticed where his eyes were focused. On an old brown photo on the right side of the wall. It was on the front porch of Anubis. There was a man there, and a woman too—Robert and Louisa. On Robert’s knee was a little girl with a fierce stare and ribbons as long as America itself attached to her braids. On Louisa’s thigh, hidden by a flowered skirt (appropriately ending just past the knee) sat a tiny, skinny little boy. But that little boy was smiling to his ears, looking at the little girl to his left. No one else in that photo smiled, but he did. There was so much joy in those round brown eyes. And yet four months later it would shatter.

“I miss her,” I couldn’t help but say. I cursed myself for speaking. Victor stiffened and cleared his throat. It was the wrong door to open but there was no turning back now.

“I…” his hand hovered by his collar. The string of an amulet was poking through his shirt. My heart beat four times faster. If I keep this ball rolling could I manipulate his focus into giving them back? Never, but it was a nice thought. His fingers latched around the black string and he began to pull up, then he froze.

“She gave so much of herself to help me find my path,” I cut in. It might have been the wrong door, but boy would I knock it down.

“I—” his fingers let go of the string and his hands returned to the side. “You may leave now, miss Martin.” My fingers crunched like my parents' car around that telephone pole. I swallowed a mouthful of rage and nodded curtly. Then I left. How The Frobisher-Smythes ever held adoration for that man-boy is the greatest mystery this house has to offer. But then I think of moments like that—where he let his humanity take control. For a moment he was real, and for that moment he was something other than just the enemy—he was, like Robert had said, the heartbeat of the house.

[sauzwriting]

dark before the dawn

Dimitri won't get a break from his nightmares. Fear and guilt haunt him during the night. He hasn't slept in days.

But Dedue is back now. He understands him better than anyone, so he won't let the prince wither in the dark of his mind.

Pairing: Dimitri/Dedue

Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, self-hatred, healing, light angst

Warnings: blue lions spoilers

ao3

In dark halls, cold stone walls had been painted red.

Already used to the darkness, Dimitri's eyes were locked on the person standing next to him. Not too far behind, the metallic echoes of armor reached their ears, screams tearing at angry, desperate throats. He could hear the footsteps approaching them, somehow following the rhythm of his own nervous and rapid heart beating.

Dedue walked towards the sound, firmly holding an axe in his battered hands. Barely holding up— panting heavily, Dimitri slowly turned around, so he could look at his companion, tell him to run away with him. He now was, after all, the only glimmer of hope in his so-called life. Maybe if they escaped together, maybe the voices echoing in his mind would go quiet.

The metallic clashing of weapons hit Dimitri's ears harshly and very closely, sparks flying through the air. Weakly, his thoughts vanished as he slowly blinked, fighting his weary state. He saw Dedue in front of him, repelling swift attacks of many soldiers. Swords flying at him, shining in the dusk, sinking into dark skin. Dedue's blood, running through the blinding silver of imperial blades. It was now his friend's blood the one painting the cold stone walls.

All of his strenght seemed to come back in a sudden rush. The blond prince held his lance, raised it up and ran towards his enemies. He opened his mouth and let out an almost inhuman shriek, filled with anger and pain. Time seemed to slow down around Dimitri as he slashed through the imperials, his lance completely stained red and his thundering voice clawing at the hearts of his enemies, resonating throughout the dungeon halls.

His vision had gone blurry and dizzy, tinted red.

Once he came back to reality, he was breathless, standing over a pile of lifeless bodies, bloodied and indistinguishable. Looking at the floor, he heard footsteps slowly approaching him and sighed. Dimitri opened his mouth to speak, throat hurting. Yet, it was not his own voice the one he heard.

“Your Highness!”

It all happened in barely a second. Dimitri, shaken, looked up to see a trembling soldier swinging his blade at him. The rush was over, however, and his body was back to being weary and tired, heavy on his lance, supporting him where he stood. The prince couldn't find the strenght to move, nor was his body responding.

Blood splashing beneath feet, it was just in an instant that Dedue ran to his aid, fiercely stopping the blow with his own body. In just an instant, blade and axe crossed their paths, finding a way into vulnerable skin, plunging into its warmth, sinking deeply; blood flowing.

The imperial soldier, already badly injured, fell to the floor. But so did Dedue.

Dimitri desperately let go of his lance and ran to Dedue. Staining his cold, trembling hands with warm blood, he held his body in his arms. The sword had cut through his chest.

He had hoped to hear some last words, a whisper: anything, to prove he still breathed. But the hallway fell silent as the warmth of Dedue's body gradually faded.

“It is their fate” A ghost whispered into his ear, cunningly.

Icy cold caressed his cheeks, covered with washed up blood.

“To die for you.”

“For you to avenge us.”

“It is the price you must pay to live.”

Words echoed in his mind and crawled into his heart, nesting into the deepest part of his being.

It had been their home all along, after all.

* * *

Dimitri woke up in a cold sweat, almost breathless.

He blinked, realizing where he was. His body was cold, lying on soft sheets, a familiar bed bathed under the gentle moonlight. Trembling hands reached for his wet cheeks, wiping away tears he didn't know he'd cried.

Despite all these years, despite everything that had happened, this room had remained almost identical. It knew nothing of the passage of time, knew nothing of how twisted the heart of the one who used to live there had finally become.

Breathing in and out, Dimitri closed his eye, trying to calm his heart and himself. Trying to forget the images that invaded his mind, ready to come back unnanounced. He tried to bask in the silence, for once.

He knew, however, it wouldn't work. He disliked being alone. Mostly, because during all these years, he never truly felt like he was alone. Haunted by ghosts, haunted by his guilt. Haunted by death itself. Dimitri could barely remember how standing still, in silence, enjoying solitude, actually felt.

He didn't want to be alone.

But after everything he had done, even all those things he couldn't recall; memories corrupted by blood and empty words of revenge, the prince didn't believe he was worthy of sympathy or affection.

So, unable to escape his own quivering thoughts and unable to lull himself back to sleep, afraid of what his own mind would put him through, Dimitri decided to go alone for a walk at night.

Bare feet gently slipped through the silent floor of the monastery, drifting down ancient stairs. Dimitri went out to the courtyard, fresh air running through his messy hair, rustling through dark leaves, disrupting the placid silence of the night. It was cold outside, but the prince didn't seem to care.

Looking up at the sky, he met the stars once again. Just like his old room, they remained unchanged. The sky remained ethereal and timeless, always looking down on them, witness to so much madness and tragedy. The same sky, the same white clouds he used to watch, calmly dancing on a blue canvas, projecting kind shadows over his face.

They were still here, kinder as ever.

Back in those days, they all looked up to the same sight, completely oblivious of what their future would bring. He wondered, for a moment, if his old classmates still looked up at the old stars and clouds, their eyes glimmering with a different light now. The prince smiled bitterly at the thought.

“Your Highness?”

A deep but gentle voice spoke, startling Dimitri. Turning back to the familiar sound, he met Dedue's worried face. He thought his heart had stopped for a moment, vision blurrying and fading to black, images from his wretched mind creeping into reality. Dedue's voice was soft, caring, genuine. Breathing into the cold of the night, travelling through the chilly air. He was right there, in front of him. Teal eyes and snowy hair, dimly glowing under the moonlight.

And yet, Dimitri could barely believe the man standing before him was not a ghost, joining the others, fated to live inside his shadow.

“It is late and cold,” Dedue looked at the sky while he spoke, words lingering on his mouth as he slowly turned to Dimitri “is everything alright?”

“I—“ The prince stuttered over his own words. “I apologize. Do not worry about me, Dedue. I was—I was just taking a walk, since I couldn't fall asleep.”

Dimitri tried, he tried so hard to keep his voice steady, but words came out weakly and shaky, his lips twitching. “How are you faring, Dedue? It has...” his voice cracked. “War has not been kind to any of us.”

“I could not sleep either. ” Dedue's voice still felt so unreal. “It has...not been easy, Your Highness. I won't lie.”

After Rodrigue's death, Dimitri had crumbled down. Guilt washing over him and stopping him right in his tracks. He didn't take care of his own life over the last five years and now; now, he felt unworthy of holding onto it. The prince had bathed in loneliness for far too long, after so many abandoned him to join the haunting choir in his nightmares.

But Dedue was here now: he'd come back to him, back from the dead. He gazed at what Dimitri had become, and the prince felt ashamed of his own existence, ashamed that such kind eyes looked at him; scrapped, broken, savage. Dimitri could barely look back. He would see the scars he got from protecting him, the scars that stained dark skin, just like blood had stained kind, caring hands.

It was his fault.

“It has been hard watching you,” Dedue gently whispered. “Suffering from a weight that should have never been yours to bear.”

Dimitri frowned in frustration as festered hatred stabbed his heart. He looked down, a dark shadow hovering over a melancholic grin.

“I do not deserve such words, Dedue.”

“I hurt you. I made you fight for me. For a beast like me.” He spit out his words, bitterly.

Dedue's eyes were now on him. But Dimitri couldn't muster the strenght to face him. Not like this.

“I chose to fight,” Dedue's voice was firm, “and I would do it again, if it meant keeping you from harm.”

“I...I am not worth fighting for,” Dimitri could just let out a weak laugh. “I am but a fool who toyed with others' lives. I spoke of revenge but I—I'm the first one that murders the ones I love. Making—Making them fight for me, for my foolish cause, for my recklessness.” The wind shook the leaves over their heads, the prince's disheveled hair flowing in the air. “I am but a monster who takes from others.”

Silence fell between the two as Dimitri slowly started to regret the words that came out of his mouth. He bit his lip and swallowed.

“Dedue, I'm sorr—“

“Dimitri.”

A loud heart beat resonated inside Dimitri's chest and, suddenly, a warm hand softly caressed his cheek.

“Please, look at me.”

Dimitri breathed in and looked back at last, feeling his own eyes growing watery once his quivering gaze met Dedue's tranquil eyes. Swimming deep into pale green, he saw tenderness, care and worry.

How could someone look at him like that? Dimitri felt the urge to look away, knowing there was possibly no way he deserved such treatment, and yet he found himself unable to muster the strenght to look away from such sincere gaze.

“You are nothing of the sort.” Dedue moved his hand away from Dimitri's face, realizing the meaning of his own action and took a deep breath. “I only wish I could have found you sooner. I...” He swallowed. “I wish I could have been there for you. So many moons...spent alone, wondering if you were even alive.” His voice trembled a bit and so did his lips. “You are a kind man, Dimitri. I am sure of that. Your heart has always proven it to me.”

Dedue's voice echoed through Dimitri's head. Right in front of him, facing him, with a gentle face and a warm soul, was the man who had always been by his side. Speaking compassionate words, as he'd always done. Speaking his name, in soft and caring whispers, giving him his humanity back with just mere words. Something he had always wished, something he now dared not to desire.

Dedue's heart had not changed in the past five years. And yet Dimitri was afraid that nothing of this could be real. His eyes, invaded by visions dirty with blood and death, his own pitiful screams, clawing at his mind. Vivid memories of crimson fingers holding cold, dead hands.

Guilt.

“I—“ Dimitri tried to speak but he choked on his own voice, holding back a sob as silent tears rolled down his face, tasting salty on his dry lips. He tried to hide his face behind his hands, cold and calloused. “I abandoned you, Dedue. I—I lived, all these years...thinking you'd died. Knowing it had been my fault.” The prince hid his mouth, biting his lips so he would stop shedding more tears.

He felt pathetic.

“Every single night, I—I saw you die in my dreams. It had turned into a memory. So now...those words, your voice, your eyes, how you speak of me; it looks closer to a dream than what I had grown used to. It...feels so feeble,” his voice was now turning into a weak whisper, his vision going blurry, his head dizzy, “I want these nightmares to end. I want you to be here. Please, tell me you are real. Please, tell me I didn't kill you. Please...I—I can't lose anyone again. I can't lose you.”

Shame bubbled up on the prince's heart as his mind started to give in to the effects of many sleepless nights and a wounded body. His voice died down on his lips and his legs went weak, the world seemed to go black as it started spinning around him. Dimitri blinked repeteadly, trying to keep his balance, seeing his warm breath floating through the air.

The headache that had been pursuing him for weeks grew unbearable, every single noise of the apparent silent night thundering into his ears, echoing in his skull. Even his own voice, a miserable sound, echoed along the rest of them.

Suddenly, two strong hands were holding him, keeping him up, despite all the trembling.

“Your Highness...you're shivering.” Suddenly, one of those hands gently touched his cheek, caressing his face carefully, reaching his forehead. “You're burning...”

“Your Highness?”

All weight left the prince's body and, finally, the silence washed away all the turmoil rampaging in his head.

“...Dimitri?”

***

His eye hurt when he tried to open it.

Still feeling a heavy weight on his chest and head, ghostly tears covering his pale skin, Dimitri finally woke up.

As he weakly gazed to the ceiling, he realized he was back into his quarters. A sharp pain struck his head when he tried to sit up in the darkness of the room, bleak silence visting him, just like every other night.

This time, however, he wasn't alone.

“How are you feeling?” A voice broke through the suffocating air that clouded the prince's mind.

Faint light, intruding the room from the window, fell on Dedue, softening his figure and face. Resting by his bed, he was sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair, wearing a serene expression on his face, one that seemed to soothe the prince's heart, if only for a little while. The sight almost seemed ethereal and so, Dimitri wondered if maybe he was dreaming again.

But it had been ages since he'd had a pleasant night.

“You fainted. I was worried so I took you to your room. Please, you need to rest,” his tone turned kind, “I will stay here if you need it.”

Dimitri vaguely remembered being carried to his room, being held, embraced in his arms while sinking into a weary sleep. His face softened as he looked at Dedue, his heart warm at the memory.

“Thank you, Dedue. I...” He swallowed and looked down. “You have always been there for me. You always take care of me...no matter how small the problem might be.”

“Of course.”

“But...” Dimitri shifted on the bed, so he could face Dedue, his naked feet brushing the cold floor of the room, “you don't have to do it, Dedue. It is not a duty, nor an obligation,” He felt tired, his voice wasn't steady either. It was hard, putting this all into words. He feared the truth behind something he believed to be affection. Something he so desperately wanted.

“You don't owe me anything. It is I the one who is indebted to you. You saved me. You risked your life for mine. And yet, after all that, I threw it into the abyss, wasting it away. It was cruel of me.” Dimitri took a deep breath, his throat dry. He was afraid, that much was true. Still, he knew this had to be done.

“I could not bear it if anything happened to you in...this senseless war. Your life is your own, Dedue. Please do not dedicate it entirely to me. I do not deserve it and...and you are as important as I am. Protect yourself first. Choose a life that will fullfil your heart. You are a person, not my vassal.” Despite the pain he was trying to hide, Dimitri fondly smiled and, after doubting for a moment, he reached for Dedue's hand, warm at the touch, calloused from work and battle. He held it as he spoke. “You are my friend, Dedue. It doesn't matter who I am in this kingdom. You...are very important to me. So...”

“I will not leave.” Dedue had been listening quietly, never letting go of Dimitri's hand. He softly squeezed it, voice hushed into a kind, intimate whisper. Dedue leaned in closer, the faint light of morning bathing in his eyes, clear and wise. Tender words brushing against Dimitri's skin. “I am here with you. Not out of duty. Not out of debt,” a nostalgic smile crossed his face, “at least, not anymore.”

The room fell silent, only their steady breathing flying through the air, heartbeats beating, together, to a similar ryththm.

“I spent a lot of time with my people during these past years. It made me happy. I...learned a lot. But,” Dimitri shivered as Dedue placed a hand on his hair, slowly tucking it behind his ear. There was doubt in the touch, but Dimitri didn't move an inch. “I somehow knew my place was not with them. I wanted to search for you, to find you. I wanted to be by your side and protect you.” He breathed in. “ Not just as a vassal.”

Dimitri closed his eye, heart beating loudly in his chest, wondering if it was okay for him to want this.

“Is it okay?”, he asked. “I want you to be happy. And I...I can't make you happy. I am too broken for that.” Dimitri furrowed his brow, trying to hold back a sob. Dedue sat there for a short while, looking at Dimitri, feeling the hurt, the hatred in his words.

Not daring to open his eye, Dimitri waited. He waited, to wake up, getting back to the reality he deserved, back into a cycle of sleepless nights that would slowly eat up his head. But he remained there, in silence, still feeling the warmth of Dedue's hand over his own.

He heard Dedue move, and then he felt a gentle hand caressing his face. Fingers carefully running through the scar of his right eye, as if the touch could heal the past.

“I am happy.” Dedue suddenly whispered. “To know that you are alive.” The prince opened his eye, locking his gaze with Dedue's. Warmth ran through his body as his heartbeat grew faster, as he started to feel like, maybe, he was alive. “I will fight, so none of us die. So we can live in a world you promised to build, a world where Duscur and Faerghus will be at peace.” He slowly placed his hand on his matted hair, moving some strands away from his face and eye. “I wish to see that new dawn by your side, Dimitri.”

Dedue was now holding both of his hands, with utmost care, just like he'd always tended to the flowers from the greenhouse. Dimitri smiled, his lips trembling and his eyes watery.

There were small, precious things like this that still reminded the prince about a past where, despite the shadows, the skies were clear. Seeing the man he had always cared about, in front of him, he thought that, perhaps, the past hadn't been lost under the debris of the war yet.